Chapter Text
The first time North had actually talked to Night, life had been nothing but kind to him. His father was alive, his mother wasn’t getting high on crack and valium. It was all sorts of serene, idyllic, and any other adjective that could attribute to the feeling of absolute bliss, like the tender touch of the first breeze that the spring brought along after the barren lands that the blustery winters had left behind. His life had been as promising as the bloom of a garden full of blossoms in the month of March, fulfilling like a three-meals-a-day occurrence that now knocked on his door as frequently as Halley’s Comet would come around Earth.
For as long as he could remember, his father had always been very loyal to the Ruengs. As the personal assistant of the almighty business magnate of their little town, his father had always taken pride in working under someone as generous and compassionate as Mork Rueng. The sentiment was, thankfully, just as reciprocated. Their small family of three was always invited to the elite, affluent parties hosted by the well-admired family of the town.
And that day hadn’t been any different. It had been a rainy Friday when his mother had informed him about the invitation they had received for Naowarat (better known as Night by his loved ones) Rueng’s fifth birthday party. North had begrudgingly agreed – not as if he had any other choice but.
The party had been teeming with grandiose and opulence, shimmers and glitters of blue everywhere all around. It hadn’t taken him even a second to figure out that Night’s favorite color was blue at the moment. Especially since the five-tier cake that had been rolled out by a chef was hued with various shades of blue, splotched with blue sprinkles and ridiculously-large golden stars alike.
It was the biggest yet the ugliest cake North had ever seen in his short life of six years. Throughout the whole party, North had maintained his distance from the kids – just as his mother had instructed him to do. From his perch on the tiny stool by the gardens, he had wordlessly watched as Night and his other (equally rich) friends kicked a ball around the vast lawn.
They were all absolutely pathetic – nothing like him, at all. At the shy age of six, North had already secured the position of the team captain at the football club his father had enrolled him in.
He had been absolutely content with letting a lone butterfly entertain his soul. The cake had already been cut, food had been served, and some of the guests were even starting to leave. But Night had been the one to approach him – he really had had no intention of ever initiating a conversation with the heir to a multinational conglomerate corporation.
“Phi?”
North looked down at the kid, eyeing the dirt that stained Night’s new clothes – clothes that, undoubtedly, cost more than the ancestral house their family owned back in Chiang Mai. Night was clutching a muddy football up to his chest, his arms barely coming around to fully cover the sphere.
“Why didn’t you come to play with me and my friends? I’ve seen you play in a match against my Hia.” Night demanded, eyes just as fierce as his squeaky voice if not more. “You beat him so badly!” Night bounced on the balls of his feet, eyes sparkling with felicity. Night then leaned forward, beckoning him closer with a motion of his hand before cupping the said hand around his mouth, almost as if he was ready to reveal the biggest secret known to mankind. “And he’s supposed to be two years older than you!”
The words stoked his already proliferating ego, akin to a sweet melody to his ears. He couldn't let his delight be shown though. He had seen multiple interviews of professional athletes, acting all unbothered and barely happy upon being complimented on their skills.
“I don’t play with kids.” He proclaimed with a sturdy air of arrogance, barely heeding the syrupy and extremely ‘unnecessary’ lauds he was being bombarded with.
Night scrunched his nose up at the response, childish fury filling his eyes. Before Night could do anything more (like possibly telling his father to hire a hitman to kill North and his whole family for calling him a kid), he fainted.
North watched with horror seizing his being whole as Night fell on the humid ground dramatically, the football long forgotten.
It was from that day henceforth that the Rueng couple really started to resent his guts. Suffice to say, North wasn’t invited to any more birthday parties. It was also from that day henceforth that North stopped seeing Night around the school. It hadn’t taken long for the news of Night’s sudden disappearance to spread around the school. The ‘brand-new’ information had been followed by equally absurd rumors.
His father had been the one to tell him that the Ruengs had decided to send their only child to some renowned boarding school in the North of England.
The next time he saw Night, it was after a period of eight long years. Night had been transferred to their school in the middle of a semester. Ongsa, one of his childhood friends, had been the one to inform him about the subject of the school gossip. North had rushed straight to Ongsa’s classroom once she had told him how there was a slim chance that Night might still be having his lunch with his friend in the classroom.
It was only once he was standing near the entrance of the classroom that he truly reflected on his actions. Why the fuck was he even this eager to interact with a brat who had probably been served everything on a silver platter his whole life? It had taken him a moment to grasp a leash over his impulses. In hindsight, it was probably the courtesy of the part of him that loved to socialize. Or perhaps, it was his conscience still grappling for a measly chance to apologize for the incident that day – though it hadn’t been his fault (at all), the heavy basket of blame had fallen right atop his head.
North had, amidst all the internal strife, been able to catch a sight of Night. The boy had gone paler than he remembered, cheeks and eyes hollow with exhaustion. He hadn’t dared approach Night that day. The next day, after he had finally assembled every ounce of courage he could pull from within himself, Night hadn’t come to school. It continued on like that, with Night being extremely sporadic with his attendance, and on the seldom days that he did show up at school, North would simply just waste the day away by giving himself fruitless pep talks.
It was also the same year that North lost his father to a car crash. And after that, life had simply been too harrowing, with his mother barreling headfirst into substance abuse, using the home his father had built as collateral against the money she had borrowed from loan sharks, losing her job as a teacher at the local primary school, rendering herself unable to pay for their bills and food.
Somedays, his heart wrenched painfully at the sight of the hollow of the person she had become. But in retrospect, it was still unfair, very, very unfair to a fourteen-year-old who had lost a doting father as well as a loving mother all at once. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to help her. They had gone to Chon Buri together after countless arguments about getting her professional help at the rehabilitation center he had read about on the internet.
It hadn’t worked. Before going there it had only been alcohol and a few prescription pills, but only a week after her arrival, North had caught her snorting lines by the kitchen island at four in the morning. She fell deeper into drugs after coming home from there. The next time they had the discussion of seeking professional treatment, North had been rewarded with a slap to his face – and a beer bottle being hurled towards him after that. It had been a good thing she was drunk, had she been sober, the aim wouldn’t have been this pathetic.
Now, at the ripe age of twenty-three, North had given up altogether on the idea of ever experiencing that feeling; ever being that lucky. Now it was all about making ends meet, it was all about receiving calls from strangers in the middle of the night who’d tell him about the whereabouts of his mother, it was all about picking his unconscious mother up from pubs (and sometimes even streets), it was all about watching his mother spiral down into the rabbit hole of alcohol and prescription drugs.
“Good morning, P’North.” Ongsa, as discreet as she was trying to be, failed pathetically at taking a quick peek at the bruise flourishing under his right eye. “My torso is in a worse condition than this.” He said in lieu of a greeting, pointing towards his face. Yesterday’s fight had gone a little deranged by the end of the night. His opponent, a middle-aged ex-wrestler, had been merciless and relentless, absolutely apathetic to the fact that he was plowing a young adult to an early grave.
It hadn’t exactly been his lifelong dream to get tangled in the black coils of underground fighting. It was just something that brought quick and good money. Of course, it hadn’t been an easy road, especially since he had entered the circuit at just sixteen. He had heard about the place from the guy who seldom sold the expensive line of drugs to his mother.
You’d get money even for losing, Nong. The words had seemed akin to an elixir at that time when he wasn’t even able to afford one meal a day. He had been attuned to the notion of it like a moth to a flame. It hadn’t even taken him a day before he had shown up at the abandoned race track Somchai had been talking about.
The venue was located on the outskirts of their little town. Somchai had warned him how the organizers kept changing places every now and then. One would only get notified about the changes either through the local grapevine or through strong connections with the exclusive members of the club. It had been the latter that had enticed him more.
His first fight had been pathetic to the point he had become a laughingstock of the circuit for six whole months. As a lanky teen fresh out of puberty, the crowd had loved to see him get plummeted to the ground by a brawny man well in his early twenties.
Much to his delight, his first fight hadn’t been his last – as was the case with many who tried their luck with street fighting. A man had approached him just as he was about to limp his way out of the circuit, looking sharp as a dagger in a crisp white shirt and ebony slacks. Adisorn, the man had introduced himself as, was an ex-MMA fighter who had found his way back to his roots after spending almost his whole life on the western lands.
To this day, North still wasn’t sure what it was that had drawn the man to place his bets on him of all people. P’Adi, as he had come to know him now, had offered to train him. P’Adi had been extremely austere and firm once his ‘official’ training had begun, completely dissimilar to the man who had talked to him at the race track and then had dressed up his wounds.
His second fight had been against a robust man, exactly six months after the fight that still haunted him to this day. Somehow, North had been able to win against the man whose eyes had been continuously glinting with diablerie, akin to a wolf high on bloodlust. Apart from the money North had received from the organizers, P’Adi had treated him to a pristine model of the latest iPhone – something that worked much better than the ratty old Blueberry North had been using till then.
Since then, North had been able to make a somewhat decent name for himself in the circuit. It wasn’t as if people absolutely feared even the sight of him. There were days when he would get beaten up to a pulp by his seniors and days when he would absolutely batter and thrash fuckers who dared underestimate him and his abilities.
Regardless of the result of the match, North did get paid – just like how Somchai had told him. And it was what still kept him going back to the circuit time and time again.
“You could’ve put on the concealer you stole from my vanity last week,” Ongsa suggested, getting closer to his face to examine the black eye he was sporting. “I stole it a month ago. And the tube ran out, I might need you to get me a new one.” He said just as Onsga touched the flaming cut that covered a quarter of his lower lip.
He hissed at the pain that shot up from the contact, pushing her away from his face with a grimace. “Get a stick this time. The tube runs out sooner, I think.” He added, leaning back in his chair once Ongsa had stopped prodding at his injuries. “Are you absolutely stupid? You have a match by the end of the next month. Do you think your coach will let you play if you limp around like this?” Ongsa could be pretty annoying when she wanted to be.
“Why would you even think of signing up for a fight when you know just how much of a big deal this match is going to be?” She sounded furious, jaw clenched. North knew she was just worried about him and his future since this match was going to be the last one of the season. Coach had told him how many recruiters from various league teams were most likely going to be present to eye the budding football players of the nation. He was to be on his best behavior. For fuck’s sake, he had even done exceptionally well throughout the whole academic year – not really keen on repeating his senior year one more time.
He hadn’t wanted to sign up for a fight this close to the squad selection as well. But the goddamn landlord had been at his neck lately, threatening to kick them out of the rickety house if they didn’t pay off the outstanding rent they had for three months now. The money that he got from his part-time job as a cashier at a supermarket barely paid the utility bills, there was absolutely no way he could afford to leave the fighting circuit altogether.
“P’Adi called. The guy I fought was an enemy of his. It was fun.” He stretched his arms up in the air, flexing his aching shoulders with a slight wince before turning towards Ongsa. She was still glaring at him, jaw ticking with ire. “C’mon now, cut me some slack!” He ruffled her hair in hopes of diverting the subject of her anger.
“Fuck off. I am not going to accompany you to the clinic this time around.”
Unlike what he had expected, Ongsa stuck to her word like a stubborn toddler refusing to leave a toy store. And so, after his shift at the local supermarket, North found himself walking through the familiar path that led to one of the only clinics in Ngoen Dao whose fees he could afford. It was already a quarter past nine, the streets of the town desolate and devoid of any life.
The clinic was owned by one of P’Adi’s close friends. It was by no means a substandard establishment, the only reason why North even bothered going there was because of the ridiculously colossal discounts he received from the owner. At first, Dr. Jimmy had even refused to charge him but after much insistence, North was able to convince the man to charge him at least some portion of his fees. Now it had become some sort of a bargain-basement medical facility for him.
The lady sitting by the reception smiled at him when he entered the lobby area, pointing towards the general waiting area with a subtle jerk of her head. He effortlessly returned the smile, nodding his head in acknowledgment before he started walking towards the small room just diagonal to the reception desk.
The waiting room wasn’t vacant as he had expected. He also hadn't expected Night of all people to be sitting on one of the chairs, looking as glum as a wilted blossom.
North, with every intention of initiating a very long due conversation with him, strode forward and claimed a seat just across from the boy. Unlike what he had hoped, Night didn't even spare him a glance. He somehow managed to come over the momentary shock, running a loose hand through his hair as he cleared his throat in hopes of catching Night’s attention.
Night did eventually look up after North had cleared his throat for the fifth time in the last two minutes. “Do you need water?” Night questioned, seeming equal parts confused and concerned. North felt the flush of embarrassment that spread warmth throughout his whole face. He cleared his throat again, this time about out of pure discomfort.
“No, uh, just have a sore throat.” He fibbed, offering Night a tight-lipped smile. Night took his excuse with a pinch of salt, going back to scrolling through his phone.
“So, are you sick as well?”
Not a good conversation starter. At all.
“There’s a fat chance that I’ll be dead in 2-3 business days.” Night retorted, solemn as ever. The answer rendered him nonplussed, and for a second, North wondered if diving straight out of the window and jumping from the fifth floor of the building would be a better option than addressing the elephant in the room.
“I —”
“I was joking, Phi. Since when did you become this serious? The last I remembered, you were going around and making kids faint at the very sight of you.” Night breathed out a soft chuckle, his face losing the pallor it had been carrying as a warm scarlet bled into the apple of his cheeks.
“I already apologized countless times to your parents for that.” He snorted, scratching at his jaw as he slouched on the uncomfortable plastic chair. “I know. I saw you when your father brought you to my house the very next day.” North remembered how he had grunted out a half-assed apology against his will. “You looked so angry, Phi. It was very funny.” Night remarked with a teasing lilt to his voice, placing his phone on the chair beside him before crossing his arms across his chest.
“Why did you even faint anyway? Did you know how much bullshit I had to endure because you couldn’t keep your feet planted on the ground?” He asked, his words accompanied by a grunt that he believed was enough to display all the frustration that had been budding within him for all these years. He caught the guilt that flickered through Night's face. It was undoubtedly surprising since he hadn't expected Night to be this normal.
Truth be told, he wasn't really sure what he had been expecting. He had expected him to be just as uptight as his mother, just as arrogant as his father, and maybe even a little more smug and preposterous.
“I am sorry, na krub. I don’t even remember what happened that day.” Night leaned forward to rest his arms atop his knees.
“Well, I do. So, I’ll make sure you do as well.” North said, complacency blooming within his chest.
“What do you want me to do? It’s not my fault either.” Night huffed, sitting up straighter.
“You could start by apologizing?” He offered wryly, raising an eyebrow to punctuate his words. “I already did?” Night countered back, his voice doused in indignance. North wondered for a moment if he had taken it too far, stretched the matter unnecessarily for the sake of his amusement but goodness, Night looked so endearing with his brows furrowed and lips pursed.
“A second time would not hurt, would it, Nong?” A frown stretched across Night's lips almost immediately, the indignance that had once been as insignificant as a grain of sand on a beach now amplifying in its intensity.
“ Oi, you are just dragging this now. Stop being such an asshole.” Night exclaimed with disbelief written all over his face, his eyes widened as if he couldn't just believe his gall.
“There, there. That is not how you treat your Phi, is it?” At the back of his mind, some muted part of him screamed and protested against the stupidity he was spewing out but North had since long learned how to keep the pragmatic side of him quiet.
“Don’t tell me what to — ”
“I don’t think that’s how an apology starts. Let’s try again, shall we?” He softly jerked his chin as if to prompt the boy sitting across from him, an innocuous smile toying on his lips. Night’s eyes widened even more (if that was even possible), the incredulity leaving exasperation in its jagged wake.
Night opened his mouth before closing it again, and just when North was certain the boy was going to utter an official death threat directed at him, Night screwed his eyes shut. North then watched, amusement shining through his eyes, as Night took a deep breath in.
The next time he opened his eyes, Night looked much more composed and much less disheveled, a certain glint of ferocity dancing along his eyes. North was frankly prepared for a life-ending, absolutely deathly insult to be thrown his way.
“Did you get beat up by your juniors? Is that how you got all these bruises?” Night asked, his nose scrunched in disdain.
North couldn’t, at all, stifle the chuckle of disbelief that escaped his mouth. “Is that all that you could come up with after all that drama?” He asked, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a lazy smirk.
“I’ll give you another black eye if you don’t shut up right now!” Night squeaked out, now looking so, so bothered by every word that left North's mouth. His cheeks had gone a deep red, perhaps in anger, his eyes squinted and mouth set in a permanent scowl.
“I think I’d like that. In fact, getting punched in the eye by a very, very sweet boy is the first thing on my bucket list.” He smiled one of the intolerably annoying smiles of his, scratching at his jaw idly just for the sake of adding more to the whole act of a nonchalant jerk.
“You are such an insufferable asshole.” Night mumbled, more to himself than to him, arms crossed across his chest in presumed defeat.
“You truly wound your Phi, Nong Night.” He splayed a heavy hand on his chest, feigning agony as he reclined back in his seat.
Night’s jaw clenched at his words, pulsating anger evident across his features. Much to his chagrin, however, Night remained wordless — not at all allowing him a chance to revel in his misery.
“N’North? Dr. Jimmy is ready to see you.” The receptionist’s voice reached his ears, demolishing all the plans he had been formulating till now to annoy Night even more. He looked at Night as he stood up, nodding his head in an offhand farewell, “I’ll see you around the campus then?”
“I hope not.” Night huffed from behind him as he left the room.
☼︎
His mother wasn’t present when he entered the kitchen the next morning. Breathing out a sigh of relief, he pushed open the cracked windows, letting the warm sunlight strew its way inside. The morning was quiet sans the sound of the birds that chirped outside.
With the money that he had earned from his last fight, he had managed to pay off the rent for two months last night. That part alone took off the heavy weight that had been hunching over his shoulders for a few weeks now. The landlord had been generous enough to overlook how he wasn't able to pay the last month's rent, content with getting something for the decaying house he was renting.
In times like these, he was thankful to his mother for choosing such a decrepit house as their new home. The rent was extremely cheap, even lower than the current dorm rates prevailing in the urban part of the town. After his mother had given away their nice, two-story home in the suburbs of Ngoen Dao to the evil claws of loan sharks, they had resorted to shifting to the cheaper, rundown area of the town. Crimes were as rare as stars in a constellation here – the good ole’ base for the American dream.
Though the house barely held onto life with its leaking roofs, chipped walls, and an exterior that could rival that of those haunted houses they displayed in horror movies these days, it still provided him a shelter, and so he had learned how to adapt to whatever curveballs it had come to throw in his already crippling routine.
He whisked the lone egg he had found in the refrigerator, turning on the stove as he retrieved a pan from the cabinet. He checked the refrigerator for any leftover rice once he was done making an omelet, resorting to shoveling the whole omelet in his mouth upon finding nothing.
He left the house quickly after that, not keen on running into his mother before his early morning practice.
The campus was bustling with life, with hordes of students lingering around the open space or by the cafeteria before their classes. North smiled at a few familiar faces on his way to the locker rooms, refraining from getting engaged in a long-winded conversation with any of his acquaintances. He was already running late, he didn’t need his coach at his fucking neck for being even more late.
“P’North! Coach seems mad today, good luck!” One of his teammates, David, patted his back as North entered the locker rooms. North stifled a heavy sigh, already feeling the impending exhaustion make its way deep into his bones. The door slammed shut behind him as David left the room. Exhaling through his nose, North threw his bag by the foot of a bench, shrugging off the university shirt he had pulled on in the morning sluggishly.
He was lightning-quick as he pulled on the team’s jersey and shorts, stuffing his uniform in his locker simultaneously. “Look who’s late again.” He looked up from where he was putting on his footie kit, rolling his eyes once he recognized the owner of the cacophonous voice. “Kim. Long time no see, eh?” North stood up finally, effortlessly towering over the boy who now craned his neck to look up at him with a glint of childish anger evident in his eyes.
“Cut the crap, North. We both know you don’t give two squirts of piss for any of your teammates.” For as long as he could remember, Kim had always had a thing against him. It had started out as a silly rivalry that had honed both of their capabilities in the early years, but ever since North had been given the title of the team captain way back in his junior year, Kim’s friendly competitiveness had taken a bitter turn.
“Don’t waste my time. I’m already running late as it is.” He turned around to stuff his now empty bag in his locker. “See? You don’t even give a fuck about being the team captain. You are late to the very first practice after a match.” Kim chuckled, a sordid tinge of humor that warped his already cacophonous voice into a shrilly racket that was intolerable to the human ear.
“Don’t start now, Kim. I’m not in the mood.” He sighed, running a loose hand through his hair as he turned to leave the room without so much as a glance at his peer. “Are you in the mood for participating in illegal street fights then? Isn’t that how you earn money to satisfy the needs of your druggie mum?”
He wasn’t even sure when and how he ended up slamming Kim’s lithe body straight against the wall of beige lockers, rattling the metal body to its very core. “Don’t.” He gritted out, his knuckles waning into a bleak white with how tightly he had clutched the boy’s jersey in his hands.
“Don’t fucking go there.” He let go of the fabric with a harsh push to Kim’s chest, immediately taking a few steps back once he realized the weight of what he was about to do. Another fight would do him no good this close to the team selections. Kim, who had seemed scared out of his wits a few seconds ago, puffed out his chest with a newfound surge of courage.
“Look at you, too much of a wimp to even fight back now.” North was smart enough to not fall into his bait this time around, leaving the room before the fucker could say something more.
Outside, on the field, the morning sun was relentless. He would definitely have to ask Ongsa if she could lend him her sunscreen. He turned to look towards the bleachers, letting his squinted gaze roam around the occupants. Ongsa had promised she would come to watch him practice along with a ‘friend’ of hers. North knew it was all just a stupid pretense, Ongsa hated football as a sport with all her might. She had just wanted a dumb excuse to spend time with her supposed friend.
“P’North!”
He felt his lips pull up in a languid smirk as his gaze settled on Ongsa who was flailing her hand about in the air to catch his attention. The cause of his amusement wasn’t, at all, his friend making an absolute fool of herself in front of her crush. It was more so the person who was seated next to Sun, who he had come to know in the past few months as the campus’ sweetheart – or aka the apple of Ongsa’s eye.
He ambled up to the trio who were sitting just a row away from the fences. “Hey, there.” He smiled against the sunlight that hit him right in the face, instead choosing to focus his attention on Night who was now glaring at his phone. “Hi, Phi!” Sun greeted him with an ebullient wave of her hand.
North returned her smile, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the top of the wooden fence separating the field from the seating arrangements. “Aren’t you already late enough?” Ongsa asked, a syrupy sweet smile plastered on her face. It was an implicit warning to not embarrass her in front of her lifelong crush.
“Am I?” He questioned rhetorically, still smiling.
“Yes, you are. I think your coach is glaring daggers at your back.” Ongsa faked a nonchalant chuckle, pointing behind him with a subtle jerk of her chin. “Fine, fine. I’ll see you guys later? We can have lunch at the cafeteria together if it’s alright with you two.” He stood up straighter, tilting his head to get a better look at Night who was still glaring at his phone as if it was the very bane of his existence.
Ongsa waited for Sun to respond, and when the latter gave out an excited nod of her head, Ongsa gave out her assent as well. “Okay then, I’ll see you three at lunch.” He left after that, not waiting around for what he was sure would be a repudiation from Night.
“Twenty laps around the field, North!” They were cutting straight to the chase then. He gave a tired nod of his head to his coach, breaking into a sprint as he changed his route. The hits he had taken on his abdomen sparked up with a new streak of pain with each lap, but somehow, he was able to get it done.
By the time he was finished with his retribution, the team was already huddled in the middle of the field. He leaned his body weight against David out of exhaustion as the Coach started speaking about today’s schedule – just a casual warm-up since it was the first day of practice after their big win.
“We’ll start with four sets of lunges, boys!” Coach Jim yelled, blowing his whistle to get them moving. “And North, come talk to me before you start.” Resisting a groan, he followed his coach while the team started on with their regime. David patted his shoulder in sympathy before leaving.
Usually, North would have appreciated any form of support he would receive from his teammates but goodness, why the fuck did David have such a heavy hand and why the fuck would he land it right on the shoulder that had taken the brunt of many falls and tumbles North had taken the day before?
Coach Jim had taken his halt under the protective shade of a fig tree, his hands and attention occupied by the infamous clipboard the whole team had come to resent. North had prepared himself for the worst, probably another reapproach for his tardiness, or maybe even an offhand comment on the faint bruises covering the majority of his face. With the help of the concealer stick Ongsa had bought for him yesterday, he was able to hide most of his injuries. He hadn’t done a perfect job at it certainly, but the bruises didn’t look as hideous as before – especially the black eye that had gotten him in trouble with his manager as well.
“Are you doing alright, son?” Coach Jim still had his eyes fixated on the damn clipboard, but the solitude in his voice was as clear as day. “Of course,” he chuckled out, gulping down the unfamiliar lump in his throat. “Are you sure?” The old man looked at him through the rim of his glasses, an eyebrow raised.
“Yes, yes. Of course, I am okay. Why do you ask, Coach?” It was a good thing he had gotten proficient at the art of lying.
“Nothing. Don’t hesitate to come to me if you ever need any help, alright? Now, get going. I want that trophy this year.” He laughed at the poor attempt of his coach to lighten the mood, nodding his head in an unspoken promise.
The rest of his teammates had already moved on to the next segment of their warm-up routine when he finally made his way back to them. Thankfully, Kim didn’t bother him throughout the session.
It was only when Coach Jim had left the field to tend to some administrative matters in the office and they were done with their practice that he started prodding at him again. At first, North ignored his immature words, content with conversing with David and a few of his other juniors as they made their way back to the locker rooms.
“Ai’North! Heard your mum likes to whore herself out for a few pills. Is that true?”
The events that followed were all but a blur to him. He wasn’t sure what happened first and who initiated the fight, but he found himself sitting on top of Kim, one of his hands clutching the collar of his jersey while the other directed punch after punch at his face. The world around them all but faded into oblivion, the rage pulsating through his veins absolutely blinding him to the point of no moral return.
“Say one more word about her and I’ll fucking make sure you don’t wake to see tomorrow’s sun.” He spat out, wiping away the blood that trailed from his split lip that had reopened with a few punches Kim had managed to hurl his way. He snatched his hand away from the person who had pulled him away as he stood up, jaw clenched once the gravity of the situation settled in.
He had gone and fucked it up all again. He dragged a trembling hand through his face, looking up at the open sky as if it would offer the solution to all his problems. With one last look at Kim, he turned to leave. From his peripheral vision, he saw Ongsa reaching out for him. He left the field before she could reach him, heading straight for his home.
Dealing with the consequences of his actions tomorrow rather than today sounded extremely nice and relieving. Besides, this wasn’t even the worst fight he had gotten himself into. Kim was still conscious, just bleeding from a few places here and there. If his lucky stars were aligned and no authoritative figure had seen them, he was certain he could get away with this.
Kim would never file a complaint against him at the head office. Kim was very particular about the reputation that he carried around, and initiating a brawl, losing it, and then complaining about the said brawl was not something he would dare to do even in his worst nightmare.
The door to their house was left unlocked when he arrived. For a fleeting second, he feared someone had broken into their house, but the sight that greeted him upon opening the door fully cleared away all the doubts that had begun to fill his head. The anger that still hadn’t left his system translated its way out through tears of frustration.
“Mae?” He called out, jaw clenched as if that would halt the tears that were about to leave the prison of his eyes any moment. His vision was distorted, extremely so, but the sight of his mother crawling around the living room as she sifted through the cushions of the couch was akin to a burning star that shone at the fore of his brain.
“North? North, you are home early, baby.” For the first time in what felt like forever, she sounded happy to see him. In a moment of blissful ignorance, North let himself revel in the illusion. He took a step forward, ready to pull her up and ask if she was finally sober after ages.
He watched as his hope shattered into pathetic pieces right in front of his eyes as his mother let out a groan of frustration, throwing each cushion against the wall in her rage.
“I can’t find my pills, North!” She grunted, her voice teetering on the edge of a scream. The volume of her voice scratched at his ears, increasing the heaviness that had settled itself atop his chest – it felt as if someone had placed a large rock on top of it. “Why are you just standing there? Come help me look for them!” She hobbled up to him, still on her knees, before yanking at his arm.
North willingly let himself drop to his knees, hastily wiping away the lone tear that escaped his eye. “Let’s get you to sleep na, Mae. You can sleep, you must be tired. I’ll look for them while you rest.” He choked out, his hands seeking to grasp a hold of his mother.
She yanked herself out of his hold, crawling away from him to look for her beloved pills under the couch. He followed her, blindly seeking out her hands. “Mae.” He called out futilely, rubbing his face on the sleeve of his jersey to get rid of the few tears that had stained his face.
“Ma, please.” He grasped her wrist tightly this time, pulling her up. “You can sleep, I’ll search for –”
He was silenced by a stinging slap to his already bruised cheek. The diamond of the wedding ring that she still liked to wear dug straight into the open cut on his lower lip. “I need my pills, North! Are you fucking stupid? Help me look for them or get the fuck out of my face.” She heaved out, her eyes blown wide.
North took a good look at her unkempt form then, her knotted hair and the oversized shirt she had been wearing for two days straight now. “What happened to your face?” She asked, shuffling forward on her knees to caress his cheek. North felt himself lean into the familiar touch, heaving out a trembling breath at the ephemeral peace that had decided to embrace him.
“Did you go to that fighting place again?” She retracted her hand back, a thread of hope sewing her otherwise apathetic tone in the soft voice North was familiar with years ago. “You must have gotten lots of money then, hm? Can you buy your Mae some of her medicine, baby?” She gathered his hands in her grasp, holding their conjoined hands against her chest.
“Please?” She rasped out, tears bubbling over the edge of her red-rimmed eyes.
North nodded weakly, wiping away the tears that had undoubtedly splotched his face red. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that the remaining amount of money was supposed to pay for this week’s groceries.
He supposed he could go back to the circuit again tomorrow.