[FOR ISHQYAUN] See Right Through Me [3/5]

[krishanthemods]

Part II

Yifan wasn’t sure if he should be delighted with the fact that Han was slowly opening up more, asking for Yifan to hold him whenever he felt suffocated and reaching out for Yifan’s hand whenever he talked on the phone at 6PM to his mother.

He wasn’t sure what to feel because of a lot of things. He wasn’t sure because Han would always stay in his arms until he fell asleep on hard nights, wasn’t sure because he would always feel the need to hold him close whenever that happened, wasn’t sure because his heart said another, and his conscience said otherwise.

The main reason why he wasn’t sure though, was because of times like when Han would look up from where he was leaning on his shoulder, eyes imploring as if he wanted Yifan to do the same just as he leaned up, wanting for Yifan to meet him halfway. His lips were always parted, inviting.

He turned his head away because it was the right thing to do.

He did what he had to do back then, to kiss Han to calm him down, and now he wasn’t entitled to do the same, not when Han was showing him everything. He had read the pages of Han’s journal when the younger showed him what he wrote, what he drew, all the secret and thoughts, dark and black, days when Han felt like giving up and times when he thought he was the one who was supposed to be on the other side.

But he also had read that Han was trying to come into terms with himself, that he felt the sky was brighter when Yifan told him it would be a good day, what he felt whenever he woke up to see Yifan’s face on the other side of the bed, what he wrote about good days and how Yifan was always there, days when he felt like he could make it and days when he felt less guilty.

Yifan was happy, really, that the younger could anchor his thoughts on things that wouldn’t suck him into that void… but he wasn’t allowed to let the younger harbour his thoughts on him and make him more than a sanctuary. He wasn’t supposed to want Han to do that. He wasn’t meant to be who Han wanted to be alright for, not him. It couldn’t be him.

People wither; they break, they die, they shatter, and Yifan was all that in one. Yun might have helped him to piece his mind together, and in exchange, he asked for one thing that Yifan held dear until today. A promise he made almost ten years ago, the one he kept for god knows how long.

Han’s frown was the sight that became so much familiar now. His eyes would question him “Why?” and he honestly had no answer for it. Yifan would stay quiet, eyes trained to the corner of the room, or the screen, seeing but not looking because his senses were all tuned to Han, who would look down to his lap and grip Yifan’s shirt just a little tighter before leaning against his shoulder again.

Yifan would start a conversation then, asking Han how he was and if he was feeling better, as if nothing ever happened a few minutes ago. Han would nod and told him his story of the day, what happened in the campus and how he hated his professor that dissed him for his passion to the red devils.

“Just because he thinks Liverpool is better. Stupid,” he would rant, lips jutting out petulantly and Yifan would feel both a churn in his belly and a sigh of relief, wondering what should they eat for the night and what should he do the next time Han tilt his head up. He never did.

But the pattern will continue a few days after. Different settings, same actors, same scene, same acts. And honestly, Yifan didn’t know anymore. He had to stop himself from leaning down sometimes, and there was one day, just a few days into March, when he caught himself leaning slightly to the younger’s touch. He jerked back almost immediately and acted as if nothing happened.

“Brush your teeth, Han. Then go to sleep. Good night,” he said instead, turning around to lay on his side facing the wall instead of Han. Rustles were heard, and Yifan would find himself awake in the middle of the night with Han leaning onto the back of his nape, hand just a few inches away from the skin of his back.

At nights like that Yifan could only will himself to stay still and calm his aching heart, trying to calm his blaring mind, and making sure that he won’t turn around in the middle of his sleep.

He knew that he was the one to blame. It was his fault that everything turned out this way. He thought it was gone, the sound that always nagged him from the back of his mind all those years ago. He thought he could separate and box his conscience and judgements - his feelings - and do what he was supposed to do, to do what’s right.

It wasn’t a rare occurrence for him to end up staying up all night when his mind wouldn’t stop feeding him thoughts that corroded his entire being. They say dreams are manifestations of fear, desire, and true self, and Yifan was too much of a coward to face them and see how they validate his thoughts. He wasn’t supposed to want to pull Han closer than this, wasn’t supposed to need the soft lingering touch, wasn’t supposed to crave for the sound of his name whispered from a pair of thin, kiss-swollen lips.

He ran away because of a reason. His whole life had been a series of packing his feelings and thoughts and storing it away into the dusty corner of his brain. He was to understand the responsibilities of an adult and brace it because he was supposed to be. These emotions weren’t what he needed. He didn’t need any of these, they’re redundant, destructive, killing, but…

It was supposed to be another mundane day at work where he only had to review several new supplier contracts from where they would source their goods from. Since his online business was actually acting as a middleman between existing suppliers and the stores that would directly deal with the customers, he needed to be very careful in making sure that each item was delivered to the correct place. He prided himself in being able to cater to his clients well, even though the business was only running for four years, and he had a clean track record in delivery.

But it seemed like the universe was conspiring against him with events through events because a phone call came to the office, which made Zhou Mi’s face who took the call fell and ashen white. Yifan had to come to the rescue and talked to the person on the other side of the line only to find out that there had been a few boxes of packages they delivered a few days back that arrived empty or broken. He had to track down the order and location, spending nights on the office to clear the problem and arranged extra deliveries to make up for that incident.

It turned out that there was one of their clients from the supplier side who manipulated the orders and items that they were supplying to inflate the sales, even though their stock was minimum. It just happened that Yifan’s business was the one who had to bear the luck to be dragged into the mess. The client on the other side was persistent in blaming Yifan’s inability to re-check the goods, even though the procedure of that had been done on Yifan’s side as per their policy. It wasn’t his fault that the goods were faulty from the start; he accepted the goods and deliver them in that condition also.

Countless apologies, a barely dodged lawsuit and a contract termination after, Yifan was left with mental, emotional, and physical tiredness. He was always on edge all day, having less sleep and even more stress on his shoulders. He was good in handling this business, but he was proved wrong. He was good in comparting his emotions into boxes, but he was proved wrong. He was good in separating his work and personal life, but he was proved wrong.

His work ethic was affected by the incident and he became even more perfectionist than before. Zitao had to disappear to the bathroom with red rimmed eyes for half an hour after Yifan slammed his weekly report down for only minor details he had missed, which Yifan had never made a fuss about before. Zhoumi messed up a special order with a customer not even a week after the last mishap happened, and once again Yifan had to take over. The work atmosphere in the office turned stale and uncomfortable, and Yifan couldn’t even lean back on his seat anymore.

There were so many things to do and watch over. He needed rest, but he couldn’t afford it. Not when the work he prided had become a burden on his shoulders and his own personal problems at home. He was thankful that he didn’t need to deal with Han because he always came home late and went out early, working overtime every day. Seeing Han would only add more things to worry about in his mind and that was the last thing he needed.

Even so, his other staffs tried to lessen the tension in their workplace. Jia tried to mass send them motivational business talks and speeches via their work e-mail, stubbornly continuing to do so even when Yifan half-barked at her to not use their work e-mail for such petty thing. None of those talks matter to Yifan, not when they didn’t know what situation Yifan’s going through.

Henry, as always, tried to use food to lure people out. There was this hole in the wall restaurant that served cheap, yet surprisingly good authentic Chinese food just a few blocks away from the office. Henry, being a self-acclaimed best customer of the shop, dragged him out of the office with Fei and Jia on tow to take him away from work at least for lunch break. (Lunch wasn’t important, not when it was compared to getting work done.)

“You look like shit, man,” Jia commented as she fished a blob of meatball from her lo mien, Henry and Fei on each side of the square table. “Just saying,” she added a few beats later, face scrunched in what he knew as awkwardness.

“Do I?” he commented nonchalantly, stirring his hotpot around before looking up from his meal, only to find three pairs of eyes eyeing him in a mixture of confusion and sympathy. He hated that look. He wasn’t a cancer patient waiting on his death bed. “I’m alright though? I mean, I’m not sick or anything… or maybe I’m just feeling under the weather.”

“You look like you belong to those exorcism shit on the documentaries Zitao showed me last time. It’s like there’s this dark energy that sucks your life source or something,” Henry munched his food as he talked, words measured although he was trying to make it sound as casual as possible. “I mean, if it’s because of that stupid issue it’s all settled now, you don’t have to worry.”

“Ghosts don’t exist, and no I’m not possessed or having any spiritual mishaps with any beings. I’m just…,” he trailed off as he himself didn’t really know what he was feeling at the moment. He felt rather hollow. “Tired,” he settled instead, scooping rice and his dish to his mouth at Fei’s imploring gaze to his side. “And we had two red codes in less than two weeks. I don’t think this is a glitch.”

“Exactly, you look like you haven’t had rest in weeks man- How many times do I have to tell you to take care of your own self before coming to the office? We can handle it, Yifan, trust us. You employed us for a reason,” Jia’s face was aghast, as if Yifan had offended her with his answer.

“I’m fine, I just need some more rest and I’ll be good as new. Don’t worry too much,” he waved her concerns off, taking a few gulps from his complimentary water. His throat felt dry and he was starting to sweat under his shirt. “I’m fine.”

“It’s not just because of work isn’t it? Is this because of your best friend too? You suddenly took a few days off a few weeks ago. It was the anniversary of his passing, right?” Fei asked, her gold nails glinting under the restaurant’s lights. Yifan wished lunch break will be over soon because sitting here and being interrogated made him feel anxious.

He didn’t mean to, but his body flinched in reflex when Fei tried to reach out for his shoulder, and his eyes widened when he looked at Fei immediately, trying to apologize, but Fei’s deep frown shut him out promptly. “I- it’s not-“

“Or does it have anything to do with the brother you told me about?” Henry quipped with as he tried to steal Fei’s grilled meat from her plate. Yifan didn’t know what expression he made at the remark but Henry dropped his chopsticks to the ground, his face contorted into one of panic. “No, no I didn’t say anything, sorry boss.”

Yifan shook his head and drank even more water until he realized that he had finished the glass already, having no choice but to stop looking at the glass and put it down onto the table. Both Jia and Fei were staring at him intently and Henry was darting his gaze around, legs jittering. Yifan hated this tension. Yifan hated himself for not being able to guard his emotions and keep them in check properly. He hated himself for losing control over himself. He hated that they couldn’t even understand what he was going through. So much for being a friend, he scoffed mentally.

“I’m alright, just a bit tired, don’t make a fuss out of it,” he answered with a voice that came out a bit too stern, but he couldn’t care less. He had had rough nights for weeks and he felt spent, and he didn’t need them to point out what was wrong in his life when he himself knew it all too well already. The least they could do was to leave him alone and let him sort his shit out.

“No, Yifan, did you even see yourself this morning? Or for the past few weeks? We’re here to listen if you ever need us, don’t feel so distant okay? We’re here if you ever need anyone to talk to. We care, Yifan, that’s why we’re asking. We’re just worried about you, and it’s okay if you feel sad about him passing, it’s okay to have a hard time about it, but Yifan-,” Jia scooted closer to the table as she spoke, her hand enveloping his to comfort him but all he could feel is a cold annoyance from her touch.

He pulled his hand away and gave her a hard stare. “Don’t talk like you know shit about what’s happening, mind your own business.”

“Hey, hey, wow calm down there. She was right, you know. We wouldn’t judge you for having a hard time, we just wanna help you out man,” Henry tried to clear the tension down, but Yifan had had enough of this whole nonsense. He was here because he thought they’d understand and gave him some space while having a goddamn meal, but they just had to poke their noses into his shit

“I said mind your own goddamn business,” he hissed, nerves jumping out of his skin and he felt a deep urge to lash out. He only held himself back because they were in public now and he could feel the stares of the people glancing at their table. Fuck people who wouldn’t even try to keep their nose down their own meals.

“What the fuck is your problem? He was just trying to help you, don’t talk to him like that. He’s older than you, pay some respect. Calm yourself down,” Jia said in a tone that escalated with every word she said, trying to keep her voice down but Yifan was having none of that. Why couldn’t they just be quiet?

“Shut the fuck up, don’t talk like you know what’s going on. I’m fine, and I’m tired, and you weren’t helping at all and all you did was making my head hurt so can’t you just be quiet for a second and just mind your own business? I’m your boss and I’m trying to fix the problems because it seems like none of you can do good job in taking care of them.”

There was a loud bang from his side and he looked at the direction to find Fei with her face flaming, clearly trying to not make a scene but was failing, looking as livid as hell. Her grip around her glass was so tight until her knuckles turned white. How dare she? He was the one who was supposed to be pissed and angry because this was his shit and it had nothing to do with them at all. Why were they trying to meddle with his own business?

“You’re not okay, so you can stop acting like you are. It’s a human thing to feel tired you know, to feel sad, especially when your close ones weren’t here anymore, but it doesn’t validate the fact that you are being an asshole to people who actually care about how you’re doing and coping,” she retorted, slamming her chopsticks down to the table and pushed her plate away like what Yifan said is an abomination.

“You’re not a superhuman and you can stop deluding yourself to thinking that you are one. You are not a hero, Wu Yifan. Stop making it sound as if this is your world and your shit. We’re your friends, and we just wanted to make you feel better and understand what you’re going through. I’m sorry if we’re hurting your oh-so important ego. Fuck you and your pathetic self.”

A hot flame of anger shot up his throat and Yifan was so, so close of throwing the glass in his hold to the ground when Fei pulled both Jia and Henry to their feet, rummaging her purse to throw some bills down to the table.

“Come back to the office when you realize that you’re being a fucking prick and when you’re ready to apologize,” was what she said before dragging the other two away from the scene. Henry kept on stealing glances back at him with wide eyes, and Yifan tried to catch his breath and calm his erratic beating heart. He had enough of this for today.

Taking out his wallet he too took some bills and threw it to the table before making his way to exit the small, supposedly cozy Chinese fusion restaurant just a few blocks away from where the office was. He went back to the office to retrieve his car and didn’t even think of anything else before racing his way home, needing some space for himself.

The traffic was quite hectic as it was still lunch hour, and he found himself gripping the steering wheel a bit too tightly. Why couldn’t he just have some peace for one fucking day? Why was the world conspiring against him? He had enough of self-loathing to do and he didn’t need any more reason to want to smash his car to the nearest building.

When he reached back home he didn’t even thought of being quiet, slamming the front door shut and took his shoes off carelessly, cursing himself when he realized that he had left his leather messenger bag behind in the office. A beer would be nice right now. Why hadn’t he thought of refilling his liquor cabinet?

He was just snapping the can open and gulping half of the content down when he heard a small “Oh you’re home already” from somewhere behind him. Blinking to himself with his frown still intact, YIfan shut the fridge door close louder than necessary, turning back to see Han in his loose sweats and tee, with a cardigan that seemed to drape over him awkwardly with the sleeves pushing past his wrist to the tip of his fingers. He recognized the cardigan as his own right away.

“Why are you home at this hour?” he asked in a rather harsh tone, feeling how the heavens were seriously playing with him and condemned him to his death today. Couldn’t he have some time to just sit down all by himself? He was spent enough as it was. He had staffs that were going against him and clients that needed to be pleased, he didn’t need Han to add his problems up to the pile.

Han‘s eyes were wide with surprise and he replied back in a stammer, fiddling with the end of the cardigan’s sleeves. “I- the professor was sick and I don’t have any class left for today… are you alright? You look- uhm-,” he flickered his eyes upward to meet Yifan’s. “You don’t look well.”

Yifan let out an exasperated sigh and opened the fridge to take another can of beer before going to the living room, throwing himself to the couch and closed his eyes to calm his throbbing head down. Some time alone will be more than enough. He just needed a few minutes and he’d be fine. He would deal with Han tomorrow and maybe apologize. He just wanted to be irrational for once in his goddamn life.

What he didn’t take into account was the sudden dip on the right side of the couch and a wool covered hand that touched his wrist. His eyes shot open right away and he looked to his side to find Han with his doe eyes directed to him, brows furrowed in concern and worry. Not again, oh fucking god, please not again.

“Are you sure? Uhm, do you want me to get you anything? I don’t mind,” he said quickly as if he was afraid, and Yifan wished that he would just stay quiet and stop talking. The headache was slowly growing and he just wanted it to leave him alone for the day. He shook his head in response because he didn’t feel like moving his lips. Han nodded and looked down to his lap and Yifan thanked all the gods above for hearing his prayers.

The silence only lasted for a while before Han spoke again, his voice faltering and unsure. Yifan had just finished three quarters of his second beer when he heard him. Apparently he thanked the gods too early. Nothing seemed to work out for him lately.

“Can- can I ask you something? I promise I won’t- uhm, say anything afterwards. I was just- I need to know. I promise I won’t ask anything else. C-can I?”

Yifan glanced at him from his peripheral vision and calculated his answer. Anything to make the rest of his day end quietly. One answer wouldn’t hurt, he could’ve just half-assed it and leave the rest to Han to figure it out. He felt guilty for thinking this way, Han didn’t deserve to be on the other end of his frustration outrage, but for now he couldn’t care less.

“Shoot,” he ordered, opening his eyes and turns his head to the side slightly, still supported by the back of the couch with his hand holding the beer in between his legs. Han bit his lip and his gaze shifted from his hand to Yifan’s eyes, then down to his lips and stayed there, and Yifan felt like he was drenched in cold water right away.

No, he didn’t want to answer whatever Han was gonna ask him. He swore to Yun’s dead, self-destructed body that he would never even think of the answer to that question. He felt his patience running thin and he opened his mouth to tell Han to shut up because he was too tired.

“Why wouldn’t you- why won’t you just-,” Han said with a slight squeeze to his wrist. He completely forgot that Han’s fingers were still curled around his hand and he froze. No this wasn’t supposed to happen. He let himself relax and go and this wasn’t what he was supposed to do. He wasn’t supposed to register the warmth around his wrist as comforting and he wasn’t supposed to not recognize it as something normal and natural and-

“Why won’t you kiss me again, ge? I- I thought we’re… I mean, I just- what did I do wrong?” he asked as if he had all the reason to fire that question to him and Yifan’s heart was starting to beat too fast in his ribs.

Please just stay quiet, please, don’t ask me that, don’t make me answer that, please-

“Stop, Han, I don’t wanna answer that right now-,” he said, close to pleading for Han to drop it and squirmed his hand away from Han’s surprisingly strong hold, fingers clutching tightly and Yifan felt trapped, panicked.

“But I deserve an answer why! You were the one who kissed me that night, and don’t tell me that it didn’t mean a thing because it did, and you’re not a liar, you never are. So please answer me, tell me the truth. I’m not a child anymore, please,” Han was the one who was pleading him this time, moving to kneel by his feet and tugging Yifan so he can see Yifan’s eyes, and Yifan was afraid, scared, wounded, betrayed, and he just wanted to get out of here. Please.

“Shut up, stop talking, I don’t wanna hear this from you, not today, not ever- let me go, Lu Han,” he tried to pull his hand away with frantic eyes, feet trying to kick himself off the ground and far away from Han’s touches, Han’s heat, Han’s eyes. He couldn’t do this, lord please-

“No! You listen to me now!” Han shouted with red rimmed eyes, anger and passion flickering behind his orbs and Yifan wished he can look away, he needed to look away. His whole body was fighting off Han’s demanding hold around his wrist and he shook his head. This was not happening, this was not happening, this was not happening.

“I felt it, I felt what you feel about me, and I know it, and I feel it for you too. Please, don’t push me away. I couldn’t calm the ticks and voices in my head before, but I can always, always sleep whenever you’re around. I couldn’t forgive myself for what I’ve done, for the monster I am, but you made me believe that I wasn’t what my head was telling me all along. You told me that I’d be alright, that you’ll be there, and I want you to be there with me. I need your arms around me to stay sane, ge, I need you.”

Yifan knew he shouldn’t listen to his words, he shouldn’t even open his eyes and made sense out of his words, but his body refused to listen to his mind and they open on their own accord, and Han was there with his heart laid open for him to see, eyes clear and honest and Yifan was drowning in guilt. He couldn’t breathe, and his gaze was slowly blurring. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t prepared for this. He needed to run away, but Han wasn’t finished yet. He kept on talking and Yifan wished he could rip his ears and eyes out.

“The voices were slowly quieting down when you kissed me, ge. They were shouting at me, killing me from inside and I didn’t know how to breathe anymore because I knew I should die, because I killed Yun gege, cause I deserve to die in his place, never him, but then you kissed me and it all went away.

“I need you to hold me and tell me that everything’s okay again, ge, please. The voices are coming back and your back is so cold and I need your arms around me, please.”

Lu Han was crying now, hand releasing its hold around Yifan’s wrist only to tug on Yifan’s shirt, his words were muffled by choked sobs and cried out ‘please’s. Yifan felt his throat tightening up and his eyes burning from the back of his head, his mind screaming at him to get out and get away but his legs were giving up on him, refusing to move because he didn’t wanna hurt Han.

He hated himself for being so weak and so soft. He hated himself because even after all this time, even after all of his effort to bottle everything up and keep it in the deepest part of his mind, he still felt his heart clenching whenever he saw Han’s tears.

“I- I can’t, I’m not allowed to, I promised I’d never- please don’t ask this from me, Xiao Lu, this is my only request to you. Forget that it ever happened, and I would too, and we could go back to the way we used to be, yeah?”

Han, instead of agreeing like what Yifan needed him to, shook his head furiously and tugged on his shirt even harder. Yifan now felt like he was fifteen again, with eleven year old Han crying as he tugged on his shirt when he was afraid of the ghosts under his bed because he couldn’t wake Yun up. Yifan had relented back then, letting Han curl up to him and held him for dear life as if Yifan was the only person in the world who can save him.

And he still thought so eight years later.

And Yifan was this close to do the same thing his fifteen year old self did again. and he still felt what his younger self felt back then, still looking down to Han’s tear stained face as he fell asleep with a feeling he didn’t want to name, didn’t want to validate, because it would be real and true and that was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

“I’ve always- I wanted you to kiss me. I’ve always wanted to kiss you. I’ve always wondered to myself how it’d feel to be held close by you again. I’ve always wanted you to pat my hair when I did well, I wanted to see you smiling at me again, wanted to be the reason why you’re smiling.”

Not him, not Han. Can you promise me that, Yifan?

“I like the way you hold me close whenever I have nightmares, ge, always. You made me feel safe, that nothing can get in the way, and you always made sure that I sleep well. I remember, ge, I remember the way you’d play with my hair before I go to sleep. I remember your promise that you’d be there when I wake up, and you kept that promise until one day I woke up without you beside me. You stopped coming to my room and sleep with me. You stopped the praises and you won’t even look at me or touch me anymore. What did I do wrong, ge?”

You said you owe me your life, and this is my request. As a friend, as a brother, don’t ever feel for Han. Anyone but him. Can you promise me that?

“I thought it was because you were in high school already, and you didn’t want to be seen befriending a child like me. You told me you’d wait until I’m grown up, so I wished every night that I’d grow up faster, so I can be an adult and see your smile directed to me again. But just when I finally old enough, you chose to move away. I was at a lost, I felt so bad, I didn’t know what I felt back then, hyung, but I know now. I know why only you can have this effect on me, why I wanted you this way, only you.”

I’m not blind, Yifan, I see the way you look at him. I don’t have any problems with your sexuality, I never do, but please, anyone but my brother.

“I’m not a child anymore, so you can tell me what’s wrong. I’ll try to change, if you want me to. I’ll try to be better for you. So please answer me, Yifan, what did I do wrong that you won’t even see me the way I see you, the way I want you to? Is it because I’m still a child in your eyes? Is it because I’m your best friend’s younger brother? Why won’t you feel for me the way I feel for you?”

If you think of me as your brother you’d do this for me. Promise me, Yifan.

“Why won’t you love me the way I love you?”

I… I promise. I promise, Yun. You can have my word. If that’s what you want.

“I can’t, xiao lu, I can’t, I’m sorry,” he managed to say in his steadiest voice, pushing back his own tears back to look at the younger male helplessly, the boy who was no longer a child, who was suddenly growing up and said the words Yifan was too much of a coward to hear. Han’s eyes were gleaming with another wave of tears, and Yifan’s heart churned, his chest is caving in with a painful pang. “Not you, I can never- I’m sorry. Not you. I can’t.”

Han’s lips were quivering as he bit on his lower lip until it turned white. Yifan held himself back from the need to reach out and cradle Han closer, telling him that he’s sorry, that he lov- He couldn’t. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

But he wanted, he needed, he craved and he yearned.

And he let Han pull himself off of him. He watched as Han stood up on his two feet, as Han swallowed back his sobs, gathering the pieces of his heart that Yifan shattered with his bloody hands and bolted to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Yifan had to stop himself from looking and he closed his eyes, leaning back to the couch and tried to catch his breath.

He could hear the sound of Han’s choked sobs, having heard of it before for god knows how many times now, and this time he had to live with the fact that he was the very reason why. His tears fell free from his eyes as he took a deep breath, trying to hold it in so he won’t have to make any sound, and released it shakily.

He repeated it over and over again, telling himself that he did the right thing, that this was what was right and what he was supposed to do. He was a man of his words and he didn’t make promises to break them. He gave his words because he meant them, he meant every word he said, but he wasn’t sure if he could go on without feeling like killing himself anymore.

All this time, all of these years, and he was still the fourteen year old Kris who didn’t know what to do but to hate himself for being the way he was born.

Thank you, brother. I know I can keep your words. You’re my best friend, you know that right?

But both Kris and Yifan couldn’t stop the pang in his chest whenever Han was around. Maybe more beer would help. Hopefully.

*

He didn’t know how long he stayed in that position, beer long forgotten on the table in front of him, eyes gazing blankly to the ceiling above him and hands lying limply on his sides. The sun was beginning to set behind him; he knew because the light on the ceiling was slowly changing colour from a bright white to yellow, darkening with each passing minute. He reached his hand up and watched the shadow elongate and move with the changing position of the source of light.

The silence was enveloping him and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to rejoice or lament over it. But it did help him to think and clear up his thoughts, picking up the unwanted emotions and reactions away, recalling the words he said and apologies that was waiting to be said, shuffling through his memories and judgement for what he should and what he was supposed to do.

And also, what he wanted to do and what he felt like he needed to do.

As he made those realizations, Yifan remained still as the door opened. The soft patter of slippers against the wooden floor followed, two soft sets of breath taken and released by two men from each side of the room. Yifan stayed in his position, eyes trained to the ceiling still, knowing that Han was looking at him and waiting.

Yifan owed a lot of people apologies today, but he figured that he should start with the one who he broke the most.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you,” he started softly, words measured and planned in his head, scripted and appropriate. He spoke better when he was prepared. “That was the last thing I wanted to do, I promised myself to not hurt you in any way, but I ended up doing it with my own hands. I’m sorry.”

The silence still remained. Han had come clean to him with all his thoughts, his heart, and it was only right for Yifan to return the gesture. He believed in law of reciprocity and this was the only thing he could offer to Han. The last thing he could do was to answer his questions and doubts.

“Do you remember when we first met? Yun took me home with him that evening. I still remember that you were the one who opened the door, blinking at us and asked why your gege stayed out so long and why were our eyes red. I told you it was nothing and that I was sorry, and you asked me who I am and why did I sound so sad. I never had the chance to answer you because your mother had ushered us in.

“That was one of the many questions I never had the chance- or will- to answer… and I hope at least I could answer most of them now. I owe you this much,” Yifan lowered his hand down to his lap, eyes following its movement to avoid looking at a certain pair of doe eyes as much as he could.

“I was born Kris Wu. Yifan is my given name by my grandmother. I’ve lived my most of my life in Canada, with my parents, until I was fourteen. I came to Beijing because my mother decided to send me away so I’d ‘learn how a proper human being behaves’. She sent me away because I told her that I liked the way her new boyfriend treated me and I wished that he would marry her so I could see and have him around every day,” he chuckled, re-telling this story for the first time to the younger brother of the first man that he had ever confided in.

“At first she thought that it was very sweet of me, for someone my age, to say that about someone who could possibly be my stepfather. But by the passing day and week, she noticed that her son wasn’t saying that because he likes him as a dad. He likes him because he likes him, and, being the level headed person she was, she thought that this might be a sign to let her young son go and explore, that he should see the rest of the world and realize that it was just a passing phase for him. That he’d be normal again.”

He traced his knuckles with his thumb, toying with his fingers so he wouldn’t feel the need to do something he wasn’t supposed to do. He needed to stay on track and said what he was supposed to say. What he was doing was simply to protect. Whether it was Han or himself, he wasn’t really sure anymore.

The blonde man had stayed quiet, though Yifan could hear him shifting on his feet. He was interested and listening, that much he knew. So he continued.

“The fourteen year old Kris was sent to Beijing to live with his aunt, who knew what he was, who he was, didn’t think that it was normal but still raised him the way she would raise her own son anyway. She called him Yifan, because she wanted him to feel like he belongs, in China. In his family. And that he did, until he found out what he really was.

“At first he thought it was a disease. He did some research to found out that he was born with a genetic mishap; that he was meant to be one ever since he was born. He knew that when you were born as a handicap, you will forever be seen as a handicap. His own mother thought that it was better to send him away for him to be normal, and he knew that she did that because she wanted him and herself to be normal.

“So Kris kept it all in, spending his time to find out what was exactly wrong with him and why he was born this way. The more information he got, the more he hated himself. He couldn’t confide in anyone because he didn’t wanna be seen as someone different, but he knew that he was different. He wanted to be fully accepted, but in order to do that he had to be normal, and that was the only thing he was not.

“And you know what happened when you think that you have no way out? Kris climbed up the staircase to the rooftop of the school, looking down and calculating how many steps he should take before he jumps, how hard he should throw his body down, how fast he should lurch so that it would be instant and as painless as possible.”

He chuckled darkly again to himself, his mind supplying him with memories from that day, the way he thought that the ground below looked so peaceful and inviting, promising him that he’d never have to worry about fitting in anymore. He remembered the adrenaline and fear, the hesitance and split second bravery, the shout of his name and a tug on the back of his shirt. Yun had always been observant, too observant for his own good.

“Just before he could finalize his thoughts and jump, he was taken back to the concrete by your brother, who punched Kris and told him that choosing the easy way out was a weak thing to do, and that men were supposed to be strong enough to know that life is the burden that everyone has to bear on their own cause everyone is a sinner. He told Kris that he would let him jump when he could give a valid reason why he should jump. And Kris was too tired of all the bullshit he had gone through, so he told your brother everything. That he was gay and he was abnormal, and the only way he could stop the self-loathing is by ending the reason why he existed in the first place.

“And did you know what your brother did?” he asked with an amused tone to himself, recalling his surprise and gratitude for his best friend. The sound of rubber to the wooden floor was getting closer, and Yifan refrained himself from looking up. Not yet. “He told me that I was stupid and that I should look for a cooler reason to die for. He said ‘from now on, that coward Kris is no more. Now, you’re Yifan, and you’re just as normal as everyone can be, gay or not gay. You’re human and that’s that. That’s your brother for you.”

He leaned his body forward so he could support his elbows on his thighs, fingers clasping around each other and fidgeting with them. He had just came out of the closet fully to someone else other than his best friend. The reality sank in with the realization that oh, he had been living as someone else for the past nine years. He had never became Kris and came out to anyone other than Yun. And maybe it was just appropriate that his brother should know.

“I didn’t know why, but we ended up crying that evening, even though we didn’t wanna admit it. We still joke about it sometimes, back then. I guess that was why we bonded and why we became best friends. We exchanged our deepest secrets and we laughed over it afterwards. I owe your brother my life and I would do anything he would ask from me. I promised him my words, and I didn’t think of breaking it, not in a million years.”

He left it at that, hoping that his explanation at least hinted Han about a promise that he chose to overlook at times, most of the times, and that he would settle with that and try to understand the reason why he did what he did, why he was what he was. But as always, Han refused to follow what he was supposed to do and asked him instead with his worn, croaked voice.

“Then why wouldn’t you even… consider me?”

“Because that was the promise he made me make.Because he asked me to give my words that Wu Yifan would never see his baby brother Lu Han that way. And I will keep it for the rest of my life. I owe your brother that much.”

The silence enveloped them once again and even with his gaze down, he could still feel Han’s eyes boring through his soul, making him tense slightly as he waited for Han’s next move. He could almost hear the sound of the gears working in Han’s mind but he held his ground, eyes fixed to the criss-cross of the wooden floor between his slippers.

A few seconds passed before he heard another movement, and soon enough there was a pair of smaller sized slippers in front of him, and a hand reaching to thread his locks through soft fingers. He didn’t expect this at all. He hadn’t expect any reaction at all, but this was beyond all that. Why would he…?

“It must’ve been hard for you, Kris,” was all he said, and Yifan somehow felt a wave of relief passing through him. it was like a giant boulder was lifted off his shoulder, off his chest, and he could breathe better, freer, more relaxed and laid back now. He allowed himself to close his eyes and leaned to the touch.

This would be the last time he’d let himself give in. He told himself that as he let a pair of lean but confident arms wrap around his shoulder, cradling his head and let him lean to the warmth of the body in front of him, Han stepping in closer to stand in between his legs and they stayed in that position for a long, long while. He could smell the faint scent of his fabric softener mixing with Han’s vanilla musk and his own cologne.

The sun was setting behind him, in front of Han, and it felt like he was fourteen and it was the school rooftop again. it felt like Yun was there on the corner of the room, looking at the way Han bend down to press a soft kiss to Yifan’s - no, Kris’ - head, just like how Yifan would do to him on those sleepless nights, like how Yifan would like to do if he was allowed.

“It wasn’t your fault. Thank you for telling me, Kris. It’s nice to meet you.”

The sun was setting he closed his eyes to imagine the way the orange light would hit his pale skin, how his eyes would reflect the glowing ray, the red button nose and dry, bitten lips. He wished to look up, to commit the scene to his memory, but just like a lot of thing he chose not to do, he did just that.

“Thank you,” he said instead. “And I’m sorry.”

*

Part IV