Summer Haze [BL]

Chapter 4 - Black Woollen Gloves

The day ended. Stepping off the bus, I drew out my umbrella. A cold rain had been falling since morning, but there was a break in the afternoon before the gentle droplets returned. Still, the misty rain carried the lifeless body of clouds that inflicted a foreboding chill that seeped into one's skin.

It rained that day, too, when that stranger approached me from behind before smashing my head. The last vision I had was not of the man who committed the act, but another man dressed in a lavender-toned, pinstripe linen suit, holding a black umbrella.

He walked towards me, stared into my eyes, and walked away. As he strolled away, he closed his umbrella, and before my eyelids fully sunk, the sharp, golden ferrule ingrained itself into my memory.

The point ferrule was so honed that your skull would split in one blow from the top of the head if used to strike someone down.

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Passing by the cheerful students hopping on the bus, the elderly woman carrying groceries, and the pregnant mother signalling the taxi, my footsteps gradually slowed down, and I realised: there was not a single part of me that wanted to let Henry go.

The times we spent together—birthdays, New Year, Christmas, graduation—and even our minor arguments and immature jealousy during our first months of dating, but he was no longer here.

I found an old phone that I used during my college days, but it still worked.

I dialled Henry's number. Our last conversation was not how I wanted it to end at all; it was too abrupt, and there was no clarity. Confusion still brought discomfort to my chest, and I was unsure when I would understand.

Sometimes, keeping thoughts hidden away was the only way to feel relief and peace. Acceptance should come sooner, but the only thing preventing this acceptance was my own convoluted feelings and this lingering regret.

I needed to talk to Henry again, not because I desired us to return to the past but to confirm that he no longer liked me, so I would understand what I should do next.

It was selfish, but to me, those three years were merely a long, deep sleep, bereft of dreams, but to him, he had lived through it all.

"Hello?" Henry said.

The feeling of loathing surged up within me and grew stronger every minute the more I realised how horrible I was. Without warning, a blankness had begun to take possession of me; at moments, I forgot what I was going to say, or rather, forgot what was of importance.

"Henry, if you have time, can we talk?"

"August..."

"I'm not going to beg you to take me back... or ask you to leave Eugene. I just want to talk to you... Is that alright?"

"Ah! Sorry! Move out of the way!" someone yelled.

Suddenly, something crashed into me from behind, and we both fell onto the floor. He had light-brown hair cropped short, some strands falling before his temples, and the same black woollen gloves sparked my memory.

It was Eugene.

He was riding his bike and abruptly lost control. With a stinging ache, I rubbed my back and helped Eugene up.

"Are you alright?" I asked with a smile.

"I'm so sorry! I've been trying to learn how to ride a bike, but it's quite hard," he said and frowned.

Eugene glanced at the phone on the ground and quickly picked it up. His innocent expression didn't change, but something slightly faltered in his eyes when he saw the caller ID.

He kept touching my phone everywhere, opening and closing it to check if it was still working, but his hands were trembling. At this point, I'm sure the way his fingers were tapping everywhere on my screen would've already ended my call with Henry. But since he was wearing gloves, it was harder to click anything in general.

"Is it alright if I have my phone back?"

"Oh right," Eugene said, handing back my phone to me.

He fiddled with his fingers, and the words hung by the tip of his throat. Finally, after a few minutes, he gathered the courage to talk.

"August... Please leave Henry alone. It's good that you are healthy now, but your return has only burdened him even more. You don't understand how much he suffered to the point of detachment between himself and with others or how deranged he became."

"Months after you abandoned him, Henry dreaded meeting anyone, any amusements, any places. He even dreaded being who he was and blamed himself every day. He was finally starting to open up to me, and we have all moved on from this, your disappearance, that is."

I listened attentively.

"So, your appearance is a bit... or rather just you inserting yourself back is quite torturous for the both of us. Please stop trying to contact him. I'm saying this for your sake, so please don't hate me too much," he said.

There was a long, silence that withdrew itself and loomed over the air. Eugene gave my phone back, and my attention was drawn to his thin shirt even though it was currently winter.

"You should just focus on your recovery and live a healthy life. I'm sure you will find someone else, just... please don't take Henry away from me."

The clouds started thickening, and the sprinkle of rain started drizzling down my face. If Eugene's destination was far from here, it'd be challenging to get by since he had no umbrella, and there was barely any shelter from this point onwards on the street.

Even if the rain slightly stopped, it began to sprinkle again and may soon become a downpour.

"Where are you heading?" I asked, "It will rain again soon. Do you have an umbrella?"

Eugene's thin brows knitted, and his eyes lit in inscrutable indignation.

"It won't rain that quickly."

He took off with his bike, but after walking a few steps, he turned back around and smiled innocently. "I'm heading to Henry's studio."

With those last words, Eugene walked away. The way he acted in our first meeting was strangely different, even though he had that image of an angelic being.

His voice was soothing to listen to, and he would speak at a slow pace. Yet, behind his words and expressions, there was another layer behind that superficiality.

My phone rang, and it was Henry.