If I Stayed | Christian Yu

CHAPTER ONE - FINAL PERFORMANCE

He put it back and let his head fall against the wall again.

"Tomorrow," he whispered to no one. "Tomorrow I'll feel something again."

After a while he was changed, Malik was leaning against the wall near the dressing room, arms crossed, smirking like he already knew what Christian was thinking.

"You good?"

Christian grabbed a towel, nodding once. "Yeah. Just tired."

"Liar." Malik pushed off the wall. "You saw her, didn't you?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"You think she came?"

"Would you?"

Malik didn't answer. He didn't need to.

Christian dropped into the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.

He was home.
And in a few weeks, she was getting married.

To someone who wasn't him.

~

Back in LA. Just for a While.

The after-show adrenaline wore off faster than usual.

By the time Christian got into the black SUV with Malik and Kenji, his body was slumped, hat pulled low, hoodie up. LA looked the same; neon signs, heat still clinging to the night air, people moving too fast; but everything felt off. Like the city had kept living while he'd been gone but Christian didn't feel like the same person coming back.

Kazuo drove like he always did - smooth, two fingers on the wheel, calm like LA traffic never touched his blood pressure. Christian sat in the passenger seat, hoodie on, head tilted against the window, watching the skyline blur past like a memory he hadn't earned yet.

"You've been quiet," Kazuo said, not looking at him.

Christian's eyes stayed on the road ahead. "Just tired."

"The kind of tired that sleep fixes," Kazuo paused, "or the kind we gotta talk about?"

Christian didn't answer right away. Just tapped his foot once against the floorboard.

"The second one," he admitted quietly. "But not tonight."

Kazuo nodded, respectful as always. "Alright. Just don't wait too long. You disappear when it gets heavy."

Christian half-smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, well... I just finished pretending to be okay in twenty-five cities. Give me a second."

They drove the rest of the way in silence.
But it wasn't uncomfortable.
It was the kind of silence that said: I got you. No matter when you're ready.

Then;

"So," Malik said, breaking the silence, "we drinkin' or what?"

Kenji was already leaning forward from the passenger seat, grinning. "I've got two bottles at the apartment, and one of them is the whiskey you cried over in Tokyo."

Christian smirked, barely. "I wasn't crying."

"Bro. You were sobbing."

"I was drunk."

"You were crying and drunk. Big difference."

The banter helped, for a second.

By the time they got to Malik's place, it was close to 1AM. Kenji kicked his shoes off immediately, Malik lit a candle for "vibes," and Christian dropped onto the couch like he hadn't slept in a week. His hoodie smelled like airport and stadium lights.

Malik poured the drinks. No ice. No talking yet.

Just music in the background - something lo-fi and slow - and the sound of glasses clinking.

Christian stared at the drink in his hand.

"You ever think about how fast time moves when you're running from something?"

Malik raised a brow. "What are you running from?"

Christian didn't answer right away. He took a sip. Then another.

"I was gone for eleven months. Felt like three weeks. And she... just moved on."

Kenji sat down across from him, more serious now. "You mean Aaliyah?"

Christian looked up, eyes slightly glassy. "I didn't think she'd really do it. The whole engaged thing. I thought maybe it was just- I don't know- one of those phases. Something she'd outgrow."

"But you weren't here, bro," Malik said quietly. "You didn't give her a reason to wait."

Christian let that hit him. It hurt, but it was true. He ran. And she... chose stability.

"You ever regret not saying something?" Christian asked, eyes locked on the rim of his glass. "Not doing something when it mattered?"

Kenji leaned back. "Yeah. But sometimes silence feels safer than being wrong."

Malik nodded. "And sometimes silence is just you being a coward."

Christian laughed, bitter and low.

"You think it's too late?" he asked.

"To what?"

"Tell her. Or at least... ask if she ever felt it too."

The room went quiet again.

Kenji refilled their glasses.

"You've got a few weeks before the wedding," Malik finally said. "If you're gonna mess this up, you better do it beautifully."

Christian sank deeper into the couch, the liquor warming his chest.

"Or tragically," Kenji added, raising his glass.

Christian clinked his glass against theirs, eyes half-closed.

"Same thing."

~

Later, early in the AM's an Uber dropped Christian home;

The apartment was too clean.

Like the kind of clean that didn't smell like life yet - just lemon surface spray and untouched leather. Christian dropped his bag by the door, let his keys hit the counter, and toed off his sneakers without bothering to line them up.

He walked through the space quietly. New city view. New walls.
No memories here.
No ghosts.

Still didn't feel like his.

The bathroom mirror lit up automatically when he stepped in front of it. He blinked against the glow, reaching up to rub his jaw; still hadn't shaved since Tokyo. A part of him liked the shadow. It made him look older. Tired. Real.

He opened the medicine cabinet slowly.

Orange bottle. White label. His name printed in bold.

He took it down, shook out a single pill, and stared at it in his palm for a second too long.

Then he turned on the tap, filled a glass, and swallowed it without thinking twice.

But his eyes were still on the mirror.

Still watching himself.

Still not sure who he was looking at.

He leaned over the sink, both palms flat against the porcelain, breath slow and tight.

"Still here," he whispered.
"To fight another day."

He flicked off the light and walked out without looking back.