stray kids ; changlix | crash ↺

01 | gold

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i sighed, closing my eyes for a second.

it was just me, the wind blowing against my face, and music erupting in my ears.

today was the last day before i had to crample myself back into the small room at the end of the corridor on the second floor. and from tomorrow on, i'd be stuck with a single window outlooking into our backyard, a creaking bed and a leaking ceiling.

it's only for six weeks, i assured myself.

this summer, our family home was completely booked out. my parents kept their own room, but the rest of the three bedrooms were raffled out — which left me staying in my grandfather's unused study room.

two of the visitors moved in already a couple of days ago. one of which was a woman in her elderly years who moved out from the city for her health, and the other being a man who came to work with my father on the history of botany origins or something like that.

i asked my mother earlier on about our third guest, but she merely shrugged me off and only mentioned that it was a young foreign boy.

that lead to a series of eye rolls. the 'tourist' type of visitors were the worst. 

they often spoke broken korean, and were extremely indecisive, and asked me to give them tours around town.

do i look like i want to spend my whole day telling a stranger about the statues and fountains instead of sleeping at home?

but that's not all, my mother emphasised the word 'young' when she gave me the description, and i know exactly why she did that.

she thinks i need friends, and the fact that the new guest won't be older than forty for once; makes her believe that we can magically become best buds.

and i bet she's going to try set us up to hang out, or force me into other things that she believes make up friendship.

"mom, i have friends," i told her this morning when she brought up the topic again.

"changbin," she looked at me, "chan and jisung don't count."

i didn't question her and just left the table after finishing breakfast. now, it was nearing late evening and somewhy — it was getting darker even though summer bloomed in all ways.

my hands gripped the handles of the bicycle tighter, my hold turning red as the bumps beneath the wheels felt almost comforting.

you see, me and my bicycle had a special relationship. it was like an escape route, an hour each night when i could exhaust myself and feel numb, and yet oddly content.

maybe it was the music, echoing deeply as my heart raced and the woodland views chased after me.

but i hated it, i felt so trapped in this huge void of nothing but grass and trees. i was born to live in the city, and i counted days until i could move out.

just two more years.

another corner, a couple more strides and i was met with the rundown exposure of our house. sure it looked nice, considering the brick walls and the vines climbing the ragged surface, stained windows and rose gardens, and a broken fountain that i was ordered to fix this week.

i hopped off the bike and pushed the gates open, shuffling towards the shed as i pulled out my earphones and heard a faint shuttering of some sort from somewhere afar.

dropping the chipped-black bicycle by its home place, my eyes faltered to the sky above that turned just as grey as the neighbour's twenty-year-old cat.

i frowned, a storm was never good news for this side of town.

"mom? dad?" i called out as i locked the entrance door behind me, slipping my shoes off and throwing the keys onto the rack of random stuff.

"changbin?" i heard my father rumbling from the kitchen which wasn't a good sign.

passing through the living room, i saw the woman who rented the room downstairs. she was reading quietly by the lamp, glasses on the bridge of her nose. what was her name again? uh—

"changbin come help me set the table," my father's voice called out on me.

pacing onwards, i met him by the oven with a look of concerned horror as he took out the potato waffles that somehow didn't burn down to ashes.

"what's with the foreign food?" i asked, running up and down the counters as i grabbed five plates and cups.

"just experimenting for our new guest."

"hmm?"

"the boy that's coming tomorrow, he's from australia," my father said australia as if it was neverland or something.

shaking my head, i already disliked this new kid for getting special treatment. first he's taking my room, and now my father's preferences in cooking. what's next?

"does he at least know how to speak korean?" you could hear a bit of exhaustion lacing through my voice.

"of course," my father chirped, "from what i heard he's not that great but hey! i'm sure you'll help him improve while he's here."

i tried not to sigh too loudly.

this australian kid was getting on my nerves and i haven't even met him before.

outside the storm rustled through the trees — it was going to be a long night.

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written: december 11, 2017 | 03:41am