FOREIGN | WEN JUNHUI

00 / farewell

beginning note: i've had the worst day but somehow, someway, i persevered and wrote this chapter. which is crazy. because i literally wrote this in a day, minus swimming time. it's wild. i know it's not as great as in july or any of my other works, where i take more care with my writing, and i'm sorry. i'll totally edit in the morning! please vomment! i will be so thankful.

mentions: zach and boo, you two have kept me afloat. ken, i know you're going to be dissapointed with this chapter bc i cut some things out (but i swear ill mention them!) thank u for helping me out so much dude.

word count: 1587

❁

It was like a game of tetris, the way her dad rearranged the boxes in the trunk. When all the spaces were filled, she foolishly wished that all the boxes would go poof! like they did in the game. To her dismay, they didn't disappear like she hoped they would. Instead, the boxes of household items, coffee grinds, and clothes served as a reminder for the the very thing she wanted to forget: that they were moving.

For almost seventeen years, she walked down the same streets, hung out with the same friends, and sheepishly waved to the same dog every morning. It was a rhythm that she'd grown accustomed to since the beginning of time, and now, she felt entirely thrown off. There wouldn't be anymore sleepovers at Maji's, or storytimes at her grandpa's, but days away from home. Who knew how long her dad planned for this to last?

I hope that it doesn't last. 

As guilt simmered on the tip of her tongue, she bit back the thought, because it made her feel like a jerk. How could she complain? Her dad provided her with a roof and food to eat, and used to read her bedtime stories when he came home exhausted from work. The least she could do was return his excitement with a half-hearted smile. It was a little tired, but so was he.

She heard his voice slip through the cracks of the car window and go off like an air horn. "The junk is in the trunk!" he hollered. It was seven in the morning and her dad didn't give a damn - he was too excited to care about what their neighbors thought. It wasn't like they were coming back anyways. "In the trunk, trunk, trunk. . ."

It was too early for all of that, and she communicated her second hand embarrassment with a side eye. "You're so cringey," she said with a dissapointed sigh. "Thought you were supposed to be my cool dad."

He pinched her cheek through the open window, which caused her to whine. Mostly for show, because years of her hair being heat-combed, box-braided, and pulled enough to snatch her skull to yesterday had numbed her pain sensors. A little pinch wouldn't hurt. "You talkin' like you have any other dad, with that 'my dad' stuff. And what do you mean? I'm the coolest dad on the block," he chuckled.

The block that we're leaving, she wanted to say. "Nah, Mr. Jones is going to take your place."

"Oh, hell no. Not his 'all lives matter' ass," her dad said. He flipped through his keys, looking for the one to start their SUV. "Bless the lord, we don't have to see him again when we get to China." 

Jaynie stiffled a laugh that never made it to her throat. China, she remembered. When her dad came home with a grin stretched across his face, she could stand moving to the next city, or even the next state if they had to. . .

China, not Chinatown.

"You got everything? Your retainer too?" her dad asked seriously. They'd be damned if he had to make a u-turn halfway to the airport; but then again, she could imagine herself doing that in her situation.