I pull away from Chan reluctantly, though my hands still stay bundled up in the back of his t-shirt. I didn't know my body would react so positively to his hug; my heart rate has slowed down back to normality, the knot of anxiety in my stomach has subsided and has left a gentle bubble of comfort in its place; I feel strangely at ease, as if maybe things aren't really as bad as they seem.
Chan gently wipes my wet cheeks with his thumbs, his fingers ghosting over my damp skin, before giving me a shy smile. “Okay?”
I nod and grin up at him, ignoring the sinking feeling in my stomach as I let go of him. “Yes. Thanks Chan.”
Chan grins back. “Come on. Let’s go down to the guys. We’ve still got twenty minutes of lunch left,” he says, grabbing my hand and leading me to the door of the roof. He stops and steps aside, doing a ridiculous mock bow and gestures to the door. “After you, my lady.”
I giggle and play along with his act, giving him a dainty little curtsy in return. He starts to chuckle and we head down the stairs, the boy gently swinging our entwined hands.
“Chan?” I ask hesitantly as we walk through the corridors. I slide my hand out of his warm grip; I don't want people to get the wrong idea and spread more rumours around.
“Yeah?” Chan replies, looking down at me. He looks looks briefly at my hand as I shove it in my jacket pocket, before he looks away hastily and I don't get the chance to read the expression flashing in his eyes.
“What if everyone laughs at me?” I question him and he frowns.
“Why would they laugh?”
“Because they always laugh at me,” I say. “What if they find what Leah did funny?”
He snorts. “No one in their right mind would find that psycho funny. And if they do, I’ll get Felix on them. He did taekwondo.”
I giggle at his response. “Felix looks like he couldn’t kill a mosquito let alone hit a human. But if I might believe it if I heard his voice before seeing his face."
“Ah,” Chan smiles. “That’s one of his assets though. People don’t think he’s capable of hurting anyone, but that’s what makes him so unpredictable - imagine someone comes to pick a fight on him and he just quickly kicks them around the head.”
I smile at that, thinking Felix would be a fun person to be friends with.
“Tell me a bit about everyone,” I ask him, curious. If I'm to start hanging out with them like they said, i should learn more about them.
“Hmm well there’s Changbin, says he’s into dark stuff and acts all intimidating, actually has the darkness of a fairy princess,” Chan says. "He sleeps with a stuffed animal. Don't tell him I told you," he adds quickly with a guilty smile and I burst into peals of laughter. Wow. “Then we’ve got Jisung, he’s an absolute mess of a human and tries a little too hard to make us laugh. He's so so talented, and so caring and genuine, he’s a really lovely guy. Hyunjin is a whole drama queen which makes him pretty fun to hang out with, and he’s a huge softie for anything cute and pink. He has a really huge heart and he can get really sensitive at times, but it's only because he feels things deeply. There’s Seungmin, who seems to hate everyone except Jeongin, and Jeongin loves everyone except Seungmin. Usually if you're looking for one of them, you'll find them with the other. Jeongin is the smallest of us and he’s like our little baby. And then there’s Minho, who literally curses us every second of the day and loves nothing but his three cats,” he finishes, as we head into the cafeteria. I brace myself for sly comments and titters, but thankfully no one pays me any attention apart from a few stuck up girls in my year and I sigh with relief.
“And you?” I ask. “What are you like?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I’m just … Chan.”
I’m about to reply when Hyunjin appears in front of us and grabs my shoulders.
“Y/N! Are you okay? We were worried about you,” he pouts, his soft brown eyes enlarged. My heart lurches. They were … worried … about me?
“I’m okay now, thanks Hyunjin. Chan helped me actually,” I shoot Chan a grateful smile and I swear he blushes fractionally, but it dissappears quickly before I can register it. “Sorry for making you worry.”
“Y/N!” Jeongin calls as I head to the table. He’s wearing a dark purple hoodie that is too big for him, making him look like he's drowning in the fabric. For some reason, it looks perfect on him. His ashy brown hair falls in small waves around his face, creating an illusion that a cloud is sat on his head. “Have some jellies!”
I giggle as I take the packet of sweets from him. “Do you always greet people with sweets?”
Seungmin shakes his head in response to my question. “He only gives sweets to people he really likes or people who are sad. You getting two packets of jellies from him in two days means he really likes you, Y/N.”
My heart warms at Seungmin's explanation and I smile at Jeongin with all the warmth I can muster. He covers his face with his hands and sinks into his hoodie as Felix pats his back lovingly.
“Are you okay Y/N?” Jisung asks me as I sit next to him. “Your friend doesn’t seem like a very nice person. No offence. But if she takes offence it’d serve her right. But I don’t mean to cause offence,” he rambles.
“Jisung shut up no one knows what you’re saying,” Minho wacks his friend on the back of his head, unwrapping a lollipop. “At least speak sense for once.”
I swallow back a laugh. “I’m okay, thanks Jisung. I just don’t get what got into Leah.”
“You don’t need her, Y/N. You’ve got us now,” Changbin says, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Don’t listen to what anyone says about it either. And definitely don’t listen to any of the rumours people will make up about us. It’s not worth it.”
I nod, storing that bit of information in my brain. Maybe Changbin is right. Maybe I don’t need Leah.
***
Chan: are you awake?
Me: yeah. can’t sleep
Chan: same. what do you want to eat for breakfast in the morning?
Me: whatever’s fine. honestly
Chan: noooo choose D:
I sit and think for a while, eyebrows furrowed. A large of delicious breakfast foods I’ve never been lucky enough to have before run through my mind. I don't want to be an inconvenience to him, but the thought of one particular option keeps circling around my head.
Me: …pancakes? I've never had pancakes before.
Chan: YOU'VE NEVER HAD PANCAKES BEFORE? You poor thing :[ I now have to make sure you eat pancakes. Be ready for seven tomorrow :]
I smile before switching my phone off and flopping backwards into my bed. Something crinkled under my back and I roll to the side to see the scarlet drenched tissues littered on my duvet. Biting my lip, I quickly pick them all up and shove them down the toilet, wincing as the water immediately takes on a pink hue before the tissues disappear out of my sight.
Once I'm back in my bedroom, I hastily pick my blades off of the floor and drop them into my drawer; I feel as though if I keep them out infront of my sight any longer I'll be tempted to add new additions. It's only been an hour.
Ah, I think to myself. Bandages.
Scrambling around my room, I pull open the drawer where I keep all my first aid supplies. My fingers rifle through its contents and my heart sinks with a heavy thud as I realise I ran out of them yesterday; I don't even have any small plasters left. Groaning, I let the drawer fall shut with a bang.
I sit back on the floor in front of my full length mirror and lean back against my bed, my eyes drooping.
My reflection stares back at me with plain brown eyes, thick, dark brows furrowed above them. Faint freckles splatter like uneven paint drops on my pale skin, my pink mouth shaped into a dissatisfied pout. Waves of silver hair tumble down my head in and skim the top of my bare shoulders, the skin scarred and bruised and horribly familiar.
Unable to look at my ugly self anymore I turn away; tears blur my eyes and I crawl into bed, preparing myself for the usual nightmare as I pull my duvet up and over my head, shutting out the light.
In the morning I avoid catching sight of my face in my cracked bathroom mirror. I don't want to feel even more sorry for myself when I see the dark shadows beneath my eyes, left behind by the lack of sleep.
Sighing, I slip into an oversized hoodie and jeans; the hoodie sleeves are loose enough to not brush against my wounded skin, allowing me a little bit of comfort. I blow the stray strands impatiently out of my face before walking out of my bedroom.
I tiptoe my way down the corridor between the front door and the stale living room where I can see my mother passed out on the floor amongst vodka bottles. Sighing in disgust, I pull my hoodie up across my face to block the foul stench of smoke and puke, before gently pushing open the door.
Once I step outside, I take a deep breath of the damp air, cool and slightly painful to my throat but I don't care - it's better than whatever witch's brew fills the rooms inside the house. I lock the door before turning to walk down the stairs.
I jump suddenly at the sight of Chan leaning against the gate, his blonde hair dancing around his head. He looks up as I arrive and he smiles, the little dimple in his left cheek appearing with the intensity of his smile.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” He asks me as he begins to walk down the street. I keep up with his long strides with my fast pace, and I'm glad we match.
“Yes,” I lie, not wanting to tell him about my nightmares. “Did you?”
He shakes his head. “Think I slept one hour? It’s better than most nights but still not much. I just think a lot."
I bite my lip. I know that feeling all too well.
We lapse into a comfortable silence as we continue walking, the gentle sound of rain accompanying our journey. It feels nice walking with Chan, the feeling of another human being beside me diminishing the loneliness inside of me. I can't help but notice the small things about him; the way he hums slightly off key under his breath, the way his hair dances across the nape of his neck with the wind, the way his eyes crinkle in surprise as a raindrop lands on his nose. I look away quickly, my heart fluttering.
Before long we reach the place we're to eat at. Chan ushers me inside and I am hit by the cosy smell of sweet coffee and freshly baked, buttery pastries; my stomach growls in anticipation. Chan slides me a private grin as though he's heard the sound and I flush, embarrassed.
“Sit here, I’ll be back in two ticks, just going to order the food,” Chan says, gesturing to the searing area and I nod at him before sliding into a little booth in the corner.
While waiting for him I pick at the strings on my sleeves and stare at the wooden table, fascinated by the thousands of warping, bisected lines furnished into the surface. The the mouthwatering scent of freshly baked food keeps my stomach growling ina steady stream of protest.
Not a moment later, Chan arrives at the table, his all black outfit contrasring with the fair palor of his skin and hair making him look like a mysterious vampire who just stepped out of a fictional novel. He gives me a soft smile before flopping onto the seat infront of me, his ringed fingers resting on the table.
“I like your hair like that,” he says suddenly, his head cocked to the side. I blink a few times at him, not understanding the compliment and completely caught off guard.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because it looks pretty,” he replies simply. “You are very pretty in general, and I like how your hair tied back shows your features more."
I flush darkly. “I am not pretty.”
He looks at me in surprise as he leans forward, his chin resting on his hands. “You are! You’re pretty on the outside, and the inside.”
I laugh. “I’m really not. I’m ugly and I’m weird.”
Chan frowns and opens his mouth to speak but his response is interrupted by the waiter who balances two plates expertly on the palms of his hands. He sets a plate down in front of Chan and one in front of me.
"Enjoy," he smiles, and I watch as he walks off, disappearing behind the counter again.
I look down at my plate. The plate is drenched in syrup, the thickest, most fluffy pancakes I've ever seen sitting on top of each other in a hefty stack. Golden maple syrup dribbles in a sticky stream down the sides from its small pool on top. A neat square of rich yellow butter rests on the top, and I'm immediately reminded of an illustration inside a cook book.
My stomach rumbles.
Chuckling, Chan gestures to them with his fork. “Dig in, Y/N.”
Without being told twice, I do just that, and I relish every single bite, the airy interior combined with the other syrup creating harmony in my mouth.
"This is ... " I struggle to find words as I wave my knife and fork around in the air. Chan watches me with crinkly eyes, his lips glistening with syrup. "Amazing. They're amazing."
"I'm glad you like them," Chan hums. "Maybe I should bring you here more often ... you look cute when you eat."
I choke at that, and I cover my face with my hand, pretty sure that my eyes are bulging out of their sockets. "Don't say things like that," I croak, reaching for my water. "Especially when I'm eating."
Chan laughs. "Okay, I won't when you're eating. But you can't stop me otherwise."
"Chan - " I protest, but he just shakes his head fondly, pushing my plate towards me.
"Finish your food, Y/N. I don't want you to be hungry," Chan instructs me softly. He has an authoritative nature, I notice, but in a gentle, almost parental manner that makes me want to do anything he tells me. I pick my cutlery up again and finish the last of my pancakes, a small smile twitching on my lips.
Once we’re finished, Chan generously tips the little café and walks out, me following him. We walk to the edge of the path, waiting for the roads to clear so we can cross.
"Hey look out!"
Chan grabs me by the arm as a shrieking cyclist, obviously drunk, comes crashing by, the vehicle swerving on the near empty path. I still manage to lose my footing despite Chan's hold on me, just as a car swerves by, dangerously close to the curb and I know that I’m going to fall. I feel the familiar uneasy rush of adrenaline in my stomach as I feel myself descending. A hand tightens on my wrist and I gasp in pain, the agony so intense that I see white dots swirling around for a moment. Chan pulls me to my feet and away from the edge of the path, hand still gripped on my wrist. I wince in pain, biting my lip to conceal it.
Chan though, doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you? Let me see,” he takes my hand gently and is about to push my sleeve up when I snatch my hand away, giving him an apologetic look.
“No!” I shout, earning a confused look from Chan. “I uh, I mean no! You didn’t hurt me, I’m fine.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Only, you looked like you were in a lot of pain.”
Panic flashes across my eyes and I hope he doesn’t catch on. “I’m fine, really. Let’s just go to school.”
With one last look at my sleeved arm, he shrugs and begins walking again, and I let myself breathe again.
We finally reach school in silence; Chan hasn’t spoken to me since I nearly fell and I feel uneasy, wondering what he's thinking about. My head is whirling as we reach our form room, Chan heading straight to his desk, dragging the silence with him.
I sit down at my own desk and wait for him to say something. But he doesn’t.
“Chan? Are you okay?” I finally ask, pulling my chair up to his desk.
He doesn’t answer for a long time, his gaze lowered and his long lashes fringing his dark eyes. Then he shifts his gaze to my arm and whispers so quietly that I have to lean forward to hear what he is saying.
“You hurt yourself, don’t you?" He asks. My blood runs cold, heart thudding in my ears as he looks up and locks his eyes with mine. “You self harm.”
I stare at him, mouth suddenly devoid of any moisture. “N - no,” my voice sounds hoarse and weak to my own ears - he's sure to hear the lie.
He looks as though a thousand questions are running through his head, and it seems as though he's having an internal debate as to whether he should ask any or not. His face is painted with what looks like agony, the irises of his eyes filled with hurt. “Why?”
Seeing no point to deny it, I just lean back and look him in the eye. “Because I hate myself.”