I fly out of the door as quickly and quietly as I can, ignoring my passed out mother on the sofa, empty bottles of liquor scattered on the dirty floor around her. My body groans in protest at my rapid movements and I grit my teeth together, ignoring the pain embedded into my muscles as I step outside. I gulp in the fresh air, contrasting to the stale, thick air inside my house.
I straighten out the chains clanking together on my skirt and smooth out my unruly, silver curls before hoisting my bag higher on my shoulder. I wonder if I'm doing the right thing ... what if she finds out where I'm actually going?
Shuddering, I shut the gate behind me. I don't even want to imagine what would happen.
Making my way down the street, I keep my head down to avoid eye contact being drawn to my now evidently bruised face, the aftermath of last night. I tried covering it with heavier makeup than usual, but I guess even the toughest of concealers aren't enough to cover this mess on my face. I let my hair fall infront as much as possible, allowing me to hide behind it like a curtain of protection.
I keep walking until a pair of black boots appear on the pavement infront of me, and I stop walking. I look up slowly, catching sight of a smiling Chan. His smile quickly melts off of his face when he catches sight of me, and his breath hitches as he takes a hesitant step closer to me. He slowly raises a hand as if he's trying to tame a wild cat and his fingertips find their way to my face, his touch as light as a breath of air. His hands shake as he traces all the bruises on my face, his eyes flooded with misery.
"Y/N," my name comes out of Chan's mouth in a small whisper and I look up into his eyes, my head spinning as I read the emotion held in them. He lets his hands drop from my face and reach for my hands instead, pulling me into him. I allow him to hold me as I wrap my arms around him, clutching at his strong torso as I bury my face in his neck, blocking out my surroundings. For a while it's just Chan and I, standing there, hugging each other.
Chan softly runs his hands over my back, as careful as he can be so he doesn't accidentally hurt my abused body.
After a while, I reluctantly pull away, keeping my hands on his waist as I look up at him. My face splits into a genuine smile, and he returns it, his face still filled with hurt as he runs his gaze over my bruises.
"What did she do to you?" Chan asks rhetorically, his hands entwining with mine. "She really got you, huh?"
I nod. "Don't worry. It happens often, I'm used to it."
Chan stops in his tracks, completely flabbergasted. "That's even more of a reason for me to worry. It shouldn't be happening at all. Its wrong,"
I shrug, rethinking my decisions as the muscle there groans with discomfort. "Tell that to my mother."
He pulls a sad face at me and starts walking again, falling into step beside me. Chan leads the way with subtle glances at me every now and then, and each time I can't help but catch sight of the worry in his eyes.
"Y/N?" He suddenly asks me.
"Hmm?"
"What's wrong?"
I try not to choke. Am I being obvious? Are my thoughts floating above me out in the open or something? I sure hope not ...
"What makes you think anything is wrong?" I ask out of curiosity.
"You're acting different," Chan replies simply. I'm surprised. How does he know?
"How so?" I am intrigued.
Chan chuckles. "It's the little things. You're kind of dragging yourself instead of walking with confidence like you usually do, your hands are clenched at your sides and you're not speaking at all," he explains.
I blink. "You've noticed that about me?"
Chan nods. "Of course."
I blush. There's no way he could have noticed those things if he hadn't been looking at me often. Then I cringe, realising there are so many awkward things he could have caught me doing. Oh God.
"So?" He gently tugs on my sleeve, giving me a soft smile. "What's wrong?"
I sigh, looking up at the dense rain clouds circling the sky. "I can't believe I'm doing this. She'd kill me if she found out."
"So we won't let her find out. We'll be secretive about it. Trust me," he says brushing his hand against mine. I bite my lip at the sudden contact, suddenly feeling nervous beside him.
"Okay. I trust you," I say. "How far away is your house?"
"It's just down another street. Also I told my mum about you and why you're coming, if that's okay," Chan says, smiling apologetically. He looks as though he expects me to be angry at him for telling another person after I told him not to. "I just thought she should know. Is that okay?"
Usually, I would be mad. But this is Chan ... Chan who's looking at me with those warm puppy eyes of his that make me weak in my knees, Chan who took it on himself to look after me when it would have been so easy for him to walk away from me. Maybe I should be angry. He did break my promise. But no matter how much I ponder over it, surprisingly, I'm fine with it. "That's okay. But I'm terrified now ... "
"No don't worry," Chan steps infront of me and places gentle hands on my shoulders as he looks down into my eyes. "My mum is honestly so lovely and she was very understanding about it. I think she was glad that I'm sort of helping you. Well I like to think I'm helping you," he stumbles over his words and then chuckles as he suddenly turns shy.
"You are," I say despite myself. "Helping me, I mean."
"Really?" Chan asks quietly, clearly not expecting me to say that. I nod.
"Yeah. You are," I say.
His cheeks turn the faintest of pinks. "I'm glad. Come on though. We're here."
***
I laugh so hard that I fall on the floor, barely acknowledging the pain in my side as I clutch my stomach at the pressure due to my laughing. I sit up, tears streaming down my face and I clock Chan's embarrassed face along with his mother's loving one, and I splutter all over again.
"Okay it's not that funny," Chan says, a smile appearing on his face despite what must be him trying to remain stony faced. I chuckle at his comical expression as I wipe my wet face.
"Not that funny? Channie, darling, it's extremely funny," Chan's mum pitches in and I grin, looking at the picture in the photo album again. Typical, looking at a photo album, but I can't deny that it's not fun. Especially when it's full of embarrassing photos of Chan as a kid.
"He was adorable though," I say, flipping the page. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Chan drop his head to hide a blush. He's blushing a lot today ... I momentarily wonder what's gotten into him, wonder what's causing his so carefully composed nature to crack.
"He still is," Chan's mum reaches over and pinches her son's cheek and I feel a pang of envious bitterness inside of me, unable to relate to the mother-child affection.
"Mum ... " Chan grins widely, shying away from her with his hands clasped in his lap. She chuckles, suddenly getting up.
"I better go get lunch ready. Behave, you two," she adds cheekily before leaving the room.
"Of course we'll behave," Chan sighs as he leans back against the sofa, his eyes falling shut. Then he looks at me, cocking his head to the side.
"You really get on well with my mum," he tells me, sitting forward again, resting his elbows on his knees. "And she really likes you too. That makes me so happy."
"Really? She likes me?" I ask, shocked.
"Yes! She told me when you went to the bathroom," he grins, stretching his arms infront of him. His elbows pop out in a funny way and I smile at the boy's bird wing like limbs. "She thinks you're really nice."
"Oh," I smile, taken aback. "Your mum is lovely too."
"Yeah. She's the best."
I look down at the book in my hands, the white cover embossed with a lacey design and I run my fingers over the texture of it, my lower lip caught inbetween my teeth.
Walking into the house earlier, I immediately noticed the tight bond Chan and his mum seem to have. And as much as I hate myself for it, I can't help but feel jealous, feel upset that I have no idea what that's like. My fingers tighten on the album's spine. I would do anything to have my mother look at me the way Chan's mother looks at him, with the same, sparkling eyes he has.
"Y/N?" Chan snaps me out of my self pity.
"Yeah?"
He pats the seat beside, his fingers leaving little dents into the white leather. "Come sit next to me?"
"Are you sure?" I ask. I don't know why I asked. But years of being yelled at if I sat on the sofa at my house, and then my own self not wanting to because of the state of it has me feeling like I need to get specific permission. Ugh. That woman has seriously ruined my head.
"Of course! Come sit with me," Chan whines, making grabby hands in my direction. Flushing, I pick myself up from the plush rug sprawled out on the shining floor and hesitantly sit down beside him; not too close, but not far enough to create an awkward space between us.
"You want to watch a film with me?" Chan asks, leaning close to me. He fixes a goofy smile on his face, and once again, I'm not sure the word 'no' is part of my vocabulary.
"Okay, sure," I say and Chan gets up excitedly to go to the huge DVD collection underneath the massive TV. I smile at the fact he'd rather watch a traditional DVD than watch Netflix like everyone else.
He runs a delicate finger over the boxes of the discs and comes to a pause at a purple case, which he pulls out.
"Is this one okay?" He holds it out, showing me the front of it which displays bold writing spelling out 'Tangled'. I giggle.
"It's perfect," I say, tucking my legs underneath me. He pops the DVD into the player and comes to sit next to me. Chan then reaches over the side of the comfy sofa and takes a thick blanket from the small metal basket and drapes it over us. I look with childish glee at the intense fluffiness of the cream blanket and Chan smiles at me.
"Are you cold?" He asks me. I shake my head.
"No, why do you ask?"
He points at my leather jacket. "You just don't ever take your jacket off."
I lower my gaze uneasily at my sleeves. "Well, my shirt is short sleeve so ... "
Sadness clouds his eyes. "Oh. But you can take it off here, I already know and no one else is here to say anything."
I look at him, unsure. "Really?" I haven't taken my jacket off anywhere.
He nods. "Of course. You'll be more comfortable. But I'm not making you, only do it if you want to," he waves his hands around like an agitated chicken and I laugh.
"Okay," I say, hesitantly beginning to peel my jacket off. I gasp at the sudden free feeling on my skin and I hang the jacket over the back of the sofa. I automatically wrap my arms around each other, trying to hide my wounds and scarring before Chan gently take my hands and untangles my arms.
"Don't hide them. It's okay, Y/N," he says softly, moving closer to me and his heat surrounds him as though he's a heater generating constant waves of warmth. I resist the powerful urge to snuggle into him, and I clutch at the blanket instead.
Halfway into the film I feel my eyes drooping, the effect of the cosy aura inside the room while rain batters the windows, combined with my significant lack of sleep this past week. I fight to stay awake; but no, the current is too strong, tugging and pulling at me like ferocious waves amidst a storm.
My head begins to drop to one side, my neck straining but I'm too tired to do anything about it. That is, until I feel Chan sliding down the sofa a little, his shoulder appearing under my head. I sit up again and regard him with bewilderment.
"Lie back down," Chan whispers, guiding my head down to his shoulder which is as comfortable as a high quality pillow. I do as I'm told and make myself comfortable in his warmth, my hand subconsciously travelling to rest in his lap under the blanket. He responds by lacing his fingers through mine, rubbing circles on my skin with his thumb. I close my eyes, allowing myself to free my mind from apprehension for the first time as I fall asleep.