A thick silence fills the atmosphere between us and I bite my lip, wondering if calling him was a mistake. My heart thumps painfully in my chest, adding to all the fresh pain from my body and I take a shuddering breath, my hand cradled close to my chest. Then he speaks.
“Do you want me to come over?” He asks me quietly, and I shut my eyes tightly, trying to figure out the answer. Thought or course deep down, I already know.
“Yes,” I admit, deciding telling him the truth would be the best. Of course I want him to come over. “But you can’t. My mother is gone now, but I don’t know when she’ll be back.”
There is a brief pause. “Does she ever go into your bedroom?”
I shake my head even though he can't see me. “No. She hasn’t been in here for more than six years,” I tell him before frowning. “Why? What are you thinking?”
“I can come over and hide in your bedroom,” he says, startling me. “She’ll never know.”
My eyes widen. “Chan, no. You can’t. What if she finds out? What if she comes home just as you’re coming in through the door? Chan what if - ”
“Is your bedroom window on the side where she parks her car or on another side?” He interrupts with his gentle voice.
“It’s on the other side, but what has that got to do with anything?” I ask, confused.
He chuckles slightly. “I’m going to go around the back and climb up to your window.”
“No you’re not,” I try to be firm but my voice wavers and I run a hand through my hair. “It’s not safe. You might fall or something. It’s not worth it.”
“If it makes you feel better, Y/N, then it is worth every fall and every injury,” Chan says, making my heart leap again. I wish he’d stop having this effect on me. “But don’t worry. I’ll be okay. Trust me.”
I sigh, knowing there’s no way I’m going to win this. “Okay fine. But make sure my mother doesn’t see you.”
“Got it,” he says. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Chan hangs up and I flop backwards onto my bed, regardless of the tacky blood soaked into the cotton of my shirt. The pain is worse than I can ever remember it being before, but I don’t care at this point, and I endure the pain like it’s some kind of addictive drug, making me crave more and more the worse it gets. My room is tidy as usual and so I lie there, staring up at the wall with my mind swimming with fragments of thoughts as usual.
Just as I’m about to doze off, a subtle tapping makes me jump and I sit up straight, turning to see Chan’s face outside of the window on my right. I grin, despite my disbelief in what I’m seeing and I go over to my window, unlocking it and pulling it open. Then he reaches his hand out to me and I grab it, his skin cold with the wind. I haul him inside and his feet land on the ground with a stumble which he casually acts like never happened.
“Hey,” he waves, his cheek dimpling. I ignore my conflicting thoughts and with a wave of relief I throw myself at him, hugging his waist tightly, burying my face against his chest. Without question, a strong arm comes up around my shoulders and secures me against him, hand carding through my hair in an attempt to soothe my anxious state.
I pull away, eyes filled with fresh tears and Chan cups my face, his warm palms sending waves of heat through me.
“It’s okay, I’m here now Y/N. I’m here,” he whispers, taking me by the hand and leading me to my bed. He sits down and I follow suit, shoulders touching as he studies the new bruises forming along my jaw. He traces them as light as he can with his fingertips and I shiver involuntarily.
“I’m so sorry,” Chan whispers, scooping me up into his arms again. I lean into him, breathing in his comforting sweet scent as he rests his hand on my hair.
“It’s okay,” I mumble into his shoulder, trying to adjust to him being here with me, in my room.
He places a hand on my back and it stays there for a second before he brings it back, sticky with the blood on my top. His eyes widen enough to nearly pop out of his sockets, and I curse myself silently. I should have changed.
“What did she do to you?” The boy lets out a strangled cry mixed with a whimper, holding his hand out infront of him. His fingers tremble and his bottom lip quivers, as if he's trying not to dry.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, shaking my silver curls. My hair is matted with blood, but I don't care. I don't have the energy.
Chan takes my hands and wraps them in mine. “Oh yes it does matter,” he says, getting up to pull his backpack that he brought onto my bed. “I’m going to fix you.”
“No one can fix me,” I murmur to myself, fiddling with my shirt
“Hmm?” He looks up at me, head cocked to the side. “What did you say?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
He raises an eyebrow in my direction but takes out the same first aid pouch he used on me the first time, and I smile at his almost parental tendencies.
“Okay. I uh … oh,” he stops and gives me an uneasy, shy smile. “Could you take your top off? Just so I can see the ... damage.”
My stomach clenches in anxiety at the thought of him seeing all my scars and imperfections, inflicted by myself and my mother. But at the same time, it would be nice having someone to tend to my injuries …
“Uh yeah, … sure. Just, don’t judge, okay?” I say, not meeting his eyes. He places a hand over his heart and nods at me.
“I promise I won’t judge you, or think or say anything mean and horrible,” Chan says, face deadly serious. I nod back at him, smiling. He motions for me to turn around and I do so, suddenly feeling very shy and apprehensive.
I slowly take the shirt from the bottom and pull it over my head, leaving me sitting there with my jeans and a plain, black bra. The sudden air and the knowledge that Chan is within touching distance makes me feel vulnerable and ashamed of my body, and not for the first time, I wish I was pretty.
Soft hands on my skin make me nearly gasp which I manage to conceal with the biting of my lip. He gives a low whistle and I wonder what he’s thinking.
“Y/N, have you seen your back?” Chan asks, voice shaking. I shake my head. I haven’t, only tiny snippets in the mirror.
“Why? Is it bad?” I ask, suddenly realising what my mother has done to me, could be there forever.
He gives a harsh laugh. “Bad is an understatement. Your skin is completely ruined,” his voice is a whisper and I clench my eyes shut, balling my fists in my lap.
Chan removes his hands from my sides and I almost lean back into him, following his hands as he takes his warmth with him. I feel a sudden decline in pressure on the bed as he gets up and walks into my small joint bathroom, the tap running shortly after.
He emerges holding a soft, white flannel soaked in water which he lightly dabs onto the surface on my entire back, from my tense shoulder blades down to the blood encrusted waistband of my jeans. He takes his time, being careful so he doesn’t hurt me, and when he’s done I hear the ripping of antiseptic wipe packets. Chan presses this onto some wounds and I suck my breath in between my teeth and clench at my bed sheets, hanging my head down.
“Sorry sweetie,” Chan apologises, working his way swiftly down my back. I give him the thumbs up, not trusting myself to speak.
“It’ll be over soon, and you’ll feel so much better,” he croons, his voice soothing.
Once the boy is finished with the multiple wipes, he applies a cool, tingling ointment onto the entirety of my back and smooths it into my skin. I sigh in pleasure at the feeling of his nimble hands caressing my skin with the cream, working it carefully into the cuts and bruises.
“Y/N? Can you turn around so I can check your front?” Chan then asks, and I’m sure I hear nerves in his voice when he speaks.
Terrified, I hesitantly turn around, looking down at my lap as he studies my body like a map.
“I can’t believe someone would do this to their child,” Chan thinks out loud, completely lost in thought. Shaking his head as if to clear cobwebs, he repeats the procedure he used on my back but with even more caution this time. I nearly shy away when the ointment on his fingers sweep over the curves of my breasts, his cheeks glowing with an intense blush but he works swiftly, focusing on the task at hand. When he’s done, he wraps my entire torso with bandages and pulls them up and over my shoulders, wrapping me up like a mummy and I no longer feel so naked. He finishes and reaches again into his bag, retrieving a t-shirt and a pair of jogging bottoms. Chan hands me the shirt and I slip it on gratefully, indulging myself in the fragrance of his warm, homely cologne lingering on it.
“Are your legs the same?” He asks, sighing when I nod and he motions for me to take my jeans off so he can attend to the wounds there too.
While Chan is working on disinfecting the gashes in my thighs, I can't help but let my mind wander. I watch through tired eyes as the curls of Chan's hair move gently as he turns to pick different things up, and not for the first time, I feel strangely at home. Something about his presence comforts me and distracts me from the hell that is my life, his gentle words and cheerful smile acting like ointment on my mental pain. I smile softly as I watch him, his lashes casting shadows over his lowered eyes.
I do as he tells me to and before long, I’m fully cleaned and bandaged and wearing Chan’s clothes, feeling much better as he said I would. It’s dark outside and I suddenly hear my mum’s battered car groan into the drive on the opposite side, immediately alerting Chan who is sat next to me again after putting his things away.
“What is she going to do?” He whispers to me, his hand resting gently on my thigh.
“She’s going to go to sleep on the sofa downstairs now,” I whisper back, well aware of the contact. “She always does.”
Sure enough a few seconds later we hear the shuffle and rustle of my mum’s heavy tread on the floorboards downstairs, followed by the creak of the ancient sofa. It goes quiet again and I let out a sigh of relief, flopping backwards into my pillow. My eyes automatically begin to close on their own accord and I feel Chan get up. I shoot my hand out to him, grabbing onto his wrist.
“Don’t go,” I mumble, not wanting him to leave me alone. He stills for a moment, his pulse humming against my fingers before he moves away. He then snaps the lights off in my bedroom and slides into the covers next to me, pulling me into his arms.
Without speaking again he slides his muscular arms around me, his chin resting on the top of my head which I bury into the curve of his neck, curling my own arms around his firm torso. His delicious heat immediately engulfs me like an envelope, and I nestle further into him, savouring the warmth running from his body into my veins. He throws a leg over mine and tangles himself with me before dropping a tiny kiss on my forehead, and I feel the current of slumber pull me under its current into the darkness.