He wears his dress to the cemetery.
The wind whips through the roses in his arms, casting a few stray petals into the breeze. Among the slate-grey headstones, rough and chalky and chipped at the tips, Lee is a blot of stark white, cream fabric drifting around his slim frame like droves of fresh snow. Ironic, he thinks bitterly, since he's got a heart as black as coal. And even though he tries not to fuel the fire, he still does---lost in the flames like a wandering spirit never laid to rest.
He glances down at himself. Mom would be proud of me. Finally living my truth and everything, he thinks, smoothing his skirt out lightly. Then he thinks about the way the skin doesn't seem to fit his wrists anymore and about how his bones poke out of his ribs like thorns and about how he's lost at least ten pounds in two weeks and instantly retracts the thought. Mom would hate this. Mom would hate seeing me suffer.
But why did she make me suffer so much, then?
Despite how much he tries to shift the blame, Lee knows his mother isn't entirely at fault. It's always been a part of her---this drifting wanderlust, the urge to flee from all her problems, the way her windflower tendencies run wild in his own blood. It's just her, and suffering is always what one makes it. He knows that. And he knows that it isn't a dead woman's fault---it can't be. That it's always been his own.
He blinks rapidly, trying to keep his tears at bay. Somehow, here, it feels a little more real---less like Mom is dead and more like Mom. Is. Dead. As if being at her last resting place gives her death a little more finality and makes the four hundred and seventeen days that she hasn't called a little more real.
No one's immortal.
Still, to him, she had been immortal. And even now, he half-expects her to rise from her grave and ruffle his hair the way she'd always done before she left, cooing, Don't worry, darling boy. I'm here.
(Then again, she's never really gone away.)
The graves have more secrets than Lee likes, so he journeys on ahead, even though he knows seeing his mother's grave will shatter him. But he supposes he's been broken already, time and time again, all the little pieces of himself torn into shreds and scattered across the universe. So he continues walking. It's all he can do.
Just like that, it's in front of him.
In Loving Memory of Cheryl Hiew, née Leong. Beloved Mother, Sister, and Friend.
It's the quote that catches his attention.
Where there is love, there is life.
Lee bites back a sob.
I miss you, Mom. And I love you so much. Would that make you come back to life?
"Hi, Mom," he says, lowering his knees to the ground as he gently places the roses in front of the chipped headstone. The scarlet bouquet is bright, as bright as his mother had been when she was alive, and something in Lee shatters just a little more. "Sorry I couldn't get them in your favourite colour. I tried, but the florist didn't know what the heck I was trying to describe. So I just went for something bold, because you would have liked that." A small sob escapes his lips. "Wouldn't you?"
The grave doesn't reply. Lee's not sure why he'd expected it to.
"How do you talk to your mom when she can't talk back?" he wonders aloud, one hand reaching for the edge of his mother's headstone. The sensation of cold, hard stone beneath his touch lets him know that---oh. This is real. This is happening. Mom's dead. She's really dead.
He's already known it for a week, but it feels like a punch to the gut all the same.
"Hey," he tries again. "Hi, Mom." A tear rolls down his cheek and lands on the roses he'd placed. "It's me. Lee. Your darling boy. You know." He swipes aggressively at his damp eyes. "I'm here. And I mean, I know you didn't want to die or anything, but couldn't you have at least told me---" He takes a deep breath. "Never mind. That doesn't matter. I don't want to accidentally tell you that I hate you or something like that. I miss you, Mom. I really---really fucking miss you."
A lump forms in his throat. He bends over, pressing his forehead to the hard stone as he cries. "I can't believe I didn't know you died. I can't believe you didn't tell me. I can't believe I'm never going to hear your voice ever again. I can't believe you left us---left me---without saying anything. And I---I---fuck, Mom, I can't do this. I fucking miss you. I really fucking miss you. I don't---I don't know what to do with my life anymore. I haven't known what to do with my life since you left, Mom."
There's so much he wants to tell her. That his father hates him. That he ruins the life of every single person he crosses paths with. That he's in love, and it seems almost unfair that his mother, the only person in his life who'd know anything about love, isn't around to tell him what to do.
The clatter of falling stone catches his attention, as well as a muffled fuck. Lee instantly straightens and hastily wipes the tears from his face, ears perking up. He doesn't dare look behind, doesn't dare to allow himself to hope. Even though he knows what's waiting for him.
Or rather, who.
"I hope I'm putting this back properly," Jack mumbles, hands probably halfway around the headstone he's just accidentally knocked over---not Lee's mother's one, fortunately. "I really don't want to get cursed today."
Despite his sadness, Lee can't contain the smile ghosting over his lips. "Should have been more careful, then."
"I didn't know graveyards were this narrow, okay?"
"Still should have been more careful."
"I know." There's a pause. Then Jack says, as quiet as the autumn wind, "I should have been more careful with a lot of things."
They both know he isn't talking about the headstones anymore.
Lee stands up, keeping his eyes trained on the ground, on the cluster of tiny white flowers sprouting around his mother's grave. As if she'd had so much life in her that it had all gone to the soil when she died. As if it all had to go somewhere. His hand cups one of the fragile blossoms, their stems sturdy beneath his fingertips. They remind him of his mother a little too much for his liking---so delicate and yet so wild. So wild that she'd chosen to die alone.
He bites his lip.
"I didn't think you'd come," Lee admits.
"You were crying, Lee. Of course I'd come."
Lee doesn't remember crying. He doesn't remember much about the phone call he'd made to Jack after his uncle had rattled off how he'd found Lee's mother's final resting place and given him the address, as well as a final gruff, Take care of yourself, Leroy. He'd been so consumed then, all his inner demons spilling over the brim of his chest and flooding the entire house. Everything had been a blur. He'd been---confused, mainly.
Why did she want to be buried back here?
Was it because she wanted to be buried close to her darling boy?
But if she loved me so much, why did she leave?
He'd called Jack. He'd definitely called Jack. He knows that much. Remembers that much. Or maybe he doesn't. But Jack just said it, didn't he? Said he called. Lee's not sure. He's not sure about anything anymore. Because what the fuck is he doing---
"Hey, Lee?"
It's then that Lee finally turns.
"Can I hold you?" Jack asks.
It's bigger than the ocean. It's bigger than the world. It's bigger than the infiniteness of the universe and all the galaxies beyond, and Lee suddenly feels very small as he nods.
How does it feel to fall in love?
Jack's muscular arms encircle Lee's waist, rough hands dripping honey and tenderness as they press themselves against Lee's navel, fingers barely brushing the sharp jut of Lee's protruding hipbones. He paints Lee's heart cherry-blossom pink as he just---holds him, holds him like he'd never let him go. Lee expects to feel fire in his touch, but the burn never comes---just the waxing of the tides and the lapping of the waves, rolling over his skin with gentle sobriety as the constellations of them hang vivid in the sunlit sky.
It feels like magic.
Jack's forehead presses against Lee's shoulder, chestnut bangs tickling Lee's collarbones. The scent of hot chocolate and laundry detergent inflames Lee's senses, the sweet grit of sea salt blooming on his tongue. In Jack's arms, he is more solid, a little less unsure, the line between dreams and reality just a little stronger. "I'm sorry," Jack mumbles, cheeks hot against Lee's skin. "I've been a dick."
Lee can't conceal his smile as it drifts across his face, playing with his mouth the same way the moon dances with the rising tide. "Yeah, you have." And then he slips his fingers beneath Jack's chin and gently lifts his head to bring their lips together.
Kissing Jack feels like kissing the stars. It is the sparkling rush of glitter arcing across his teeth, the candied butterflies fluttering in his stomach and down his spine, the gentle flit of his eyelids as they sweep themselves closed, caught in the whirlwind of Jack's storm. The heated rush of being pressed so near to another body trickles over Lee's flesh, sticking and clinging to him like wax from a lit candle. His stomach feels warm, comfortably so, the heat building in his belly and spreading outwards. His hand finds the small of Jack's broad back, lingering but never quite touching as Jack pulls him closer and kisses him harder and turns him into nothing but cherry-tinted vapour. It's---overwhelming, almost. The sensation of loving. The sensation of being loved.
"It's okay," Lee whispers into Jack's mouth. "Everyone's a dick sometimes."
Jack casts his gaze to the ground. "I shouldn't have asked you to shut up. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, Lee."
Lee breathes. In, out. He's sure Jack can feel the thud of his racing pulse and the screams in his chest. "It's okay."
"But it's not really okay, is it?"
A noisy exhale escapes Lee's nose. "Nothing's okay," he admits.
"Yeah. I know."
They stand in silence for a while, the grass tickling Lee's ankles as Jack's fingers find the hem of his dress, thumb rubbing the light material thoughtfully. Lee briefly wonders if there's some cosmic punishment for making out in a graveyard, then decides his life couldn't get any worse anyway. So he turns, runs from his demons like he always does, bony shoulder pressing into Jack's hard chest.
"I want to kill myself," Lee confesses. "Every day. But I won't, because I'm a coward."
Jack's palm slips itself into Lee's own, every callus a rest stop on the road trip of his life. Lee wonders what stories his hands would tell, if each map would lead to a different kingdom, if he's ever held another person the same way he holds Lee right now.
"You're not a coward," Jack says softly. And then, "For what it's worth, I think it's braver to live."
Lee tilts his head to the earth. "Don't say that."
"Okay. I won't. But I do think you're brave." He senses the flush of Jack's cheeks before he sees it. "And beautiful."
Lee wonders how long it'll take for Jack to stop calling him beautiful. How long it'll take for Jack to stop liking him the way he does. The way he's been doing for the past five years. The way he's done so far: silently, almost begrudgingly, but---there, somehow. As if the way he feels about Lee is real, rather than being just another notch through the dreamscape in Lee's head.
He looks away. "I'm not beautiful."
Of course, there's a beauty to evil. But Lee is as ugly as his heart, blackened by all the good intentions that pave the road to hell.
"Of course you are."
He's not good with this. All the emotional shit and whatnot. He wonders when he'd started being worse at it than Jack.
"I'm just rich. The future therapist is going to be rolling. Private jet---heck, I've got enough daddy issues for them to afford a private island, bay-bee!" He lets out a noise that could be a giggle or a sob---he's not really sure if he's laughing or crying anymore. His legs feel like jelly. Lee gives in, letting himself sink into the soil and nearly dragging Jack down with him.
By the time he's finally figured out that there's tears rolling down his face, Jack's already sitting next to him.
"I don't know how to help you," Jack admits. "I really want to, but I just---I don't know how to. I'm not good with this kind of shit. But...I don't know. What do you want me to do? If it helps, I'll do it."
Lee stares into the deep grey of the sky, clouds hanging so low he's sure he could reach out and touch them. Jack's hand is on his cheek, wiping his tears away. Everything is grey---dark and overcast, a supernova of depression, broken glass under his skin. Blue intercuts the atmosphere of his inner tragedy, almost blindingly startling against the panoramic backdrop of his sadness. Jupiter drips mercury over his face, a neverending stream that sloughs the flesh from his bones and runs his eyes dry.
"You can start with the actual reason you got fired," Lee replies.
Jack groans, running his hand through his brown hair. "I knew you'd bring that up sooner or later."
"You know me too well."
A sigh escapes Jack's lips. "The principal thought I was missing too many school days without a valid reason, so he decided it would be a good idea to remove me from my position. His words, not mine. Let's ignore the fact that Raelynn James literally skipped an entire month to deal drugs for her deadbeat boyfriend and still managed to remain a prefect, but---"
Jack's rambling about the injustice of it all quickly fades to background noise as Lee realises the reason Jack's been missing so much school is because of him. His mouth runs dry, the blood freezing in his veins. Again. I've fucked someone's life up again. And it's Jack's too, of all people. And he knows he shouldn't blame himself---but it's his fault. If he hadn't run away, if he hadn't switched off his phone, if he hadn't been born---
"Lee! Fuck, you're bleeding!"
Jack grabs Lee's hand, and Lee realises belatedly that his nails have been digging into his exposed thigh, blood trickling down the broken skin. He pulls his skirt up so it won't stain, staring at the crimson rivulets dripping down his legs, wonders if he could bash his head against the gravestones until the same crimson rivulets tear his skull to shreds. Wouldn't it be better if I died? he asks the skies. Then I wouldn't be able to ruin anyone's life anymore. Right?
Right?
"Why didn't you tell me when I asked yesterday?" Lee croaks.
"Because I knew you'd do that stupid thing where you keep blaming yourself even though it's not your fault," Jack answers. His lips turn down in a frown. "And I was right." He yanks a crumpled handful of tissues from his pocket and begins dabbing at the self-inflicted wound on Lee's thigh. "It's not your fucking fault, Lee. Don't hurt yourself."
"But---your job---" Lee stammers pathetically, hating the way he sounds as Jack vigorously scrubs the blood off Lee's leg.
"The principal said I can keep the scholarship as long as I keep my grades up. And fuck the job. It doesn't matter."
"You're a horrible liar."
"The first part was true. And okay, maybe the job does matter, but you know what? Fuck it." Jack takes in a shallow breath, hands pausing. His fingertips rest on Lee's bare thighs as he slowly lifts his chestnut gaze to meet Lee's, sincerity bleeding from his eyes. "When I first became a prefect, that was all that mattered to me. But...I've come to realise that some things mean more than being a prefect, Lee." Jack's chest heaves. He wipes the final drops of blood away and gently leans in, pressing his forehead into Lee's bony chest. "Like you."
Lee chokes on his tears. "Oh." And there are a million better things to say---he knows that---but he can't help the way the word slips free from his mouth in a single rough exhale, burning his throat all the way up as it spills out his lips, imploding, imploding, paper-thin against the knife of his teeth. He should thank him, but the sentence sticks to his tongue and molds itself to the shape of his oral cavity. So he sits there helplessly, the wind kissing the liquid from his cheeks as Jack straightens and turns away, gaze firmly fixed on a stray blade of grass.
"I haven't been completely honest with you," Jack says.
Lee laughs. It comes out empty, hollow. "I know."
"No. I know you don't. Not in the way that you think you do, at least."
"You're confusing."
"And you confuse me." A breathless chuckle escapes Jack's lips. "I keep looking for the right time to tell you this, but I can't find one. So I'm saying it to you right fucking now in front of your mom's grave even though you're still crying because I'm the biggest fucking idiot in the world."
"Can't deny that," Lee mutters, eliciting an exasperated sigh from Jack. He plasters a smile onto his face, tasting blood in his mouth. "What are you trying to say, Jack?"
"I'm trying to say that I didn't want to tell you the reason that I got fired because I didn't want you to blame yourself, and I can't stand it when you blame yourself because---because---" Jack flushes bright red, and Lee can't resist reaching out to trail a curious finger over his blazing cheeks.
"Take your time. If you hate me, just let me know. I'll try not to be too broken up about it."
"You're not helping, you know."
"I'm not a very helpful person, if you haven't noticed."
"And yet, I'm still in love with you."
The world stops. Lee freezes.
Jack tilts his head in Lee's direction, chuckling airlessly. The sound hits the bottom of Lee's gut with a fluttery clang. "Told you that I'm shit at timing."
i actually cried writing this chapter bsjdjskksk which was funny cause i had IU's Blueming (one of my fav songs ngl) in the bg and it STILL didn't stop me from crying (and then the song changed to Crush's Beautiful and i cried EVEN MORE)
i would recommend listening to Fifty Fifty's Lovin' Me while reading this! it's not in the playlist because it only came out in November, but it's genuinely one of the best songs i've heard in a very long while. it reminds me a lot of Chungha's Killing Me and the vocals are heavenly! i also feel that the vibe and lyrics of Lovin' Me fit this chapter a lot!
(look at me tryna pretend that i didn't akshdksjsksjkl my way through the entire chapter)
trust me yalls do NOT want to see my search history after writing this chapter (in my defense i've never written a gravestone inscription before okay) like i can't even speak cantonese (i can understand it tho hehe vvv useful for when my parents talk shit about me) and i don't even believe in any chinese superstitions but my dumbass was like "啋啋啋" after googling all that shit because it's just so...heavy
HI OKAY SO WE HAVE A SEVERE LACK OF CRACKERBOX MEMES IN THE HOUSE SO I DREW A SHORT COMIC STRIP BECAUSE I'M A COOL AUTHOR WHO MAKES MY OWN FANART
this is based off the coffee shop scene in Chapter 14 ('like you') because it's lowkey one of my fav scenes in this book (besides this chapter). it was legit so fun to draw cause Jack was like literally losing it and Lee was,,,just horny tbh,,,so i just HAD to sketch it out (bruh this entire strip took me like 2 hours compared to the cover of this book which took me like 6 hours wth)
a more HD version (and a more HD version of my art in general, because my Insta is now an art account apparently) can be found on my Instagram! (also nicoismysenpai, i'm pretty easy to find lmao)
OKAY I'M DONE NOW BACK TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED DEPRESSION pls i haven't seen sunlight in like 5 days i've been writing and drawing so much)
yeah so this!!! is lowkey!!! my fav chapter in this whole book!!! except for maybe the first one!!! cause we love depression!!! in this house!!! (no we don't but still) i love writing kissing scenes!!! especially depressing kissing scenes!!!
anygays i have no life rn because i'm finally on holidays so i have literally nothing to do except write and i have been doing literally nothing except writing so that's all from me
ANYGAYS EXPECT AN UPDATE EITHER TOMORROW OR SATURDAY BECAUSE I'M GETTING THIS SHIT DONE BEFORE THE 31ST
also spoiler alert!!! this is not the last you will see of my art for this book!!! i have something special planned for the last chapter ;)
as always lmk what you think of this chapter like is it good or am i being a hoe (please do give me feedback tho cause this is my fav chapter that i've written so far uwu)
stan Fifty Fifty for clear skin (and stalk my fanfic profile while you're at it ;P)
love y'alls sm mwah i wish i could hug you guys but i can't so have a virtual hug through the screen ily all
xoxo, Alex