OUR FAMILIES LIVED in an estate not unusual to Hong Kong, a collection of apartments, and ours was built on top of a mall. On the ground floor of our apartment (or the roof of the mall, to be put more appropriately), was a nice little garden that had a playground in it.
I used to play there for hours when I was younger.
And it was where Orion and I stood now, staring at the kids climbing on the pieces with one brow raised. "Why are we here again?" Orion asked with a snort, pushing a hand through his hair.
"Because our parents told us to get some sunlight."
"It was a rhetorical question."
"Well, I decided to take it seriously." I rubbed my eyes. "We could literally just go to the clubhouse and stay in there for the rest of the afternoon. Whenever our parents decide we're allowed to head back in."
Orion looked at me, incredulous. "You realise my family lives on the fifteenth floor, and our windows face this way?"
"Shit."
He nudged his chin at a bench at the end of the playground. "Let's just sit there for a little while, I think. Hell, we used to come here all the time when we were kids."
"I stopped coming after I turned seven. Primary school got hectic."
"Primary school?"
"I attended a lot of tutorial classes."
"Oh right. You had so many sports back then."
"And I'm shit at all of them." When I was younger, I'd somehow managed dance, table tennis and badminton lessons at the same time. On top of piano. It was no surprise I was miserably poor at all of them. While Camille had her violin, my only specialty for most of my life was simply, well, my academic grades.
Which was kind of pathetic. But at the same time, I didn't really care.
"It's fine. That kind of thing takes talent and genuine interest. I learnt piano for years and you don't see me being that good at it."
"At least you made it to grade eight. I quit at grade five, you know."
"I haven't even touched the piano in like four or five years," he admitted, "so it was basically useless at the end."
We were sat on the bench now, watching the kids play. Their parents and grandparents sat around, keeping an eye on them while chatting to each other.
We were like that once. And now we were both adults and in university, oceans and continents away from home.
Jesus Christ. Time passed way too fast.
Besides me, almost dreamily, he whispered, "I used to love playing on that slide."
"I was usually more preoccupied with the elderly equipment," I laughed. "Honestly more fun than the kid's part."
He glared at me. "I'm trying to be nostalgic."
"What's the point?"
"Jesus Christ you are cold-blooded."
"No, I'm realistic. What's the point of thinking about the past now? It's all over." I tossed my hair onto one shoulder. "We're adults now, Orion, time to grow up."
"We can look back once in a while and smile."
"What's there to smile about?" I asked, tilting my head. "Like, yeah, it was fun growing up. And now I'm eighteen and you're twenty and everything's over and life's here to fuck us up."
"I didn't realise you were such a pessimist."
I shrugged. "It's the truth, though. Just toss out the old and in with the new. The future is far more worth thinking about."
"I suppose that is one way of dealing with life."
"It's the best way. You stop thinking about the unnecessary."
"And start panicking about everything else?"
I shot him a glare. "You're purposefully trying to make this more complicated and convoluted."
"I'm just pointing out that it doesn't hurt to think about your childhood and our past once in a while. What, don't you like your childhood?"
I was silent. Most of my childhood and adolescence had involved hopeless pining for the boy who now sat cluelessly besides me, and I couldn't exactly tell him that. It had gotten a point sometimes when I looked back and every single move seemed inexplicitly tied to Orion Ip in one way or another, it felt so miserable when I thought about it that way. So I didn't.
"Did you... not like being a kid?" he asked, sounding almost shocked.
I blinked, turning to him. "What? No. It's just... I prefer being an adult compared to a little kid. So I like to look into the future, not the past."
"What's wrong with being a kid?"
"Too innocent. Too prone to making in-the-moment bad choices." Like falling in love with you.
"But isn't that the thing about being a kid? The consequences are never severe."
"But that's not a guarantee either," I pointed out. "Some stick with you for the rest of your life."
"Like what?"
"Injuries." Falling head over heels for someone who doesn't reciprocate your feelings and getting your heart shattered over and over again.
This conversation was getting a bit too sensitive. But he didn't seem to have any interest in stopping it yet. "That's ridiculous. Accidents happen all the time."
"Trauma."
"That's hardly the fault of being a kid. Happens at any age."
"Yeah, but like, it's really easy to... you know what, fuck it."
He grinned, pushing up his black-rimmed glasses. "That's basically saying you lose in this argument."
"Was it an argument?"
"Was it not?"
I scowled, crossing my arms and leaning back. "You're being annoying. Leave me in peace."
"Eh, no. This is boring enough as it is, what will I do if I don't bother you?"
"Go on your phone."
"Boring, and I can do that anywhere, anytime."
"I thought you disliked being out here instead of being at home."
"Yeah, well, I might as well make good use of it."
I shot him a glare.
"Okay. Okay. Okay. Fine. Let's talk about something else, then. Lance invited me on a night out at the bar his brother owns—most of the kids you know in my year from Hong Kong are going, do you and Camille want to come too?"
"Won't that be awkward?"
"I mean, you already know most of them."
"Even if I decide to go, my parents would never let me."
"Not if I'm there," he pointed out. "I can go with and come back with you."
"When is it?"
"In a week. Next Saturday night. Some of us will probably go out for dinner too beforehand, you're free to come with too."
"I'll ask Camille about it. If she says yes, I'll go—" and knowing Camille, she was probably going to say yes "—but you'll have to convince my parents."
"Do your parents not know you go clubbing in the UK?"
"Do I look like I tell my parents I go clubbing in the UK? Even if I tell them I don't smoke, drink or do drugs, they'll still want to break my legs."
"My parents don't really care."
"Yeah. Because you're a boy. Because there's a lower chance of something really bad happening to you."
He winced. "Okay. Fine. I get that. That's kind of why I got really mad when you went clubbing without me knowing a few months ago. Bad shit does happen."
"It happens a lot," I said with a shrug. "It's ridiculous how girls have to learn like twenty different ways to watch out for themselves but all you guys need to do is watch your fucking wallet or something, but you know. Guess that's society for you."
"It's wrong."
"Doesn't change the fact that that's how things work. You either confine, bend or break. Or you decide to be a revolutionary and go against everything society dictates and end up a martyr."
"My god you are rational."
"Have you just realised?"
"Don't know why I never noticed it in like, the past thirteen years."
"Hmm."
He glanced at me. "No quippy response to that?"
"None."
"Oh."
A little boy was crying next to the slide while two girls tried to calm him down. I wasn't sure where his parents were, but clearly they weren't that worried. Next to them, a group of girls who couldn't be older than ten ran around playing catch, one of the girls almost slamming into a teenage boy who stood around looking confused, occasionally yelling a girls' name—his younger sister, probably.
A pair of aunties sat on the bench besides ours, gossiping about someone's brother's son's cousin's in-law or something along those lines (I'd lost track a long time ago), and a secondary school aged girl sat opposite us looking melancholic, staring off into the distance.
Once upon a time, I'd be a part of this scene too.
Now I was a mere observer.
It felt strange. Seeing the slides I used to run up and down, seeing the seesaw I used to beg my mum to play with me on. The balance beam my dad used to lift me up, the monkey bars I used to need to jump up to reach.
Everything looked so small once you grow up.
This playground could be the world to me when I was a little kid. And now it was nothing more than a few pieces of toy.
I was eighteen now. An adult. I dreamt of being this age when I was younger because I thought everything would be behind me. That I'd be carefree and happy and I wouldn't be stressful or worried or heartbroken...
And look at me now.
All those things and more.
"You seem really sad today."
"Just tired I can't be lying on my bed on my phone."
"That sounds horrible."
"It's the truth. You can't tell me you don't agree."
"You sure you're alright?"
"Yeah."
He reached over, suddenly, patting me on the head. I froze for a moment before quickly ducking and swatting his hand away. "Hey, hey, hey, watch the hair."
"Doesn't matter, not like you're going anywhere fancy tonight. Your hair is fine."
"I spent a long time doing that ponytail."
"And I'm not going to ruin it. Hey, chill out. Don't know why you're so stressed out today but everything will be fine."
Everything would continue exactly as how it was right now, but was that really fine? I wasn't sure anymore. I was getting closer and closer and closer to a breaking point, and I wasn't sure what was meant to happen when I reached that.
"I'm fine."
"Sure, Salome."
"I'm really okay."
He didn't say anything else.
—
"YOUR ROOM'S THE exact same as I remembered it," I muttered, glancing around. Auntie Ip had invited us to their apartment for dinner, and since the two of us had finished eating far before the adults, I now strolled around Orion's room, fingers gliding over the bookshelves that lined one of the walls.
"Yeah, well, I haven't spent much time here in the past few years."
"Fair enough." Sometime along those years home had become split between our residence in the UK—whether that be dorm or apartment and our own cosy little rooms in Hong Kong. "I thought you'd have changed some stuff up though. I have."
"I've been living here for thirteen years, Salome. There's not much I feel the need to change."
"I doubt your needs at seven are the same as at twenty."
"I've made all the changes required in the past few years. Everything's just the way I need it to be now." He tilted his head. "Feel free to sit on my chair, by the way."
I took him up on the offer because it felt ridiculous to keep walking around pointlessly, and because since sitting on the floor would immediately result in scolding from our parents (floors are always dirty), the only other place to sit on was his bed.
Which I was going to avoid.
Before my mind got a bit too carried away, he said, "I'm glad to see you're in a better mood than yesterday."
It had been a whole week since we'd come back now. It was a welcomed break, if I had to be honest, being back in Hong Kong. Even if it didn't really solve any of my problems. The biggest of whom currently stood before me. A literal elephant in the room.
Fucking hell.
"So, Camille's going?"
"Yeah." The quick change in topic almost gave me whiplash, but I quickly realised what he was talking about—the thing at Lance's brother's club or whatever. Camille had been more than happy to say yes, as I imagined.
"Hmm. I'll tell your parents if you don't want to. I'm sure they're okay with it, though."
"Best if you do it," I admitted. "Less chance of them worrying incessantly."
"I'll tell them later, then. Remind me of it." He took off his glasses, putting it on his table before sitting down atop his bed. "We can go together by taxi. We'll figure out how to come back."
"I don't drink, so feel free to get wasted if you want."
"What's that logic?" he asked with a laugh. "You don't drink, so I can get drunk?"
"Yeah, because I can deliver you safely back home to your parents," I scoffed. "Another drunk person can't do that."
"You're like, a five foot six midget. What on earth are you going to do? If I'm completely wasted, you won't even be able to move me."
I scowled. "Try me, Orion."
"Yeah right. Stand up."
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. "Why?"
"To see if you can support my weight."
"This is ridiculous," I protested. "That's hardly—"
"If you say you can do it, let's give it a try."
"You are so annoying." But I got onto my feet every day, my arms crossed. "Now what?"
He stood up from his bed, tossing one arm over my shoulder. "Alright. Let's pretend I'm drunk out of my mind and can barely walk. Can you support me, hmm? Can you walk me around? I don't think so."
At the sudden weight pulling my shoulders down, I glowered. "You're literally just dumping all your weight on me. You're not even trying to stay on your own two feet."
"If I'm completely wasted, this will be what state I'm in, little Salome."
"Orion."
"Come on. Try to move me."
I couldn't. Orion was fucking heavy, and I wasn't the most athletic or strongest. And having his head pressed next to mine was distracting. My heart was pounding but I still had to act like nothing was wrong, trying to lug him forward in this stupid little mimicry of a situation that likely wasn't even going to happen.
I snapped, "I won't even have to do it myself. I'll have people to help."
"At the bar, maybe. But what happens once you arrive back home, hmm? How will you move me into the lobby and up the lift and then back to my own apartment?"
"I can call your parents to help."
"They'll probably be asleep by then. Face it, Salome, you can't carry me if I'm actually wasted. Which is why I won't drink that much, don't you worry."
I tried to push him off me, but one of my legs bumped into the chair beside us and I almost tripped. Before I hit the ground, he managed to clutch my arms right as I caught onto the back of the chair. "Jesus fucking Christ," I swore loudly.
He made a "tsk-tsk" sound. "So clumsy, Salome."
"I am not clumsy, mind you. It's because you were fucking putting your entire body weight on me that I didn't see where I was moving and accidentally tripped. It's your fault."
"My fault? Really? You're going to blame it all on me?"
I turned, glaring at him as I steadied myself. "Yes. All your fault."
He leaned down, one brow raised. "All my fault?"
I punched him lightly in the chest. "All your fault."
He stared at me for a long while, and I stood there, glaring right back. Trying to act like nothing was wrong. That I wasn't panicking over his hands, still wrapped around my arms, his lowered head, his eyes staring straight into mine. Like I couldn't feel his breath on my face. Like my breathing wasn't quickening.
"Orion?"
He blinked, and all the magic of that moment seemed to disappear all at once. "Well."
I stared at him, flabbergasted, as he walked towards the door. "I'm going to head to the bathroom. Be right back."