This room is so stale that I can almost taste it. It smells like mothballs and old woman sweaters.

                             -June 11                                             

Luhan wakes with a disinterested amount of energy. There’s nothing for him to do today, he’s not going to school. His mom has decided to leave him in control of his own contentment for a while, and thought it seems like a good idea; Luhan has done nothing but stay in his room.

The boy on the wall seems to be smiling today, and Luhan decides that the expression is out of place, because he’s woken up feeling uncomfortable.

“Why are you so happy?” Luhan’s voice echos in the empty room. The sharp sound of vibration hitting hard surface seems like an answer for Luhan, and he lets the boy’s answer fester in his brain before he decides what to say back.

“The day isn’t that nice you know. It’s supposed to rain later. So, if that’s why you’re so happy, you’re probably about to be very disappointed.” He doesn’t know why, but his reply doesn’t satisfy him. The boy on the wall has a right to be happy. The largest window of Luhan’s room is positioned above the boy’s head, so the most the boy could possibly see is the light shining through the window; illuminating Luhan’s face. It makes him shy, knowing that the boy was looking at him; not the actual sky outside.

“Sorry, my mom tells me I have a tendency to ruin things for others. I guess she was right.” The apology seems to make the situation feel lighter, and Luhan feels comfortable enough to leave the room in search of food. He can feel the boy’s eyes follow him as he retreats, but he doesn’t mind. He knows he shouldn’t be so hard on himself; that he doesn’t ruin things. It’s the still seemingly smiling face of the boy on the wall that assures him of this.

He must have been an artist right? Why else leave a drawing of yourself? But...I want to thank him. He’s nice. He doesn’t judge me. He doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable. He doesn’t think I ruin things. That’s really important, right? How does one know if they’ve made a new friend? It’s too soon for that kind of talk, I know. But...he seems okay.

- June 13

“Do you want to paint over it? It’s taking up your whole wall. I was thinking maybe you’d like to hang a few photos.” Luhan doesn’t realize that his mother is talking to him. He’s lost in the boy’s eyes. They look troubled today, like something bad is soon to happen. It doesn’t sit well with Luhan, and all he wants to do is fix what the problem may be. It isn’t until his mother presses a swatch of colors over half of the boy’s face that Luhan comes to attention.

“What are you doing?” He feels panicked. He feels like the boy.

“I’m letting you choose a color. Which one do you think looks best for your walls?” She’s smiling, and the glint in her eyes tells Luhan that it’s genuine. His mother is happy to be renovating their new house. She’s excited to find a new setting for Luhan.

“I don’t want to change it. I...like it this way.” Luhan’s words are heavy, but measured. He doesn’t want his mother to be discouraged, but he can’t lose his new friend to a few coats of yellow paint.

“Are you sure? I think it would do us both some good to get a new vibe going in this room.” He wants to laugh at his mother’s use of the word ‘vibe’. He knows she saw it on Pinterest and had tried it out a few times before saying it to him. However, he can’t help but feel even more panicked. She’s not relenting on the subject, and the situation feels dire.

“Don’t change it, please.” He looks at her for the first time, and he hopes that she sees the pleading of the boy through his eyes.

“How about we find a compromise?”

A compromise is made, and three days later three walls of Luhan’s room are painted a very bright yellow. Only one wall remains the same dingy white, and the boy’s face smiles graciously from it.

I didn’t ask him yet...if we were friends or not. A part of me is too nervous. What if he says no? Surely he’s seen some cool people in his life. What if I’m too awkward for him?

I saw him frowning last night. I think he may be afraid of the dark.

-  June 18

It’s raining today, and for the first time since they’ve been painted, Luhan is thankful for the yellow walls. The boy doesn’t see the abysmal grey of the sky that sits just above his head. All he can see is the sunny yellow of Luhan’s other walls. It comforts Luhan to know this. The boy seems to favor sunny days.

He pulls himself onto the floor, scooting closer to the boy hesitantly. He doesn’t want to seem too eager. There’s a question on his mind that needs answering, but he’s afraid to ask. He’s afraid of being rejected. He places a hand just under the boy’s chin. The drawing fades there; it’s where the artist stopped drawing.

“Do you like me?” The question is rushed, and as soon as he asks it he knows that it’s worded the wrong way.

“Oh- no, no, no! I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant….you know, like friends.” This question feels better, and there’s an approving gaze on the boy’s face that makes him feel giddy inside. He doesn’t smile too wide; he doesn’t want to seem weird.

“Cool. Me too.” He turns back to his bed, deciding to give the boy a bit of space. Though it’s only 12:00 in the afternoon, Luhan lies down in bed. He closes his eyes to the sound of the rain hitting his window, and he smiles.

We’re friends, you know? He said so himself. I didn’t make it weird or anything. I’m just...happy. I’m really happy.

-   June 19

Luhan prides himself on his own ability to keep his mind a secret. He likes locked doors. He enjoys hiding away.

His mother doesn’t knock when she brings him breakfast. He hasn’t been out of his room in two days, and she’s worried. Luhan knows she doesn’t mean to invade his safe haven, but she does.

“Luhan, who are you talking to?” It’s a simple question, but it sends a shock to Luhan’s frontal lobe. He’s resting his hand on the boy’s cheek. He’s been doing that for a while now. He’s talking to his friend. He’s enjoying a conversation with his friend, but he doesn’t know his friend’s name. There’s a silence between them, and the boy looks uncomfortable under the scrutiny of Luhan’s mother. Their once fluid conversation is halted, and the air is stale.

“No one.” It’s a simple answer, but it feels sour. It’s makes the palm of Luhan’s hands sting as crawls back to his bed. The breakfast is forgotten on a tray on the floor, and Luhan’s gaze is transfixed on the wall in front of him. He doesn’t see his friend anymore. He sees a pencil drawing of a boy on a wall.

Later that night, Luhan crawls to the wall once more. He feels desperate; his friend has not returned. He rests his head against the drawing’s forehead and closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Please don’t leave.” He stays like that for a while; forehead pressed against the cold wall, but his friend is gone. Luhan knows it’s his fault, that he shouldn’t have denied the boy. He sleeps leaned against the dingy white wall. It’s uncomfortable and cold, but Luhan wants to be there for his friend’s return.