“There’s rain. There’s rain. There’s rain.”

-June 26th

Rain pours like an overturned cup into Luhan’s lawn. There are three tabs of his computer that all contain search queries for monsoon seasons in his town. They all indicate that there is no such season, but Luhan is adamant to find the truth when he opens yet another tab and types the identical question into the search bar. ‘When is cup pouring season?’

There’s a haze in front of his eyes, like he’s peering into a glass of milk. As much as he would like to fantasize about going blind, he knows that’s not the case. He’s had his contacts removed for several days, and this lack of sight allows him to convince himself that his friend is still with him.

It works, but he feels insane when he whispers ‘goodnight’ into the darkness.

He knows that no one’s there.

“If I am, then they must be. If I am not...then they still are. So, who am I?”

-June 30th

There’s a crunch, there’s blood, and then there’s relief. Things proceed in that manner until Luhan’s mother stuffs his bloodied nose with tissue. She looks at him as if she’s never seen him delve so deep into lunacy, but Luhan pays it no mind.

“How did you manage to fall, Lu? Your room isn’t big enough for running around, and I doubt you’re that clumsy.” She asks the question as if she knows the answer, and Luhan allows her that sense of knowledge.

“Just too excited to look down, I guess.” He doesn’t lie to her, he never has. He’s excused from his mother’s care in no time, and he returns to his sarcophagus with an almost explicit glee.

Light christens the wall of front of him like a sign from God. He isn’t sure what to make of it, but the feeling in his chest is what he imagines being born feels like. He doesn’t remember his own birth, but the fluid daring to fill his lungs and the deafening scream he lets out must be similar to that day. His mother doesn’t run into his room, and he’s thankful that she doesn’t.

He’s learned a lot about life, loss, and now birth.

His friend has returned, but there is a different meaning to the concern in his eyes.

Of life, there is violence, justice, and mercy…

The boy isn’t smiling anymore, the peeling sheetrock has taken away the edge of his lips.

...of friendship and love, there is only birth and death.

Luhan decides that there is justice be had. He decides this as he apologises to his friend multiple times. From these apologies stems a penance, and from the penance; a promise. Luhan should not deny, and he should not be denied. This is the deal they’ve come too.

Luhan spends four days sitting in front of the wall trying to imagine the boy as something other than alive, but it is beyond his capabilities.

“Of my endeavours, I have seen many of my own souls go unscathed and unburned by the wretch we claim as winter, but it was cold like hell today. “

-July 4th

Luhan is being reluctantly towed across a grocery aisle claiming low prices and unreachable quality. He’s only focused on the signs around him. He’s afraid that if he notices more than the still words plastered on the posters he will see people. He walks past a small child, and it laughs as its eyes roll out of its sockets and plasters themselves on the helms of Luhan’s skin. He doesn’t like being seen, being stared at. It makes him feel alone.

The anxiety that has built in Luhan’s chest pours out of his eyes in the form of tears when he gets home. His mother knocks twice, but he can’t hear the soft taps among his heaving breaths. He lays underneath the boy today, and though the boy doesn’t smile for him anymore, he directs Luhan’s attention to the yellow walls surrounding them. There are better days to come. It doesn’t rain in his yellow room during the summer time.

At night Luhan places a hand to the cold wall. His fingers caress a 2D nose and traces their way up to etched almond eyes. There’s a calm that arrests his entire being when he does this. It’s therapy. With his eyes closed and his breath held dangerously in his throat, he says ‘thank you’ into the dark. There’s no actual noise in response to this, but a warm ‘you’re welcome’ has pressed itself into Luhan’s palms.

“Arise at night and see yourself standing over your own head. You watch yourself like a hawk when you’re alone, don’t you? The ghost in the night is you...you only have yourself to be afraid of.”

-July 16th

This day shouldn’t be different from any other. This is what Luhan tells himself as he re-enters his room. However, to his own surprise, his bed has been pressed against the white wall where his being-less friend resides. He’s moments away from free-associating an answer for this phenomenon when his mother opens the door and gives him a look of earnest. He looks at her with his question resting just outside his lips.

“You seem to like that side of the room more.” She gives him a smile before setting a tray of food on his relocated bed and retreating into other realms of their shared living space.