~*~

He told me how proud you were, but I walked away,

If only I knew what I know today,

~*~

I go here when I don’t know where to go.

I run my hands over the polished marble, new and blinding white amongst the others crumbling grey stones and I kneel down onto the grass, even if it’s muddy and my school uniform will get dirty. I trace the letters of his name with my index finger, and I stare at the primroses standing neatly in a concrete pot, drops of water sliding off the pale yellow petals.

They make me think of my Dad, and how he comes here every week. I wondered why he would buy one primrose every week, but then I found out that every week he brings that single flower here and adds it to a bouquet. I asked him why he did this, and he told me that it was a way of showing my father that he will always love him, and that he’s always thinking of him. I’d get confused and angry and I’d think ‘Why do you still love him when he died and left us?!’

Sometimes when things have been going particularly rough he sneaks out of the house at night and locks the doors when he thinks I am asleep. Once I climbed out my window and down the drainpipe and followed him here. I stood behind an oak tree and listened as he poured his heart out to my father’s grave, where my father’s ashes had been buried in a casket in the ground. So I’m sat here now, on my own, in the rain. The water splatters onto my black hair and down the purple bruise spread across my cheek.

“I’m sorry,” I cried as I bowed my head to the ground, “I didn’t know.”

I would give anything to speak to my father.

“I thought you left me on purpose. I didn’t know.”

Anything.

“I’m sorry father.”

~*~

Oh I’m sorry for, blaming you

For everything I just couldn’t do

And I’ve hurt myself by hurting you

~*~

My head spun. Everything went white. I felt my head falling onto the wet grass, but my sight felt blank so I closed my eyes. I felt light, but it was like I was being into the ground underneath me.

Suddenly there was nothing.

No rain. No grass. No graveyard.

I was standing up. Water from my blazer dripped down, but when I looked down I couldn’t see what I was standing on, I couldn’t see the water. There was nothing underneath me, nothing around.

It was just white.

I was alone.

“You’re not.”

What?

“You’re not alone.”

I turned around and saw a man standing a few feet away from me. I couldn’t see his face very well. He looked young, around twenty years old. I wanted to panic but I just...couldn’t.

“I’m here now.”

The voice whispered out again, it was a whisper but it was loud. It was loud yet it was gentle. I’d never heard the voice before...but I recognised it.

“Who are you?”

He walked forward slowly. My first thought was that I should move back but I didn’t, I just stood still.

Then I saw his face clearer. He looked like me, but he had light brown fluffy hair instead of black. He had the same eyes as me and he was wearing white button-up pyjamas, like ones you’d see in a hospital...except with a primrose sitting in his pocket.

“You’re...”

“I’m Lu Han.”

My eyes widened and I found it suddenly quite hard to breath. He stopped walking towards me.

“You’re my father,” I croaked as I tried to breath out.

“You’re my son,” he looked gently at me.

~*~

Some days I feel broken inside but I won’t admit

Sometimes I just wanna hide ‘cause it’s you I miss

~*~

“Lu Bao.”

“Yes?”

I couldn’t believe it. I was talking to my father. I felt strange, there was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to ask. I couldn’t do it.

“I love you.”

“I-“

“I love him too.”

My father looked down at his flower, and he his finger over the petal. He still loves my Dad...He looked up at me again and this time I could see the colour in his eyes, the same as mine. Light brown. He looked so young...

He had stayed the age he died at.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“You’ve grown up well.”

I smiled, and he smiled back.

“I’m sorry.”

He looked confused and his smile faltered.

“I didn’t know you died because you were sick...I-I thought you had just- I’m sorry.”

My voice echoed. My father stood still, looking straight at me. Listening to me.

“I love you,” he said once again.

“Your flute. I can play it now.”

“’It sounds pretty’,”he chuckled quietly, “That’s what you said.”

My eyebrows furrowed. I didn’t know what he was talking about, and I was still finding it hard to breathe. It felt like the air around me was getting thicker...hotter...denser.

He took a step backwards. Then another one. Then another one.

~*~

And it’s so hard to say goodbye

When it comes to this

~*~

“No.”

The air got colder. I was breathing too fast now. The oxygen filling me up like a balloon, making me dizzy and light again. I clutched at the front of my wet blazer and looked over at my father.

“No don’t leave me!” I yelled.

“This isn’t goodbye,” he answered as he smiled softly at me.

“No!”

“I’m always with you,” he kissed his hand and reached it out to me. I stretched my hand out to him desperately but he was too far away. I was kneeling down now, my body getting heavier and heavier, until I was pulled to the ground completely.

~*~

Would you tell me I was wrong?

Would you help me understand?

Are you looking down upon me?

Are you proud of who I am?

~*~

“BAO! Bao are you alright?” a familiar voice sounded in my ear, as a hand shook my shoulder. I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was a primrose, a single one, lying on the ground away from all the others in the bouquet.

“D-Dad...” I groaned. A strong arm lifted me off the ground. Water dripped down from my hair, but the rain had stopped.

“Oh thank god you’re alright. I think you fainted. Here, take my coat,” my Dad took off my soaking wet blazer and replaced it with his duffel coat, the warmth felt nice against my damp shirt. It smelt of home. I picked up the primrose whilst my Dad was busy worrying and I slipped it into the pocket and decided that I would dry press it later, so I could keep it forever.

“Dad calm down I’m fine.”

“Are you feeling cold? How did you get that bruise?” He carried on. I didn’t really want to tell him that I had been punched at school because my Dad and my dead father were ‘faggots together’. I didn’t care about that really, anyway. I just felt bad that I had run from the house when I over heard him talking on the phone. I had eavesdropped and found out about my fathers illness.

“Dad, listen to me.” I said seriously.

“Why were you-“he carried on until he caught my look; he held my arms and helped me to stand up and regain balance,”Ok...I’m listening.”

“I spoke to him.”

“Who-“

I glanced at the marble tombstone next to me.

“He still loves you.” I said as I looked at the ground. He faltered, but he didn’t say anything. He just pulled me into a hug and the back of my head comfortingly, like what he did when I was younger whenever I woke up in the middle of the night because of a nightmare.

“And he loves you too,” my Dad said. I nodded and smiled into the collar of the duffel coat.

“Yeah. I know.”

~*~

“I’m proud of you, Lu Bao.”

~*~