Heterochromia iridum – Chapter 3

He loves me. He loves me not. You thought as you plucked the petals from the wild flower Yifan gave you before he was called away by the basketball coach. He loves me—there was still one petal left, but your phone rang, ending your game of flower petals.

He loves me not.  You conclude, numbly stirring your bowl of green tea ice cream. You stir clockwise, then counter clockwise, then clockwise again. I wonder if that woman loves him. Does she know how much he at sports, or how he never really left the bench during basketball games? You pause. Were you jealous right now? An exasperated sigh tethers your space shuttle to earth;

“Jun Lihua. Eat that before it becomes Zitao’s face wash, and try the bubble tea before it gets all warm and icky,” Yixing scolds, taking your spoon. He digs it deeply into the bowl, pulling out a baseball-sized spoonful. “Say ‘ah.’”

That’s not going to fit in my face—“—Yixing—ack!” You jerk back as a green tea ice cream ball attacks your nose. “Zhang Yixing!”

He shrugs. “You can get me back if you want.” He puts up both hands with a comical expression. “I surrender.”

“Ok, ok! I surrender!” Yifan exclaimed, using his book bag as a shield as you tried to slap him again. He peeped over the edge, immediately regretting it as you caught his forehead and knocked him over. “Woah—“

“Yeek!” You squeaked as you landed on top of him. “Sorry, Yifan—“And his face rapidly flushed as he clawed at the floor, trying to crawl out from under you. Then you noticed. Your blouse had gotten disheveled while wrestling with him, and he’d gotten an extra view. Slapping his arm once more, you pushed yourself off the floor and offered to pull him up as he nursed his reddened arm. “ert.”

He smirked. “Takes one to know one, angel—ow! What was that for?”

“For looking in my drawers--”

“Ow! Ow! Ok, ok, sorry, I won’t do it again! I surrender—“

“. . . sorry,” you mumble, using a napkin to clean your face.

He purses his lips, popping a dimple as he does so. “Let’s go eat an early lunch, then eat again later. And keep snacking all day,” he says, pushing out his seat to leave. He frowns as you remain seated with your eyes still glassily staring at the table. “Ah, come on!” And you are dragged from the table by your wrist, barely resisting as Yixing pulls and pushes you to the next stop.

Sitting on the beach with your knees tucked tightly at your chest, you watch as Yixing dances for you. He really was light on his feet, you notice. Even while dancing so powerfully, the sand at his feet barely stirred. But then again, maybe he was just trying to be careful and not kick any sand at you—

“Lihua, come dance with me!” he lowers a hand to you, grinning widely with the summer’s last sunset at his shoulders.

You shake your head, returning his smile. “I don’t want to get a stomach ache after eating all that! Let me digest a bit, first.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself.” And he hops back out, resuming his rhythm as the golds, pinks, and reds of the setting sun set his frame and sweat aglow . . .

“Suit yourself.” Yifan shrugged, leaping astride his motorcycle after strapping on his helmet. And he sped down the desolate road as you stood with your feet firmly planted on the ground and umbrella clutched tightly in your white hands as the rain poured down. Even though the streets were empty at this hour, it was still dangerous to ride like that. Especially with all that rain. And you’d told him that. And maybe he realized that, since you saw him turning the bike around to return to you.

Then you heard a horrible screeching sound, and his bike stopped near your feet, toppled over on its side without its rider.

“Wu Yifan!”

“Ow!”

You snap out of your reverie as Yixing suddenly crumbles, crashing into the sand. Scrambling to your feet, you ran to him. “Yixing, are you OK?” You look down; a thin trail of blood was running between his toes with a broken beer bottle not too far from his feet.

“It’s just a scratch—“ He flinches as you give him that measuring look. “Really, I only cried out because my stomach cramped—“

Lightly cuffing the back of his head, you dig a handkerchief from your purse and wrap it around his foot. “This is why you should wait a bit after eating to move around, you idiot,” you scold, going back to fetch his shoes. Setting them in front of him, you glare at him with your hands on your hips until he finishes lacing them up. “We should go to the convenience store for disinfectant and band-aids—“

“It’s just a scratch, really—“

“Look, Yifan, I told you that that was a really bad idea, so—sorry . . .” And mentally, you kicked yourself at your own stupid mistake.

Yixing sighs, dusting himself off as he rises. Tugging at your arm, he begins to walk, only pausing as he realizes that he is dragging you. “Come on.”

“Why?”

“Let’s go get some band-aids and disinfectant. And maybe some toy hammers.”

“Why?”

“Dunno. Because it’s my stupid idea?” He grins, tugging at you again. “Come on.”

“Go by yourself. I want to go home,” you say, pulling your arm free.

Yixing puts his hands on his hips before running a hand through his damp hair. “Never mind me needing band-aids and disinfectant. Looks like you need it more.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“People do stupid things—although, some are significantly stupider—but that’s just part of living, Jun Lihua. And you’re doing something ‘significantly stupider’ by letting someone like Wu Yifan hurt you this much for this long.”

“I—“ You bit your lower lip as it began to tremble. You wanted to fire something back, but being called “stupid” hurt too much. Just like how your mother called you that. Because you’re stupid, you’re not good enough for her to stay. Never good enough for your mother. Not good enough for Yifan, either. Because you’re stupider. Maybe even stupidest. You ball your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palms as you stare at the ground. “You don’t know.”

He shakes his head, making his shaggy, dyed-auburn hair bounce. “Ever heard the saying, ‘never argue with an idiot. First, they drag you down to their level, then, they beat you with experience?’”   

“Well, sorry for being an idiot, then!” you snap, turning and storming a few steps before he grabs your wrist again. “Let go!” And your eyes widened as you accidentally slapped his face.

Holding his cheek and glaring at you now, he sighs as one corner of his lip curls up as you continue to look at him in shock. “Look—“

“Sorry, Yixing, I—“

“I wasn’t calling you an idiot. Just . . . never mind.” And he turns smartly on his heel, walking away and leaving you alone.

END// Heterochromia iridum 3

20160123 - re-uploaded

Recap: Going through painful flashbacks of Kris, Lay takes you around on a date in hopes of helping you forget your ex.