Yixing didn’t mind riding his bike to work - honestly, he loved it. He couldn’t stand being cramped inside sardine-can-subways or forcing his way through crowds. It made him feel absent; like he was no more than air and energy. 

Maybe that was why he chose to do what he does.

 

On one particular night as he rode to work he began to feel an unfamiliar pull in his stomach - like he was being held down by more than gravity. By the time he had gotten to the quiet apothecary it felt like he was being pulled into the centre of the Earth and he could feel pain settling in being his eyes. Never the less he set his bike in it’s place - eyeing a flower that fell victim to the harsh Yunnan conditions - and pushed open the familiar brown saloon doors, revealing his boss sleeping at one of the tables. Yixing tapped the back of the old man’s hand gently in order to wake him; “Sir, can you please make me some tea. I have a headache.” 

The elder looks up in surprise, but nods. “Whatever you need, son. Go sit in the back."

As Yixing obeyed he could feel everything around him become dark and the dreaded feeling of absence swelled inside of him. He scratched his neck and tried to shake it off, pulling out his phone as soon as he was in a seat and turning up the volume on his headphones - anything slow to sooth the pain. He jumped in his seat when a tray of tea was suddenly before him. “Sir!” He gasped, “You shouldn’t sneak up on people. Thank you for the tea."

“Sorry, it’s normally hard for a man like me to sneak up on people.” The old man yawns, not at all concerned with Yixing’s strange behaviour. “Just hurry up and feel better. You shouldn’t have come in if you feel unwell."

“Thank you Sir, but it was sort of…” Yixing’s words became almost a whisper, “sudden."

The old man furrows his brows and turns to walk away; “Oh, son. I think you should go home; thats a bad omen.” 

Yixing hums thoughtfully but his attention soon returns to his phone, that is until the light above him begins to flicker. A cold chill runs down his spine, but he ignored his instincts and stayed still; as still as possible. “Maybe it really is a bad omen.” He mumbled to himself. Suddenly the sweet piano melody that had been playing in his ear became choppy and a high pitched ring drew his attention towards his phone, only to see that the screen was flashing blurred images so quickly that he couldn’t make any of them out even if he really wanted to; and he didn’t want to. He didn’t want any of this.

Not now.  

Not Ever. 

He stumbled back, his chair clattering to the ground behind him. “I have to go.” He panted - the headache intensifying. “Sir, I’m leaving!” He yells as he runs through the door.

“When will you be back?” Worry evident in the elder’s voice.

Yixing threw one final sorry look over his shoulder; “Never.” 

 

He moved so fast that he didn’t even notice the once defeated flower blossom the purest white.