#huitians

[ofmays]

❍﹒𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁: for @huitians / huitian !! ⠀⠀⠀𝚃𝙰𝙶𝚂: none as of now !! ⠀⠀⠀𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽: may's dorm !!

may and people didn’t exactly mesh well…he was people-averse by nature, prickly and abrasive— that was until he met someone just as horrible anti-social as himself; two negatives had to make a positive, right? that’s what may told himself at least as he clung so desperately to huitian the minute their friendship picked up; conversations laced with petty remarks and enough eye rolls to give one a headache.

it wasn’t for everyone, but somehow, may had found a safe place in someone who was just like him, because after all, those feelings were familiar, those emotions and thoughts of judgement were something all too known to may, so huitian was safe, a home far away from bangkok.

“stop distracting me.” may sighs as he tucks his pen behind his ear, smoothing down the pages of his environmental history doorstop of a book. he needed the break, but he had half an a4 page left to fill, and time was ticking. “and stop talking about him, i’m not distracted— we’re supposed to be studying, remember?” and he looks up at his best friend, hoping he doesn’t catch sight of the slight pink across his cheeks. this academic year had been full of surprises, and of course the other man was all too caught up with may’s business, constantly poking his head in. may could do that as well though, oh, he could do it really well, actually.

“you’ve been distracted, too. you don’t actually hate that guy, i know you— so spill.” and so may looks to huitian with a shit-eating grin, reaching for his now-warm soda on his nightstand, studying forgotten just for now.

[13elmst]

in another world, she writes a thesis on getting better. the ghost of her shadow is cast under the glare of the bright light, but it behaves exactly as it should. no stretching limbs, no breaking glass, no eyes that stare at her from the crack of her closet. the walks home through the poorly lit street from lab to dorm is not a rock and a hard place—being afraid of the light, being afraid without.

instead, with every walk home, sumi places two fingers on the back of her neck, praying to find the polyethylene material of the patch. and it works like a charm until it doesn’t—until sleep abandons her, forces her to stay up until morning creaks in and she’s left staring at the shadow cast against the door, begging it to behave.

today’s one of those days. stare at something long enough and the room will cave in, until there’s just enough space for you and the devil. then it’s human nature, the flight response springing her up by the heels and spitting her into the hallway, until she catches sight of the kitchen on her left. a tentative step, a soothing lull, and she’s here again, in front of a fire just to watch it burn. she peels the kitchen roll piece by piece, watches it catch fire and evaporate into nothing. and perhaps all this burning would sear her fingers eventually, if not for the literal douse of water against the stove and ricocheting onto her face. sumi wakes from her trance, stands up and turns to the offender with a loud, “hey!” and there’s a redness blooming on her cheeks, not entirely due to the sudden, literal and metaphorical chill from her frigid neighbour, but because the situation is a play-by-play of the time when she was just a kid at her aunt’s, caught red handed by a tutting adult. sumi squares her shoulders and sneers, “oh my god, what are you: obsessed with me? you are literally always up my business!”

ft. bae sumi & @huitians's xie huitian, circa 2020