our words || chuang2021 one-shots

岁月 [sùi yùe]

岁月 [sùi yùe]: Used together, these characters compose a phrase that refers to the--often poetic--passage of time. 岁月 brings to mind nostalgic hazy memories, distant imaginings.

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He had everything one could ask for. Hundreds of thousands of followers. Blue ticks in every social media app you could think of. Photoshoots for every major brand in Asia. PR packages delivered to his house (that his mother had to open on FaceTime to him because he was never home). Alcohol. Sex. Designer clothes. Gucci and Diesel partnerships. More sex. Fame. Drugs. Trips all around the globe. Hong Kong. Tokyo. Moscow. Berlin. Barcelona. Praga. Miami. Sydney. Did he really have everything one could ask for?

That question always ended up roaming his mind whenever he would get in his bunk bed. He never slept. He hadn't in almost 5 years. The bus-tour driver was too harsh with his steering and the roads were usually bumpy and irregular. And he once read in a magazine that you could potentially break your neck and paralyze yourself if the bus suddenly hits the breaks, and that idea terrified him. And to be fair, Rikimaru's snores wouldn't let him catch a snooze anyways.

Sometimes Keyu would offer to join him and Patrick in the front of the bus where they would be watching some sort of action-packed movie. And if he did, it would've been for the snacks, because those two had some sort of thing going on among themselves that Oscar did not want to become part of. At times, Lin Mo would give him lessons on how to knit. And every once in a while, Santa would try to teach him Japanese, but Oscar would get his hans and kanjis mixed up, so they would throw in the towel and each would do their own thing.

But what he did the most was lay on his side, facing the small section of wall corresponding to his narrow bed. He would look at the photos from his childhood stuck to the wall with glittery washi tape, hugging his mum, drinking that chocolate milk that he loved so much but always left a mustache-looking residue on his upper lip. Letters from fans that he received on tour, sometimes in English or in broken Chinese. Bear stickers that he would be gifted on meet and greets, which made him embrace his Chinese name little by little. And some old polaroids -whose tape was barely sticky anymore- taken in 2021 alongside the other Chuang trainees. Maybe he should text Zheng Hanjiang; he heard him on the phone to Mika every once in a while. Those two... they were literally "brothers from another mother" as some would say. Kazuma must have already finished his studies at Harvard, for sure he became super successful though because he had a natural talent for songwriting. Caelan really misses him and it's hard for him not to cry when fans ask about them being in touch. Yetao.

His Taotao. He hated that he had lost him. He hated that it was his fault. He hated that he couldn't have done anything to solve it. And he hated that he never even apologized. Never did they have a goodbye hug nor a farewell kiss. He would scroll through his Instagram account, zooming in his pics. He couldn't spare the memories that they brought back, how they would hide behind doors to tell each other secrets, how they hid behind that grey curtain as an excuse to sneak a few kisses without the cameras noticing, the letter he wrote for Yetao when he thought he wouldn't make it to the finals -but Oscar knew he would deep dow, because how can someone so talented not be the victor of the show; the winner of his heart- and how they hugged after he had read it. The echoes were endless. Would he still be working at that boba shop he used to work at before the show? Maybe he has found someone better and he is happy again. I hope he is. He deserves to be happy. Did he just upload a picture with Liu Yu? Wait, shouldn't Liu Yu be here?

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It was almost as if the alcohol began to race with his blood to see who was the fastest to reach his brain. His wavelength shorter, he tripped on the stool and almost fell. If Liu Yu hadn't been fast enough to grab his arm, his pretty face would've hit the pub's grubby floor. «I'm going to regret this tomorrow morning.» He kept repeating that to himself. He ran outside the pub and threw up on the road, his puke dabbling on some girl's black high heels who gagged and almost broke down crying. He hoped that Liu Yu wouldn't come out to help him in that state. He wouldn't want to affect his successful career. Liu Yu had a future. He did not.