Vanilla Dusk ✓

Loop Part 2

Erik never asked why he was lingering on the rooftop that day, looking like a forlorn stray cat cowering in a stack of rubbish at the back of an alley.

But Shayne was curious about everything associated with Erik, including why he appeared on the rooftop that day, how long he had been staring at his pathetic back before deciding to yell to him and more importantly, why he was on the verge of tears when nothing about Shayne should have bothered him.

'I've never seen you before,' said Shayne, as they walked side by side out of the rooftop. Erik halted at the stairs and averted his gaze. He began fidgeting with his sleeves and blinking rapidly, seemingly lost in contemplation. One of his hands fumbled to the pocket of his trousers but he never pulled out the thing inside.

'I'm new,' muttered Erik eventually with an anxious blush. 'Just got here yesterday.' He opened his mouth and then closed it, pursing his lips as if he was struggling not to spill something. Shayne wondered what he was hiding behind that mystified countenance.

'And how did you end up on the rooftop?' asked Shayne.

'Just happened to wander up here,' said Erik. The answer didn't justify much but Shayne decided not to press on. 'Let's go.' Erik, tossing Shayne a rather unnerved gaze, forced a faint smile before he resumed walking, making sure to drag Shayne downstairs with him.

Nothing was right at that point. Shayne had moved to London for a semester. His father sometimes worked across the country and before he got promoted to a stable position, the family had moved at least five times in two years, from Edinburgh to Birmingham, then to Manchester, back to Oxford and then to London, where his father decided to settle down for good but the constant moving, coupled with the lack of family time and loads of other 'complications' which Shayne was never clearly informed of, ultimately cost the marriage. His parents were never intimate to begin with. His father was a grouchy British man born and raised in London, met his wife at Cambridge when they were studying Law and the couple got married on an impulse a few years after their graduation. There was not much moving then. They both worked for a local law firm before Shayne's mother had to resign due to pregnancy and depression started plaguing her because of the unexpected child.

The moving began when his father quit the law firm and accepted a competitive offer from an international trade corporation. He got more occupied, always moving from place to place to attend conferences and supervise branches. He returned home less often, seldom brought home gifts, almost never kissed, cooked or simply dined with his wife, hardly noticed Shayne was even there. And gradually, the prolonged neglected silence escalated into frequent skirmishes, bickering and fights. They argued over trivial things, from housework distribution to what to have for dinner. Before Shayne realised what was wrong, his mother, who was an immigrant from Hong Kong, had left and disappeared from the country.

He stayed behind with his father and for the next couple of years, he was placed in different private schools. He had never heard from his mother again and the only piece of information his father bothered to feed him was her back to being a prestigious lawyer in her home country.

Shayne was fine being on his own. At school, it was hard to form a social circle when he came as swiftly as he went. It had happened before. He made a friend in middle school and was starting to remember all his hobbies, catchphrases and favourite food when his father told him that they had to move a week later. This went on for several times and Shayne got fed up with the changes, so he stopped elaborating in his self-introduction each time he arrived at a new campus and would always pick the secluded spot at the back of the classroom where he could sit alone admiring the view outside the window and daydream without being disturbed in one of those tormenting, tedious lectures. He only spoke when the teacher asked him a question and sometimes, he wouldn't respond at all when he heard his own name. A few boys found his attitude cocky and provoking. They called him a conceited brat and blocked his way in the corridor, sometimes hiding his stationery and tossing his books out to the corridor. Shayne didn't tell anyone about this. When the boys crumpled one of his assignments for his beloved Literature, he stomped up to them, kicked over a table, clasped a chair and flung it at the biggest boy in the gang, watching as his cheek got smacked and ended with a gruesome bruise while the others widened their eyes and leapt back with a gasp.

He got a detention that day and a scolding from his father but never any trouble from the boys again.

Back when his family was still moving a lot, Shayne had the habit of not looking at anybody's eyes or hearing their voices because they left vestiges in his memory. It was useless to remember, in his opinion.

Erik was the very first person he would spend minutes staring at, examining his facial features and deciphering his expressions. He was also the first one Shayne got to spend more than a year with at school. He was able to, without any fear and paranoia of losing something significant, remember everything about Erik.

Ever since their encounter on the rooftop that day, they became inseparable. Erik, being a new student, experienced what Shayne had experienced perhaps a dozen times. Shayne was more than willing to keep him company. They walked to school together every morning. Sometimes, when Shayne felt like it, he would drive his Mercedes and pick Erik up down the street. They lived in two different zones. Shayne lived in a quaint three-storey cottage with his father in Zone 1 while Erik lived in a small duplex condo with his older brother, Jónar, in Zone 3. They came from Norway and were here on a temporary stay because of studies.

'My brother's trying to get his Linguistics PhD at King's,' said Erik.

'And then?' Shayne wasn't interested in what Jónar was doing. Rather, he was more concerned about Erik's path after his graduation. He had always been the one peregrinating a lot but now, Erik seemed to have taken his role.

'Oh, you mean after he's done with his PhD?'

'Yea, will you, like go back or...' Shayne trailed off, turning away to blink ponderously as he unconsciously sagged on the bench and fidgeted with his fingers – a sight Erik found irresistibly endearing.

Erik, seemingly able to sense Shayne's trepidation, responded quickly with a reassuring smile. 'I think I'd like to stay and get my degree here.'

It was comforting to know that Erik would stay, at least for a few more years. Shayne needed something to cling to, someone who could clutch his arm when he was leaning too close to the railing and pull him back when he was ready to leave everything behind.

He needed all this. To survive.

Somebody.

Some sort of faith.

They had lessons together, joined the same clubs and usually did everything together. After school, they either explored the town or went to Shayne's house. It was always vacant, far too capacious for two. His father was seldom home so Shayne had the whole place to himself. When they got tired of window-shopping at Oxford Street, sketching near the fountains in Trafalgar Square, ambling on the Waterloo Bridge, having a brunch feast in Camden Market, or lazing by the pond at St. James' Park, they would head back to Shayne's house. They could spend the afternoon chattering or slumbering on the two lounge chairs in Shayne's backyard. Shayne would always invite Erik to stay over when it got too dark after dinner. They experimented with their dessert recipes, watched some Netflix and played video games until they both fell asleep on Shayne's bed.

It was almost a dream come true for Shayne, who had never been able to keep in touch with someone, let alone spending every day full of fun with the same person.

He was glad that he had taken Erik's hand that day.