At The Edge Of The World | YiZhan ✓

Part 7

It was late April. The skies were covered with a blanket of dark clouds while the lands were drenched in filthy waters. The boy who could not wait out in the daunting rain, was now inside, his bare hands spread open in front of his father who sliced into his skin with the hit of a ruler.

With every hit his wounds became only deeper, while his heart winced in pain of ever having been born. The regret of not having run away sooner was growing bigger until his last scream, and his father was done for good.

He spent the next ten days stuck in his room, crying to himself and to the gods who had not helped him in any way. What was the purpose of prayer when they had been put there on earth to breathe such air created from their very own sins? That question alone had been enough to make him forget all that was to do with hope, and draw a line to face his true fate. There was no one that could help him. Not the people whom he called his family, nor those who would act like they would care. So he had to do something on his own and help himself.

He was fifteen when he ran away from home, living in the streets for weeks before being found by a brothel owner. He had been deemed pretty enough to sell his body at least, which he did not mind one a bit. All he needed was something to hang onto, so that he may grow stronger one day to get revenge on those who wronged him. Yet that dream was too far to reach, even those who stood lower than him commenting as though they knew. "You have no hope kid. You live life only to survive it. And there is no escape from it."

Yet there came a man one day, seeming to be holding more money than those who usually visited his room. But his intentions were much different, offering him a spot as a trainee in a company that would give him the power to stand above all else, and to hold the amount he would make now in only a matter of minutes. He had to thank his airheadedness that day from forgetting that he had a visitor, and singing to his heart's content as he always would whenever he'd feel stressed. And that having caught the eyes of a trainer, he made his way up to success. After all, being an idol meant being a god. That was how he would be perceived, the impact a celebrity had was grand.

"...I would visit him often after changing the company, but soon came the news of his passing. And that's that... there was no one left before I knew it."

Zhan listened to his story with squinted eyes, not knowing what to say or how to act. He had hoped that the shower had been enough to calm his stress, yet it seemed to soften him to the extend of opening his heart to him. And that meant a lot for him. "It must've been lonely." Yibo shrugged, his lips slightly shivery. "I was used to it. But anyways... I guess I just wanted to tell the end of it since you already know plenty. It had always been easy to talk to you you know..."

Zhan looked at the cup of wam tea in his hands before grabbing the pack next to him. "A cigarette sure goes well after this." Yibo smiled, taking one after him. "At least it's not suffocating to talk to me anymore." The latter then remembered what he had told him the other day, shaking his head at the thought. "Well, I wasn't lying. It's hard to understand you when you hide everything about yourself." Zhan gave him a glance as he lit his smoke. "I guess I'm struggling with reality more than you. I just don't know how to escape from it.."

As he then reached his hand out with the lighter, Yibo leaned his head in and inhaled. He let the smoke out with a puff, watching as it dispersed into the air between them. "Don't try to escape it. Fight it instead..." Zhan chuckled. "Like you did? You say it so easy.... aahh.." He groaned loudly and stretched his arms and legs on the couch, his starfish position becoming amusing for the latter. "How is the new addiction kicking in?"

Yibo inhaled the smoke in a not so amateur way, taking it in like a veteran. "I think I will get used to it. We all die anyways, might as well enjoy our doom as we live it." Zhan laughed, shaking his head. "True... by the way, I have badminton upstairs. Wanna play?" Yibo raised his brows. "What in the living room?" Zhan then raised his head and gave the room a glance. "...we will push the couch and it'll be big enough no? I'll be right back." With that he ran upstairs and came back with the rackets.