Tingles and Things

Fong and Tine

Fong had a thing for strays. It was a flaw his parents tried to wean him of since childhood. But, while they appreciated the empathic nature of their son, they couldn't afford to take in any new animals and were getting sick of the responsibility.

Fong, you need to understand that sometimes you can't save everything. Taking on more than you can handle hurts everyone in the long run. They reasoned.

Fong adamantly disagreed with this mindset and continued to take on strays because it was the right thing to do. Soon, his parents forced him to care for every stray he took in with no additional help. Fong was responsible for feeding, walking, grooming, and nurturing the animals without financial support or an emotional break from his parents. After a week or so without sleep and at his wit's end, he finally realized what they meant. It was too much.

One day they found him crying, scratched up, and surrounded by his stray animals. They took pity and enlisted a local animal expert's help to fix their problem. Eventually, they agreed that the animals would be sent to non-kill shelters where the chance of re-homing was significantly higher. His parents praised him for his compromise. And Fong, traumatized, learned his lesson.

He couldn't save everyone, so he stopped trying. This is why in middle school, when he saw the kids laugh at a boy in his class, his first instinct was to come to his defense, but he remembered the stray animals he had to defend. And, if he puts himself out there for this kid, he'll have to do it for everyone. But, frankly, that wasn't his responsibility. So, Fong turned his head and continued to play with his friends. Let that be someone else's problem.

Freshman year, Fong was heading from class when he noticed Tine speed-walking down the hallway. He knew of Tine vaguely. He was the kid everyone loved to tease because he was so gullible. Fong stayed clear of him because it was sad to watch, like watching a pig walk to his slaughter. At times Fong resented Tine. No one could be that stupid, he reasoned. He's asking for it at this point, he assured himself.

But he'll see Tine sitting with groups of people smiling sweetly every time, not realizing he's the butt of their jokes. So, when he noticed Tine walking down the hallway his first instinct was to ignore him per usual. Rolling his eyes, he continued to walk to the cafeteria for lunch, Tine was definitely not his problem.

He realized halfway there that he had forgotten his geometry textbook in his previous class. Annoyed, he made his way back to the empty classroom. They had to buy their textbooks at this school, or they were forced to use old editions that left them behind the class. Leaving books untended was fair game for thieves to resell in the underground black market. Sighing, he made a detour back to the classroom.

He wasn't expecting the scene before him when he opened the door. Tine was curled up in the corner, knees to chest, wailing. He released a heart-wrenching sob that tore through Fong's core. Fong felt something stir inside him that he hadn't felt since he first took in a stray kitten. Frozen, he could only stare. Tine was hitting his head with closed fists, eyes closed, barely able to catch his breath.

Fong, unsure of what to do, decided the best thing to do was leave. He didn't want Tine to notice him in this state. It seemed too intimate. But before he could retreat, the classroom door slammed shut. The doors in their building had an annoying habit of slamming shut when let go.

Eyes wide, tears still streaming down his face, and his nose running, Tine froze and looked over at Fong; petrified.

"Sorry!" Tine exclaimed, wiping his nose and face quickly with the bottom of his shirt. "I didn't mean to. This room is usually empty during this time." Then, with shaking hands, he picked up his book bag, slung it over his shoulders, and physically shook himself off. The effect was like a light switch. Suddenly he was smiling over at Fong like nothing had happened.