Subtle Differences | Junhao oneshots

The things you do for love

Friday, 2023 | 5pm

Friday is just another day of the week, a repetitive pocket of time that rolls around and knocks on the door, announcing its arrival and calming presence. Every Friday, he gets himself ready for the same mundane-ness of the work required of him. He shrugs the uniform off from its hanger, then slips it over his upper body. He bids his empty apartment goodbye, and waits idly for the train that brings him to a station still a distance away from his job. His second job, to be fair. It was tiring work, cleaning, but he does it anyway to pay the bills. 

His job is simple, gather the equipment, clear the area, wipe it down, rinse and repeat. He does a quick job of it too. Most Friday evenings, he arrives exactly at 6, when the sunset cast a golden blanket on the surroundings, and he's able to work in peace. Usually he doesn't wear his earbuds, out of respect. On a night such as this, there isn't anyone around. Occasionally there'll be one or two visitors, sending polite smiles his way as he carries on with his duties, try to make conversation with him, ignore him completely. His favourite are those that offer him a quick drink or food, a show of pity and appreciation. 

Very rarely does he see anyone else, working that is. His job isn't for everyone. In fact, he'd only taken it in the first place out of utter desperation, both his and the employers. 

Who he does see though, and has been seeing, every week for the past three months since he'd started this job, is a single visitor. The visitor with his dark hair and pale skin, always alone and sitting in the same one spot. He only comes close to the visitor when the sun has already set, when he nearly finishes his job. He has a systematic order, and that particular area happens to come last. 

He does it out of respect as well, because the hours are precious, he knows that too, and disturbance is entirely frustrating. With the place and time entirely to himself, he often wonders about the visitor. Sometimes, he is talking. Other times, he sits and listens. One time, he has even had to wake him up. People before him had warned of this visitor's presence. He was neither violent, nor disturbing, just calm. And every Friday, he is here. 

So maybe what he wants to know is, why? Not today, though. Next week, perhaps, he'll ask.

Today, he notices the visitor's brought a bouquet of light pink flowers. A small bunch of them. He looks on, aware of the fact he might come across as creepy, staring at him. The visitor never looks up, though around him people come and go, even when he walks around with his cloth. 

He checks his watch, almost closing time. The visitor, quite lost in his own world, doesn't move to get up. As mentioned before, he hates disturbing, but tonight he just wants to go home. So, he walks over, and taps the man on his shoulder.

"We're closing." He says. The visitor smiles. He notices that the smile doesn't seem quite right. It doesn't reach his eyes, its shape is odd, he doesn't part his lips. 

"Sorry, I just need a minute." The man finally whispers. He nods, and steps back as a pretense of giving him more privacy. He still hears everything of course. 

The man bends, placing a hand on the top of the tombstone. "They're chasing me out Hao. I don't want to leave, but you need to sleep hey? See you next week. Don't miss me too much hm?" 

The man walks by, crossing the field of other tombstones. He bends down and scoops up the flowers. Any other time, he'd let them stay for a few days, but he doesn't work weekends and the cemetery doesn't open again till Wednesday. Finishing the last of his job, he steps away to read the tombstone. 

Xu Minghao
1997 - 2018

Five years, and the man still comes. 

Out of pure curiosity, he flips the bouquet around and reads the card attached to it. 

Happy anniversary!
Love, Junhui

He sighs. It's simple incomprehensible.

The things love does to people.