Skaters 101 (but without the skating)

Buoy

The next item was a punching bag. Javier was roped in, Yuzuru enlisting his help to lug one into the classroom. (And later on to put it in Yang's dorm, when Mr. Plushenko deemed it too distracting an object to stay in class) "I borrowed it from the gym" Javier smiled proudly.

"You mean, stole it." Mao, who was passing by, interjected, giving Javier a push. "This idiot snuck it out of the gym."

"Would anyone notice?" Yang asked dubiously. A big black cylindrical sack hanging from the ceiling by a lone metal chain was hard not to miss.

"Nah. Anyway, we're the only ones who ever use the gym." Javier thumped the punching bag in satisfaction.

~

Bruises started to appear on his knuckles. Yang looked at the purple discolouration ringing his fist in satisfaction, spreading out like ripples made by a stone thrown into a pool. (This is all fake. We all know that bruises appear when no one is watching like the sneaky little things they are.) But the feeling didn't last, ruefully thinking back to the day in which he had gotten angry over a simple thing, and then went on an all-out rage on the punching bag. His mood darkened along with the sky, and the punching bag hanging from the ceiling of his bunk received its worst beating ever. He heard the door creak open, and then swing shut almost straightaway. Probably Alex, who upon peeping into the room, decided that the best course of action was to leave as soon as possible. No wonder he had avoided Yang for that certain period of time.

He had gotten stronger. He knew it, and so did the people around him. Every session he had spent with the punching bag, left a deeper crease above his eyes, his eyebrows knitting together, a facial expression of irritation frequent. It wasn't enough to just beat up a punching bag, not living, not responding, not crying out in pain whenever his fists made contact with it. He started to thirst for the scream of the object, for it to suddenly come alive and beg him to stop hurting it. But it never did came. He always seemed to lose. No matter how much force he put behind each punch, the punching bag remained silent.

(Or sometimes, it would swing back against him, knocking him back with a creak. The springs were strained under the weight.)

~

And that was when Shoma stepped in, turning the mood around by a hundred and eighty degrees, gifting him with something he would not have expected. Never in a million years.

~

Yang stretched out a finger, tentatively stroking the yellow chick from the top of its tiny head, running down its feathery back. "Do you even know who am I?"

The duck lets a small quack, a kin to the loud annoying honks that filled the crisp morning air everytime he went out for a run, except slightly more softer and less irritating to the ear.

Yang decides that he likes the duck, perhaps a bit more than the donkeys in Boyang's room.

~

And that was why, five days later, he was crouching at the bank of the river that ran through the park, under the bridge. He wouldn't have known, but it was the same bridge that Snooki hid under. However, that was where Yuzuru and Shoma found him, eyes 'gazing off into the distance. They had been on their way to school, taking a shortcut through the park and over the bridge, when they saw a figure, hunched over, back facing them. Even when Shoma cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled his name, he did not stir.

The two had glanced at each other for a short moment before taking off, crossing the bridge and scrambling down the bank, to where Yang was.

"Yang, what are you doing? Schools about to start!" Yuzuru asked anxiously, sliding down the side of the bank.