Red Room Hours with John Tan

Help You

You both sat frozen in your chairs, John was also watching the tiny beads as they scattered on the linoleum beneath your feet. You looked from them up to his face the agony etched into the lines of his eyes and mouth made your stomach clench. You wanted to reach out and touch his arm like he had for you when you spoke of your brother, but you weren't sure that reaction was what he needed in this moment.

"Stand up John, we're going to take a walk." You hadn't even known you were about to say those words to him. You hadn't decided to speak or formed the thoughts in your head fully before you said it with an intention that didn't beg for rebuttal. Your tone was compassionate but resonated with authority. Immediately John closed his laptop and shoved it into his bag, and seeing that he'd sprang into action you took a moment to gather your things as well.

You reached down to the little table between the chairs and grabbed the empty cups, then glanced at John. He was still holding the black cord between thumb and finger, almost cautiously like it was something that could cause him harm. You held your palm out to him and used your other hand to deftly brush your cool fingers against the back of his hand, he dropped it into your palm. You looked at it briefly then shoved it into the pocket of your yellow sweater.

"Let's go now," you motioned toward the entrance of the book store and he started walking without a single word. You watched the way his shoulders looked rounded in defeat as he walked away, the narrowness of his waist flowing into the tight jeans but then shook the thought away. You weren't going to admire his body while he was clearly experiencing a vulnerable moment. You tucked the thought away for another time and tried to think of your next move. Why had you told him to take a walk with you? You knew that in your mind it was likely because this setting, with the beads on the floor, would hang like a cloud around him and what good could come from that?

"I don't know why I just did that, Y/N. We broke up almost a month ago and I still wear it- wore it everyday." The distress in his voice was easing, but it appeared the realization was hitting him of what'd he done. "If I could hate her then everything would eventually go back to normal right? I'd be sad, then mad, then finally over it, but I can't feel any of those things." You'd tossed the empty cups into the trash and held the door for him to exit. Once outside you nudged his elbow to steer him toward the long pathway that meandered toward the park and dorms.

"Why do things have to go back to normal?" You walked side by side now, you could feel the warmth radiate from his body toward your own and you switched your bag to the other shoulder to edge closer to him. Your pace was slow and you weren't sure what the end goal was going to be, but he seemed to be relaxing a bit with each step you put between him and the book store.

"I want to erase her, it was that bad in the end. The problem is," his voice trailed off and he stopped walking so abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk that you hadn't noticed until you were several steps in front of him. You turned your body to face his and crossed your arms under your chest. He didn't continue just looked at the ground while lightly swinging his own bag against his hip and thigh.

"Finish that sentence John," you told him crisply and then more softly, "let's sit over there we can talk through this if you want." You uncrossed your arms and motioned toward a cluster of picnic tables at the edge of the park. You closed the distance between your bodies again and reached for his hand, he lifted it and you locked your fingers into his and with a gentle tug led him to the first weathered table. His hand was warm and dry and you could feel the creases of his palm pressed into against the curves of yours.

Still holding his hand you eased around the front of the table and sat down pulling him to sit across from you. As you loosened the pressure of your hand in his, he tightened his grip and rubbed his thumb down your palm. You bit into your lower lip slightly feeling the tingle of his absent-minded stroke against your hand into your shoulders and chest.

"What were you going to say? What is the problem?" You needed to focus on the present situation, not your own feelings. You wondered for the first time how you hadn't noticed a change in him a few weeks ago. He hadn't shown much emotion in class for someone who'd just described a terrible break up with someone they loved. You thought maybe that had been the sadness that hung around him sometimes? He must be very good at disguising his emotions, or you had gotten rusty at reading people. Had your crush on him masked that he was going through hell, while you stared at his sharp jaw, full mouth, and dreamed of being beneath that torso?

"She wasn't just my girlfriend, she was teaching me things about myself that I had wanted to explore for years." He finally pulled his hand from yours, seeming to notice that he'd held on too long and intimately. He dropped his hands into his lap beneath the table his eyes following them downward.

She was teaching him things, your brow furrowed at the words. The way he'd immediately responded to your forceful command to take a walk, the rounded shoulders as he complied. Was she? Certainly not, that wasn't what he meant. You'd have never suspected that John Tan could be in a D/s relationship dynamic. You didn't want to assume, so you remained silent and neutral. If he managed to look up at you from staring into his lap, you'd not give anything away.

"I was bullied in school growing up, when I told you about my childhood earlier, I know I didn't specifically spell that out for you, but I hinted at it. It wasn't ever a serious situation, I didn't get beat up, but kids aren't nice. I lost my of sense of control, and Bree was teaching me to take that back. Now she's gone, and took all of that with her again." He spoke each word into the rough grain of the wood table top, not acknowledging you or looking up at all.

"I know I wanted the break up too, but I hoped we could keep the other part of our relationship. She made it very clear that it was all or nothing. She didn't even give me time to decide, so now I have nothing." He finished his thoughts and finally raised his head to meet your eyes. You frowned a bit and started to reach toward him but dropped your hand onto the table instead.

"Sit up." Once again you began speaking without really knowing why you'd chosen your words. You watched as he straightened his body language and squared his shoulders pulling up to his full height once more. "You respond to what I tell you so well." You smiled but without amusement. He instantly reddened across his cheeks and neck. "I think I know what she was giving you and I think I can help. Do you want me to help you John?"

"Yes." He sighed the single word with such force that it trembled all the tension from his body. You knew what you had to do for him. That cardboard box under your bed was going to get attention a lot more quickly than you'd thought.

You drew a pen and sheet of paper from your bag, his chocolate eyes watching your every move. You scribbled your phone number, address, and some instructions on the paper then slid it across the table to him.

"If you change your mind, text me the word window, and I'll know that the next time we speak it will be to wrap up this project, otherwise I'll see you in two hours." You didn't look at him or say another word, you tossed the pen back into your bag and dragged your legs over the bench of the picnic table, then walked away toward your dorm without looking back. You really hoped he wasn't going to text you.