In-laws are so, so funny to torture over the holidays. Especially if they’re not yet your in-law.

Ren Liufang stands in the doorway stiffly, looking as pristine as she usually does. Yan Siyuan, also as she usually does, allows herself fifteen seconds to take a physical catalogue of Ren Liufang. She’s an objectively attractive woman, small face and sharp eyes, and since Xiu Ying is also an objectively attractive woman, she has to make sure that Ren Liufang hasn’t done anything to herself, since it would be a shame if all those looks went away if they ever had a child tog—

“Yan Siyuan,” Ren Liufang calls. “Where would you like me to...”

“Oh! Right,” Yan Siyuan chirps, wiping her hands on her reindeer patterned apron. She hurries out of the kitchen to the doorway, smiling at the younger woman apologetically. “Just set the boxes down right there, Ju-mei. We can take them to Yue Fei’s room later.”

Ren Liufang nods obediently, setting down the boxes full of Christmas lights and decorations onto the tile floor. She clears her throat when she rises, shoulders squared as she looks at Yan Siyuan expectantly. Almost timidly.

It’s so cute, really, Yan Siyuan thinks, how nervous Ren Liufang is. I mean, she should be, because she expects some winning over to be done if this woman plans on seriously dating and eventually, of course, marrying the literal miracle and best girl that is Xiu Ying.

But here’s a secret: Yan Siyuan’s already won over. Ren Liufang is...good for her younger sister. She’s pragmatic, logical. Persistently caring, when very few in Xiu Ying’s life have bothered to care enough about her to be persistent. She’s quietly thoughtful, knows how to talk to people. So yes, she’s already received Yan Siyuan’s stamp of approval.

But Yan Siyuan thinks it’s funny how nervous Ren Liufang gets. And besides, she can’t seem easy to the other woman. What will she think of her Xiu Ying, then?

“Aish, Cheng Bowen and Zhang Wei are out on the lawn right now,” Yan Siyuan muses, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. “They should be clearing the snow off the pavement, but from the looks of it, they just started a snowball fight.”

“It is...not more than what I expected of them,” Ren Liufang answers, almost cautious. She always answers slowly with Yan Siyuan, like she’s taking extra time to carefully choose her words.

Yan Siyuan narrows her eyes at her. Ren Liufang fidgets in place, almost imperceptible.

Then, Yan Siyuan claps a hand on Ren Liufang’s shoulder cheerily. She gestures over her shoulder to the kitchen. “It’s fine! Zhang Wei brought the apple cider, eggnog, and the champagne. I’ll let it slide. But you and I need to finish cooking up the rest of dinner, yeah?”

Ren Liufang nods, just as Xiu Ying pops her head into the room.

“Ah! Jie, Ren Ju,” Xiu Ying greets. “Shi Li and I are almost done with the Christmas tree ornaments! Should we set the table now?”

“Lovely! Go ahead, please,” Yan Siyuan answers, clapping her hands together. “Ren Ju’s helping me cook.”

“Helping you cook? Re Ju, is she overworking you?”

Ren Liufang looks between the two of them. “Ah, I--”

“I am not! What are you complaining about?” Yan Siyuan shoots back, crossing her arms. “You’re the one who eats the most, anyways, so if I’m making food so there’s enough—

“Jie, you have enough food here to feed an army! Did you forget that we already have Shi Li’s ham? Jiaozi? Stuffing? Ren Ju, tell her!”

“There is definitely ample food,” Ren Liufang answers diplomatically. “But making more is always appropriate for the holidays.”

“Ha! See?” Yan Siyuan says, triumphant. She waves her hand in a shooing motion. “Scurry along now, love.”

″Gahh, I’m sorry, Ren Ju,” Xiu Ying apologizes, and the two give each other sappy looks that Yan Siyuan almost coos at. Xiu Ying gives a shy wave. “Good luck, dude!”

“See you soon,” Ren Liufang replies, soft. She also takes Xiu Ying calling her “dude” in stride, another reason Yan Siyuan likes her.

And then Xiu Ying pops out of the room. And it’s just Ren Liufang and Yan Siyuan again.

///

“Ju-mei, could you check on the cookies in the oven?” Yan Siyuan calls over her shoulder as she continues cutting pie crust in precise swipes of her knife. “The snowman one, is it deforming?”

Ren Liufang dutifully does so, sporting red baking mitts. “No, it’s perfectly in shape. The candy cane one looks fine as well.”

“Ah, that’s a relief! You’re really good at this, it’s lovely to have you in the kitchen. Not like A-Ying, pah, that girl...”

“Thank you for allowing me here.”

“Psh, don’t mention it,” Yan Siyuan says. “Come back here, I just need to finish this sweet potato pie, and you can finish up mashing the potatoes, and we’re all set! It’s easy riding from here on out.”

Ren Liufang nods, returning to her place besides Yan Siyuan at the kitchen island. She picks up the masher and, with an elegance uncharacteristic of people who usually mash potatoes, quietly gets to work. Jingle Bell Rock plays over the Home Alexa.

“So how are things at home. Ju-mei?

“We’re settling in well, thank you.” With a pause, and a small smile on her face, Ren Liufang continues, “Xiu Ying drops her laundry often.”

“Oh? Sounds like her, she’s always so enthusiastic about chores that she’s awfully messy about it. You alternate laundry duties?”

“We do.”

“So you’ve seen my sister’s underwear, then?”

Ren Liufang drops the masher with a clank into the metal bowl.

Yan Siyuan, with great effort, stops herself from laughing. She nonchalantly takes a chopstick, dips it into the potatoes, and holds it to Ren Liufang’s mouth. “Anyways, how’s it taste? Soft enough?”

Ren Liufang takes a nibble, doing a good job at not seeming shaken. “...it’s soft enough.”

“Oh, that’s lovely!” Yan Siyuan chirps, turning back to her pie. She happily pats her hand onto Ren Liufang’s shoulder. “I think we’re about done. You should wash up now, love. All in a good day’s work, I’ll say.”

Ren Liufang nods, shifting over to the sink to wash her hands. Yan Siyuan hums to herself.

She clears her throat. “So you’ll be drinking tonight?”

Ren Liufang stills. “I will be.”

“Ah, I see,” she intones, playing up the surprise in her voice. “Are you a regular drinker? Is my sister dating an alcoholic?”

Ren Liufang turns to her quickly, eyes wide. “I’m—“

“Just kidding, Ju-mei!” Yan Siyuan steps back to admire her pie handiwork, proud of the snowflake design cut into it. “Could you call the boys in to eat? I think we’re officially ready for dinner.”

///

Yan Siyuan must make it clear that above all else, she is proud of her table set up.

The table on its own is rectangular, made of polished wood. Three chairs are lined neatly on one side, while the other holds a long, elegant couch. The table is decorated with a nice blue and white, wintry themed spread adorned with flowers and blue plates.

Yue Fei’s, er. Okay, he’s seated in an extra chair at the end, because angsty preteens must have their moments. But luckily, in the chair nearest to him is Cheng Bowen, who’s kid-friendly enough. Next to Cheng Bowen is Zhang Wei, who’s currently telling the other man some story that has Cheng Bowen nearly snorting cranberry sauce out his nose and excusing himself. And egging him on to his right is Xiu Ying, who’s choking on a piece of roast duck.

Yan Siyuan’s seated in the couch next to Ren Liufang, of course, who quietly laughs along with the story and neatly spoons mashed potatoes into her mouth. Shi Jinghui stifles his laugh behind his hand on her other side.

“Cheng Bowen, gimme your plate,” Yan Siyuan beckons, reaching her hand out. “You need more stuffing.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers dutifully with a salute, handing his plate over obediently.

“Jie, stop,” Xiu Ying groans, chin on her hand. “He’s gonna go into a comma if you feed him any more.”

“A comma?” Zhang Wei snorts, elbowing her.

“Coma, whatever,” she says, elbowing him back. She waves her hand around. “Whew. Too much champagne.”

Shi Jinghui raises an eyebrow, gesturing to her glass. “You had one sip, you lightweight.”

Ren Liufang sighs. “Half a sip past her sobriety threshold.”

“Ah, it’s the holidays,” Yan Siyuan intones, twirling her fork in her hand. “Try to get her drunk, she’ll spill some dirty secrets eventually.”

“Jie!”

Shi Jinghui taps his knuckles on the table, enthusiastic. “My mom does that to my brother, too! I second this motion.”

Cheng Bowen chortles. “Oh my God.”

“That is so messed up,” Zhang Wei says.

“All’s fair, again, during the holidays,” Yan Siyuan answers. She grins at Ren Liufang, who’s smiling fondly. “Yeah?”

She doesn’t know all of the details of—Ren Liufang and Xiu Ying’s complicated history. She knows a few, from when Xiu Ying was sixteen and spoke easily out of anger. But anyways, what she does know is that the people that were unkind to Xiu Ying were, maybe, close in contact to Ren Liufang? And Yan Siyuan doesn’t like that.

The rest of the table has dissolved into a heated discussion on each other’s alcohol tolerance. Yan Siyuan nudges Ren Liufang gently.

“Do holiday dinners usually look like this for you?” She asks, tilting her head.

Ren Liufang swirls her cup on the table, giving a delicate lift of the shoulder in response. “Not so much...cheer, I believe.”

Yan Siyuan hums mildly. These poor girls.

“You’re always welcome here,” Yan Siyuan says, soft. “Our home is yours, Ju-mei.”

Ren Liufang looks at her. She looks—surprised, at first. And then her gaze goes gentle.

“Thank you,” she answers, quiet.

“Don’t mention it,” Yan Siyuan answers, elbowing her. “Just eat some more, yeah?”

///

Yan Siyuan scrubs away at the dishes after shooing Zhang Wei and Cheng Bowen away for the fifteenth time. It’s her house, and she will not allow anyone else to clean these plates.

“I meant what I said before,” Yan Siyuan says over her shoulder, not turning away from the sink. “Whenever you’d like to drop by...”

“I will visit when I can,” Ren Liufang answers, polite.

“I mean it, Ju-mei,” she insists. She sighs, turning off the sink, and waves a hand to beckon Ren Liufang forward. She turns to her, hands on her hips, when the other woman stands next to her.

“You’re a good person,” Yan Siyuan continues, meeting her gaze sincerely. “You’re good to my sister, but you’re...kind, overall, in the quiet ways. It’s been nothing except lovely to have you here.”

Ren Liufang nods, lips parting to no doubt say another polite thank you, but Yan Siyuan beats her to it.

“You’re my family now,” she says, firm. She reaches a hand out, ruffling Ren Liufang’s hair. “Take care of yourself, yeah?”

Ren Liufang gives her a smile, grateful. “I will. Siyuan-jie.”

“Aw,” Yan Siyuan answers. She turns back to the sink. “Alright, get outta here. I think they’re watching a movie in the living room.”

Ren Liufang nods at that, turning to walk out of the kitchen.

“Oh, also, Xiu Ying might think she’s pregnant.”

She trips.

#lianhuaslices

and when we carried cardboard christmas boxes from the attic, i thought / perhaps they were dust-ridden, but the gritty cloth rags in our calloused hands / cleaned our flesh and souls of year-long dust, too / a year sapped of colour trapped us so far in the grey / it took me to the moment i plugged in the lights / to pull me back to the

/ glow /

when one finds themself in the grey, it is too easy to frown / to let their head swim until the sickly sweet summer fades away / and here we are, december, and / i never thought plastic lights could make me cry tears of relief / red / glistening like rubies wet with winter rain / green / an echo of the thinly-spun pine needles clinging to our tree / white / scattered like a jester's tricks across our freshly awoken walls / and in our christmas lights i think / i might have seen

/ salvation /

“we could be gigantic: / everything i need, /

vicodin on sunday nights. / we could be worth the risk, /

worth the guarantee-- / we could be the drug that never bites, /

just give me a try.” -- the wombats’ give me a try.

monday morning says / another nine-to-five, another / shot at the daily life. / the american metamorphosis into something like a permanent stop / at the chrysalis. / your dad leaves you five missed calls everyday, and you’re getting / awful tired of ignoring them to the same old / songs on the radio, the same old heartbreak-and-mundane lullabies. / but we could be more than this. / we could be huge, / we could dare to be / butterflies. we could drive away in some grand escape and / dare to be gods. dare to love and love and love and hold it like something / new, finally, in our arms. / get a flat in london and play songs at the train stations every weekend. order takeout / and not care about eating dinner with only the two of us. / we could be worth so much, and it’s all a matter of / could, we could. / would you let us? would you let us dare? / we could be huge. we could.

(https://youtu.be/gAprw-wBrcc)

"gotta get down on friday / everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend."

--Rebecca Black's Friday.

nope, no serious writing piece today! i just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's been reading these! i know it's hard to follow along with a "chapter" a day, no matter how short they are, so really. all my gratitude to y'all! as always, i'm taking song requests, and i'll continue with the "radio" on Monday!

for now, thank you, Prosers! i hit 200 followers on here like, two weeks ago, maybe? i know i'm not very outgoing all the time since i'm a shy person who revolves around a circle, but thank you for your support nonetheless. rlove327 and sohi in particular, you've been so incredibly kind to me!

lastly, drop any type of question for me in the comments, please! anything about writing or just like, life or personal stuff in general lol. i'll answer them next Friday! thanks to anyone who read this!

(p.s. sorry for picking the worst meme song but :) https://youtu.be/kfVsfOSbJY0)

Some paths are meant to be taken. Others less so. And some people are meant to die, Xiu Lihua thinks, but not Ren Liufang.

Shi Jinghui closes the sliding doors behind him as he pads into the room. Xiu Lihua stares blankly at the doors, still.

“She’s stable for the most part,” Shi Jinghui greets mildly, massaging his hands. “Restrained. Cheng Bowen is keeping watch, so we can hope that that’s enough.”

Xiu Lihua nods numbly. 

“You’ve been waiting all night, staring at her doors,” Shi Jinghui observes, tilting his head in question.

“This was all my fault,” Xiu Lihua answers, somber. She knows this. Somehow. Disasters really do follow where she goes, and she’s why Ren Liufang is like this--whatever this is. If it weren’t for her, maybe Zhoucheng wouldn’t have… “All of this. I can’t--if she’s alright, I just--”

“You’ll just keep yourself all night and exhaust yourself for nothing?” Shi Jinghui interrupts, not unkindly. Xiu Lihua lifts her head to look at him, and he seems...less guarded than before, the line of his shoulders less rigid, worn from weariness. Softer, he says, “Don’t be unwise, Xiu-guniang. How could we have known?”

She shakes her head wordlessly in reply. Shi Jinghui sighs. He flicks a hand gently. “I’m going to send Cheng-gongzi out so I can check on her. Drink some water.”

And with that, he slides back into the inn room’s bedroom where Ren Liufang lies. Cheng Bowen slips out after a few moments, slowly closing the doors behind him. Fresh bandages are wound around his neck and held to his cheek. Xiu Lihua meets his gaze, blank.

“I didn’t know,” Cheng Bowen offers.

“Okay,” Xiu Lihua responds. She’s too tired to retort. “But we have to fix this.”

Cheng Bowen tosses a look over his shoulder at that, as if making sure Shi Jinghui hasn’t walked out of the room. Then, he looks to her, narrowing his eyes. Hushed, “We know what that means. How could we--”

“I don’t know,” Xiu Lihua answers, equally as troubled. She pushes her face into her hands helplessly. “I don’t know, Cheng Bowen, but we can’t just--can’t just leave her like this.”

“So we allow her to murder someone in exchange? Who are we to trade a life for a life?”

“She’ll kill even more if she remains in this state,” Xiu Lihua snaps. “I can’t stand the thought of it, but--there are scum men that live in this city. Surely…”

Cheng Bowen goes quiet. They both take a moment to process, and Xiu Lihua stares at her hands. They shake.

(“If only you had never been born.”)

“So take her,” Xiu Lihua whispers. “Find someone who--find a murderer, someone who takes advantage of women, someone who treats his children improperly. And end this.”

Cheng Bowen’s grimace deepens. “Shi-yisheng. He’s a doctor, so--”

“I’ve noticed,” she answers. “He can’t condone any of this, given so, so--I’ll stay here. With him. But take her. And leave. And after, to Tianan--”

“She should be with her sect,” Cheng Bowen agrees, nodding wearily. “She should return home, right. And Tianan Ren has resources. From there, we may be able to...figure out what these are. Who did this.”

Tianan Ren is the last place in the world Xiu Lihua wants to return to. The thought of the place nearly makes her sick, but--she swallows thickly. She didn’t have to stop hating it--hating them. She just had to solve this. Fix this. And Ren Liufang.

So she says, “Leave with her first. We’ll need Shi Jinghui, he’s the only physician I trust to have seen the marks and not run out at them. I’ll stay behind and try to convince him, and we’ll meet you in Tianan.”

The doors slide open, and Cheng Bowen flinches. Shi Jinghui pokes his head out at the two of them before clearing his throat and fully stepping into the room.

“I’ll come to Tianan,” Shi Jinghui says, firm. Xiu Lihua blinks. She looks at Cheng Bowen, who looks equally surprised. Shi Jinghui continues, “If this is what you came here for, to solve, then---if it’s possible, I’d like to help. I don’t want this to happen to other cities.”

“Uh,” Xiu Lihua says, awkward. This was...much easier than she’d imagined. She frowns. Just the other day, he didn’t seem to want anything to do with them. “Shi-yisheng, if you’re--if you’re sure?”

Shi Jinghui nods his head graciously, then looks to Cheng Bowen. “Cheng-gongzi, she’s stable enough to be moved. If you’re ready...”

“I’ll take her,” Cheng Bowen says, then casts a look to Xiu Lihua. She nods in affirmation, and the taller man waves to the two of them in parting, slipping out of the room.

Shi Jinghui looks at her, then at the pillow and blanket she’d arranged for herself on the floor.

“What will you do when you find who did this?” He asks suddenly, voice carefully neutral. 

“I don’t know,” Xiu Lihua answers, honest. She doesn’t even know enough of this to say.

“I know what your type usually does,” Shi Jinghui says. She looks at him, puzzled. He returns her gaze, almost curiously.

“Cultivators,” he elaborates. Then, his frown takes a disdainful turn downward. “Choosing who dies and who lives based on their own sense of justice. Yes?”

“Wouldn’t you want to kill them?” Xiu Lihua snaps, thinking back to the memory of Shi Jinghui’s home in smolders and ash. Realizing herself, her eyes widen guiltily, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

“I did,” Shi Jinghui answers. Xiu Lihua watches his hands tighten into fists at his sides. He lets out a tight breath, forceful. “More than anything, at that moment, I...I had a patient. Too young. She shouldn’t have died, and all I could think was--whoever did that to her, I wanted them dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Xiu Lihua offers, sincere.

“But those decisions aren’t for a man like me to make.”

“Is that why you treated us so indifferently?” Xiu Lihua asks, eyebrows knitting together. “Because you think we go around, stirring up trouble, and then killing who we feel needs to die?”

Shi Jinghui meets her gaze. There’s no iciness to it. He nods.

Xiu Lihua doesn’t know what to say to that. Certainly nothing courteous or elegant like Ren Liufang. So, bluntly, “I won’t lie to you. I can’t. I don’t know if I’ll kill them or not, but--what I’ve always held myself to: choosing who lives or dies, it’s...it’s more than just that, sometimes. Sometimes it’s about choosing so other people don’t have to. So others can’t be killed by the same people. I don’t know if that makes me a good cultivator, but it’s what I’ll do to protect the people who need it. That’s my truth, so I...I hope you take it as you must.”

Shi Jinghui is quiet at this. His gaze shifts a bit into something different. Something more understanding.

“I apologize for the way I treated you before,” he says, after a long moment of silence. “I misjudged your character, and though it may take me some time to...realize your philosophy, I should not have treated you as someone who was apt to murder to better your own standing. I am sorry.”

And Xiu Lihua has seldom ever been apologized to, so she blinks for a few moments in surprise. Shi Jinghui looks at her genuinely. She clears her throat, answers, “No--no worries, ha, uhm. You did so in good conscience. I can’t blame you for that.”

He nods, and she sighs in response, flopping back onto the floor, head on her pillow. The doctor lets out a smile at this, then makes his way across the room to the door and stops. Xiu Lihua looks at her hands. They haven’t stopped trembling. She turns onto her side. 

(“If only you had never been born.”)

If only I’d never been born, Xiu Lihua thinks to herself, cheek pressed numbly to her pillow. If only I’d told her I was only ever brave because of her. If only I’d told her I was only ever brave because I know I’d have her by my side no matter what I did.  If only I’d told her I had to learn what brave really was these seven years, and I still wonder if I really am brave.

“Xiu-guniang,” Shi Jinghui calls, gentle and hushed, from the doorway. “They’ve left already. I know the way to Tianan, so do you--are you sure you don’t want to accompany Cheng-gongzi and…”

“No,” Xiu Lihua answers, voice barely above a whisper. “They can go their own way. I’ll wait for you. We’ll arrive in the same place, either way.”

“Because you don’t want to face her? Or because you don’t think you should?” Shi Jinghui asks, mild. Xiu Lihua doesn’t answer. He sighs. “Good night, Xiu Lihua. Let us both hope tomorrow will be better.”

❀ ❀ ❀

11 years, in the past

Xiu Lihua: 12 years of age

**** trigger warning: for a scene that involves an older, authoritative figure hitting a young Xiu Lihua as a form of discipline. use Control F and type: “It’s dark.” to skip to the end of the scene.****

Ren Mingshou had been particularly mild with her as of late, which really, is no easy feat. Not for Xiu Lihua.

She’d dutifully practice her calligraphy, and once he’d passed by her in the library, he hummed approvingly. She reported to him on the books she’d studied, and he nodded, almost pleased. So really! This was amazing, compared to how he usually regarded her sternly. He almost seemed...pleasant.

Which is why the strike across her face comes as such a shock.

She lands on her side onto the floor, jaw slack with surprise. Her cheek stings from the impact of the back of Ren Mingshou’s hand against her face. The classroom goes deathly silent, except for the sound of Ren Liufang springing to her feet.

Another teacher in the room quickly holds Ren Liufang back, and out of the corner of Xiu Lihua’s eye, she sees her friend struggle in their grasp. Ren Mingshou looks down at her form, scowling. The other disciples begin murmuring.

“Xiu Lihua, you think you’re wise enough to question Tianan Ren’s elders?” Ren Mingshou asks, voice terribly cold, terribly indifferent. “You’re a child, girl. Should you not know your place by now?”

Xiu Lihua’s eyes burn in humiliation. Unconsciously, she raises her hand to her stinging cheek. She’d been disciplined with the heavy thud of a bamboo stick across her back before. The instrument presented formality and a form of dignity into the process.

But being struck by Ren Mingshou’s hand, it was--it removed that formality. Introduced a personal aspect to the punishment.

It was humiliating.

“You know where to go,” Ren Mingshou intones, seemingly finished with her. He waves a hand, dismissive. She picks herself off the floor numbly, as though in a trance. Ren Liufang looks at her, eyes wide.

Xiu Lihua rushes out of the room, furiously rubbing at her cheeks with her sleeves.

❀ ❀ ❀

It’s dark.

It always is, actually. Maybe that’s the point. Discipline your senses.

Xiu Lihua has been locked in the dark room for what must be hours now. She’s lost track of time. She always does. It’s the Ren elders’ specialized little punishment treatment for her, citing her unreasonably explosive and emotional temperament as a trait that required extra lengths to overcome.

She hugs her knees to her chest, trying to even out her breathing, but the harder she tries, the more forceful the hiccups come out. She sniffs pitifully, desperately wiping snot on her red robes. Counts to ten. Inhales sharply through her mouth.

And then, the doors open. Xiu Lihua hides her face in her knees.

“A-Ying,” a familiar voice beckons, hushed and gentle. “It’s far into the evening, now.”

She peers over her legs, vision still blurry. Ren Ronghu stands in the doorway, crouched down, holding out his hand to her. He offers her something like a consoling smile.

Xiu Lihua pushes off the wall, slamming into his chest with so much force Ren Ronghu stumbles backwards a few steps before circling his arms around her shoulders firmly. She buries her face further into his chest, and he hushes her soothingly.

“Where’s Ren Ju,” Xiu Lihua asks, muffled and glum. “She’s been so stressed lately, she must be…”

“Getting ready to sleep by now, I imagine,” Ren Ronghu answers, smoothing the top of her head with his hand. “She was pacing all day today. You, and then her parents--”

“I know,” Xiu Lihua interrupts, pulling back a bit to look up at him. “They’re sick, I know--”

“Things may get worse, in the future,” he intones gravely. Then, he gets a strange look on his face, and with a sigh, “An intervention may be needed, for Ren Ju, perhaps…”

Xiu Lihua frowns. An intervention? Ren Ju? “What do you mean, xiong?”

Ren Ronghu looks down at her again. After a moment, he shakes his head, smiling gently. “Ah, nothing, just grown up nonsense. Don’t worry about it, A-Ying, really. You should go see her now. And hurry to sleep, it’s late enough, really. We all need it.”

❀ ❀ ❀

“It’s nothing, really!” Xiu Lihua tries, scratching the back of her head with a forced laugh. “Ren Ju, I’m fine. I can barely even remember it happened!”

Ren Ju looks at her, disbelieving of Xiu Lihua’s attempts to play the whole ordeal off. She presses her mouth into a thin line, staying silent.

Xiu Lihua huddles closer to her, shifting under the blanket. They’re both clumped together in Ren Ju’s bed, sharing warmth, and they usually talk more, but--well. Today has...made Ren Ju quiet.

“Sorry,” Xiu Lihua whispers, dejected. Ren Ju blinks at her in response. She’s so cute. Xiu Lihua reaches out to touch her cheek, and Ren Ju lets out a quiet giggle as she bats her hand away. Cuuute.

“Ren Ju,” Xiu Lihua says, after they settle into silence again, voice ever so quiet. “I’m happy here with you, you know?”

Ren Ju nods, slow, at this. She frowns slightly.

“But I think…” Xiu Lihua starts. Her mouth is dry. She wets her lips. Deathly quiet, “I don’t think they like me here. For some reason, it’s just--I don’t know, Ren Ju. But they don’t. And it makes me feel...bad. Really bad.”

Ren Ju nods at this, features turned downwards in sympathy. 

“We will be alright,” Ren Ju whispers, and she shifts forward on the pillow to press their foreheads together. Xiu Lihua closes her eyes. She believes it. If Ren Ju says it, she’ll believe it.

But Ren Ju’s been...she’s been different, lately. More far away, like the way one daydreams more when they’re tired. Sneaking out at night as Xiu Lihua pretends to be asleep. Looking sickly, pallid when she returns.

And Xiu Lihua doesn’t know what to make of this, but--when Ren Ju’s ready, she’ll tell her. Because it doesn’t matter what it is. They’ll face it together. Xiu Lihua closes her eyes, letting her breaths even out.

They always do.

❀ ❀ ❀

10 years, in the past

Xiu Lihua: 13 years of age

“Ren Ju!” Xiu Lihua shrieks, gleeful, holding up the paper to the sunlight. “It’s amazing!”

Ren Ju looks bashfully at the painting she’d made, holding her brush delicately between her fingers. “It’s alright.”

Xiu Lihua observes the details of the painting more, appreciating it more as she maps them out. It’s a portrait of her, but Ren Ju has added a pretty little flower pin to her hair.

“I look so pretty!” Xiu Lihua praises, hitting her friend excitedly on the shoulder. They’re sitting by the training grounds, so she doesn’t bother to lower her voice. “You made me beautiful, Ren Ju!”

“I didn’t make you anything,” Ren Ju answers mildly. 

Xiu Lihua hums a noise of confusion. She tilts her head, still inspecting the ink painting. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t--” Ren Ju starts, then stops. Xiu Lihua looks up, following her friend’s line of sight. A paperman runs across the grass in front of them. She recognizes the messy way the characters are scrawled onto it. The calligraphy of one of the disciples their age.

Ren Ju’s gaze mellows into something more--sad. Xiu Lihua bites her lip, glaring at the paperman. 

Who you associated with was everything, in their world. And lucky for Ren Ju, she was best friends with the most troublesome, inadequate disciple in all of Tianan Ren. The other disciples...didn’t take to it very well, now taking their time to carefully avoid Ren Ju, too. It was a cowardly, spineless thing, ostracization. But it had its effects.

Xiu Lihua picks up a rock, and promptly chucks it as hard as she can at the paperman. It tears with a neat rip upon impact, and Ren Ju looks at her, surprised.

“They’re idiots if they don’t want to hang out with you,” Xiu Lihua asserts, forceful. She Ren Ju’s face between her hands. “Hear me? You’re awesome, and pretty, and kind, and funny. It’s their loss, Ren Ju.”

And Ren Ju offers her a smile at that, and satisfied, Xiu Lihua lowers her hands. But the sad look in her eyes doesn’t quite go away. Xiu Lihua frowns.

And for the first time in her life, she can’t tell what Ren Ju is thinking.

❀ ❀ ❀

Present day

Xiu Lihua: 23 years of age

“Tianan is beautiful,” Shi Jinghui observes from atop his mule. A yellow canary circles above them. The buzz of crickets pleasantly surrounds the road.

Xiu Lihua huffs from her place atop her own mule. They’ve been travelling for some time now. The Ren Sect should greet them at the gates at any moment, and a pit of anxiety tightens in her chest. She swallows it down.

“I travel alone,” Xiu Lihua answers, glancing at the trees. “So having someone to observe with me is nice.”

“Does it…” Shi Jinghui answers, then falters, hesitant. “Does this bring back memories for you?” 

Xiu Lihua lets out a small puff of breath, hands flexing around her reins. “You’ve heard of my origins, then.”

“I hear many things, Zaihuanü,” Shi Jinghui shrugs, light toned. “It’s hard to believe that the woman who takes on swarms of water ghouls by herself almost cried at the sight of breakfast this morning.”

Xiu Lihua lets out a bark of laughter. Shi Jinghui smiles warmly at her in response, eyes twinkling. They fall into a comfortable silence after that, save for the sound of Shi Jinghui’s occasional humming, moving leisurely along the rest of the way.

 Xiu Lihua spots the red gates as they approach it. She inhales to relieve the tightening in her chest. She is brave. She is brave.

Two disciples, similarly clothed in red, stand there, waiting. As soon as they arrive within a few strides of them, Shi Jinghui looks at her, and she nods back. They both dismount quietly.

Xiu Lihua looks to the Ren disciple nearest to her, who fixes her with a curious gaze. He’s younger than the other, a preteen, maybe. Must be shadowing the older man to--learn, probably, how to receive guests.

“Xiu-guniang,” he greets. “Cheng-gongzi told us to expect you.”

“And expect you we did,” the older one muses, a snide tone to his voice. Xiu Lihua narrows her eyes, hackles rising. He continues, “Here on official business with Xiong Jinli, we’ve heard! I’m sure Ren Mingshou will be delighted to hear. He was away tending to his own matters, but is promptly returning at the news of Xiong Jinli--”

“Has Ren Mingshou died of old age yet,” Xiu Lihua deadpans. The older disciple sputters, caught off guard. The younger one claps a hand to his mouth. Shi Jinghui looks to the side, like he’s trying to conceal his laughter. 

“R--Ren Mingshou is of perfect health and strength,” he stammers back, face as red as his robes. “If you’re insinuating--”

“Lucky him,” Xiu Lihua answers, sighing as she takes in the scenery. The familiar geometric architecture of the Ren Sect greets her coldly. She kisses her teeth. “Would have thought all the bitterness lodged in his heart killed him by now.”

“We would like to humbly request entry now,” Shi Jinghui interrupts with a placating smile before the older disciple can respond.

The man straightens himself at this. His face takes on a smug sneer, and Xiu Lihua frowns. She doesn’t like that.

“Of course,” he says, waving a hand to the younger boy over his shoulder. “We of Tianan Ren always make sure to accommodate accordingly.”

The younger disciple turns to fetch something. When Xiu Lihua sees what it is, her breath catches in her throat.

“Guest disciple robes,” the older one says, a crooked and pleased grin etched across his ugly face. He holds the robes out to her snidely. “I think you’d look good in our red, don’t you, Zaihuanü?”

Xiu Lihua’s fists tighten at her sides as she stares at the robes. It’s mocking--the familiar crimson. Her hand drifts to Mengdie, unbidden. 

Shi Jinghui quickly moves to gather the robes in his arms instead, murmuring a polite thank you for your hospitality.

With an unsubtly smug scoff, the older disciple steps to the side, holding his arm out along the pathway into the Ren Sect. Xiu Lihua swallows at the sight of it.

“Xiu Lihua,” he says, triumphantly. “Welcome home.”

❀ ❀ ❀

“And these are the spider lily beds, though I’m sure you must have seen them already. Close by--look well, Xiu-guniang, these are the training fields, where honorable cultivators learn to fight in proper ways.”

Xiu Lihua sighs as the same Ren disciple drones on and on with his annoying little weaselly chitter chatter. He told her his name, but she genuinely could not care to remember it, so in her head, she calls him Ren Rat. Because he looks like an artist who had never seen a rat before drew one upon being told a vague description, and then only drew all the worst qualities of the rodent. Like the creepy paws and the stupid protruding snout.

In any case, upon being escorted in, (not without the scrutiny of about ten more disciples, she notes bitterly,) Shi Jinghui was led off to the quarters for the guest disciples, and Xiu Lihua was granted the honor of being taken for a tour around the sect.

(“Is she holding up alright?” Xiu Lihua had asked, anxious, upon seeing Cheng Bowen within the sect.

He nodded, the grim lines to his face during the situation a few days ago no longer etched upon his features. He tilted his head, grinning. “Everything went smoothly. You know, if you’d like to take a visit to her--”

“Good to hear!” Xiu Lihua blurted out, hugging her arms to her chest awkwardly. See Ren Liufang? After what had happened? “I think I’ll--it’s her home. I’ll just...keep my distance as we investigate further. Wouldn’t want to impose.”

Cheng Bowen fixed her with a strange look. “Okay,” he said, drawing the last syllable out. Then, perking up in the next moment, “Did Shi Jinghui arrive?” 

“He’s talking to Tianan Ren’s doctor,” Xiu Lihua answered, puzzled. “I think he said something about not telling you he was h--”

“Cool! Xiu-guniang, we’ll probably stay here for quite some time, don’t you agree? I’m waiting for word from Cheng-zongzhu, and we have plenty of time to gain our bearings in Tianan, which does indeed hold many resources to solve this all, correct? So--”

“Okay?” Xiu Lihua answered, bewildered at the fast pace talking. “We can stay--” 

“Awesome! Thanks, sword thrower,” Cheng Bowen interrupted cheerily, grinning. He patted her on the shoulder, then bounded off in the opposite direction. 

She blinked to herself, then waited until he was gone to laugh at the nickname. She did not want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he was funny.)

“Ah, well, as we’re told, you weren’t much good here,” Ren Rat says, sighing as he surveys the training grounds. “But this was your home, once, so at least there’s some value to it, hm?”

This was not my home, Xiu Lihua thinks. I have never in my life had a home, and if I were to choose one, Tianan Ren would not be it.

Xiu Lihua bristles, irritated, as he continues talking about--sparring, and fighting, and how well trained the Ren disciples were. He’s taunting her. He is! Really, she’s not stupid enough to not notice it--

“Though I do wonder! If you were better at working hard like the rest of us and learning the language of swordsmanship in a proper fashion...”

--but she is stupid enough to to fight him about it.

“Oh, the proper way?” Xiu Lihua interrupts, and he flinches like a startled rodent, jumping into the air. “And this is the sparring grounds, correct?”

He looks at her, confused. His eyebrows furrow together. “Well, yes, but--”

“So you’d be fine to spar with me then?” Xiu Lihua presses, hand flying to Mengdie’s hilt. He squeaks, stepping backwards, but she matches him with equal strides forward. “Show me your proper, honorable techniques? Yes?”

He looks around frantically, as if beckoning the growing crowd of onlookers to answer for him. The man swallows, looking back to her. “I wouldn’t be opposed to--”

“It’s a yes or no question--will you spar with me?”

“I w--I would be obliged to--”

“Answer me!” Xiu Lihua snaps, patience thinning.

“Yes!” he squeaks, clumsily reaching for the sword at his belt, “I’ll--”

XIu Lihua brings her leg up and around into one sharp kick towards him. Ren Rat yelps, ducking down. Her foot meets the bark of a tree instead.

It groans with a creak, the bark protesting. Cracks etch their way across the wood.

Ren Rat looks back at it, then to her. He stammers, “You--it--”

She unsheathes Mengdie. He yelps again, this time drawing his sword. The onlooker crowd is much larger now, but Xiu Lihua can’t seem to care.

He jabs his blade forward, and she parries with so much force he stumbles. She lets him continue this stupid little back and forth exchanging of nipping blows before she’s already mapped out his fighting style (very stupid, very messy) and his weakest, most vulnerable areas (nearly everywhere).

So with the next step he takes, Xiu Lihua twists her arm, and Mengdie easily knocks the sword out of his grip. She takes the next stride forward to slam into him. He lands with a grunt onto the ground.

Behind them, the tree creaks, one long, drawn out groan. It’s almost funny, really. And then the stupid thing falls.

The onlookers gasp, and Xiu Lihua realizes herself sheepishly, but--okay, it was an ugly tree. There’s like, ten more.

Awkwardly, she glances around. Across the field, Shi Jinghui looks unamused as he stands beside Ren Liufang. She meets Ren Liufang’s stare, then quickly looks away. 

I should go, Xiu Lihua thinks, biting her lip. (“If only you had never been born.”) She turns around, moving to quickly get away from any general vicinity that Ren Liufang is in, but.

“Xiu Lihua.”

Xiu Lihua stops. Her insides turn to ice at the sound of the voice. She turns, a sinking sense of dread in her chest. 

Ren Mingshou stands across the field, expression neutral. He looks—older, the goatee on his chin graying, his hair swept up into a different accessory, but it’s Ren Mingshou all the same. The Ren disciples bow courteously in greeting, but Xiu Lihua is frozen in place. Her hands ball into fists, fingernails digging red crescents into her palms.

He regards her for a few awful, long moments. Then, just like that, Ren Mingshou nods a head. A few disciples scurry to the fallen tree, and in one motion, he turns away, walking over to where Ren Liufang is.

They seem to exchange a few words, and in the next moment, flounce off together, further into the sect, but--

Xiu Lihua turns around, unable to look at them. She presses the heels of her palms to her eyes.

I’ll be here for the next long while, she thinks, bitterly. The next long, long while. So welcome home to me.

Footnotes/Glossary:

cowritten with @mnemosynink, who wrote chapter six (and all even-numbered chapters)

previous chapter: https://theprose.com/post/397790/chapter-6-of-voices-and-past-ghosts

next chapter: https://theprose.com/post/405342/chapter-8-on-rotten-lives-and-shared-secrets

-Tianan: area of land the Ren Sect controls (aka Tianan Ren). modern day province of Henan

-Zaihuanü: Xiu Lihua’s unofficial title; “disaster flower maiden/girl”. Similarly, Ren Liufang’s title is Xiong Jinli, “fierce koi.”

Suffixes (to address/refer to a):

-guniang: young woman

-yisheng: doctor

-gongzi: young man

-zongzhu: sect leader

#lianhua

The thing about college frat parties is that people are there for a multitude of reasons, but by far the most prominent are: 1) to impress someone you know is going, or 2) to get so wasted you forget you have midterms next week. Which makes for such a pleasant crowd.

Xiu Ying is here for neither of those reasons. She doubts she could impress anyone anyways, considering that she was homeschooled until she was unceremoniously kicked out of said home when she was sixteen and then sustained herself off of Ebay textbooks until it came time for college applications—which just goes to say, that she didn’t really have time to learn what party-with-alcohol etiquette was before now.

She stares down the red Solo cup that’d been handed to her by….someone. They all look the same at this point. She’s attending a university in Northeast America, so like, of course they do. The liquid in the cup stares back at her, sloshing up and down with the vibrations of the blaring song that the DJ decided to curse everybody’s ears with.

So Xiu Ying, who is probably as smooth and inconspicuous as a hippo on ice skates, leans uncomfortably against the wall, having a staring contest with her drink and hoping she looks like she’s going to drink it.

The walls are shaking to the rhythm of the bass. There’s flashing blue and red lights from…some corner of the room. And literally everybody is with someone, sweaty, and dancing.

A figure breaks out from the crowd, in some moment of mercy from the universe. She hardly considers looking up until he’s standing in front of her.

“Nice,” Zhang Wei deadpans.

“Don’t,” Xiu Ying returns.

He gives a small snort laugh at that. “Didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it,” Xiu Ying snips. When he raises his eyebrows in question, she gestures to herself. Her roommate had lended her a blue cami, and in a moment of pity, some…fishnets to put under her ripped jeans. “I’m fitting the occasion.”

“Fitting the occasion indeed,” Zhang Wei concedes, though it’s definitely a teasing tone. She flips him off, to which he rolls his eyes and leans an arm on the wall. “You know she’s here. Right?”

Xiu Ying tenses. She averts her gaze when Zhang Wei gives her a concerned look. “Didn’t think she’d come.”

“I told you she might be.”

“…didn’t think I’d see her.”

“Okay, well,” Zhang Wei’s mouth screws up in a grimace. He looks over his shoulder, then turns back to her. “She’s…across the room right now.”

Xiu Ying whips back to him, eyes wide. She stands up on her tip toes, looking over his shoulder, and—right, he’s. Right. Ren Ju is standing in the other side of the room, picking up a cup from a table. The air on her side of the room must be frigid.

“Crap,” Xiu Ying hisses, looking back at Zhang Wei. “Crap, she’s coming our way.”

“Xiu Ying,” he says.

“She’s gonna see me! I don’t want her to—”

“Xiu Ying.”

“—and I shouldn’t have even come! What was I thinking—”

“Xiu Ying,” Zhang Wei repeats, catching her gently by the wrist of the hand she’d been using to gesture, unsubtly, at Ren Ju’s form, who is now weaving through the mass of bodies towards them. “Breathe.”

Xiu Ying takes a deep breath. It does nothing to calm her. Zhang Wei looks down at her, expression unreadable.

“I’m not ready for her to…” Xiu Ying starts. She trails off, something lumping up in her throat.

Zhang Wei looks over his shoulder again, then back at her. “She’s getting closer.”

“I know.”

“Xiu Ying,” he starts, looking hesitant. “If you had a way to get out of this—”

“I would take it,” she interrupts, desperate. “Zhang Wei. If you have an idea, anything, just—just do it, I don’t even—oh God, she’s right—”

“Are you sure?” He asks, strangely. “Anything is…Xiu Ying, are you—”

“I am completely, one hundred percent, regrettably and unfortunately sober,” she deadpans. Ren Ju is—she’s right there, and, “If you, just—Zhang Wei, now—”

Zhang Wei leans down, closes his eyes. Xiu Ying falters, staring at him. Then he presses their lips together.

There’s a million things running through Xiu Ying’s mind, but the most urgent of them is Ren Ju can’t see me, so she closes her eyes. And stops thinking.

Her wrist Zhang Wei had in his hold from earlier is pressed against the wall near her head, and Xiu Ying makes a soft noise. The thing is: she’s really trying not to think about it, but Zhang Wei’s other hand comes up to ever so gently cup the side of her jaw and tilt her head, and she wonders if Zhang Wei’s ever done favors like this for other friends.

Time goes by so quickly in the midst of it all, Zhang Wei holding her so delicately. Her lips feel numb, which is a fact she’ll get embarrassed and die about later.

“Zhang Wei,” Xiu Ying murmurs, quiet, when he pulls back. Their foreheads are pressed together. “I think she’s gone.”

“What?” He mumbles back, voice slightly rough. His eyes are closed. “Oh. Good.”

“Yeah,” she returns. The embarrassment is starting to kick in. “Th-thank you for…”

“Right,” Zhang Wei nods, clearing his throat. He takes a step back.

Xiu Ying wraps her arms awkwardly around herself. Zhang Wei won’t really meet her eyes. She looks to the crowd, sees the retreating back of a girl with a white top. The lights are flashing. There’s another awful song playing. Xiu Ying has a headache now.

She can’t help but think that everything’s just gotten much worse.

Footnotes:

-Mushroom Chocolate by 6lack is the song I imagined to be playing during this!

-this was a warm up i know it’s rough!! also Xiu Ying does indeed not return Zhang Wei’s (thus far unnoticed by her) feelings so please don’t think they’re gonna get together lol

-this is an alternate universe of a main series i’m co-writing with @mnemosynink, check out the first chapter here!: https://theprose.com/post/383820/chapter-one-on-rogue-cultivators-and-old-blood

#lianhuaslices

& i’m sixteen now - but when it rains i might be six, trotting behind you on a rainy oakland street. i find love at the bottom of a berkeley bowl of gummy sharks, a biodegradable plastic bag full of chocolate covered cherries (save some for mom!) - my senses catalogue what i cannot describe - red rope playground nets and woodchips, the squealing of the blue garbage truck that might be the same one i awoke to ten years ago (i would watch it round the corner from behind the screen door with my cat; our eyes as big as buttons)

& i remember i thought the red booth seats and the dark polished bar were so fancy (tiny sliders on a platter) - you would stand behind the counter with a hose that streamed perfectly sweetened lemonade into a crystal glass (with a napkin) - i would feel at home in subtle rooms with subtle voices (shaking people's hands without knowing who they were but feeling proud) - look where you are now with giant stainless steel kitchens and pillows for purses - rooms that hide movable bookcases with green chairs - yet i still feel at home in all the places where you have worked.

& now my glasses are covered with droplets that i wipe away in vain, my mask fogs them up (uncomforts i’m not used to yet) so i write this poem & i get my feet wet - the sky is gray again (finally) - i can come home to croissants and make hot chocolate & (how else can i say this?) i feel at home with you.

a) one of these days, i’m gonna be a gone girl.

--i. and no, / not those ones in the movies who leave a paper trail. / you’ll hold the remnants of me in polaroids and bottle caps and my cobalt letterman’s jacket i said looked better on you, / and that is how you will brave my nonexistence.

--ii. and maybe you’ll miss me in sunstreams and spoiled nectarines, / and here’s a secret: i’ll probably miss you, too. / but you can only stay stuck inside yourself, hollow, for so long, until it / drives you insane. / that’s what i am. sick in the head.

--iii. so i’ll be a gone girl, / as if i was ever really real in the first place. / as if i did not stick my fingers into candle wax to test if i had a body. / and i won’t leave you clues, because / i never existed to begin with. / and this way, i know you won’t mourn me, but at least / i know the magpies will. / and that has to be enough.

b) and now i have you worried, and you’ll ask me how i am.

--i. and there are so many ways to answer you, but it mostly goes like this: / shooting stars are just cosmic rocks that end up burning in our atmosphere, and / they are prettiest as they fall. / it’s hard not to envy them, right? / to know that they meant something to someone, all they had to do was ignite.

--ii. kidding. the first way really goes like this: / i hurtle past speed limits because it is all i know. / i hit the ground running when i first came to. / and i don’t know how to tell you that i’m slowing down. at least in the mind. / because if i’m not sprinting, who am i? / if i’m not alright, am i still what you think of me? / so i appreciate it. / but i’m still running. / and you’ll never know if i have a roadmap or not.

--iii. the second way goes like this: / i don’t forget to ask for help. that’s a dirty lie, and it’s not the first, not the last. / you can’t forget something that you never knew how to do in the first place. / it’s like: imagine this. someone watches you. they ask how you’re doing, but you know what they mean. / and what it means to you is: cut your chest open, and let them watch, and see if they get tired of the show. / it is so incredibly hard to skin yourself into something vulnerable. to admit that / i am weaker than you see. / i am raw, i am human, but it is / such an infinite battle on endless upward hills to just suck it up and / let you know.

--iv. so i become a gone girl, and this is the third way. you understand, but you might not, because it’s / not like i ever gave you any clues. / but i hope you know i love you, / because at least you cared. / and i just couldn’t reconcile that within myself.

c) and all i ever wanted was to mean something to someone, but /

--most of the time, i hardly even feel like i’m real.

i. And it all starts like / sometimes you forget to drink water in the morning & then it turns into / you forgot to comb your hair in the morning & then it turns into / you’re eyeing the scissors on the printer for much too long & then it turns into / wishing you never woke up / and it’s like: you don’t look like your dad, not like your mom. you look in the mirror and you are packing your bags and hiding in a motel room with no reflective surfaces & then / you are alone. / & it is not unfamiliar.

ii. and it’s starting to look like it’s ending. / you know? please don’t ask me what that means. / it looks like no, love, but really, how are you? and it’s like / i am a passenger in this body watching myself speedway off the bridge. you’re so sweet, thank you for asking. / it’s like you don’t even like anything about yourself anymore but you still crush wildflowers in your palms and scream at them to sing / i killed the choir! i killed the choir.

iii. it’s starting to look like you know i’ll always be here for you, right? / & then it turns into well, yes, but i’m starting to think the more you know about me the less you’re going to wish you did at all / and it’s like i am always here to catch you fall and i am always stretching myself like elastic in parachutes to be right there for you but i am / reaching terminal velocity, you know? / & i won’t let you ask me what that means. / & it’s not your fault, because i just / can’t cut my thoracic cavity open but oh my God i am falling / and i am falling alone. /

sometimes i forget to ask for help. / kidding. i always am. always do. / i didn’t forget, i just didn’t. / & it’s like: don’t ask me what that means.

iv. and it’s like, do you even like me anymore? was i even a warm presence in the first place? / if you’re going to cut me out in silence, then be over and done with it because holy crap i am battling far too many closet skeletons / to deal with this right now. / i am your friend or i am not. /

v. so sometimes i forget to be alive, and then i think sometimes i forget to let people notice. / not like i ever tell them, i just forget to. / & it’s like: no i don’t. sorry. / & then i’m on the highway again, and i’m looking for heaven, and polaris sends me her butterfly kisses to soothe my aching heels. / & sometimes i forget to look both ways.