Chapter Text
May
Several years separated Wei Ying from his last ghost sighting. He’d walked amongst them when he was younger. Every corner, every shadow, every waking dream taking the form of a boy that would only vanish a second before Wei Ying’s eyes could find him. After a while, he trained himself to stare forward. To stifle the urge to do a double take. The ghosts came less often but somehow that was worse. He began to actively look for them. He searched for the triggers and chased after the memories for a chance to see that shadowed form again, even if it was out of reach. Even if it would vanish right before he found it. And somehow that, too, was worse.
Because then the ghosts stopped showing up at all.
Eventually his life settled into normalcy. He always worked, sometimes slept, and ate when he remembered. He found a balance between the dead and the living and existed on that knife’s edge until he walked more assuredly in one than the other. His friends and siblings never left him. They hovered around and welcomed him back inch by inch on his own terms. And one day, several years after that first day of college where he’d collapsed in tears in an empty dorm room, he found himself thinking about the future more than the past.
He’d stopped chasing ghosts. He’d stopped hearing phantom songs and no longer woke to lingering scents. He remembered how to smile and flirt and feel attracted to people again. It wasn’t like before. He hadn’t expected it to be. He’d been struck by lightning with his first kiss, so how could anything else compare? He comforted himself with the thought that few people would ever experience that kind of soul defining love. He would just find a way to live in the memory of it.
He didn’t expect the ghost to reappear.
It came back with the trace of a scent. He was late meeting Nie Huaisang for their weekly happy hour date. The rest of the office had already cleared out due to his strict half day Friday policy but he’d had to place some finishing touches on design project that most likely could have already been submitted by someone less of a perfectionist. He’d just made it onto the street when the remnants of sandalwood made his nose twitch.
He steadied himself against the building, frozen in place as oblivious passersby passed him by. His eyes closed instinctively and he inhaled deeply, taking a hit against his better judgement. Through his mind’s haze, a pair of eyes found him. Chocolate, with gold foil wrapped around the edges.
They lay side by side under a full moon and he trembled under an intensely longing gaze. The boy’s lips were slightly parted, but he rarely spoke with them. He spoke with his eyes, and his eyes were asking a question.
Wei Ying’s body was warm with the buzz of stolen liquor and his inhibitions had been blown away by the same light breeze that tickled the boy’s hair. He raised his hand to trace the boy’s cheekbone, dragging a knuckle from the corner of his eye to the bottom of his chin.
He tried to freeze the image in that tender, vulnerable moment before he knew how it felt to have his bottom lip sucked and nibbled between the boy’s teeth. He couldn’t stop it, then or now, as the boy leaned over and pressed into him with a hunger that seemed impossible to sate. For a moment, it felt like the fingertip bruises would permanently sear his hips, as if he was being tattooed with invisible ink.
He could feel the whimper in this throat when the boy pulled away, pinning him there with the weight of his stare and the roughness of his voice. Leaving him wanting only long enough to say “I love you-”
An impossibly loud motorcycle flew by at that moment and wrenched him back to the present. The reverberations of the motor pierced his brain and he instinctively covered his ears until it was far enough away. He shook his head and steadied himself. It took a few minutes to will away the memories. How were they so vivid?
His breathing steadied and the street came back into focus. He texted a quick “Omw!” in response to increasingly demanding texts from Nie Huaisang before making his way to their usual spot.
Even though he was late, he wanted to walk off whatever the fuck that had been. The bar was relatively close anyway. He dodged around slow walkers and sidewalk scooters and by the time he made his approach, the sun was low enough that the could see Nie Huaisang sitting in their normal spot by the window.
He was deeply engaged in conversation and hadn’t notice Wei Ying on the other side of the glass. He wore a look too serious for his face. Had his friend ever looked so serious? He must have, though Wei Ying couldn’t remember a time.
Right as he was deciding whether or not to interrupt, Nie Huaisang caught his eye. The look was gone instantly and replaced with excited recognition. Guess that answers that. He pushed through the door.
The bar was in full swing. The band was setting up, and almost every pool table was in play. The lights were dim and it took him a moment to adjust.
“Wei Ying!” His friend raised his arms to grab his attention as if they hadn’t just seen each other through the window. “You remember MianMian?” His smile was too big. Too forced. Possibly because he was smiling for the three of them.
MianMian. Of course he remembered her. Was the universe fucking kidding him right now? First the sandalwood, and now his first love’s first love.
He settled into the chair opposite her, and nodded. “How could I forget.” She stared at him instead of replying, her cool green eyes narrowing slightly as they darted over his face. She looked almost confused, which was an improvement from every other time he’d seen her. They’d never quite gotten along in school, and she’d only grown colder towards him since. Luckily, they had few occasions to meet.
Finally, she relaxed. “Wei Ying. Nice to um,” she was having a hard time with the greeting.
“Yeah, you too.” He cut her off. This was awkward enough for both of them. “So, shots?”
It only took two rounds for Wei Ying to truly relax. Nie Huaisang delighted them with a story that was probably only 50 percent bullshit and a quarter exaggeration. MianMian let her guard down as well, even offering a smile now and then. When the band finally started playing, his friend wandered off and left the two of them alone.
“So. It’s been a while.” She twirled a straw wrapper in her fingers, wrapping it around each one delicately. “I heard you went through a hard time.”
So they were going to talk about this. Wei Ying shifted in his seat, suddenly realizing he had hands and struggled with what to do with them. He settled on tearing bits of a cocktail napkin. Just two nervous, fidgeting not-quite-strangers-not-quite-friends in the throes of a deep conversation.
“You could say that.” The alcohol numbed him for the most part, but there would always be a pang in his heart when his thoughts veered towards that time in his life. “But I’m doing well now.” He went on to tell her all about his small design business and artwork he did on the side. He mentioned the charity he’d been volunteering at for the past few years and how good it felt to be able to keep families together. It was the usual spiel he’d give an old classmate. She listened intently, nodding her head. There was something behind her eyes though, as if she was trying to hear the words he wasn’t saying.
“Have you talked to Lan Zhan?”
He jerked reflexively, almost knocking his drink off the table. Right for the jugular then. Okay. We’re doing this. No one had dared to mention that name around him in years. His friends knew to talk around it by now. But MianMian hadn’t been there to know. He felt exposed in front of her.
“Not since before graduation.”
“I see.” She kept her gaze on her hands as her fingers worked the thin wrinkled paper. “There was a time I thought..” she finally met his gaze. He quirked an eyebrow in response. “Never mind. Seems like a touchy subject.” He nodded in agreement. It was a touchy subject. The touchiest of subjects.
“I think I’ve misjudged you, Wei Ying.” She had stopped fiddling with the straw wrapper, and head leaned back in her chair.
“There should be a club for that. Though I can’t imagine anyone signing up willingly.”
She offset her grin with an exaggerated eye roll before leaning forward again. Her expression turned pensive. “Seriously though. I thought you were the world’s biggest asshole. Turns out you might be the world’s dumbest genius.”
“That so? I just may know a woman that would love you.”
It was her turn to quirk an eyebrow. She started to reply, but stopped herself. A worried expression flashed over face before she stood abruptly and gathered her things. “Hey so, I should be heading out.” Her words came out rushed, almost.. frantic? “But I DJ down the street every other Friday. You and SangSang should come check it out. Bring that girl as well. And the rest of the gang. If you’re still in touch. He’s got the info. Let me know if you’re coming in advance, I can reserve a table.” She talked over her shoulder and her words became even more hurried as she headed out the door. She waved goodbye through the window as she half walked half jogged away.
He stayed at the table, staring nonplussed at her empty seat. Had she always been this strange? He honestly couldn’t remember.
***
Later that night, sitting alone in his apartment, he replayed the evening in his head. She’d left so abruptly he felt as if he were still in the conversation. Was this a curse? To always feel like the door never closed?
He reached for the drawing pad without realizing why. It could have been the trace of sandalwood outside his office building. It could have been seeing MianMian after all this time and having her be somehow civil towards him. Maybe it was hearing Lan Zhan’s name for the first time in years. Perhaps it was just the time of year. He fucking hated the last days of spring.
He let his hands glide a pencil over his drawing pad, arching and shading and dragging and whispering. His heart bled graphite until his hand cramped and when he finally dropped the pencil, he saw that several hours had passed.
He stared at the drawing for a moment without being able to tell if it was good. It always took some time for him to objectively critique his own work. His eyes were nearsighted and his heart was the opposite. Often times the things that were too close to him were the hardest to see. He snapped a picture, uploaded it to his private instagram, and hid it away with all the other sketches from his past. For the first time in a long time, he crawled into bed and allowed his memories to carry him to sleep.