Myosotis Arvensis: Forget Me

Wufan was half way to the bus station when he thought about the medications in Yixing’s bathroom. Could there be a medical reason behind everything? Something inside him forced concern, so he turned back. His walking gradually increased to a run, and he arrived at the house panting with his hair plastered to his face with sweat.

In the living room, Yixing was unconscious and more blood had collected on the carpet; he barely looked alive. His breathing seemed normal, but all his color had drained away through the cut onto the floor.

Wufan stumbled to the home phone, partially out of exhaustion, but otherwise out of worry. He wasted no time dialing for an ambulance. It took two long rings until there was an answer, and Wufan had already gotten impatient. They asked him to stay on the line, so he kept the phone pressed against his ear as he crouched beside Yixing. He studied his face; it was entirely different from the animated expressions he had grown accustomed to during the day. While his eyes traced over his subtle, slanting eyebrows and long, downturned nose, he realized how little they knew about each other. Here they were, only hours after an extension of friendship, facing something that seemed so serious.

“If you’re dying-” he whispered, “you can’t. Because it’ll be my fault,” his voice caught, “Again.”

He eyed a loose strand of Yixing’s brown hair. Wufan brushed it from his face, and his fingers noted his abnormally cold skin. His lips were a pale purple, and his short lashes contrasted with the porcelain skin they rested on.

“Next time, we won’t drink.” His throat stung as his eyes heated and brimmed with tears. “We won’t drink, okay?” Of course there was no response from the still mouth. “You could tell me what’s wrong if you weren’t so fucking drunk.” He seethed. Suddenly a hot rage boiled in Wufan’s chest and a few tears escaped down his cheeks. He wanted to believe that Yixing would be alright, he wanted to believe he had nothing to do with it, but he saw this all before. He had been there, he couldn’t forget.

Emotions from the past and emotions from right then surfaced and Wufan struck a fist against the coffee table. Lying in front of him was supposed to be another chance. A chance at a friendship, or a chance at something else, but just a chance of feeling human again.

Howling sirens perked his ears, and he lifted his chin. He placed a hand on Yixing’s shoulder before answering the door for EMTs. They flooded the house and unwrapped the bandage.

“It’s just a few little cuts.” One of the doctors called out to the rest. The doctor nearest Wufan asked him if Yixing took any medications, so he took him to the medicine cabinet. The doctor only had to read a few labels before discovering the source of the problem. They darted back into the living room.

“He takes blood thickening agents.” One EMT told the other.

“He’s a hemophiliac.” After this observation things went a lot faster. The importance of time was apparently multiplied. They moved Yixing to the back of the ambulance and colored lights were flashing everywhere. Things were more hectic outside than in. Wufan stepped to the doors of the ambulance, but he was stopped by a voice from behind.

“Do you want me to take a look at your hand?” Wufan looked at the hand he used to punch the table. It was swollen and throbbing, but it wasn’t until then that he noticed how much it actually hurt. He nodded and the EMT gently felt it. Without a warning, he pushed on the hand and it cracked. Wufan let out a melodic string of curses, but began feeling a relief of pain. When he turned his attention back to the ambulance, the doors were closed and it began pulling forward.

He caught a ride to the hospital and immediately asked about Zhang Yixing. The nurse kindly pointed him in the direction of one of the recovery rooms. He entered in and saw Yixing lying in a sterile bed with numerous tubes relaying blood and medication. He was still unconscious, so Wufan took a seat in the corner and waited. He was used to waiting.

He waited until the afternoon of the following day, when Yixing’s mother cautiously came into the room. She saw her son and briefly covered her mouth. Crossing to his side, she pulled the blankets around him. Carefully, she kissed his forehead and wiped the smudge of lipstick off. Wufan fondly remembered the times his mother had shown him the same courtesy, before both she and his father were revolted by the thought of him.

When Yixing’s mother turned away from the bed, she was startled to see Wufan observing from the corner.

“Who are you?”

“WuYifan.” He bowed, “We did business a little while back. I am a friend of your son’s.” The two of them sat in silence for nearly an hour until Yixing stirred. The moment his eyes opened his mother was at his side offering loving words, and it pained Wufan to watch.

A doctor was next in through the door. He was flipping through papers on a clipboard and provided good news unenthusiastically.

“Everything is fine, and you’ll be discharged within the hour.” He wanted to leave, but took a long look a Wufan, “You saved the kid.”

Yixing slowly sat up in his bed, so he could see Wufan. He was still tired and weak, but the smiles they exchanged said enough.

-

After reading all the pamphlets on Uganda, Zitao remembered his initial intent. He needed to unite Wufan with the pretty travel agency girl. First, he had to make Wufan her ideal man, starting off with the adventurous category.

The following day, Zitao leisurely showered, picked out something fashionable, and fixed his hair. He was admiring himself in the mirror when he saw the clock reflecting beside him. He was going to miss the bus Wufan took.

He pulled on some shoes and ran out of his apartment to the bus stop. By the time he arrived, he could only see the taillights of the bus half way down the street. His jaw clenched and he kicked a trashcan. While awkwardly stumbling backwards he heard a laugh. Whipping around, he saw a tall figure slouched on a bench. His blonde hair was neatly pushed up in the front and his glinting eyes hid underneath thick eyebrows that were skeptically raised.

"You're cute when you're frustrated." Wufan playfully mocked.

Zitao's aggressive expression lightened into a little grin, "Hey, you missed your bus too."

"I know. I was late, like you." He perked up and Zitao took a seat beside him.

"What do we do now?" Wufan just shrugged. "Do you have anything planned for the day?"

"No." An idea crept into Zitao’s mind and he glowed with sprightful malice.

-

"I don't think this is the best idea." Wufan said as his harness was tightened and clicked together like a seatbelt.

"Be adventurous!" Zitao called from the other platform. Straps bound around Wufan’s chest and legs, looping through metal rings and attaching to less sturdy plastic bits. He was inspecting all the inner workings when an employee suddenly provided him with a push off the platform. His weight propelled him forward on the thin zipline, and his knuckles were white from his deathly grip on the harness. A scream was stuck in his throat, but he was traveling too fast to let it out. He refused to look down at the ground nearly a hundred feet below, so he locked gazes with Zitao who was awaiting him.

Zitao was captivated by Wufan’s comical expression. His mouth was open and his eyes were large and bewildered. Brown. He had brown eyes. But it would be unfair to only give them that one word. They were deep and dark. They didn’t have the same warmth most brown eyes did; instead they were stern and thoughtful. Zitao had never concerned himself with the aesthetics of others, except for occasional fashion mishaps, but Wufan was different. There was no denying he was handsome, but it was an odd, untraditional handsome which made him all the more appealing.

It wasn’t until it was too late that Zitao figured he should step out of Wufan’s path. They collided with one another. For a brief moment Wufan’s hands rested on Zitao’s waist to keep him from falling, but he staggered backwards and ended on the ground anyway. He quickly unlatched himself from the zipline and offered a hand to help him up. Zitao took it thankfully, noticing how small his hand was in Wufan's.

Zitao stared at the next zipline for a considerable amount of time, but Wufan stood back and studied the stranger. He realized, with fondness, the kindling of joy he was experiencing in that moment. It was an indescribable flutter in his chest every now and again. Zitao took off down the zipline, and he was quick to follow; this time with a partiality to the pleasant weightlessness and speed.

The next zipline led them closely beside a building and above a rocky stream, Zitao was hesitant.

"It's okay, I'll go first this time." He had officially succeeded in drawing out the adventurous side of Wufan.

Noonas like that...but why wasn't he satisfied?