Slowly out of line

Almost effortlessly, Ruìsāng could have manipulated a car lock and set it in motion. Wouldn't have been a first. He'd jacked his mom's car before owning his own, but explaining a stolen ride to Vince wasn't a conversation he looked forward to. His mom's perpetual state of inebriation had made her unfit to drive, and he'd learned to manoeuvre cars out of sheer necessity.

As the distant sirens announced the approach of firefighters, Ruìsāng retreated down an alley, putting some distance between himself and the impending chaos. Although not directly accountable for the fire, he was the lone witness to its inception. Additionally, the Vulpix, the true perpetrator, tailed him. Best to sidestep the brewing tumult.

Several alleys later, Ruìsāng procured an Uber nearby. Initially, he considered leaving the Vulpix behind but when the Mawile joined them in the car, the Vulpix jumped in as well. Sighing, he closed the door and retrieved Vince's address from his map history.

A journey that should have taken twenty minutes morphed into a nearly forty-minute ordeal due to a perplexingly direction-challenged Uber driver. Unfortunately, Ruìsāng surpassed the supposed "1-hour" deadline by about twenty minutes. With his phone's battery drained, he couldn't notify Vince.

Hoping Vince would forgive the delay, Ruìsāng exited the car and ascended the stairs. He rang the bell to Vince's apartment. The Vulpix lingered a few metres away, while the Mawile, ever impatient, stood beside Ruìsāng's foot, eagerly awaiting the door's reopening.

A lingering fear persisted in Ruìsāng, half-expecting a monstrous sight to greet him. Nervous energy clawed at his chest, an anxious sensation eager to escape. Everywhere he looked, he half-anticipated seeing her, feeling her presence lurking around every corner. In a bid to calm his nerves, he closed his eyes, concentrating on the ordinary rustling behind the door. It sounded... normal.

As the door swung open, Ruìsāng's eyes snapped open, meeting Vince's golden gaze. “Hey—”  he began, only to be promptly dubbed an idiot before being enveloped in a hug. Startled, Ruìsāng flinched momentarily, then settled into the embrace, arms loosely wrapping around the green-haired man's back.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, an apology for the worry, the near involvement, and for being too late. It seemed he had reached a point where he couldn't pinpoint a single thing to apologise for. “I shouldn’t have…” he continued, tightening his hold, pulling Vince a bit closer. It felt easier this way, avoiding eye contact.

After all, once he’d let go, he’d have to keep his promise.

In that moment, Ruìsāng wished time would come to a standstill. He felt as if he could have stood there until the sun rose in the morning, but reality was a cruel mistress, and his grip on the world slipped away. Reluctantly, he released Vince and found himself gazing into golden eyes. Ruìsāng summoned a faint, smile in the hope that Vince would notice its sincerity. He moved forward, crossing the threshold as he was gently guided inside. His thoughts remained in disarray, but the urge to lash out, to fight, simply didn't manifest. Vince was no threat.

Vince's words reached him with a muted resonance, and Ruìsāng nodded absentmindedly. Then, a sudden touch on his leg startled him, drawing his attention downward. There, a small, pink creature met his gaze — a Buizel, of all things. He furrowed his brow in puzzlement but extended his hand tentatively, offering the creature a chance to respond. With careful gentleness, he gave it a pat.

“Winnie?” he guessed, identifying the phone thief.

Meanwhile, the Mawile followed suit, crossing the threshold into Vince's apartment. Ruìsāng hadn't forced her back into her Pokéball, nor did he plan to. He felt it was safer to have her by his side. The Vulpix hesitated for a moment before deciding to step inside as well. Ruìsāng gestured toward them. “I brought… them,” he announced, quietly closing the door behind him. He then proceeded to the couch, where he lowered himself onto the seat and buried his face in his hands.

“I… I’m glad you stayed.”

Vince's enthusiasm for his Pokémon was unmistakable, and Ruìsāng could appreciate the boy's joy. He genuinely felt Vince deserved this happiness. Yet, a part of him was disheartened to see the new Pokémon's apparent weakness. Ruìsāngwished for something more formidable to stand guard by Vince's side, to ensure his safety. The thought of leaving Lìeyàn behind crossed his mind, a protective measure to ensure Vince's well-being. But the prospect of life without his companion was unbearable, so he refrained, offering instead a tender smile and a gentle pat to the new Pokémon.

Vince's reaction to seeing a Vulpix was one of surprise, and he began to speak of a trait, but Ruìsāng gestured dismissively, indicating he would elaborate later. “Long story,” he said briefly, moving towards the couch.

Ruìsāng thanked Vince for not rushing to his aid in what Vince might have perceived as a rescue attempt. Vince's admission of almost calling the firefighters drew a chuckle from Ruìsāng. “I didn’t want you there,” he confessed, shaking his head. “Especially not with her around. She...” He paused, lifting his face and placing his hands in his lap, drawing a deep breath.

“I need to explain this before I lose my nerve,” he decided.

“Some time ago, after getting into a fight, I ended up in an alley where an older woman offered help. She looked… kind, like a character from a fairy tale,” he began, recalling vividly how she had reached out to him.

“She showed me a way out, and suddenly, we were in a field of flowers, her house nearby. Everything else, including Lìeyàn, was gone,” he continued, gesturing towards the Mawile who had positioned herself in front of the door, arms folded, attentively listening. The Vulpix had taken up a spot in a corner, its red eyes fixed intently on them.

“But something felt wrong. My mind kept telling me to… flee. She kept promising to help, promising peace, an end to all pain...” Ruìsāng's voice trailed off, a visible tension gripping him as he clenched his jaw and cast his gaze downward.

Talking about it meant acknowledging its existence. That’s how Ruìsāng had navigated his life, a precarious dance around the truth. Each time the door to his home clicked shut behind him, he’d weave a tale of normalcy for anyone who asked. In those moments, the harsh reality of his life dissolved into a mirage. It wasn’t an alcoholic mother that awaited him, but a serene nothingness. He clung to this illusion, a desperate bid to deny the curse that shackled his heart.

Yet, denial was a crumbling facade. The act of calling Vince had shattered it, rendering everything painfully real.

Vince’s words were gentle, suggesting manipulation. Ruìsāng, leaning into the touch, nodded slowly, a silent storm brewing in his eyes. Words seemed just out of reach. Even now, the instinct to withhold, to mask his truth, was something he couldn’t abandon.

“When I tried to escape, she... she forced me to stay. In my struggle... I bit her, and in retaliation, she flung me to the ground, tore my hand open,” he explained, motioning with his bandaged hand. He assumed that tore open would be vivid enough of a description. “She…” He faltered, shaking his head.

He could keep this burden to himself, spare Vince the horror of seeing him as a monster. But perhaps honesty was the path to choose. Laying bare his scars might dispel Vince’s misguided belief in his salvation.

“She cursed me,” he confessed. “Stopped my heart as if it was nothing. Cursed it… somehow. I don’t know. I got out after I smacked my face into hers and the world snapped back into focus. It was over, or I thought it was, until she found me again today,” he continued explaining. There was so much… he still didn’t know what it all had been about.

“One moment, I was outside my apartment. The next, I was… there. There was an illusion— I think. I don’t know. She’s too powerful. I can’t discern the false from the real with her,” he concluded. “That’s why I can’t have you anywhere near her.” Because it wasn’t safe and there was nothing Vince could do.

When Ruìsāng voiced his curse, he braced for rejection, for the world to crumble at the confession. Such a dark secret, he believed, would shatter his life. Yet, as the words left his lips, the earth did not quake, reality remained unaltered, and most surprisingly, Vince showed no signs of recoiling. This unexpected steadiness made Ruìsāng retreat inward, shrinking in anticipation of a blow that never came.

As Vince's hand gently sifted through his hair, Ruìsāng found himself drawn to the comforting gesture. Vince’s assurance of his safety was met with a soft, incredulous scoff from Ruìsāng. “She’ll come back,” he said, placing a hand against his chest. “Each time, I think I’m powerless against her, and yet somehow, I survive, but never beat her,” he tried explaining. “She used her— I think. The monster. Tried to get it to kill me,” he continued, his gaze drifting to the bandaged hand marked by tiny, crimson-stained bite marks from the Vulpix.

“I didn’t— I didn’t want to call you, but I thought I was going crazy until I heard someone,” he confessed. “You can’t— I can’t get you involved.” But he didn’t know how to deal with this himself, either.

The notion that the grandmother’s actions were a test, etched a frown onto Ruìsāng’s face. Deep down, he doubted it was a mere test. Her intent hadn’t seemed to be his survival. However, Vince’s perspective might hold a sliver of truth. Perhaps, in his own way, Ruìsāng was adapting, learning from the sinister games he was entangled in. A part of him began to believe that he could overcome her, that he must.

Vince’s assurance of non-interference was a relief. Ruìsāng nodded, a silent acceptance of this promise. At Vince’s request to stay informed, a scoff escaped Ruìsāng's lips, tinged with a hint of irony. “I’ll text you to let you know I’m alive,” he assured the other. That was the least he could do. Also, it gave him a perfectly valid reason to text the other when he wanted to.

Suppressing another apology, Ruìsāng instead expressed his gratitude. “Thank you,” he said, finding comfort in Vince's non-imposing presence. The weight of his revelations made him uncertain about whether sharing them was the right choice, but it undeniably eased some of his burden.

Now, all he yearned for was to retreat from the ordeal, to embrace sleep's forgetful embrace. He offered Vince a frail smile. “Don’t say that too loudly or boss-man will hire you on the spot in the lounge,” he joked weakly.

It was the least he could do, Vince said. This was met with a soft hum from Ruìsāng, an acknowledgment that resonated with a mix of gratitude and confusion. When Vince’s lips brushed against his hair in a tender gesture, Ruìsāng’s eyes fluttered shut. He couldn't understand why Vince didn’t flee, now knowing the full extent of his affliction – not just a tormented mind but cursed to darkness. The tendrils of his curse didn’t just dwell in his heart but were etched across his chest. Ruìsāng wanted to voice his question, to ask why Vince stayed, but fear muffled his words. The potential answer was too terrifying.

Did he still want tea or coffee? Ruìsāng shook his head. “No… Sleep, maybe,” he admitted. “Sorry.” He was at a loss about what he apologised for – was it for coming here, or for what he’d become?

Vince's kindness was overwhelming, almost alien to Ruìsāng’s understanding. He tried convincing himself that this was Vince’s natural demeanour towards anyone, that his compassion wasn’t exclusive to him. In Ruìsāng’s eyes, Vince was the type to extend a helping hand to a stray thief in the streets, indiscriminate in his kindness. And Ruìsāng, with his own darkness, felt drawn to it, tempted to misconstrue this kindness as something more profound, something personal. Something that was just for him. Because his own kindness was limited. Because he wasn’t good.

When even a monster told you that you didn’t deserve anything more, you ought to listen.

“Yeah, you should,” he agreed, his response somewhat distant. Vince had dreams to chase.

As Vince’s gentle humming filled the quiet space, Ruìsāng allowed his eyes to drift shut, surrendering to the tranquillity and the presence beside him.

In these moments, he pondered the fleeting nature of this peace, wondering how long it would be before this too, like so many good things in his life, slipped away. His life’s narrative had been one where the good seldom lingered, and only the bad seemed to endure. Alastor was the rare exception, a constant in a sea of change. Expecting anything more, Ruìsāng knew, was wishful thinking.

Yet, as Vince’s fingers wove through his hair, a part of Ruìsāng yearned for this moment to defy the pattern of his life. It was a feeling of belonging, a sense of home he’d rarely, if ever, experienced. Vince’s offer to take the bed brought a frown to Ruìsāng’s face, tinged with annoyance. “I didn’t come here for you to sleep elsewhere,” he murmured. In this moment, he wished for proximity, for the comfort of Vince’s presence through the night, for however long he’d be allowed to have it.

Despite asking for sleep, Ruìsāng remained motionless, leaning more heavily against Vince, the rhythm of his breathing deepening in a silent concession to weariness. Perhaps, he mused, he could sleep here. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? To drift off enveloped in a rare, serene warmth, even if just for tonight.