SAVED ☆ Bang Chan [COMPLETED]

13

“Y/N? Sweetie wake up,” a soft voice cuts through the darkness behind my closed eye lids and I groggily blink them open, immediately spotting a smiling Chan’s face above mine. I frown, my surroundings disorientated and unfamiliar for a few moments before I realise that I’m not at my house. I’m at Chan’s house.

“Did you just call me sweetie?” I ask, rubbing my eyes. My surroundings suddenly hit me and I turn my head to the side, seeing a pair of knees, and I turn to the other side, seeing a faded t-shirt. My eyes widen as I realise I was sleeping in Chan’s lap. I bolt upright, and swing my legs over the edge of the sofa, sitting properly.

Chan chuckles. “I don’t think so?”

I grin, blushing. “You did. I heard you.”

His cheeks turn pink too and he looks down at his lap. “It just slipped out.”

I lean my face against his shoulder, closing my eyes again. I don’t want to move, I want to stay here forever. “It was cute.”

“Well then, don’t fall asleep again, sweetie,” Chan puts emphasis on the word and I smile against his short sleeve.

“I’m tired,” I mumble, yawning as if on cue. He taps my nose with a ringed finger and I giggle as he smiles back at me.

“I know. But you need to go or your mother will be mad again,” he says, making a good point. I sigh, reaching for my jacket from the same spot I left it in, suddenly not wanting to go. I don’t want to be apart from him.

“Okay,” I reply, mood instantly dropping. As if sensing this, Chan turns towards me and wraps his arms around my shoulders. I should be used to his sudden hugs by now but I’m not, and I freeze for a second before hugging him back, letting myself take comfort in the cotton of his shirt.

“Hey, you can come back tomorrow, remember,” he tells me, sensing my reluctance to move and I cheer up at the thought, at the thought of spending another ‘school day’ with Chan.

“Okay,” I snuggle into his chest, surprised at my own sudden confidence. He chuckles and rubs my back, cheek resting on the top of my head.

“Come on. Let me walk you to the end of your street,” Chan says, getting up and offering me his hand. I take it and feel his warm fingers close around mine as he leads me to the front door. Just then his mother comes running up to us, her rosy cheeks round and plump as she smiles.

“You’re coming tomorrow aren’t you, Y/N?” She asks, placing her hands on my shoulders. I nod and her face fills with delight.

“I’ll look forward to it,” she says, patting my cheek and then looking at Chan with a wink. “I know Chan will.”

“Mum,” Chan whines, pouting and turning his face away from me. I giggle at him and thank his mother before Chan leads me out of the door.

We walk down the street with subtle conversation and almost too quickly the end of my street appears, sudden misery settling like a heavy weight in the pit of my stomach. From my side, I hear Chan sigh and I turn to look at him, noting that his head his tipped backwards, looking up to the sky.

“You okay?” I ask him, bewildered at his emotional expression. He turns his chocolatey eyes on me, suspiciously bright.

“I don’t feel good knowing that you’re going back to that … that place and I can’t do anything about it,” he looks so forlorn that I am touched, and I reach out to place a gentle hand on his arm.

“Hey. Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault, and you shouldn’t take it to heart. It’s okay,” I say, hand trailing down his arm to his hand which I clasp in both my hands and give it a squeeze. “Don’t stress so much that it becomes your problem too.”

He considers this for a second before speaking. “Can I give you another hug then?”

I smile at that, nodding, reaching my arms out to him. “Of course.”

He steps closer and presses his body against mine, his head dropping onto my shoulder. I pat his back gently, hoping he doesn’t hear the disastrous racket my thumping heart is making. When he pulls away he looks at me with a vulnerable face which quickly morphs into his casual expression and I wonder if I imagined it.

“I’m going to go now,” I say, reluctantly detanglimg my hand from his. He nods at me, offering me a sad smile tinged with heartbreaking bitterness. He opens his mouth as if to say something but he snaps it shut, giving a tiny shake of his head as if trying to prevent himself from saying a something. I raise my eyebrows but turn away after giving him a wave and I set down the path.

Every step I take away from him deepens the confusing pain set in my heart, and I gasp at the sudden lonely feeling washing over me the further I get away from him. When I reach my gate I turn around and look behind me. He’s leaning against a wall, hands in his pockets, staring blindly into the distance. Swallowing back a silent cry, I open my gate and head into my house.

***

I carry a trembling tea cup and saucer carefully into the stale smelling living room with shaking hands. My mother is laying on one of the moth eaten sofas and I wrinkle my nose automatically at the state of the room; the floor is half hidden under old ash from countless cigarettes, the stubs scattered around as if she hopes for new ones to grow out of the ashes. The windows are scratched and filthy, grime filled in the grooves and I feel nauseous being in the dark, dingy room, but I attempt to pass her the tea, which doesn’t end successfully as I trip over half a broken Smirnoff bottle and the saucer goes flying, smashing on the floor. My eyes widen, and I wait for it.

“You stupid, clumsy son of a bitch,” she snarls, and I almost laugh at the irony of her calling herself a bitch. “You can’t do anything right can you?”
No, I can't, but do you really have to remind me?

I stay sitting on the floor, hair in my eyes, ash coating my jeans like silver cocaine. There’s a pause before sharp, uneven fingernails dig into the base of of my neck as she grabs a fist full of my jacket and lifts me up from the ground. The front of my shirt tightens on my neck and it pulls backwards and I struggle to gasp for air, my windpipe slowly being squeezed and I can’t help it, I do the one thing she hates the most - I scream.

I scream so loudly that I'm sure the neighbours can hear me; I scream with all of the fear and exhaustion I have pent up in my body from the years, and I scream until my throat is sore and the sound won't come out anymore. I suddenly feel delirious, traumatised, and incredibly dangerous; whether it's towards myself or to her, I can't tell.

I wriggle around in her grasp and her face turns red with rage as I defy her for the first time and she lands a punch straight to my jaw which burns with a white hot fire and I gasp, clutching at it. Thankfully it’s not broken, but that’s another bruise to add onto my list.

She throws me aside and I land with my head smacking against the edge of a sofa and black dots swim infront of me, my head slamming against the stone cold floor. I feel like a shattering doll, thrown carelessly by a stroppy toddler who's bored of me.

When I wake finally it’s darker, and my mother has gone. I test my limbs gingerly and try to get up on wobbly legs, my jaw jabbing at me with shooting pain and my head feeling as though someone has inserted several hundred thick needles into my skull. I bite my lip and stand and look out to the window - my mother’s battered Ford Fiesta is missing. She’s gone out to buy more alcohol, no doubt.

God knows how I stumble into my bedroom two minutes later, tears streaming down my face as I rummage around for my blade. I’m about to bring it down onto my thigh when Chan’s voice echoes in my head and I choke, throwing it far away from me and reaching for my phone instead.

Numbly dialling his number, I wait for him to pick up. He answers in the first two rings.

“Hey sweetie. Are you okay?”

I cry at the sound of his voice, and I clutch at my hair in despair.

“Chan,” I whisper inbetween sobs. “I miss you.”