NINETEEN | CHANGLIX

YEAR ELEVEN

THE ELVENTH YEAR Changbin spent more time at the park.

Convincing his parents to let him go wasn't hard considering most of the neighbourhood's children often spent the long evenings running around the roads, playing tag until the street-lamps buzzed on, beguiling towards the moths who were falsely promised the glow of their beloved star that they unaware had slyly sunk beneath the horizon.

Although many of them were more than happy to have welcomed Changbin into their innocent fun, the boy would nearly always politely refuse, mumbling nonsense about having to deliver food to the neighbours, which wasn't entirely unconvincing considering the plastic bag he carried was always filled with snacks and drinks.

Walking along the pavement, he was content with his dad's old MP3 attached to his half working headphones, unaware of how that year's hits would soon fade, until one day he would stumble upon them and find that they transported him back to his youth for even where he would age, music always remained the same.

Arriving at the park, allowed Changbin to momentarily forget his existence by noticing the existence of others. They were unaware of him, unaware of the golden glow that glided across their figures, magical and beautiful and so far away from his dreary reality. Their smiles, crafted by dogs wagging tails, children giggling at the thrill of the swings, partners who upon varying, either reached automatically or tentatively to join hands in a way that created a unaccustomed yearning for something the eleven-year-old could barely begin to comprehend. It was in those evenings, where Changbin would drink up all the different sights, softening his heart to the point where he feared - in the smartest simile he had yet created - that it would break like wet clay in an artist's hands, seperating easily without realisation.

The more he described his thoughts to himself, the more he feared himself - feared how weak he was. Feared how he had come to the point where his heart was no longer strong enough for him to even hear the cracks as it broke. It scared him, to know how much darker his thoughts were than the average child his age, how he was slowly breaking without any physical evidence.

Rapid thoughts increased his pace, causing the beating of his sensitive organ to drum louder against his ears. He speed walked to the bench, placing the plastic bag down in relief as he made it to his safe spot. Exhaling warm air into his surroundings, the boy took a moment to tilt his head upwards, dismissing everything other than his attention to the sky.

Momentarily bathing in the bliss of apricot and peach smiles, sunsets and lingering warmth held the ability to allay his fears.

It was always their laughs, loud and hearty, which would bring his attention back to the ground, the earth below always appearing so much darker after staring at the brightness for a while. Their release of joy, followed by rapid footsteps and the sound of metal rattling, were ones that Changbin had been drawn to by his curiousity all summer.

The benches both inside and nearby the basketball court were occupied by other teens, most likely only in the middle-school he was due to attend after Summer, however seeming so much older than him. Girls and boys joked, different sounds varying from curse words to cheers escaping them from time to time. A blush would rise to his cheeks, as his eyes would capture the sight of exposed torsos, quickly darting in the other direction but failing to stay away, a stir of what he could only assume to be butterflies startled by such a sight fluttering in his stomach.

Although at times he had to squint to keep up with the ball that moved swiftly from one end of the court to the other, Changbin knew he was safe, his secret staring hidden away by the cool shade that kept his hands tugging at the end of his sleeves.

The boy glanced towards the bag, filled with snacks that he knew were popular and drinks primarily made for the summer months. Aware that the chance of them being removed out of the bag was slim, he still found himself edging closer towards the end of the bench, legs swiniging softly like the breeze that had made a quiet apperance, hoping that he would find a reason.