the untold truth | yuwin | the book 2 of grey is the truth

2.flower

Putting the key inside the door lock, Sicheng slowly turned the key as he opened the door.

The rain had stopped but the boy was all wet.

He stepped inside the house, soon the warmth was holding his whole body. He was so tired; after studying and being forced to clean the school's hallways untill evening poor boy walked a long way till his house. Cause it's too far from his school.

He looked at the hallway, Sicheng sighed it was a bit dark and tiny unlike his old house in China.

"I'm home"

"Welcome home Sichengie"

The boy could hear a deep male voice from the kitchen which made him smile faintly.

Sicheng took off his shoes then he placed them besides the wooden closet. Soon a middle aged man walked towards him. By seeing the boy's wet clothes and hair he sighed.

"How many times did i tell you this morning to take an umbrella with yourself? You'll get sick for sure!"

"Hi dad"

The man rolled his eyes, then again his little son was ignoring his reminders.

Looking more accurate at Sicheng's side profile, he frowned something was off. He raised the boy's chin soon by seeing all those bruises and scars he gasped.

"What happend to your face?!"

Sicheng didn't say anything. Just looking down. Now the man figured out what happend.

"Did you get in fight again?"

Silence, all that Sicheng could give to his father. He sighed rubbing the boy's back.

"Okay...go and take a hot shower i'll make the dinner"

~~~~~~~

After half an hour Sicheng was sitting in the livingroom. A hot shower in this cold rainy weather is so lovely for sure.

He felt like a heavy stone was removed from his back. But he knew it wasn't only because the shower. Cause now he was at home. Sicheng looked around.

Their living room was small. The floor was covered with wood. there was a wheat colored wallpaper on the short walls with brown flowers on it. The whole room was lighted up by a little old lamp. Everything was simple. A little wooden table on the middle, a wooden closet in the hallway with a little drawer besides the television. But more than anything; many books could be seen.

They were literally everywhere, different sizes with different colors and covers with many papers and manuscripts.

This apartment house was nothing compared to their old villa in China. It wasn't that big but it was beautiful. Sicheng could remember it's little garden, how much he took care of the flowers with love. How much dancing there was sweet.

He missed his home, his friends, his town.

But still in this place which everyone are strangers in the boy's eyes. This home seems magical for him, as if it's separated from the whole world.

Sicheng's with his father like how he lived with him in China, he can speak in his mother language, he can understand his surrounding. As if he's still in his hometown. There's no one in here to mock him or mess up with him. He's calm and happy in it. This place is another world.

Suddenly by feeling a big towel moving on his head, Sicheng snapped out of his thought.

His father was drying up his hair which caused him to groan.