Chapter 6: Chapter Six: That's Called 'Loss' and 'Reluctance'

Stan Wallace said I should stay at the company-arranged apartment, and for the whole day, I felt a bit disoriented, like a puppy that had been caged for too long, forgetting how to step out of its cage.

It wasn't until he finished work early and came to my workstation, saying he would take me there directly, that it started to feel real.

At the company entrance, Florence Bobby was waiting by the motorcycle, her head lowered as she poked at the pink helmet with her finger. When she heard us approaching, she looked up and waved, her makeup still perfectly in place after a full day's work, and she even reapplied her lipstick, "Stan, don't be late for the birthday party tonight."

Hearing this, I blinked in disbelief, unable to fathom such a coincidence—our birthdays were on the same day.

Perhaps, I should have offered to go home myself, not wanting to intrude on my brother and his girlfriend's date, especially since it was their annual birthday celebration. But the words stuck in my throat, and I couldn't bring myself to say them.

I didn't want to compete with Florence Bobby for Stan Wallace; I had no right to. But today was also my birthday, and I selfishly hoped that Stan Wallace could stay with me a little longer, just a little while.

"Okay," Stan Wallace replied, holding two helmets in each hand. When he met my gaze, he handed me the black one, "Put it on."

Me: "..."

Was it because his girlfriend was here that he found it inconvenient to let me use her things?

I really hated these two helmets.

...

Riding a motorcycle gives you a sense of freedom, with the wind roaring past, almost tangible as it brushes against your body, making you involuntarily clear your mind and focus solely on the joy of the moment.

The apartment wasn't far from the office, so we arrived quickly, though it might have just been the trick of time.

"Keep your phone off tonight. If you get bored, watch some TV."

Without picking up anything, Stan Wallace took me to a nearby supermarket to buy some essentials.

"Mm." I responded.

As we walked, two middle-aged men passed by, smoking and chatting. I exaggeratedly stepped aside, nearly bumping into Stan Wallace's shoulder.

Stan Wallace paused briefly, putting an arm around my shoulders to guide me to the inside.

"Bro, maybe we can..." I hesitated, unable to finish the sentence, 'live together' remaining unspoken.

Once Stan Wallace made a decision, no one could change it, and I couldn't lie and say it was fine for me to go home.

If I suddenly disappeared, my mother and stepfather's reactions would be predictable.

But right now, I was powerless to change the outcome and lacked the courage to go back, so I remained silent.

Stan Wallace glanced back at me, "Don't overthink it."

I nodded obediently, "I won't overthink it."

Stan Wallace paid for all the necessities, as I had left home without any money.

We carried our bags and waited for the elevator, with the heavier items in Stan Wallace's hands, and only towels and toothpaste in mine.

While waiting, we encountered a family of three from the same building. The woman was leading a six or seven-year-old boy. Initially, no one spoke, as we weren't familiar with each other.

Not all people from the northeast are naturally chatty.

However, once we got into the elevator, the little boy kept turning to look at me, making funny faces and grinning.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, the woman turned and asked, "New here?" She glanced at our bags and added, "Just married?"

Hearing this, I instinctively tightened my grip on the bag, and the sound of my nervousness echoed in the elevator.

My poor communication skills were on full display.

Stan Wallace and I probably didn't look much like siblings, but in front of the child, the woman needed a reasonable explanation for two young people living together.

"She's my sister, and we’re both staying here," Stan Wallace replied with a faint smile, handling the situation calmly.

The woman looked surprised and somewhat skeptical, but she didn't ask further. Instead, she tugged on the boy's hand, warning him to behave.

After the family left, Stan Wallace gave me a sidelong glance, "From now on, no matter who asks, tell them you’re living here with me."

"Mm." I nodded in agreement.

The door to the apartment used a password lock. Stan Wallace unlocked it with a key fob, then set up my fingerprint using his phone. He turned his back to let me set the password.

"Let's add your fingerprint too," I insisted, "Are you never coming back? Are you no longer going to be my brother from now on?"

Stan Wallace briefly turned to look at me, then stepped inside, "If I come, I’ll let you know. For now, only you can enter this room. You don't have to be on edge at night."

I froze, my steps halting.

The rattling doorknob and sudden intrusion were my nightmares.

I would listen intently to every sound outside before bed, and after locking the door, I'd push a chair against it, just to ensure I could detect any intruders.

But now, I didn't need to. This was Stan Wallace's place, and within the circle he drew, I was always safe.

"If it's you, I'm not afraid," I followed Stan Wallace inside, closing the door behind me, "The password is your birthday."

Stan Wallace carried the plastic bags into the kitchen, pausing slightly as he reached for the dish soap. His tone was colder than usual, "You will be afraid."

His voice was low, and I could barely make out what he said, but I was too captivated by the apartment to argue.

The warm-toned decor, the sunset streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathed the spacious living room in a warm glow.

Every corner was clean and bright, with the scent of aged wood, but no hint of decay. It felt as if even I, standing in it, became ‘clean.’

"Bro, it feels like a dream," I murmured softly.

"Mm, you’re allowed to dream for three months," Stan Wallace said, glancing at me with half-lidded eyes.

He probably meant that after those three months, there would be no need for us to meet again. I wouldn't come back to this apartment, nor would it be convenient to do so.

As I thought about this, Stan Wallace added, "After three months, you’ll have to return it." As he brushed past me, he threw in, "Don't overthink it."

After settling in, Stan Wallace washed his hands in the bathroom, using paper towels instead of the new ones I bought, "Get your ID card reissued when you have the chance."

I leaned against the wall near the bathroom, feeling a real sense of unease about ‘escaping’ as he spoke.

After drying his hands, he pulled out a wallet he hadn't used in a while and handed me two thousand yuan in cash, the bills in sequential order, as if freshly withdrawn from the bank.

I hesitated, looking at the money, but Stan Wallace grabbed my hand and pressed it into my palm.

"There are knitting shops and malls nearby. Buy what you need here. If you need anything for the house, text me, and I’ll bring it over. Let me know if you run out of money."

After giving these instructions, Stan Wallace turned to leave.

I didn't know when he had started planning this, but seeing him prepare everything so methodically, I felt both flattered and deeply uneasy about separating from him.

It felt like something tangible was being stripped away from me as Stan Wallace left, leaving me with a hollow feeling.

"Bro," I called out, my eyes red, unable to bear the thought of him leaving after giving me so much.

Stan Wallace stopped, and I asked, "Why..."

Seeming to know what I was asking and finding it a foolish question, Stan Wallace interrupted flatly, "Because I'm your brother."

As soon as he finished speaking, his phone rang, and the caller ID showed Florence Bobby.

In the moment before he closed the door and left, I suddenly realized that the hollowness I felt was ‘disappointment’ and ‘reluctance.’