Wang Yao, or as he'd sign in UK, Yao Wang, really didn't seem to have any reason to complain.
He wasn't born in this rainy city called London; rather, he came all the way from China a few years ago. Nobody said it was easy to study abroad. Oceans away from all his beloved ones, it was quite a shift of everything to him in the beginning, of course. Yet he managed to adjust in a lot of ways. He became fluent in the English language and made pretty good friends. Although he always hated all English food with a burning passion, he himself was an amazing iron chef.
He was doing a very good job academically. Math was like his favorite toys that he could play with so effortlessly. And physical insights never failed to shine in those golden brown eyes of his. If anybody had had any doubts about his talents in the first place, he certainly proved them wrong throughout the years. People from his department called him the boy genius from Far East.
"What in the name of your bloody French motto do you mean boy?! I am a grown man aru!" he'd shout every time he heard that "disrespectful" nickname. Truth to be told, no matter how he claimed to be a grown man, people at most saw him as a 25-year-old trapped in a teenage boy's body. A cute and feminine teenage boy with a ponytail, to be precise. And surely his mysterious suffix "aru", together with his obsession with lovely chubby stuffed animals, contributed enormously to his cuteness and childishness.
He wasn't too social, yet still quite popular among the geeky and awkward lot of graduate students, mostly due to his cheerful personalities. In fact, he was so very irresistibly cheerful, that he hardly fitted in the desperate theme of the grad school lifestyle. People were constantly pulling their hair and cursing paper referees; he would not. Everybody went massively drunk on Fridays to get rid of loneliness and horniness; he would not, either. He was the one who smiled and lent his stuffed panda for others to cuddle. "Gungun is a good hugger aru. You'll feel better if you relax and cuddle with it."
However, only the almighty Lord and Yao himself knew, he wasn't quite the person who everybody else thought he was. It was true that he smiled, giggled and laughed every single day. But it didn't mean he was happy. He couldn't explain why he kept pretending to be happy. There wasn't any point of doing so, really; as his colleagues said, grad school sucked and everybody was driven insane anyway. But somehow, this was the only way he learnt to live his life.
On the inside, he was seriously depressed, and he knew very well he'd suffered from depression for a decade. He wouldn't even bother to count how many times he tried to commit suicides. People could only see how he coded on his computer while humming in a soft and comforting voice. Nobody ever got to know he would soon leave the program to run, go into hiding somewhere and try to take his own life. Eventually the suicidal thoughts would pass. He never worried about that. After all, he was too caring a son and too responsible a big brother to leave his family in tears.
He wasn't going to do anything about depression though. No counseling, no anti-depression medication, no, just no, he' d have none of these things. How stubborn! He sometimes sarcastically commented on himself. But he just couldn't believe it would be of any help to go to a doctor for this. He was totally aware of the very root of his sufferings and quite positive that no doctor on this planet could cure that.
He was gay.
He was about to hit his fifteenth birthday when he found out this devastating and shameful fact about himself. Since then, he couldn't remember a single time he smiled genuinely. It was at the international physics Olympics of high school students that he met a certain tall Russian boy with the sweetest voice ever. They had two intense weeks together, or rather, competing with each other. In the end, he won the golden medal, yet lost his heart to someone who hadn't had the slightest clue about the crush.
Years passed and Yao never had any relationship. Not that he was still pathetically thinking of his high school crush. He just concluded that such a sinful person as he was simply didn't deserve love. He pretended to be interested in girls. But he wouldn't start relationships with them, since he couldn't give his heart. He did meet guys who liked him. But in his mind, to have a boyfriend or anything of that sort would only make him sink lower. He probably couldn't change himself, yet he wished he could keep this sin to himself for his entire life. That way, at least his family wouldn't be affected. And also, selfishly, he didn't want to find out how disappointed his parents, bothers and sister would be if they knew about his true color. Even the one who didn't believe he deserved unconditional love would still try his best to prolong the love he received. How inconsistent!
It was just another time that Yao couldn't hold his joyful outside and had to excuse himself from his friends. He already took three shots of whisky and the pink patches on his cheeks gave him the perfect reason-as an Asian, he didn't have as much alcohol dehydrogenases as his Caucasian fellows did.
"Kesesese, Jao, you're no fun!" Gilbert roared, but let go of his apparently drunk friend. Yao waved good night to everybody and left the bar without protesting against the self-claimed Prussian descendant butchering his name again.
He wandered on those pebble pavements, not knowing where he was heading. The city of London was like a giant maze after the dark curtain laid upon it. He silently walked past those blocks that he gradually got familiar with in the past seven years. Yet they looked so foreign to him at the moment. Well, no, he was the foreign one. No matter how many years he'd spent in this country, it still wasn't his home, and never would be. But where was his home? Suddenly he felt so lonely and helpless. Not that it was a new thing to him though.
Before he knew, he was already sitting on the roof of some random building, a knife placed on his frail wrist. The sharp blade shone in the silver moonlight, and he could almost see the reflection of a grin. Usually he was sure he wouldn't actually cut himself. But tonight it seemed a bit different. He wasn't sad or anxious or anything. Instead, he was pretty calm. Unlike his previous suicidal situation, he didn't need to feel death in order to confirm he was still alive and to be reminded that his family was still waiting for him. This time, he was simply tired and wanted it over.
Right, a quick and clean cut, and everything would be over. Nobody knew he was here and certainly not many would visit the roof at midnight. He would go rested in peace already before anyone could possibly come to his rescue. That'd be nice, wouldn't it?
A firm hand suddenly grabbed his wrist and took the knife away before he could protest. "Hey, I can't let a lady kill herself in front of me."
Yao looked up and grinned even wider. In front of him stood a blonde young man in black leather pants. The green sapphires on his earrings sparkled brightly, matching his emerald eyes. "Says the juvenile punk high on angel dust."
Said punk raised an eyebrow and pulled himself closer, purring on Yao's neck, "well, let's find out who's the vulnerable juvenile here, shall we?" He then proceeded to kiss the Asian's pale skin.
Yao, startled by the sudden act, pushed the Brit away and stood up. "You do realize I'm a man, don't you, bastard?"
The emerald-eyed Brit sneered, "I do realize you are quite delicious."
Three shots of whisky probably couldn't knock down Yao. But they did have enough effect on him that he let himself dragged by the Brit into a hotel room. For the first time in his life, he did something he'd secretly craved for the past twenty-five years-being rebellious. He wanted to end his own existence anyway. If this night were the bonus time he didn't even ask for, like hell would he care what price he'd have to pay when the sun rose again?
Yao had very little knowledge and zero experience of foreplay. Yet he wouldn't deny he enjoyed it. Kissing and groping, being kissed and groped, it all felt far too good, even with some complete stranger. He liked the subtle perfume the Brit wore, and the way he licked his neck and ears.
The taller man seemed amazed at how inexperience his partner was. "Are you virgin?" he teased.
"Just fucking do your thing!" the brunette grunted and sank his teeth near the Brit's collarbone. The blonde hesitated no more and forced himself in, making the smaller man groan very loud. It was curious how much the sound of the moaning turned on the other, who in return slammed himself in the fragile Asian body awfully hard.
Having spent too many years mourning over his guilty existence, not until this moment did Yao have a single bite of the evil fruit growing in Satan's garden. And damn was it addictive!
To thine own self be true, at least on the last day of his life.
A/N: Apologies if I got London completely wrong! I've never been there. ;P Comments, remarks and complaints are all the most welcomed!