TW: Funeral, child neglect, verbal abuse by a parent, etc

 

Over the next week, while the funeral was being organized, Yuen and his friends were the ones taking care of Iahn. He had the foresight to call the school and tell them neither of them would be back until after the funeral.

 

When the day finally came, he knew it was going to be rough.

 

Iahn stood beside him at the viewing, staring at the floor like an empty shell, no one home, the same as he’d been all week. The only time he had any sort of life to him was when his friends showed up with their parents, and the young teenagers smashed their friend in a hug one after another, and even then, Iahn only stood still and dipped his head into their shoulders. None of them strayed from his side since the moment they got there — funeral etiquette be damned, even though they were technically supposed to move away from the front with their parents.

 

Yuen didn’t know what was said as they whispered to each other or to Iahn, despite standing right next to the group, but the hushed conversation was always accompanied by a supportive arm around Iahn’s shoulders or a hand squeezing his — which was never left unoccupied.

 

It’s strange seeing a group of normally lively kids somber. Not just sad, but weighed down by grief like a net woven with stones had been tossed over them, pulling them to the bottom of a cruelly shallow lake, keeping them far enough under the surface to watch the cold sunlight stream through the surface just out of reach of their fingers.

 

Yuen spent a few awkward minutes talking to their parents once the small crowd of strangers had all gathered, quietly sitting or standing around talking after having their turn saying goodbye at the edge of the casket. He knew the kids were close, but he didn’t know they grew up with Grandpa Gill, and that even their parents had known Gill pretty well. Small town and all, it isn’t that surprising they knew each other, but Gill used to be a substitute teacher at the high school when the kids’ parents were Yuen’s age. Some of them had been neighbors of the family, or their own parents had been friends with Gill.

 

They went to school with Iahn’s mother, though none of them were friends with her. They weren’t close with her even though they were with Gill, for the simple reason that they were all fond of Uncle Gill and she could not have been more horrible to him. One of the older women even commented that she was a leech. She took everything from her own father and made him believe it was somehow his fault, that he was a failure of a parent. In the end, she even took his grandson from him.

 

At least it isn’t just Yuen who thinks she’s a horrible person.

 

The funeral wasn’t even arranged by her — Gill’s only daughter! It was arranged by a friend of his, as dictated by his will. That means he fucking knew she wouldn’t even do that for him after he was gone! Even Yuen’s father took off work for the funeral and had a rare set of regret to the restrained pinch between his eyebrows. Gill is his wife’s father, but he’s never met the man, and the woman herself didn’t get along with her dad, so how damn low did the bar have to be for her to give a shit?

 

Even now, she put the bare minimum effort where other people were concerned. He doubts she would’ve even shown up today if the rest of them hadn’t been going. No matter how much she didn’t like her father, at least the step-monster couldn’t justify not showing up to his funeral.

 

The funeral was small but that wasn’t unexpected, they didn’t have a big family. Gill was old and had said so himself that most of the people he was close with had passed on before him.

 

The hard part of the funeral, as it always is, is the closing of the casket. All of Iahn’s friends were right there, crying their hearts out, and all Yuen could do was watch. Tears of his own slid down his cheeks as a broken scream tore through the despondent, gloomy air like a serrated knife through a paper doll.

 

“Don’t leave me here...!”

 

The screams devolved into wails and faded into sobbing, finally smothered when his forehead bumped the edge of the casket. Taehee couldn’t take it anymore, reaching to squeeze Iahn’s shoulder. Iahn turned around, not even looking at who it was before his face was buried in his neck, tears soaking the black dress shirt. He clung to his friend while crumbling like a sandcastle too close to the tide.

 

It was the single most painful thing Yuen's ever witnessed.

 

Taehee held onto him tighter and pulled him a few steps away, shielding him from having to watch the casket close.

 

When Iahn was handed his grandfather’s old wooden cane by the old man who had organized the funeral, he held it like it was the most precious thing in the universe, as they buried the elder.

 

As the casket was lowered and dirt was slowly poured on top, Iahn had trouble standing and unknowingly leaned against Yuen. Taehee never let go of his hand, letting Iahn squeeze until his knuckles were white and Taehee’s hand was crumpled in a way that must have hurt, but he didn’t make any move to change it.

 

---

 

Iahn was back to being quiet as they drove home, no sign of the tears from before except puffy, red eyes, staring at nothing out the window; so dry Yuen wondered if he could still see or if he was just content to stare at the blurs as they passed.

 

Iahn didn't even get out of the car when it stopped. Yuen's father glanced in the rearview. It was the first sign of concern Yuen had seen from either parent since they left that morning, but he’s been so focused on Iahn the whole time he barely realized their parents were there at all, so that might not mean anything.

 

It's unusual that his father has nothing to say. No order to give or thought to interject on the situation. Not trying to make it better or resolve things in that efficient way he does with everything in his life. There was nothing to say right now.

 

The parents got out of the car and headed into the house with a mismatched atmosphere. His father’s somber attitude clashed with the ill-fitting — but at least quiet —  indifference from Iahn’s mother.

 

Yuen reached over the backseat and unbuckled Iahn’s belt for him before doing his own. He walked around the side of the car and opened the door. Iahn didn’t move.

 

Yuen stared at him for a minute, Iahn’s eyes a thousand miles away, and ignored the sympathetic ache in his chest as he reached in and gently took Iahn’s hand, slowly pulling him from the car.

 

Iahn cooperated in the way a game NPC would — not even that, more like a mount whose AI was only designed to follow and stay when told.

 

Yuen closed the door behind them and led Iahn inside. Instead of going upstairs, Yuen took him to the living room and sat him down on the couch.

 

Iahn didn’t resist. It was like he wasn’t even there. He didn’t notice when Yuen left, came back, and laid something soft over him.

 

Yuen made sure Iahn’s blanket covered all of him and put his old weighted blanket on him, which is much lighter than his current one.

 

He sat on the floor next to Iahn and turned on the TV, just to have some white noise. He hoped it would help, but honestly, he didn’t know. He didn’t know what to do other than what his friends did for him when he was having a depressive episode. It wasn’t the same, but it wasn’t too different either.

 

Yuen ran a hand through his hair, pulling the near-white strands off his forehead as he looked at Iahn. He hesitated before taking Iahn’s hand and held it firmly. Iahn didn’t return the grip, but it was enough that his eyes moved to stare at the larger pale hand wrapped around his and didn’t pull away.

 

Yuen sat like that for the rest of the afternoon and didn’t see their parents the entire time. At some point, he began brushing soothing circles over Iahn’s finger with his thumb, and eventually, those tired, puffy eyes closed. Even after Iahn was asleep, Yuen stayed seated until his back and legs were aching.

 

---

 

The weekend had passed, and Yuen was worried. Iahn had stopped eating on his own. He wouldn’t seek food out even after several hours had passed between his last meal.

 

Yuen brought him food, but he had to wait until Iahn’s stomach was painful enough to make him cooperate. Sometimes Yuen had to put it directly in his hand before he would even look at it.

 

Yuen stayed home from school, taking full advantage of the time they’d been given off.

 

His friends came over to check up on them and to give them the homework they were missing, and Iahn’s sat untouched next to his backpack.

 

Casey made food and treats, anything that would entice Iahn to eat, and Yuen has never made so much hot chocolate in his life. He knew the recipe by heart now. It’s the only thing Iahn willingly sought to eat of his own accord.

 

Yuen had to make the boy shower, and he hadn't brushed his teeth in almost two weeks.

 

As much as he tried to reorganize his schedule to stay at home and take care of Iahn, it was never going to last. Yuen finally had to go out, and leave Iahn alone for a few hours. Which is how he found himself standing outside of his father’s home office.

 

This is the first time since before his mom was still around, that Yuen has asked his dad for a favor.

 

He took a breath before knocking on the open door, “Hey, dad?”

 

The busy man glanced up from the screen in front of him, “What is it?”

 

“I have to leave for a bit, will you...check in on Iahn every couple hours while I’m gone?”

 

The rapid clicking of the keyboard continued as the man finished whatever he was typing before replying with less enthusiasm than he would have liked, “Sure.”

 

“Thanks.” Yuen nodded, heading back to his room to grab his stuff. That wasn’t exactly as reassuring as he wanted, but at least he agreed.

 

He tucked away the unsettling feeling in his stomach, ignoring the nausea that swirled there as he collected his things and headed out.

 

If Yuen had known what those few hours would bring, he never would've left.

 

---

 

Iahn heard noises from the other room but he didn’t bother to listen, staring at the loose thread on his sheet and slowly running his finger over it again and again.

 

He didn’t hear the stomping until his bedroom door was kicked open.

 

Normally, it would have scared him enough to jump out of his skin and give the intruder his full attention, but not today. Iahn didn’t move from the warm cocoon of his bed as his mother came in, a deep scowl on her manicured eyebrows, and artificially pink lips pursed when her gaze landed on him.

 

Any other day he would have shrunk in on himself and avoided looking at her, but today, he just stared. His gaze didn’t move from his thread and his finger continued to stroke as the hurtful words slipped through his ear and settled into the dark water of the growing pit inside him, sinking into the depths.

 

“Useless kid.”

 

“Man up, it's not like you didn't see this coming. What did you expect? That he was gonna be here forever? You knew he was gonna die someday, everything dies eventually.”

 

“God— you're such a disappointment. This isn’t how I raised you. My son was supposed to be a handsome, charming, strong boy who grew up to be smart and rich. Someone I would want to keep around, and here I ended up with you. A whiny crybaby, scared of his own shadow.”

 

“God, no wonder no one can stand you. Not even that foul-mouthed, old man of a step-son.”

 

Iahn turned his face into his pillow and pulled his blanket over his head.

 

This is too much.