Realistic or Modern all these empty pudding cups

[mon]

I swear to myself that I'll think of a better title but for now, this is what you get.​

This is a series of drabbles for r4pf because aster keeps spamming me with modern hcs and I need to write my heart out or it'll explode. Naturally, I'm not alone in this hell.

 

[mon]

CASSETTE

Jiang Ruyin lives in a yesterday.

She lives in a day where she is still twenty-two. She still works at a daycare, composing music as a part-time job, growing strawberries in her garden. She waters them every evening and in the morning, she weeds out the bad branches to allow room for growth. It is November 25th, but her calendar whispers January and in her ignorance, she gets up and remembers nothing of it.

That was who she is. A girl whose time had froze.

 

[Aster]

Everything about Lan Yuhuan is white.

White shirt, white pants, white coat, white room. It is a staple in his life, a reflection of his mind. It is clean and clear, without blemish, without stain.

But at the center of it all was a splatter of paint, the color of void. It sucks out tranquility, feeding off chaos. Like a parasite, the empty space eats away at the blank canvas. The void is named Jiang Ruyin.

 

[mon]

The alarm sounds at 6 AM, every morning without fail. The sky is still dark and Ruyin sees that the sky isn’t snowing, despite it being winter. The cold greets her as she gets up. Tea is made after the strawberries are pruned.

An unfinished melody fills the hour just before she has to leave for work. Her fingers dance across white and black, the piano hums under the weight as she composes. From time to time, she stops to scribble notes on an empty bar. She wonders if she’d ever finish the piece. The song comes to her like a forgotten dream.

At 8 AM, Ruyin leaves the house and she is greeted by an unfamiliar face. He’s dressed completely in clean pressed whites. Ebony locks make a striking contrast and his smile is warm when he sees her. Both their doors hang ajar, having opened at the same time.

She studies him for less than a second and concludes that he must be the new tenant her landlord mentioned. His smile is returned, and Ruyin finds that it is hard not to warm to him immediately. Something about him is comforting. Familiar.

But that is impossible.

 

[Aster]

He knows her better than she knows herself. At 8 AM, he opens the door and she greets him without fail. It’s been like this for years now. He has lived across from her for six years. This scene has played 2190 times. Today marks the 2191th.

He knows she doesn’t remember him. He’s heard her explanation countless times, all from different mouths. The doctors say it’s a form of anterograde amnesia. They say it’s caused by trauma, a wound too deep for her mind to fathom and thus it plays her days out like a broken record, each day restarting at midnight, automatically without fail. They say it can’t be cured or treated, that only time could give results.

He’s heard this all from a myriad of doctors. There isn’t a single one whom he hasn’t consulted. Yuhuan is a doctor and he knows the truth for himself.

He sees her everyday at 8 AM and falls and hurts and pins. Even though he loves her, she lives in a time where she hasn’t yet met him.

 

[mon]

She introduces herself like she always has. First with a smile and then with her name. She asks him for his and he answers that he’s Yuhuan, a doctor who works at the hospital located at the end of the block. Her daycare is in the opposite direction.

They make idle chatter as they enter the lift together. He asks her about music, she tells him that she’s composing. The conversation is light and talking to him is easy. When she looks up at him, she sees that he’s hesitating. There is a small knit in-between his brows which seems out of place considering how everything about him is smooth lines and straight cuts.

It's strange, she thinks, that something is capable of troubling this man she's just met. He gives off an air of grace and repose, reminding her of the still pool of water she's seen in March. That pool had mirrored the sky: clear and empty. There was nothing which rippled its surface and that was the impression Yuhuan gave her.

She opens her mouth to ask just as the elevator bell rings.

 

[Aster]

There is hesitation as the elevator descends. In the space there is Yuhuan, there is Ruyin, and there is a crowd of unanswered questions pressed to his skin. He peruses them at length before finally working up the courage to ask the one he’s most afraid of.

They are three simple words, one a contraction. Each word is laced with underlying desperation. His hope weans when she stares at him, taken off guard by the sheer suddenness of it all. And then she answers, like a hammer slamming against glass, bringing his world to a stop.

“November 25th,” she tells him.

He releases the breath that he doesn’t realize he’s been holding, feeling himself deflate as the weight of reality crushes against him. He forces himself to smile when metal doors open. It doesn't quite reach his eyes and his lips are but a broken line, despite the perfect curve upwards. Inside there is grief. Deep and swimming; contradicting the purpose of a grin.

“Thank you,” he replies.

Thank you, he says, but why does it sound like “I’m sorry."

 

[mon]

The children in her care are bigger than she remembers them to be. They grow up so fast, the top of their heads reaching her mid-thigh instead of knee. They still cling to her skirts and demand treats, but their fingers are no longer sticky and their mouths are rarely stained. It makes clean up easier and everyday, Ruyin is stationed with the same bunch of kids. She remembers them all by name, but today, there is a new girl.

She is a short little one with blunt, black hair tied neatly into a ponytail. Her cheeks are round and fat, and she looks to be around four. Sizhui, the owner of the daycare, tells her that the little girl’s name is Yuheng. For some reason, he doesn’t tell her her surname and Ruyin, by chance, decides not to ask.

She invites Yuheng to play with the other children. She fits right in as though she had always been there, always belonged. The sight warms her heart and after a day’s worth of work, when the skies are dyed a gradient of oranges and indigoes, and the children begin to leave one by one, Yuheng turns to her and with a wide, toothy grin says,

“Thank you, Ruyin Laoshi!”

She waves good-bye to her as Sizhui walks her home. And as Ruyin waves back, she can’t help but wonder, how did Yuheng know her name? All the children know her as Jiang Laoshi. Could she have overheard Sizhui calling her by her first name?

And secondly, why did she look so familiar?

additional notes
*Laoshi means Teacher.
*Jiang is her surname.

 

[Aster]

He smells of antiseptic. The scent clings to his clothes and his skin. His hands bury in his pockets as his white trench coat trails behind him. The sun is setting against his back and he walks, one foot after another, chasing after his own shadow until they reach a set of black, iron-wrought gates.

There is a sign which hangs on the side. It reads, “Gusu Lan DayCare” in colorful block letters. Standing on the other side of the gate, is Jiang Ruyin, who is unaware of his arrival as she strips off a paint-splattered apron. She’s humming to herself as she always does, only stopping when she registers his presence.

He sees that it confuses her, for good reason too. All the children were sent home and he had no reason to be here.

 

[mon]

His appearance came as a surprise, but it isn't an unpleasant one, rather one wrought with scrutinizing curiosity. Ruyin is as kind as she is forgetful, so she approaches him without wariness and shifts her handbag over her shoulder.

“Mister Lan, what are you doing here?” she asks, locking up the gates. The hospital is a walk away and it was odd to see him on the opposite end of his workplace.

 

[Aster]

Yuhuan smiles and uses the same excuse he always uses.

“I was running an errand. It’s a coincidence to run into you,” he lies, almost effortlessly. The smile on his face strains. It’s not like she’d remember this anyways.

“Let me walk you home. We’re going in the same direction and it’s dark out.”

 

[mon]

She accepts with little, no hesitation. They’re going in the same direction and the night is as young as the air is warm. A bit too warm for November, she thinks, but doesn’t dwell. She asks Yuhuan about his day, addressing him by his surname until he tells her to stop.

“You can just call me Yuhuan.”

The sudden loss of honorifics brings about an intimacy which has her wavering. She tests the name in her mind and then aloud, on her tongue. The sound of his name brings dawn on his countenance and his smile becomes almost blinding.

“Yuhuan.”

She doesn’t remember what they talk about on their walk back home but she knows that her cheeks are sore and there is a creeping warmth which swells in the depths of her chest. It expands until her toes lift the ground, like a balloon bounding upwards towards the sky. But then, as she closes her apartment door and wishes Yuhuan goodnight, the balloon bursts into bits and pieces, pin pricked by the fact that it is November 25th.

Tomorrow was Zhelan’s birthday.

 

[Aster]

He runs into him on accident.

And when they meet again, Yuhuan’s eyes avert, ashamed, while Zhelan’s turn stormy.

“You’re still here?” he says more than asks. His voice is pinched with irritation, riled by worry and concern. The little girl in his arms shift. She tears her head from the nook of her father’s neck to peer at Yuhuan with wide, coal eyes: the color of her mother’s.

Yuhuan doesn’t answer. He thumbs the papers in his hands and guilt holds his tongue as he skims the results of Patient Z’s blood test. Pancreatic cancer has a survival rate of 20% by the year, 7% in every five. Patient Z is lucky to catch his on early. Yuhuan isn’t.

Seeing how he had no intention of answering, Zhelan could only sigh heavily through his nose. His gaze is pained as he rests a hand on his friend’s shoulder. He feels the bone underneath his palm. How it juts unnaturally instead of fills. It creases his frown and his hand closes in a shaky grip before it retreats back to his side.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Zhelan states the truth, even when it was hard to hear and harder to swallow, “You can’t stay.”

The little girl picks up the strain in her father’s voice, the same tone he uses when he talks about Aunty Jiang. When he uses that voice, it promises nothing good and though she knows nothing of what they speak of, she begins to tear up in apprehension. Her sobs start slow but they startle both Zhelan and Yuhuan.

“Ah, shh, shh. Don’t cry, Yun-er. Why are you crying?” Zhelan coaxes, patting her back to usher back the floodgates in her eyes. “Daddy will get you candy, so stop crying okay? Be a good girl.” His voice is low and his comfort succeeds in reducing her cries to sniffles.

Yuhuan watches the scene with a sense of panged wistfulness. The last time he saw Zhelan was a few years ago, just as he stepped into his early days of fatherhood. It seems he’s gotten the hang of it now. The man looked happier and seeing him happy, made Yuhuan relieved too.

“Really?” the little girl looks up at him hopefully. Her tiny hand stretches out, palms open, expecting her treat immediately. “Yun-er will stop. Will daddy give Yun-er candy now?”

Zhelan was at a loss. He didn’t have any candy on him now and seeing his distress makes Yuhuan chuckle.

“I have some,” he says. Zhelan looks at him like he is his saving grace and a piece of caramel is fished out from his pockets and dropped into little Yun-er’s hands. It’s wrapped in iridescent foil and crinkles when she squeezes it.

“What do you say?” Zhelan reminds as Yun-er tears the wrapper, eyes glistening when the candy pops into her mouth. She remembers her manners a tad too late. Her mouth is sticky with caramel, butchering her words.

“T`ank you, Yuhuan Gege.”

The caramel fills the gap between her tooth and Yuhuan smiles at this.

“You’re welcome,” he says.

They exchange a few more words before Zhelan turns to leave.

“Don’t wait until it’s too late,” Zhelan warns, one last time. He knows it is in vain. As long as Jiang Ruyin stays Jiang Ruyin, his words are nothing but empty syllables thrown into the wind.

Yuhuan could only smile sadly at this and Zhelan can’t help but think, how unfair it is for him to look that way.

“Bye bye, Yuhuan Gege,” Little Yun-er waves from over Zhelan’s shoulder.

Yuhuan waves back in return,

“Bye bye, Yuheng.”

(ooc: I said I wanted a casual RP and here I am typing 600 words off the bat. I hate u for this.)​

additional notes
- the suffix -er is used to show endearment, usually used for children.
- Gege means older brother, but it can be used to address a familiar older male. They aren't blood related.

 

[mon]

She sees him again on November 25th but again has no meaning, because this is the first time she sees him.

“Hello,” she says to him. This time, she’s dressed in a sunflower dress. A cashmere cardigan rolls off her shoulder.

It is very warm this November and it rains more than it snows. Mostly because it isn’t November and it is already mid-April. It hasn’t snowed in the last three months, but Ruyin doesn’t remember. All she knows is that is rained this morning and Sizhui told her the daycare is closed for public holiday.

“Are you the new tenant, Mister Wei’s spoke about?” Her question is innocent and she fails to see how her words make him grimace.

 

[Aster]

He winces more at the mention of Wei Ying than the fact that she’s forgotten him. (It’s a bitter pill he’s learned to swallow but it’s not the one he needs to take.) Their landlord is a handsome but eccentric man, living in his own unpredictable habits. His neighbors tell him that he’s actually a genius prodigy, having struck gold after marrying the son of a wealthy multinational company. From time to time, they reside in the little apartment tucked in the corner of the busy city, away from stench of exhaust, cigarettes and alcohol.

Here, there are only quiet neighborhoods and empty parks, a daycare on one side and a general hospital on the other. There is the occasional flashing of blues and reds from blaring sirens followed by white, red-crossed vehicles and panicked urgency. And then sometimes there is nothing at all but asphalt stages and streetlamp spotlights; their only audience are the stray cats which wander from wall to wall, kept fat by the generous offerings each door has to bring them.

Today, Yuhuan was feeding one of those strays and he feels the rumble of a purr in his hands as the can of tuna is devoured before him. Those same hands stiffen when his eyes look up and his heart lodges somewhere between his throat and his chest, sandwiched in-between his ribs.

The sight of her still makes him falter.

He nods with a jerk of his chin and then stops to stand. Ginger needle threads cling to ends of his pants. The cat hair stands out strikingly when he’s dressed utterly in white and Wei Ying’s comment echoes in his mind, “You’re a lot like Lan Zhan. You guys are always dressed like you’re ready for a funeral.”

The comment had his expression stiffening and while Yuhuan knew the man meant no malice, his hands clenched into clammy fists and he couldn't help but mentally fidget in morbid irony. He’s a doctor meant to save but maybe, in more ways than one, he’s preparing for an obsequy.

It wasn’t until Lan Wangji, ever impassive, silently slipping his hand into Wei Ying’s palm, did the dark-haired landlord utter his apology. This time, he wasn’t laughing and Yuhuan didn’t like the way his partner, who like him, dressed from head to toe in the shade of ivory, stared at him like he knew something. Like his eyes were dissecting the truths he hid underneath the layers of clothing he wore, a specimen squirming underneath a microscope. He nodded at him once before disappearing with Wei Ying.

Meeting the landlord was underwhelming. Meeting his husband was overwhelming.

The memory has him somber when he picks the cat hair off him and introduces himself for the as Lan Yuhuan for the 2298th time. This time, however, he's feeling particularly braver and terrifyingly more determined. This time when Yuhuan smiles at her, he doesn't start with just hello or good-bye, or the three-worded question which tortures him to ask. He opens his mouth and he starts, with a bit of life in his eyes, borrowed from the man named Wei Ying:

"Would you like to grab lunch with me?"

additional notes
- in traditional Chinese culture, white clothing is symbolic for the dead

 

[mon]

The words take her by surprise as it would anyone, but she stares instead of startles, and then considers instead of deny. There's something about the man that's familiar, but she knows that is impossible. His face was unlike any other she's seen, handsome and flawless in its own perfection. She would've remembered him if she's seen him, but she hasn't so she doesn't.

There is nothing for her to do today and she was going to go out for lunch anyways. Having him join along seems like a harmless request, so she smiles and accepts his offer.

They leave for a cafe around the block with bright yellow parasols and colorful shaved ice desserts that seem popular around this time. Flowers crowd vases, each centered on round tabletops. They're in full bloom like the strawberries in her yard. All ripe and matured, months early for spring.

They talk about her latest song, how he caught her playing in the early morning. She tells him how she's close to finishing, but confesses that she often can't remember *yesterday's notes.

"It's a present for a friend. His birthday is tomorrow," she tells him, the smile on her face turning very small but just as warm. There is a longing in her eyes that matches Yuhuan, except she doesn't see it. Not his nor her own.

(ooc: a casual rp, he says. less than 100 words, he says)​

additional notes
*everyday she adds to the song she composes, but because she can't remember anything past November 25th, she believes that the new notes are from "yesterday".

 

[Aster]

After 5000 years of procrastination, aster finally posts.

The mention of a birthday has Yuhuan stiffening. The smile plastered on his face becomes apparently strained, only seen briefly before it was hidden by the white porcelain brought to his lips. The taste of burnt coffee beans stays on his tongue, making his mouth bitter.

“Can I hear it?” he asks, after a moment’s quiet contemplation.

 

[mon]

(ooc: omg you took so long that rpn actually unwatched this thread for me)​

His request catches Ruyin off guard, but she nods. Yuhuan pays for the bill and they leave back the way they came from. The walk is pleasant. The smell of rain is in the air and the grass is still wet with dew and the morning’s light drizzle. Along the sidewalk, a little snail creeps with them and Ruyin carefully transfers it from the pavement to the grass.

Yuhuan shoots her a questioning look and she laughs lightly in explanation. “I’m worried it’ll get stepped on.” She sees him nod and is grateful for his understanding.

When they return back, her apartment is a familiar sight to her as though burned into her mind. She’s certain that even with her eyes closed, she could maneuver around effortlessly.

There is no mess in the place Ruyin stays. It’s all clean colors and faded tablecloths. Sunlight filters in through her windows. The laced curtains does little to stop their entry. It’s small and quaint, designed in a petite manner with the smell of violets hanging in the air. A vase full of them sits on empty countertops.

Everything is clean except the area where her piano is. A stack of paper lays scattered with a pencil always nearby for sudden inspiration. She’s hardly embarrassed for the mess, although she knows she should be. Somehow, she feels that Yuhuan would understand.

Gathering the papers into a neat stack, she lays “yesterday’s” sheet out before her. She could remember everything else.

With Yuhuan seated, she started playing. The familiar melody surrounds at atmosphere, creating a bubble of nostalgia and heavy emotion. They say music can move one's soul. Ruyin was doing just that.

click to play (there's a 3 sec delay)

 

[Aster]

The melody imposes in on one's mind and soul like the breath of a whisper, the hush of wind. It is delicate and slow, yet heavy laden in its very first notes. The progression of chords struck one in his heart. It is an unavoidable pain which weighs on his conscience and he closes his eyes to block out his sins.

He's heard this song before, just once before he reunited with her on that fateful night. Back then, it had been a humming melody. Completed, not fragmented like the song she plays now. The note-filled papers were neat in a folder crumpled to her chest and she had been walking back and forth, in clear conflict and debate on what to do.

Back then, Ruyin was nothing to him but another pretty face. The kind soul in him reached out to her and sought to ease her worries. They had been sitting on a bench in the park. The sun had set and it was just early evening. Somewhere in the distance, further into the municipal park, were voices, music and lights. A birthday celebration was being held for Nie Zhelan, a close friend Yuhuan had made in high school. It was his twenty-second birthday and the male had not stumble into this area by mere chance. Thinking about it now, perhaps it was serendipity for him to have ran into Ruyin before Zhelan.

He had asked her what plagued her and for some reason elusive to him, Ruyin had chose to open up, admitting that she was struggling with her confession. How could Yuhuan had known that the one she planned to confess to was Zhelan? The same Zhelan who was planning to propose to his high school sweetheart this very night. He could not take back his encouragement, the kind words which gave Ruyin the courage needed to run face first to her doom, her glass heart into a brick wall, allowing it to shatter in collision.

Yuhuan couldn't have known any of it.

But he saw first-hand what his actions had done. How it caused Ruyin to run off with a tear-stained face towards the flashing lights out on the road.

It was an accident. A terribly fatal accident, where music sheets were thrown into the air, trampled by the weight of screeching tires. They scattered around Yuhuan, falling like ghostly spirits to haunt him in his future.

In the past, Yuhuan had been a skilled pianist with a bright future in the musical world. But now, he is unable to bear the sight of music sheets. The notes and bars wrap around him like shackles keeping him from playing. When he stares into it, all he sees is red and the horrifyingly pale face of Jiang Ruyin.

"You missed a note," Yuhuan says, surprisingly without much thought. It slips before he could stop it and his walls were greatly lowered after being transported to a less-than-pleasant memory in his past. Music had a way of doing that: resurfacing unwanted evocations.

 

[mon]

His comment takes her off-guard. A wrong note? How is that possible? The song she played was an original composed by herself. If she were to play a wrong note, she would've been the first person to notice. Not to mention this ought to be the first time Yuhuan's heard her play...

But Ruyin was never someone quick to judge. She puts aside presumption and asks him for clarification. When Yuhuan points out that a C note ought to be played after the A minor, Ruyin brings it to test and is amazed to see that it does fit better that way. Without the note, it seemed almost missing, but how did Yuhuan know? She had not even thought of adding the C there, not in her playing nor her notes.

"Yuhuan," She looks up at him quizzically, "You play piano?"

It was a logical assumption.

 

[Aster]

A blunder. An obvious and clear blunder. Yuhuan would've cursed at himself if he was the type. Instead, he smiled and simply nodded, opting for the truth.

"I used to," he says, his fingers sliding across the white keys. Long and slender, cool to the touch. Once upon a time, he was on his way to become a famed pianist. Now, he could not even touch the keys without feeling the surge of guilt overwhelm him. "I was part of the Huaisang Arts and Music center."

 

[mon]

The name strikes her with a spark of familiarity.

"You," she blinked in surprise, recalling a senior male in her class who was a head above others in piano. She had looked up to him greatly and he had helped her enough times for her to gratefully remember him. Unfortunately, shy Ruyin had never asked the male of his name but she always had a hunch that perhaps, she would be able to recognize him in the future. That would explain why Yuhuan looked so familiar to her.

"Were you in Class A under Lan Xichen?" she asked, hopeful.

 

[Aster]

The question seemed random at first glance but Yuhuan understood what she was alluding to.

“Yes,” he answered with a small smile, “His brother was my personal mentor for awhile.” He added, watching the gears in Ruyin’s head run, connecting one face with another. This revelation had came to him months ago and he knew the girl as one of his peers in the music center long ago.

 

[mon]

Could it be?

His answer was enough confirmation and she gasps silently, now “understanding” why he seemed so familiar. (It is so much more than an old face in a distant morning. Yuhuan was her everyday.) With shy hesitation, Ruyin shared her discovery in meekness, only to light up upon the male’s confirmation.

“So you are the one who’s helped me all those years ago,” Ruyin said with misplaced appreciation, “I never got to thank you for it.”

 

[Aster]

“You already have,” Yuhuan thinks to himself, the smile on his face ever placid. “You don’t have to,” he tells her, watching as her expression turn into that familiar resolve, so gentle yet strong, as she insists.

“You paid for my meal. At least let me return the favor,” Ruyin says, despite the skies growing dark, the clouds heavy with April showers.

It’s too early for them to grab another meal and Yuhuan knew that it would be crossing his boundaries to call her out for dinner. He had used up most of his will just asking her for lunch, so he says nothing for a moment and merely considers the future he’d never experience.

“Tomorrow then,” Yuhuan says, voice more quiet than its ever been. Something in his eyes break. “If you remember.”

Though the words were meant mostly as a deprecating reminder to himself, it is said aloud for the both of them.