Motivated by... something, Shay finished her fries and managed half of her chicken sandwich.

She had no problems finishing her donut, though. It was a nostalgic flavor.

It reminded her of her mom’s nian gao, a memory she had locked away from too, too many years ago.

Lunar new year.

It was funny... Whenever Shay thought of the new year, she didn’t think of the Song family’s dumplings. She thought of her mom’s sticky rice cakes.

She remembered when she was a kid, hopping around the kitchen, waiting for them to be done.

Dad waited until after they were cooked and fried, but she and Mom liked to eat them still warm from the steamer.

“My mom died when I was really young,” she said, “Then it was just Dad who raised me until I was 10...”

She took an unsteady breath. There was so much on her mind and her usual filters had all flipped to off-- “Dad had to move for work and I-- I don’t know what I was thinking when I decided to stay here. My aunt and uncle, they really don’t give a shit about me.”

She gulped and closed her eyes, “It’s just... I think whenever Dad looked at me, he was reminded of Mom. And I guess... I was the same.”

“That... sounds like a basic communication problem,” Tyvan said. “A... perceived notion of guilt, perhaps? Have you discussed this with your father?”

“Uh... no?” Shay squeaked.

“The death of your mother… the feelings borne of it-- I’d imagine you two have more in common than otherwise.”

“Y-yeah,” Shay said. “Probably...”

That was a dumb realization. That seemed... so very important to talk about.

“It is not my place to say what you should or should not do,” Tyvan said. “But such a discussion, I believe, would honor her memory.”

Shay pursed her lips, taking a deep breath through her nose.

Yeah.

She needed to do that.

It was going to be hard. It was going to be painful.

She didn’t know her mom that well, but she still loved her. And she still missed her... so very much.

She loved her dad, too. She was lucky to still have him. He didn’t live close-by, but he was still only a phone call away.

Knowing him, there was no way he’d bring up that kind of serious topic. He’d probably try to change the subject. Maybe he’d just get moody and quiet.

Whenever anyone brought up Mom, the pain in his eyes-- it was just so clear.

Shay remembered him looking at Mom’s picture on the mantle of their old apartment. Even on the day of the funeral, he stood in front of her portrait with a blank stare... looking so hurt but refusing to shed any tears-- show any emotion.

“And, once addressed,” Tyvan said, “perhaps you can move on, or-- at least begin the healing process. The past should not be that which holds us captive.”

“What if... I don’t want to be free?” Shay said quietly.

She looked up to find Tyvan staring at her.

Was he frustrated? Disappointed?

He closed his eyes and sighed. And when he opened them again, they were... almost gentle.

Shay was guessing. It was hard to know for sure.

“Your past will always be yours, Yan Xue,” he said. “But you must grow. We live only in the present. And from the present, our time is best spent looking to the future.”

Shay reached her hand out.

She didn’t know why she did.

She didn’t even think it felt appropriate.

But she... she just wanted his touch.

Tyvan took her hand without hesitation.

Shay felt her lips quivering... and her eyes started to sting.

“I... was so lost before I met you,” she said. “My home life sucked. I didn’t have any friends. Every day felt endless... and more of the same, horrible, frustrating problems... over and over again.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“And then you broke the cycle,” Tyvan said, granting her a proud, intentful nod.

“It broke on its own,” Shay sighed. “It shattered to pieces after... a murder. And-- and I think he was killed by magic... or something like it.”

Tyvan narrowed his eyes. “Go on...”

He didn’t sound like he doubted her at all. But maybe he did. Even if magic-- or whatever Tyvan did back at the hotel was real, that didn’t mean vampires were too.

But even if she was being ridiculous... Shay felt like she needed to tell someone about everything weighing her down.

“His name... was James Price,” she said. “He... was almost a friend. Raia came to the school to look into him.”

Tyvan squeezed her hand, “Yan Xue... Shay... I’ll take care of it. That is not your burden to carry.”

Shay sniffed-- “Tyvan...”

“You’ve been very brave, thus far,” Tyvan said. “I needn’t be the one to say it, but I’m certain that your mother would have been very proud of you.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

That was just too much.

Shay sat up and reached over the table, hugging Tyvan as best she could.

Her legs got caught between the plastic bench and the tabletop-- and it kinda hurt, but she was determined not to let go.

Other people were looking-- she was sure of it... the other late-night diners, the staff...

--but she didn’t care.

----------------------------------------

The rest of that night was a blur.

Once they got back in the car, Tyvan just... drove around. They talked for awhile-- mostly her just babbling on about whatever was on her mind.

--that she hated pretending to feel normal at school.

--that most coffee didn’t taste as good as it smelled.

--about how finicky plants were to take care of...

Shay figured she must have fallen asleep being exposed to the evening ambiance, the low rumble of Tyvan’s car-- that feeling of warmth and safety.

She woke up in her room at Elysium.

But she woke up wearing her pajamas.

Who did it?

Who changed her?

She buried her face into her pillow, taking a big sniff for clues.

No sandalwood.

Hmmm...

--but that didn’t mean that Tyvan didn’t NOT sleep with her!

She checked under her clothes. Everything under there was the same as what she wore the night before. It didn’t even match!

Did he see it? Did he think she NEVER matched her underwear?! She had to tell him! She had to make sure he knew he was wRoNG!

She put on her house slippers and headed to the door.

...She stopped and went to the bathroom and brushed her teeth.

Then she brushed her hair.

A half-hour later, she’d done all her regular morning things-- though maybe a bit faster and frantically than usual. That gave her more than enough time to think it over (and also go over all the cringe things she remembered saying and doing.)

Talking to Tyvan about anything that they talked about... or anything that happened... sounded like a disaster. She’d exposed the entirety of her heart in the middle of a Dragon Burger.

--not even on a cozy beach house or at a night festival right before the fireworks or... in front of a gothic castle right before the final push to end the evil overlord’s reign.

And she probably said or did something embarrassing that she didn’t remember!

--something she’d regret when she finally did! Forever!

Shay stayed in her room for the rest of the Saturday, studying while subsisting on cup noodles.

Sunday was more or less the same.

She did have brunch with Heidi, though. She made this lovely fresh herb paste that was perfect with toast.

And she wasted way too much time watching Korean dramas with Yeonha (with subtitles on!)

She didn’t see Tyvan or Raia or Bishop. But they were probably busy. Tyvan always seemed like he had somewhere to go, somewhere where he needed to be...

And Raia, she was probably just lost.

It continued like that into Monday-- still no sign of Tyvan.

It made Shay wonder if she’d done something wrong.

Was she going to get fired?

What would she do if she got fired? Did that mean she had to stop visiting Heidi? (No way. She’d hold onto Heidi until the end of time-- even if she had to convince her that they needed to run away together and plant evergreens in the Canadian wilderness.)

Shay calculated all the hours that had gone by without seeing Tyvan. She compared that to the hours she saw him the week before.

She made averages. She made an approximate graph with marker-colored lines.

She made up three or four hypothetical situations-- arguments? Confrontations? She mapped out exactly what she’d say. She wrote them down and rehearsed her lines in the shower.

And then it was Tuesday.

Physically and mentally exhausted. Her mind filled with imagined scenarios, the best ways to navigate through each, and the worst ways she had to avoid at all costs.

Between classes, someone approached her desk-- and she wasn’t at all ready for it.

“Hey,” that person said. “You look tired.”

Shay lifted her head off her crossed arms, blinking her eyes to adjust to the sunlight.

She took a look at who was speaking to her...

--and she immediately stood up and power-walked out of the classroom.