Page 4 of We May Be Fractured

Just as Luffy tried to pull himself together, Cliff showed up, his timing perfect. He stumbled towards them, almost tripping over his own feet. With a decisive shove, Cliff squeezed himself between them, nearly sending Luffy toppling.

Cliff’s eyes, bleary and bloodshot, zeroed in on the joint, which he quickly grabbed from Aaron. “Why didn’t you lads tell me the party was out here?”

As strong as the weed smell was, Aaron couldn’t ignore the unmistakable blend of vodka and sweat emanating from his friend. Cliff appeared messier than when they arrived, with greasy hair and one sleeve of his jumpsuit dangling behind his back.

“I’ll go, then.” Luffy took the opportunity to remove himself from the tense situation. He started towards the window with heavy steps but paused, turning back to face Aaron.

Their eyes locked in an intense, silent exchange that Aaron couldn’t understand.

Then, Luffy extended two plastic bags of weed towards him as a peace offering. “Looks like you need this more than I do.”

“Keep it,” Aaron declined, still annoyed by their exchange.

“Oh, come on. Take it,” Cliff chimed in. He swiftly pocketed one bag, while sliding the other into Aaron’s. “Might come in handy, you know.”

Before Aaron could make sense of what just happened, Luffy leaned in, his tone soft yet pointed.

“Have a good trip, Aaron. Whatever, or whoever , you’re looking for, I hope they’re worth it.” He paused, holding Aaron’s gaze with a peculiar intensity. “And for the record, it didn’t work for me either. You kiss like a straight guy.”

With those parting words, Luffy left the balcony, leaving them to freeze in the frosty air. Aaron frowned, confusion and annoyance brewing inside him. What was that even supposed to mean?

“What’s wrong with you?” Cliff asked, elbow propped on the railing as he tried to keep himself upright. It was remarkable, though, how he managed to steadily hold the nearly burned-out joint between his fingers.

“Nothing,” Aaron replied, his eyes still lost beyond the glass.

“You said goodbye to an easy shag.”

“Seriously?” The guy didn’t appeal to Aaron, but that didn’t make Cliff’s comment any less shallow.

“I mean…You two hooked up at Henry’s party, right?”

“So?”

“So, it would’ve been easy to go for another round.”

“Doesn’t matter. Sex isn’t my top priority.”

Cliff stared at him with that same baffled expression as if he were talking to someone from another planet.

“Come on, Aaron, you’ve got twice the playing field as I do. Blokes, gals…” He had that glint in his eyes, half envy, half confusion. “You mean to tell me, out of everyone here tonight, not one person’s caught your fancy? You’re too picky, mate!”

Aaron shrugged. It wasn’t a matter of preference, but indifference. Despite what Cliff thought, being bi didn’t guarantee more opportunities. It just expanded the range of people he wasn’t attracted to.

“Man, you’re such a drag,” Cliff grumbled, visibly disappointed.

“I’m good. I don’t need anything or anyone,” Aaron insisted.

Cliff sighed, then tried to rally. “I hoped you’d have a bit of fun on your last night, you know?”

Aaron pulled out his phone and earphones, flashing the screen at Cliff to show the TV series on his list. “This is my kind of fun.”

Shaking his head with a resigned look, Cliff took a final puff and flicked the stub onto the path below. He punched Aaron playfully on the arm before heading off to chat up someone else.

Alone once more, Aaron could finally relax.

Before starting the series, he glanced at the four numbers ticking away in the corner of his screen.

For most, they just tracked time, but for Aaron, they counted down to a new chapter.

In a few hours, he’d be on his way to Heathrow, boarding a flight to Australia.

Despite what he’d told Aunt Olivia, Aaron was tired of drifting, feeling like a shell filled with nothing but a consuming emptiness. Light as a cloud, like the smoke he’d released into the night air earlier, it filled him up, leaving no space for anything bright or joyful.

As the episode played out some ordinary life scenes—well, as ‘ordinary’ as any scripted scene could get—Aaron found himself yearning for simplicity of waking up to the smell of fresh coffee, days packed with laughter and friends, treating himself to burgers and junk food.

More than anything, he yearned for a place he could fit.

Somewhere to belong.

Home .

Aaron had been so absorbed in his show that he only noticed Cliff’s return when his earphones were yanked out.

“Police! Police! Police are here!” Cliff panted, his eyes wide and wild. He grabbed Aaron’s arm, pulling him towards the door. “Bloody cunt next door… We need to leave. Now.”

Dread prickled through Aaron. His costume reeked of booze and smoke, the smell clinging to the fabric, making his nose wrinkle. He just wanted a hot shower and a warm bed.

Trailing behind Cliff, he manoeuvred down the cluttered staircase, sidestepping toppled cups and forgotten food. However, their exit wasn’t to be so easy. A policewoman blocked their path at the bottom of the stairs.

“Not so fast, boys.” She eyed them suspiciously. “Are you both eighteen?”

Cliff’s laughter cut through the tension.

Despite being legal for a while, his youthful appearance often invited such questions.

“It’s the Japanese-Korean genes,” he’d often joke.

“ I’m destined to look like a teenager until I suddenly Yoda overnight.

” It was as if he was always going to be either way too young or way too old, with no in-between.

“We’re both of age,” Aaron snapped, trying to edge past the policewoman towards the exit. “Can we just go home?”

“I’m afraid not.” She stood firmly in their way. “You both look underage and stink of booze and weed.”

“We’re not underage. I’ve got IDs,” Cliff slurred, fumbling with his jacket. As he yanked the cards free, the bag of weed hit the floor with them.

“Well, well, well,” the policewoman said, bending to pick it up. She gave him a look that was half strict, half amused. “What do we have here? Care to explain how you got this?”

Cliff blinked, too far gone to answer.

Aaron’s heart raced. If they searched him next, they’d find the other one. He shifted back a step.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the policewoman said sharply. “You’re next. Hands where I can see them.”

“I don’t have anything,” Aaron insisted, but she was already patting him down.

“Well, well, well,” she repeated, more seriously this time, as she pulled the second bag from his jacket. “Two supposed minors with drugs.”

“That’s not mine,” Aaron blurted, just as Cliff mumbled, “We’re not minors.”

“Are you carrying more? Were you planning to sell these?”

“Wait, what? No—” Aaron stammered. “I didn’t even use it.”

“Doesn’t matter. Possession of cannabis is still illegal.”

Sweat beaded at Aaron’s forehead. “Listen, I’m just caught up in this.” He spun on Cliff. “This is your fault. You stuffed it in my pocket.”

Cliff’s head snapped up. “What the fuck, Aaron? You throwing me under the bus now?”

“ You ’re the one who took it and insisted I hold it,” Aaron shot back. “You always do this—get shitfaced and drag me down with you because you can’t handle being bored for five minutes. But not this time. I’ve got plans.”

Cliff squinted at him, swaying. “Oh, right. Your precious plans. You’ve always had something more important going on.”

“Yeah. I do. You’ve got nothing but the next party.”

“God, you’re such a wanker,” Cliff spat, trying to look mad but struggling to keep his balance. He aimed a punch at Aaron, but it was so weak it barely landed.

“Boys,” the policewoman cut in. “Maybe save this for another time. You’re both in a bad spot already.”

Aaron turned to her. “Oh, please. Just take him. He’s the one who’s clearly wasted.”

Cliff’s second punch hit Aaron’s shoulder, still sloppy but enough to shock.

Aaron, more frustrated than hurt, simply pushed Cliff back. It wasn’t hard given Cliff’s state. Drunk and high, he was no match for Aaron.

“Enough.” The policewoman pulled them apart and called over another officer to help, especially with Cliff, who was still trying to punch Aaron in the face.

She then crouched to scoop up their fallen IDs. “ Cliff Jung ,” she read, scrutinising the first card. Then she examined the second. “ Aaron Walsh .”

Hearing his surname sent a chill down Aaron’s spine, a reminder of a family that no longer was.

The officer’s gaze flicked between them a few times, stern and assessing. She pocketed the IDs and, with help from her colleague, escorted Aaron and Cliff outside.

They went quietly at first. But as they neared the police car parked at the kerb, panic set in. Aaron couldn’t afford any delays, not with his flight to Australia, his new life, just hours away. A summer job waited for him, a home, and the Southern Lights that Tori had always talked about.

He’d promised her.

With a swift motion, Aaron unzipped his jacket and prepared to run as fast as he could. But the officer was quick, and a slippery puddle didn’t help. Aaron threw an elbow, managing to hit the policeman’s stomach, but he was swiftly pulled back towards the car.

“You’re making a mistake,” he insisted, struggling. “I’ve nothing to do with this.”

“We’ll decide that after a nice chat at the station,” the policewoman replied, unflappable as she opened the car door and gestured for them to get in the back.

Once they were inside, Aaron didn’t give up. He lunged for the door handle, trying to escape, but it was no use; the door was secured. Cliff, on the other hand, sat quietly in his spot.

The officers settled into the front seats. The policewoman, gripping the steering wheel, finally broke the silence, staring at them in the rearview mirror.

“Jung and Walsh,” she said, emphasising their last names with what sounded to Aaron like a bit of satisfaction. “Looks like your party’s over.”