With the day of departure soon approaching, John found himself thrown into a flurry of activities in the lead-up to his big adventure. He had enough winter clothes to take with him and a pair of boots in case it was wet or snowed, so it was more about buying things like souvenirs, frantically going over his Japanese textbooks to make sure he knew how to say what he needed to, and of course, trying to catch up with friends before he disappeared.

On the same day, three days before he left, John was having dinner with Dra and the gang in the city and had managed to get Kane to make time after his shift later that night. John always found that when it rained, it poured. Not only were there two social engagements on the same day but the same night. John didn’t tell anyone he was meeting Kane. His friends would be outraged to know he was finishing up a night with them prematurely for a boy.

“So did you ever hear from that guy from the club?”

“Hmm? Which one?” John asked aloofly.

Dra clapped his hands, “Look at this ho! He doesn’t even remember who he kissed.”

“Ohhh Kane? Yeah, we talk but he’s slow to reply.”

If it came up at a later date, John would just say he got a call from him before he left and they met up. No one needed to know specifically when.

John was good at lying, and it pained him that he could do it so well because he felt so inauthentic when he did. As inauthentic as he felt, it came so naturally that he wondered whether, in a really warped way, lying was, in fact, him being authentic. It was hard to tell.

At any rate, for now, he justified his lies in that they weren’t significant; no one was being hurt, and if anything, it served for some kind of better interaction with people. If his friends or family never found out about the lies he told, then what was lost apart from John’s apparent authenticity and genuineness? Though even then if a lie was never found out, then was it even a lie? John always found reality bizarre in that sense. Something was technically the truth if someone said it was, and even more so if they convinced those around them it was the case. During sleepless nights when John’s mind came to this – particularly before he came out, there would be moments where he realized that because he convinced some people he was straight, in a sense, he was straight. In people’s minds, he was a heterosexual male and that was a reality. But the more he attempted to do this, then what happened to his existing gay self? If his perceived straight reality ever became so strong that more people genuinely believed he was straight rather than gay, then what would become of him? He knew this didn’t actually mean he would become straight, but his existing self would then be confined to this realm where no one believed or knew about his gay self. This was a lie John was not comfortable continuing.
In the situation John currently found himself in, this was a lie he felt like he could justify. Once he left that dinner, there was no perceivable way that anyone in that group would ever know why he left when he did and for what reason. For all intents and purposes, the meeting would exist in a vacuum. Much in the same way that say if someone went on a vacation where no one knew them, they could be anyone they wanted to be and provided that reality and the one they regularly occupied never collided. What was the harm? There would be none, just a level of risk.

The dinner had finished, and Mary suggested they move to the JWOW wine bar, “Come on, let’s drink because we aren’t gonna see you for months!”

John felt torn; he wanted to have another drink, but he desperately wanted to meet Kane. He knew it would go nowhere and nothing would come of it, but deep down, he knew that if he didn’t meet Kane tonight, he would never move on. John could not have this following him to Japan. The last thing he needed was the spectre of some doomed romance coming with him as baggage. John had enough to take as it was.

He checked the time; he could probably stay for a drink or two, and it was only 7:30, and Kane’s shift wasn’t going to be over until 9:00, so John could stay around until about 8:30.

“Yeah! But I have to be on a tram at about 8:30 because I need to finish packing my room up.” John gave a relatively believable response.

“Ohhh what? Why are you packing your room up? You’re only going for a few months, no?” Kiki was looking at him with her eyebrows raised.

“My parents said they’re gonna do painting while I’m away so it’s easier if most of my stuff is packed up, and I don’t want them to find anything weird.”

Devon chuckled, “Ha! You’re worried they’re gonna find your dildo?”

“I don’t have anything like that!” John felt his cheeks burning. The others laughed, and Kiki rested her head on John’s shoulder, “I’m going to miss our baby!”

The table fell silent for a time. For a moment, John forgot about meeting Kane later on and thought about this group. They really had been there with him through so much; he felt like a part of him was raised by them. He couldn’t find the words immediately but felt like he needed to express something to everyone. Though, somehow the words weren’t… quite… forming…

“Oi! Let’s stop this sappy shit and have a drink. I’m sad enough Johnny won’t be here for three months! Now we know how he felt when we went back home each year during breaks.” Dra clapped his hands and snatched up the bill to pay.

As they walked to JWOW where John stayed for two drinks, any passerby would have seen a group of friends laughing and talking as they marched into a bar. They wouldn’t have known it was a night out before one of them departed.

While they sat in the subdued and cozy basement wine bar, the sun had completely set, and by the time John stumbled out, it was completely dark. Everyone hugged John tight and for a what felt like minutes, no one said word.
“Go eat some sushi and meet some cute boys!” Dra yelled, smiling broadly with his perfect teeth and dark hair framing his face.
“Love you guys! I’ll see you soon.” And with that John went on his way.

John fumbled for a moment and untangled the white cords to put his earphones in. The iPod Shuffle blasted “Electricity” by the Avalanches. But maybe it wasn’t even playing from his little device, it was as if it was playing all around him.

He felt light on his feet and decided to run for the tram. He had no idea if he had just missed it, whether he would just make it, or even if he still had plenty of time. John seemed to float across Swanston Street as he went straight down Little Lonsdale towards Elizabeth Street. The narrowness of the street, the old buildings on either side, and the dark gray shine of the bluestone under the streetlights all stood out. The plane trees that lined the street barely rustled in the light breeze, but John could feel and hear the rustle as if the whole world shivered with excitement just as he did in that very moment.

The world was pushing John in the direction he was meant to be going. He glided right and skirted around the edge of Melbourne Central before weaving through a break in the traffic and getting to the tram stop.

The song continued to blast around him, and John pulled out his earphones and confirmed that his iPod wasn’t playing the song. It was playing all around him. He felt short of breath and closed his eyes momentarily. In that split second, the world changed.

John found himself on an empty Elizabeth Street with no people, cars, or trams. It was just John, the streetscape, and the music. A light fog hung around him and he could only barely make out the end of the street towards Flinders Street Station but noticed two dim lights growing as they moved towards him.

A tram was coming up the empty street.

As it approached, John noticed there was nothing written on the destination, and there was no driver as the tram came to the stop where he was waiting.

John looked around him; it was just him.

The tram doors opened silently as the music came to a slight lull. He felt a tingle wash over him. What was this? He didn’t know what was going on, but he knew that he was getting on this tram. He took one last look around the city.

He wasn’t coming back to this place for a while.

John stepped on wordlessly. The doors closed, and the tram departed.

It was only John on the tram, and he took a seat near the window in the mid-section like he always did. He looked outside, and the street was filled with onlookers waving and clapping at the tram, at John. The closer he looked, he recognized these people from all different times of his life. His kindergarten teacher was there standing next to his Japanese teacher, and then further along were his grandparents and even some of his classmates from primary school. John wondered how drunk he must have been, but it didn’t feel like he was drunk; this was different.

The tram sped up, and all the people he could see disappeared into a blur.

John reclined slightly and felt a deep drowsiness fall over him.

Whatever world John slipped into, he was placed right back into his own as he slept.

There was complete silence and nothingness.

A jolt made John come to. He looked around slightly panicked, where was he?
The tram was crossing over the Moonee Ponds Junction before the stop. John got to his feet and checked the time; it had only been 25 minutes since he got on the tram.

John only remembered leaving JWOW and running to the tram before everything trailed off into some fogginess. He couldn’t seem to remember the tram ride. He must have fallen asleep he thought to himself.
Getting off at the Junction, John felt refreshed, he felt light.
Again, he couldn’t quite place what had been lifted…

Taking out his phone, he sent Kane a message, “Hey I’m here. Let me know when you’re done and where to meet you.”

While waiting, John walked up a deserted Puckle Street with half of its shops vacant and the rest filled with average tenants. The only store he found exciting in the area was the comic book store on Everage Street just off Hall Street. John often bought manga there and frequented it in high school when he used to play Counter Strike with friends at the now-closed internet café on the corner of Everage and Hall. What had it become since it closed… some kind of restaurant or café. Whenever John walked past it, he couldn’t help but feel a little sadness.

John’s phone vibrated, “Finished, meet me in the car park near the Park Street entrance.”

John took a right down the arcade through to Hall Street. It was dark and uninviting with the feint smell of urine lingering in the air. The cream coloured rendered walls were darkened with dust and grime. A mural made by a nearby public primary school made John wonder what the hopes for this arcade were when it first opened. Is this how they imagined it would become?

The side of Hall Street where the arcade led to was desolate since the Old Market had been demolished, and the site remained as a temporary car park.
Development had stalled for various reasons and now the memories of what the market even looked like were beginning to fade. John could only remember one of the entrances and a shop where his grandmother worked at.  He remembered a coin-operated horse ride that would unimaginatively moved up and down for about half a minute before a parent would be required to put in another 30 cents or so. It was all gone now.

John cut right through the Old Market and felt a familiar prickle in the air as he did. No matter when he walked through the Old Market – day or night, he felt something around him. He felt eyes on him but nothing had ever presented itself. What it was, John was not entirely sure.

The Coles car park was nearly empty apart from employees’ cars, and John walked to the opposite end of the comparatively well-lit space to find Kane waiting by the small pedestrian entrance to Park Street.

“Hey,” Kane was still in his work shirt but had a light jumper over the top.

“Hi,” John felt nervous.

“Let’s go for a walk around Queens Park and then I can drop you home?” Kane had already started walking up and out onto Park Street.

John followed without a word.

The park was devoid of people like the rest of the area. People were in their homes doing family things or getting ready to go to work, school, or who knows what. The air was cool and carried the smell of leaves, wood, and nighttime moisture. The darkness engulfing the park was periodically broken by the lamps surrounding the lake and the moon hanging above and giving the everything a silver glow.

“So you’re going? Where was it again?” Kane asked after a long silence.

“I’m going to Japan. I’ll be back, but yeah… I’m leaving.”

“Wow… why though?” He stopped and looked at John.

“Well…I’ve always wanted to go, and long story short, my parents’ friends moved back there and said I could stay with them for a few months so it’ll be really cheap.” John felt himself needing to justify what he was being asked.

Kane chuckled, “Nah, nah, I was just asking. That’s really cool.”

“They eat sushi over there, right?”

“Among other things.” John laughed and rolled his eyes.

Kane smiled, and John realized he was only able to get a proper look at Kane just now. His stubble was brown in some spots and white-blonde ginger in others. His eyes were a light brown, which seemed even more striking against his darker hair. Kane was a little taller than John and seemed athletic judging by the way his clothes hugged his shape. There was no other way about it; Kane was a hottie.

“It’s a shame because I won’t be able to do this with you much longer.” Kane swiftly moved right in and kissed John deeply. The electric feeling spread through John’s body more intensely than it did before.

John kissed back now and between the two, it was a battle of passion. Pushing onto one another against a tree off the path and veiled by the night.

The two wordlessly continued, and Kane’s hands began to move around John’s body and towards his pants. He slipped his hands underneath John’s pants and gently grabbed.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. That’s hot as,” Kane said through his panting.

Kane took John’s hand and directed it downward, where John felt what seemed to be something particularly long and thick, much bigger than his own. John slipped his hand into Kane’s pants to touch it properly; it was warm, almost hot like some living thing. Kane circled his finger over the tip of John’s wet head and slightly under the foreskin.

John pulled back for a moment as his knees weakened in ecstasy.

They kissed some more before John felt Kane’s hand on the top of his head applying downward pressure, “You wanna taste it?”

John nodded wordlessly and let Kane’s hand push him down.

Kane undid his pants and whipped it out in front of John’s face.

It was huge. It looked bigger than it felt in his hand, and John didn’t even know how to approach it.

He looked up at Kane wordlessly. Kane smiled, “Don’t worry, if its too much, just stop at any time.”

With one hand, Kane held himself, dripping wet; he stroked it so the foreskin moved back and forth over the head. With his other hand, he guided John’s head closer to him and moved it towards his mouth. John opened up and felt it slide in.

The taste was sweet and salty; there was the slightest musty smell, and John was unsure what to do but made sure he moved his tongue over gently and avoided his teeth getting involved.

Kane moaned.

John kept going. It didn’t seem so hard, but he could feel his jaw becoming tired, and in the back of his mind, he was also worried that they would be caught. He looked around for a moment, but the park was just as deserted as it was before.

“Don’t worry. I’m keeping a lookout. Keep going; I’m getting close,” Kane said from above.

His grip on John’s head became firmer, and his thrusts became deeper and slightly more frequent. John felt saliva dripping down as it moved in and out of his mouth with increasing intensity. This continued for a time and in the midst of it all, John was hoping he didn’t start gagging and coughing but he seemed to be fine.

Kane’s movements quickened again and his body seemed to tense up as he yelled “Fuck, I’m gonna come!” One last deep thrust, and John felt a warm burst inside his mouth as Kane erupted with an intensity that shook his whole body. There was so much, and John felt that he would either have to swallow it or spit it out; Kane didn’t seem finished yet, so John just swallowed it down.

It was bitter, it was sweet and a little bit salty. Above all of that, it was thick and warm.
Kane stood motionless except for his heavy breathing, and John slowly stood up.

“That was amazing. You’re really good,” Kane was looking at John in disbelief.

“Actually, I’ve never done it before.”

“Get fucked, are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know. I would have been a bit more romantic if I knew that!”

“Nah, I always wanted to, so I’m glad I could.”

“Woah, fuck, okay… orright, let me do you.” Kane got on his knees and unzipped John’s pants. John was still hard and wet.

“Is this a first too?”

John nodded and laughed awkwardly.

“Just relax and enjoy yourself.” Kane winked as he looked up at John.

Kane took John into his mouth. It was warm and soft. Kane’s tongue moved in, over, and around in a methodical pattern. It felt like Kane was trying to pull John further in as he did this, working on him to draw something. John’s eyes closed as he allowed himself to be drawn in further. As he did so, he felt something growing within him, with growing intensity it made him want to thrust further and grow the feeling. He wanted to let it out, and Kane was helping him. John put his hands around Kane’s head and felt his soft hair in his hands.

“I’m close!” John managed as he was taken over by the feeling. It was reaching a point, and he thought he might explode. Kane breathed deeply as he moved harder and faster.

John lost control as his body exploded with fireworks. He could feel himself erupting into Kane’s mouth. Kane drew something out of John that no one else had.

The feeling left, and John felt almost empty; his breathing was quick and sharp.

Kane stood up and kissed him, “How was that?”

“Yeah… good… wow!”

Kane laughed before he stood up and pulled John into a long embrace.

After the two cleaned up, they continued their walk around the lake.

“I’m pretty new to this myself, so I haven’t really been with many guys. Why is this just your first time?”

“Oh, I’ve never really been popular, so no one had ever really shown an interest in me.”

“That’s fucked, and it’s their loss. You’re a sexy guy, and you need to believe that you are.” Kane looked deeply into John as he said this.

John felt like he wanted to say something but couldn’t, didn’t.

The two continued on in silence for a short time.

Queens Park was still at that moment. Ducks hidden away from view chattered in hushed tones. The moon still floated wordlessly in the sky, watching over two souls sharing a moment together.

“I saw this fortune teller a few weeks back; she told me I was going to disappear, and then last week out of the blue, Mum and Dad told me I’m going to Japan.” John stopped for a moment and wondered why he was telling Kane this, but he felt like he needed to share it, “Anyway, since that time, I’ve been having the most weird experiences. I feel like I have nothing left to do here, and the world I exist within now knows that too, so it’s pushing me out.”
Verbalizing it made it sound even more absurd, but John also felt relieved to have told someone.

Kane paused for a moment, gazing up at the moon before turning his attention to something in the trees. “Did you ever play video games? Do you play video games?” he asked suddenly. His face looked serious, almost solemn.

“Here and there. What about you?” John replied, intrigued by Kane’s change in demeanor.

“I’m not making small talk, don’t worry. You know when you get to a certain point in the game, you’ve solved a problem or beaten one of the big bosses?” Kane continued.

“Yeah,” John nodded, following Kane’s lead.

“You know how with some games, when you’ve done that, you can kind of freely explore every part of the game up until that point? You can do that, but the next stage is waiting for you somewhere, and you need to find it so you can progress,” Kane explained.

John listened intently, absorbing Kane’s analogy. They stood on the opposite side from where they had shared their physical moment, contemplating Kane’s words.

“You going away is like moving to the next part of the game, your life. You’ve completed this level, and until you move on, you walk around this level, and things kind of seem jarring and awkward,” Kane elaborated.

John didn’t expect such profound insights from Kane, but then again, he didn’t know what to expect. Their only interaction before this had been an exchange of saliva on the dance floor.

“So right now, everything and everyone around me is reacting as if to say, ‘Hey, what are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?'” John mused.

“Yeah… but maybe only where your business is finished, so to speak. I think we were meant to meet tonight, and that’s why it worked out the way it did,” Kane offered.

“So this is our business then?” John questioned, seeking clarification.

“Well, it’s not business, but maybe we just need to experience certain things with certain people in certain ways, and that’s it. Neither you nor I control this, John. It’s bigger than us,” Kane concluded.

John understood, or at least he thought he did. It was a lot to process, but it made sense. Not everything had completely sunk in.

“Well, I’m glad it was with you,” John admitted, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Same,” Kane replied, returning the smile.

The two fell into a comfortable silence as they walked back to the car park. It wasn’t awkward, and at times, John didn’t even realize Kane was there. This wasn’t just an experience John had to have; it was an experience Kane had to have too.

If everyone was playing the game of life, then everyone was the hero of their own story. Kane was right; this was bigger than just one person. What impact did John have on Kane’s story? Was it obvious either way? He didn’t know, and he didn’t even feel like he could ask.

As they drove, the streets were quiet, and shops were closed. Kane’s radio didn’t work, and John wound down the window to feel the rush of air on his face. Closing his eyes, he imagined what lay ahead of him, embracing the unknown with a sense of anticipation.

When they arrived at John’s home, Kane leaned in to kiss him. They lingered for a moment before parting.

“Thank you, honestly,” Kane said softly.

John nodded. “Same here. I’m really glad I got to see you before I leave.”

Kane smiled, and John got out of the car. Leaning down to the passenger window, he waved silently as Kane drove away, disappearing into the night.

The street was quiet, nothing moved, and there was very little sound, just the low whoosh of the freeway in the distance.

John quietly opened the security door, heavily leaning as he pushed the handle down. The house felt warm, the air thicker. He moved silently over the carpet, avoiding the part of the floor that creaked and then gliding over the timber floor in the living area toward his room.

John lay on his bed in the dark, his heart pounding heavily, eyes wide as the memories of the night flickered in the darkness before him.  

He felt lighter than he did before, so light that he might float up into the air at that very moment.

Drifting off into a deep sleep, John found himself in a forest near the mountains, the air was cold and he sensed someone next to him. He turned to look and see who it was and felt a sense of calm wash over him. John laughed, “Oh, it’s you!”

By the time John woke up he would forget the most important details of the dream. He would be frustrated with himself that he couldn’t remember who was always appearing next to him.

At this point in time, John wasn’t mean to know who was next to him the whole time during those brief glimpses into this other world.

The red strings had adjusted slightly again.

It had been a little over a week since QnA, and while John had been texting Kane, the pace wasn’t as thrilling as John had hoped. Lying on his bed, he replayed their kiss in his mind, imagining the press of Kane’s lips, the wrestling of their tongues, and the heat of his body pressed against his own. The memory made him restless. 

Yet, for all the longing, John was also terrified of seeing Kane again. His lack of experience gnawed at him. Kane had to be more experienced, right? What if he expected more than John could give? 

Despite the mix of emotions, one thing was clear: John had gotten a taste, and now he wanted more. 

The version of events John told his parents about that night at QnA had been heavily edited: a few drinks, dancing with friends, and a stop at McDonald’s on the way home. 

Mum’s most dramatic reaction? A disappointed, “I can’t believe you had that garbage in the middle of the night.” 

John had to stifle a laugh. If she knew how many people he’d kissed, a poorly timed trip to McDonald’s would have been the least of her worries. 

It was another lazy day with no plans, and John spent the afternoon on his computer, clicking through random searches. Having a computer in his room felt liberating, but he dreamed of owning a laptop so he could scroll from the comfort of his bed. 

That dream felt distant, though—his bank account was laughable, and his supermarket shifts hadn’t restarted since exams ended. He debated looking for a new job but didn’t want to deal with rejection. 

In his boredom, a thought struck him. Dra and Devon had once mentioned meeting guys online. Was that still a thing? 

He hesitated but gave it a shot, typing into the search bar: 

“Meet gay men online Melbourne” 

Gaydar. Manhunt. Dozens of sites popped up. He clicked one. Images of shirtless, grinning men with perfect teeth filled the screen. They laughed, posed, and leaned seductively on each other beneath the banner: 

“Meet hot guys in your area now!” 

John’s face burned. His hands grew clammy, and he quickly exited the page. 

Not today. 

John wandered into the kitchen, where Mum was mixing what looked like mince, parsley, and breadcrumbs in a large metal bowl. 

“You’re home for dinner tonight, aren’t you?” she asked without looking up. 

“Yeah, no plans,” John said. 

“Good. We have a surprise,” Mum said, her voice teasing, though her expression betrayed nothing as she went back to mixing. 

“What’s the surprise?” 

“You’ll see,” she said with a grin. “Trust me, you’ll never guess.” 

John gave up trying to read her and turned on the TV at her request. The Bold and the Beautiful was starting, and as always, it didn’t take long to pick up the gist of the overly dramatic arcs. He half-watched as his mind turned back to the surprise. A laptop for uni? Some kind of gift card? He couldn’t come up with anything else. 

Eventually, the episode ended, and the sound of the front door bell—Dad’s keys jingling—signaled his arrival. 

John greeted Dad as he came in, receiving a hug and a kiss on the head. 

“Coffee, boys?” Mum called out from the kitchen. 

Dad nodded. “Thanks, lover.” 

“I’ll have one too,” John said, hoping coffee would speed up the revelation of this surprise. 

Mum moved efficiently, putting on the machine as Dad and John sat at the table. The rich aroma of freshly ground beans filled the room, mixing with the savory scent of the meatballs simmering on the stove. 

Dad sipped his coffee, smiling as he exchanged pleasantries with Mum. But beneath the casual conversation, John could feel something brewing. 

Finally, Mum turned to him, her excitement barely contained. 

“Darling, do you remember Tadao? That Japanese man your dad used to work with?” 

John shook his head. 

“Well, we’ve kept in touch with him and his wife, Tsukiko,” she continued, her grin widening. 

“They’re lovely people,” Dad chimed in. “Very kind. And we told them all about you studying Japanese.” 

John blinked. Was this about private lessons? 

“So,” Mum said, her voice rising with excitement, “we have a surprise for you.” She looked at Dad. “Do you want to tell him?” 

Dad beamed. “What if we told you that this time next week, you’ll be in Japan?” 

John tilted his head, the words not quite registering. 

“What?” 

“You’re going to Japan,” Mum repeated, practically glowing. “You’ll be staying with Tadao and Tsukiko for a few months as a graduation present!” 

John stared at them, uncomprehending. “I… how?” 

“We’ve been planning this for months,” Dad said. “We already got your ticket and some yen sorted. Tadao and Tsukiko offered to host you for free, so most of your expenses are covered. We’ll send you money as you need it.” 

“I… I don’t know what to say.” 

“A thank you and a hug would be a good start,” Mum said with a laugh, her eyes shining with unshed tears. 

John’s throat tightened as a wave of emotion washed over him. Before he could speak, the tears spilled over, and he began to sob. 

The intensity of John’s reaction caught even him off guard. His parents hugged him tightly, their warmth grounding him as his emotions ebbed and flowed. 

He was excited—Japan had always been a dream. But he was also terrified: What if he couldn’t communicate? What if he made a fool of himself? What about Kane and the life he’d just started exploring? 

For now, those thoughts were drowned out by gratitude and the overwhelming realization of how much his parents cared, despite their differences. 

At dinner, Mum and Dad explained the details. He wouldn’t need a visa for his three-month stay. Tadao and Tsukiko lived in Kichijoji, a charming suburb west of Tokyo. 

“They’re a fun couple,” Mum said. “Tsukiko’s a little kooky, but she’s kind. Tadao’s solid—a good fella.” 

John thanked them repeatedly, feeling almost guilty for how he’d resented them lately. They’d done all of this for him. 

That night, John lay in bed, unable to sleep. His thoughts were a tangle of excitement, nerves, and questions. He got up, turned on his computer, and started researching everything he could about Japan. 

By the time fatigue finally claimed him, he was sprawled on his bed, his head buzzing with half-formed plans and possibilities. 

For the first time in weeks, he didn’t dream. 

Chapter 4: Eighteen

Ever since his reading with Serena, John felt as if the world around him was quietly unraveling. The familiarity of his surroundings seemed fragile, like a thin veil peeling back to reveal what had been hidden underneath. 

It reminded him of summers when the family returned from day trips to find the house overheated. The Blu-Tack holding up his posters would soften in the heat, causing them to droop or fall. The blank spaces they left behind revealed forgotten marks and scuffs on the wall, imperfections he hadn’t realized were there. 

That’s how everything felt now—exposed. 

Serena’s words had lingered in his mind, especially the story she hinted at—the old woman from the village who had passed on her gift to John’s grandfather. Serena had said his mother likely knew more about it. 

John wanted to ask her, but the timing never seemed right. 

Thursday arrived with little fanfare. John had spent the last few days helping his mum with chores, her sore shoulders making it difficult for her to do things around the house. Despite their time together, John still hadn’t brought it up. 

Finally, on the car ride to Dra’s apartment, John decided to ask. 

“Can I ask you something about Pappou?” 

“Why do you ask?” 

“I spoke to someone recently,” John said cautiously, “and they mentioned something about a healer, a woman Pappou knew. They said you might know more about it.” 

Her hands tightened on the wheel. 

“Yes,” she said finally. “But promise me you won’t say anything to your father. He really doesn’t like it.” 

John nodded. 

She continued, her voice softer now. “I have it too, but not as strong. I think you’ve inherited it more fully.” 

“Why do you think that?” 

“All those times you came to us, telling us you’d seen or heard things. I knew what it was.” 

His mum began to tell the story, her words confirming what Serena had alluded to. 

“There was an old woman in the village, a healer of sorts. People went to her when doctors couldn’t help. She took away the evil eye, lifted curses, things like that. 

“Pappou spent a lot of time with her when he was young. She showed him many things but only taught him a little. Before she died, she whispered something in his ear. He couldn’t understand the words, but he felt as if part of her had entered him. She told him the world was changing—from the old ways to the new—and she could only pass on fragments of her gift. 

“She died that night.” 

John sat in silence, letting her words sink in. The answer raised more questions than it resolved. 

“I know I’ve seen ghosts,” he said finally. “And I’ve had dreams—dreams that warn me about things.” 

His mum nodded. “It’s the same for me. But you’re stronger.” 

For the first time in years, John felt a closeness to his mum he hadn’t thought possible. 

Was this the point of Serena’s reading? To bring them closer? 

Inside Dra’s apartment, the familiar chaos of pre-drinks was already underway. Music blasted from a speaker, and the group—Mary, Dra, Kiki, and Devon—crowded around the kitchen bench, mugs of cheap champagne in hand. 

“Johnny!” Mary shrieked, pulling him into a hug. 

“How do you feel?” Dra asked, handing him a mug. 

“To finishing high-school!” Devon declared, raising his drink. 

As John clinked mugs with the group, he felt the energy of the night take over. The awkwardness he often carried melted away, replaced by a growing sense of belonging. 

Despite their glamorous outfits and confident personalities, the group drank champagne out of mismatched mugs. 

“Why mugs?” John asked, curious. 

The room burst into laughter. Kiki finally explained, “We tried being classy with champagne glasses, but they kept breaking! So Brie, this rich bitch we know, said, ‘Stop pretending to be classy bitches and just use mugs!’ And we’ve been doing it ever since.” 

The simplicity and humor of it made John smile. 

“To mugs!” Dra declared, raising his drink again. 

The streets of the city were alive in a way John had never seen. It was like another world, one that emerged only after the shops closed and the office workers disappeared. Neon signs flickered in the shadows, and groups of friends, couples, and strangers wove through the streets, the hum of excitement threading them together.

The line outside QnA moved faster than John expected, his nerves barely having time to settle before they reached the entrance.

The music hit him first. Loud and pulsating, the bassline reverberated through his chest. The air was thick—smoke mingling with sweat and a dozen different colognes. Dra grabbed John’s hand, pulling him through the crowd with practiced ease.

“I’ll show you around, and then we’ll dance!”

The club unfolded like a maze of sensory overload. The main dance floor was vast and cavernous, its walls bathed in shifting projections that pulsed to the beat. A mezzanine level offered shadowy alcoves and tucked-away seating, while a second bar glowed faintly in the corner of a smaller, crowded dance area. Everything felt chaotic, gritty, but oddly comforting.

John’s senses reeled. The music seemed to vibrate in his bones, each beat propelling him forward into a space where he wasn’t hiding.

On the main floor, the group began to dance. At first, John hesitated, feeling awkward and unsure. Everyone around him moved with effortless confidence, their bodies swaying and snapping to the music like it was second nature.

But then he closed his eyes.

He let the rhythm guide him, shaking off the weight of his self-consciousness. The music wasn’t asking him to be good at this. It was asking him to move, to be.

The song changed, and the mood on the floor shifted. The energy became more fluid, more intimate.

That’s when he saw him—a sandy-haired guy with stubble and dimples standing across the room. Their eyes met for a brief, charged moment before John quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the music. But curiosity got the better of him, and when he glanced back, the guy was still watching him, smiling now.

John’s pulse quickened, his chest tight with a mix of excitement and terror.

The guy moved closer, his confidence unnerving but magnetic.

“You’re cute,” he said, leaning in to be heard over the music. “What’s your name?”

“John,” he replied, his voice barely audible over the pounding bass.

“I’m Kane.”

The guy’s hand brushed against John’s, rough but deliberate, a quiet question.

Moments later, their lips met.

The kiss was raw and electric, John’s world narrowing to this single, dizzying connection. The music faded into a blurred hum; the lights became nothing but a backdrop. He felt Kane’s hands, the faint taste of beer, the warmth of his body against his own.

It was everything he’d imagined and nothing like it at the same time.

When they finally pulled apart, Kane smiled, his dimples deepening.

“Can I get your number?”

John fumbled with Kane’s phone, his fingers shaking as he typed in his number.

“I work at Coles in Moonee Ponds,” Kane said. “Maybe we can hang out sometime?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” John managed, still breathless.

Kane kissed him again, softer this time, before disappearing into the crowd.

For a moment, John stood in a daze, his lips tingling from the kiss. He had just kissed someone—here, in this wild, unapologetic space.

But the night wasn’t over.

Back on the dance floor, the group welcomed him back as if nothing had happened. The music shifted again, and John noticed a guy and a girl dancing nearby, their movements synchronized and playful. The guy leaned closer to John, smiling, and without much thought, John leaned in and kissed him too.

It was nice, but it wasn’t the same.

Later, a girl with fiery red hair and a bold smile pulled John into a kiss. Her lipstick smudged slightly as she laughed against his lips, her hands resting on his shoulders. It was fun—exhilarating, even—but again, it wasn’t quite like Kane.

By the time they left the club, John felt weightless and full all at once, the haze of alcohol and music buzzing in his veins.

The night ended at McDonald’s, where the group traded stories and laughs over burgers and fries, their glamor slightly dimmed by the fluorescent lighting but their spirits still high.

John didn’t remember much about what he ate or the taxi ride home. He only remembered how heavily he reeked of smoke when he finally climbed into bed, his body still buzzing from the night’s energy. 

When John finally crawled into bed, his body still buzzing from the music and the memories, he couldn’t help but smile. For the first time, he felt like he’d stepped into the version of himself he’d always wanted to be.

As he lay there, memories of Kane’s kiss replayed in his mind. His lips tingled, and his ears still rang with the club’s music.  On the edge of sleep, John wondered if he was floating—or if it was just his imagination. 

On Tuesday morning, John woke up with a strange feeling, like something had shifted overnight. Relief about going out on Thursday played a part, but this was different—less tangible, as if something inside him had stirred but refused to show itself fully. 

He rolled onto his side, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the gaps in his blinds. The air was already heavy with heat, even though it couldn’t be much later than seven. Grabbing his phone, he confirmed the time: 7:01 a.m. Close enough. A message from Mary lit up his screen: 

“Johnny!!! ‘Dra said you’re coming to QnA on Thursday. Do you wanna join me for shopping and something fun today? Trust me, you’ll love it x.”

John smiled. Mary had a way of making everything seem like the best idea in the world. While ‘Dra was more reserved and introspective, Mary was an unstoppable burst of energy. She could light up a room and drag everyone into whatever plan she had dreamed up. 

This would be the first time they spent one-on-one time together, and John was both excited and slightly nervous. He typed out a quick reply: “Yes! What time and where?” 

Pulling himself out of bed, John headed to the kitchen, where the smell of toast and coffee greeted him. His dad sat at the table, watching the morning news with his usual ricotta-topped toast in hand. 

“Morning, matey,” his dad said, his voice muffled by a mouthful of food. 

“Morning,” John mumbled back, shuffling over to the coffee machine. 

The news anchor droned on about inquiries into the Black Saturday bushfires and incidents of prams nearly rolling onto train tracks across Melbourne’s rail network. His dad made a disapproving sound, shaking his head at the grim stories. 

“You know,” his dad said, “I get why you’re excited to go out with your friends, but your mum and I—we just worry, that’s all.” 

John sighed, feeling the weight of another well-meaning parental lecture. “Yeah, but I’m not doing anything wrong.” 

“I know, believe me, I know,” his dad said, setting his toast down. “It’s just a lot for us to process. There’s a lot we don’t know, and that’s scary for us.” 

“I’m not going to do anything stupid,” John said, sipping his coffee. “Besides, didn’t you tell me once that you drove a car off a cliff and barely got out in time?” 

His dad paused, then broke into a sheepish grin. “Yeah, that was… something. At the time, everything felt great—like my friends and I were invincible. But when you get older, you realize how fragile things really are.” 

John studied him for a moment. His dad wasn’t especially tall, but his solid build and steady presence had always made him seem larger than life. The streaks of gray in his hair and the faint lines around his eyes softened that impression now. 

“We just want you to be happy,” his dad said simply. 

For a moment, John felt the tension ease. “I know,” he replied, managing a small smile. 

After exchanging a few more messages with Mary, John found himself on a tram heading into the city by late morning. The trip usually took around 40 minutes, though he always added extra time in case of delays. 

John had been riding the tram into the city for years, watching it evolve with every trip. He remembered when Daimaru closed and Melbourne Central took its place, transforming the cityscape into something that seemed more vibrant and exciting each year. 

Today’s destination was St. Jerome’s, a place Mary had mentioned but John had never heard of. When he arrived at Caledonian Lane, just behind Myer, he wasn’t sure what to expect. 

The lane was drenched in sunlight, and the faint hum of music drifted through the air. The restaurants backing onto the lane looked unremarkable. An older man sat on the steps outside one, his tanned face turned to the sun as he took a long drag of his cigarette. 

John hesitated in front of an unassuming door. The entrance was flanked by fake vines and a makeshift bench, with no sign to confirm if this was St. Jerome’s. 

Swallowing his nerves, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. 

The sudden shift from the blinding sun to the dimly lit interior was jarring. A faint smell of toast mingled with the aroma of something herbal. 

“Hey, you!” called a girl with a sharp fringe and tattoos behind the bar. 

“Uh… hi,” John stammered. 

“You’re at St. Jerome’s,” she said, laughing lightly. 

“I’m meeting someone,” he said, glancing around nervously. 

“Sexy girl with the big hair?” the bartender asked, gesturing toward the courtyard. “She’s out back.” 

Blushing, John shuffled past her and into the cramped space. The mismatched lamps, odd figurines, and scribbled chalkboards gave the bar a strange, chaotic charm. It felt like stepping into someone’s cluttered but cozy living room. 

Outside, Mary was waiting with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She raised her bottle in a silent toast. 

“Johnny!” she exclaimed as he approached, pulling him into a hug. “Congratulations! You’re free from VCE hell!” 

They caught up over drinks, Mary regaling John with the latest gossip from their group. As always, she listened intently when it was John’s turn to speak, giving him her full attention in a way that felt rare and refreshing. 

“You know, schoolies is overrated,” Mary said, taking a drag of her cigarette. “Have fun in your own city—it’s way better.” 

John glanced up at the patch of sky visible between the surrounding buildings. It felt surreal to be here, just steps away from the Myer store he’d visited countless times with his family, yet in a world that felt entirely new. 

“Okay,” Mary announced, snapping him back to the moment. “We’re going shopping, and then we’re getting our cards read.” 

“Cards?” 

“Tarot, babe. You’ll love it.” 

John hesitated but agreed. He decided not to mention it to his parents; they didn’t need to know everything. 

—

Later, they arrived at the Royal Arcade, its intricate tiles and glass roof lending the place an almost otherworldly atmosphere. Spellbox sat nestled among the old shops, its wooden shelves brimming with crystals and books. 

The woman at the counter greeted Mary warmly. “Hello, darling. And who’s this?” 

“This is John,” Mary said. “He’s here for a reading with Serena.” 

The woman’s gaze lingered on John for a moment, her expression unreadable. “Ah, yes. Follow me.” 

John ascended the creaky wooden stairs, each step groaning underfoot. At the top, a woman waited. 

“John,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Come in.” 

The small room was quiet and dim, with an air of something ancient and knowing. Serena gestured for him to sit. 

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. 

John blinked. “What do you mean?” 

She smiled faintly. “Place your hand on the deck and ask your question silently.” 

Hesitant but curious, John did as he was told. **What’s going to happen to me?** 

When he lifted his hand, Serena began shuffling. 

“You’re going to disappear,” she said, her voice calm but deliberate. “In a short time, you will no longer be here. You’ll be somewhere else entirely.” 

John’s stomach twisted, her words both thrilling and unnerving. 

“This does not mean death,” Serena added. “It rarely does.” 

She studied him carefully. “You can see, can’t you? It’s something your mother passed down to you—something very old but incomplete. Speak to her when the time feels right. Ask her about the old healer your Grandfather was friends with when he was a boy. She’s been waiting to tell you.” 

John’s heart pounded, his mind a whirl of emotions—fear, excitement, curiosity. 

“Any questions?” Serena asked. 

He shook his head. The answers he wanted felt just out of reach, waiting to reveal themselves in time. 

“Good luck, John,” Serena said, standing as he did. 

Outside, Mary greeted him eagerly. “Well? How was it?” 

“It was… nuts,” John said, still processing. 

The rest of the day passed in a haze of shopping and conversation. As the tram carried him home through a pink and purple sunset, John leaned his head against the window, his thoughts racing. 

Where was he going? And what did disappearing really mean? 

The days after John’s final exam felt strangely weightless. Without the structure of school, he drifted aimlessly, caught between the relief of being free and the uncertainty of what to do with that freedom. University wouldn’t start until March, and though he hadn’t received his ENTER score yet, he already pictured himself at the University of Melbourne. 

Since Year 10, John had been drawn to the campus—not for academic reasons, but for its beauty and quiet allure. The sprawling South Lawn, the gothic charm of the Old Arts Building, and the shadowy carpark that had apparently featured in Mad Max all carried an air of mystery. 

He’d wandered the grounds so many times, imagining himself as a student instead of an outsider. Sometimes, his older brother Theo invited him along on curriculum days. John would sit in on lectures, feeling both exhilarated and out of place, or hide in the Union House library, marvelling at its collection of manga. 

Theo had even encouraged him to visit the Queer Community club on campus. “Go in,” Theo had urged. “They’d love you there.” But John couldn’t summon the courage. The thought of walking in and declaring himself gay felt daunting—what if they told him he didn’t belong? 

Theo was John’s fiercest supporter, especially after he came out earlier that year. Their parents had struggled to accept it at first. John’s father avoided the topic entirely, while his mother’s disapproval came in sighs and sharp remarks about shame and appearances. 

“You don’t need to tell people that,” she’d said once, as though it was something John could file away, hidden and forgotten. 

John often felt like he lived under a microscope, every solitary walk or outing scrutinized with veiled questions. “Are you meeting someone?” his mother would ask, her voice tight with suspicion. At first, he’d laughed it off, denying it. But over time, he began lying just to see her reaction, a strange, defiant game he didn’t fully understand. 

The strain grew until one evening, it spilled over. John couldn’t remember what triggered it, but he found himself crying in front of Theo, the words tumbling out like water from a broken dam. 

“No one in this family would love me if they really knew me,” he’d sobbed. 

Theo’s reaction was immediate and fierce. He defended John, calling out their parents’ behavior with a fire John had never seen before. Arguments followed, some loud and others simmering below the surface, until their parents began to retreat. Slowly, their resistance softened, though it was clear the road ahead would be long. 

John spent more time with Theo after that, tagging along with his brother’s friends and preparing for a world outside high school. It was Theo who encouraged him to embrace his newfound adulthood—18 years old, out of school, and ready for new experiences. 

Still, John’s dating life was barely a blip on the radar. Apart from a brief, awkward romance with a boy named Benny during a Year 11 summer school program, his love life was non-existent. Benny had kissed him once, only to disappear just as quickly as he’d arrived. 

John often wondered if he’d missed his chance at love—or if his shy, awkward years before Year 10 had set him too far back. Back then, he was the target of relentless bullying, a shadow that loomed over him even now. It wasn’t until a growth spurt and the end of his “ugly duckling” phase that people began noticing him. 

But their interest didn’t erase the self-doubt etched into him. Whenever someone smiled too warmly or paid him a compliment, he half-expected a cruel joke to follow. 

On a quiet Monday, John sat on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling as the itch in his chest grew. He needed to do something. Anything. 

On a whim, he messaged his friend ‘Dra: “I’m done with school. Finally.” 

‘Dra’s reply was instant: “Congratulations! Let’s go out this week and celebrate.” 

John’s heart leapt. For the first time, the possibility felt real. A wild night out—drinking, dancing, freedom. 

“Yes!” he typed back, barely containing his excitement. 

‘Dra sent the details: pre-drinks at 8:00, followed by QnA at 10:30. Bring your own drinks; mugs would be provided. 

Mugs? John frowned but shrugged it off. He was too excited to care about the specifics. Now he just had to convince his parents. 

John found his mother in the bedroom, sitting at the window seat, ironing shirts. The hiss of steam filled the air. 

“Mum,” he began, his voice cautious. 

She glanced up, her face drawn with exhaustion. “Mmmhmm?” 

“My friend asked me to go out with them on Thursday night,” John said. 

Her hands paused briefly, the iron hovering over a shirt. “Who is this friend? Where are you going?” 

“You know ‘Dra—the friend in the city. They want to take me to a club to celebrate finishing school.” 

“A club? On a Thursday?” Her tone was sharp, skeptical. “Your father has work the next day, and I’m not going to sleep. Do you think that’s fair on us?” 

It always came back to this—how his choices affected the family. Frustration flared in John’s chest. 

“I’m not going to Schoolies, Mum. This is my way of celebrating. I’ll be quiet coming back,” he said firmly. 

“What time will you be back? And what kind of club is this?” 

“I don’t know yet,” John admitted. “But we’re going out at 10:30.” 

Her eyes widened. “10:30? Jesus Christ!” She tugged at the shirt in her hands, as if wringing out her disapproval. 

“I can’t think about this right now,” she said finally. “I’ll talk to your father later.” 

John walked out, his chest tight with an all-too-familiar itch. Back in his room, he buried his face in a pillow, muffling a frustrated scream. He pressed his face down until the darkness bloomed with red spots. 

At dinner that night, Theo dominated the conversation, recounting stories from one of his tutorials. John seized the opportunity to bring up the club again. 

“Dad,” he said casually, “my friends invited me to a club to celebrate finishing school.” 

His father glanced up, amused. “Gonna have a few beers at the pub?” 

Before John could respond, his mother cut in. “It’s a club with those uni students he hangs out with. They’re going out at 11:00 on a Thursday.” 

His father chuckled. “That’s pretty late. Is that how they do it these days?” 

“It’s normal,” Theo chimed in. “Remember when I used to go to Goo? Same thing.” 

Their mother frowned. “Did he mention it’s a gay club?” 

The room fell silent. 

His father cleared his throat. “Can’t you just go somewhere normal?” 

John bristled. “You don’t even know gay people. How would you know what’s normal?” 

“I’ve worked with gay people before!” his father snapped. “The world hasn’t changed that much.” 

Theo set his fork down. “You know, I’ve been to a gay club. A friend of mine took me, and it was fine.” 

His mother’s eyes widened. “You went? But you’re not gay!” 

Theo shrugged. “You never ask where I go, so why do you grill John so much?” 

Silence fell over the table. Finally, their mother sighed. “Alright. If Theo says it’s fine, you can go. But be careful.” 

That night, John lay in bed, the excitement bubbling beneath his skin. For once, he felt a sense of calm—like the world might finally open its arms to him. 

The moonlight streamed through his blinds, casting soft patterns on the walls. Somewhere, a dog barked in the distance. John drifted to sleep, the promise of Thursday wrapping around him like a warm blanket. 

“Pens down, time is up. The English exam is now over,” Ms. Pomelo announced, her voice cutting through the tense silence that had hung in the room for hours. “Pens down, thank you!” 

John’s hand jerked open as if startled by her words, and his pen clattered onto the desk. He flexed his fingers, red and sore from three hours of relentless writing. His palm hovered over the pages filled with words he could barely recall. 

It wasn’t just the end of an exam. It was the end of high school. 

He looked around at his classmates, watching as they stirred slowly to life. Some exchanged glances, a silent chorus of relief, frustration, or disbelief. John rose from his seat, the plastic chair scraping awkwardly against the carpet. As he gathered his belongings, he caught Ms. Pomelo’s sharp eyes. 

“John, how do you feel?” she asked. 

“No surprises,” he replied. 

“Don’t be too confident,” she warned, her tone clipped but not unkind. “It means you probably missed something.” 

He nodded stiffly, unsure if her words were a challenge or a dig. Ms. Pomelo always had a knack for leaving him uneasy, as though resting too easily wasn’t allowed in her presence. 

The hallway outside the library was alive with chatter and the shuffle of footsteps. Students bemoaned their effort or cheered their freedom, their energy spilling out like steam from a pressure cooker. John threaded through the crowd without stopping, avoiding eye contact. 

The school gates loomed ahead. 

For years, John had dreamed of this moment—the day he’d take his final steps away from the classroom, free from its suffocating monotony. He imagined music swelling, his name etched in invisible fireworks. But now, as he crossed the threshold, there was no parade. The sky was overcast, the air cool. It was just another day. 

Each step felt strangely hollow. His brain understood the reality, but his heart clung to a fantasy where endings came with grandeur. The gap between those expectations and reality left a familiar ache, a sense of longing that often tugged at the corners of his life. He walked the familiar streets in silence, letting his mind wander. 

The walk home brought back fragments of the past, clear and vivid. In Year 7, he kept close behind his older brother and his friends, silent and unsure where he fit. By Year 10, the journey became something to endure, with jeers and the occasional piece of fruit thrown his way. By Year 11, the walks were filled with easy laughter shared with friends, the kind that made the school day feel lighter. Each memory came and went, simple but sharp, as familiar as the path under his feet.

He flinched as a bus rushed by, snapping him out of his thoughts. The past receded like a tide, leaving him firmly in the present. 

Before boarding the tram, he made a detour to Royal Chopsticks. The small suburban Chinese takeaway store had become a sanctuary of sorts, its familiar warmth and aroma a comfort after countless school days. 

The shopkeeper, a kind-eyed woman with an ever-present smile, handed him a dim sim without needing to ask. 

“Last day, huh?” she said, her tone gentle. 

“Yeah,” John replied, startled by her perceptiveness. 

“Good luck,” she said softly. 

He hesitated, her words lingering. “Thanks for everything. I’ll be back.” 

The woman smiled, though a faint sadness flickered in her expression. “It’s okay. Good luck,” she said again before turning back to her work. 

As he walked away, the dim sim felt heavier than usual in his hand. It might be his last. The thought unsettled him, though he couldn’t quite explain why. After today, it would no longer be a dim sim that carried him through the grind of school afternoons. It would just be food—ordinary and unmoored from the life he’d known. 

The tram ride home was uneventful, and soon he was unlocking the front door of his house. First the security door, then the heavier wooden one. Even this mundane ritual felt slightly surreal, as though he were walking through a life that wasn’t quite his anymore. 

“Mum?” he called as he stepped inside. 

“How’d you go, John?” came her voice, slightly muffled. She was in the bathroom—he could hear the hiss of hairspray and the clatter of items on the counter. 

“I think I went well. Finished everything and had time to read over my essays.” He moved toward the kitchen, thirst clawing at his throat. 

By the time he reached for his second glass of water, his mother appeared, her shoes clicking softly against the wooden floor. 

“Come here,” she said, hands on her hips. “Give me a kiss.” 

John set the glass down and leaned into the embrace. 

“You’ve done so well this year,” she said, her voice tender. “It’ll all pay off.” 

“I hope so.” 

His gaze drifted to the kitchen wall, the framed family photos blurring as his eyes lost focus. His mother pulled back, her expression already shifting. “I’m heading to Highpoint to pick up a few things. Want to come?” 

“Nah,” John replied. “I think I’ll stay here and clear out my room. It’s a mess after all the study.” 

She frowned. “Are you sure? Maybe we could sell some of those textbooks. Your father and I paid good money for them.” 

“They’re not worth selling,” he said. “They’re changing the curriculum next year anyway.” 

“Bloody crooks,” she muttered, grabbing her keys. “Alright, then. Call if you need anything.” 

John closed his bedroom door and took in the chaos before him. His desk was a shrine to his year-long war with VCE: piles of notes, battered textbooks, and a whiteboard scrawled with equations and timelines. 

His gaze wandered to the posters above his bed—mysteries solved by Kindaichi, the digital dystopia of *The Matrix*. The bookshelf across the room offered a mix of well-worn manga, DVDs, and framed photos. One object stood out: a delicate fan his father’s coworker had gifted him, its intricate design a reminder of Japan. 

John’s relationship with Japan was complicated. The language had been his nemesis through most of high school, a source of frustration and near-failure. Then, one day in Year 10, everything changed. 

That night, he had a dream. He was walking through a vibrant park, its ground carpeted with red and yellow leaves. Beside him, a boy spoke in a voice that felt both familiar and distant. 

“It’s up those stairs,” the boy said, pointing ahead. 

John replied in perfect Japanese, the fluency startling him even in the dream. 

The boy laughed. “It must always be hot in Australia!” 

John smiled, warmth blooming in his chest. They climbed the stairs together, their laughter carrying through the air. Then the light grew brighter, and brighter—until he woke up. 

The next day, he breezed through a listening comprehension test that would have stumped him a week before. His teacher, Takeguchi-sensei, was baffled. “John-san… how?” 

“I don’t know,” John had replied, and it was the truth. 

But the dream lingered. It felt like more than a dream, as though it belonged to a version of his life he hadn’t lived yet. 

John blinked, snapping back to his cluttered room. He opened the window, letting the fresh air sweep through, and set to work clearing out the remnants of his school years.