Day 1000! 

That was what he found on a tray at their table, written in ripped up pieces of bread. Rai was still in the process of tearing up his crust – it looked like he was trying to write the word congratulations in smaller letters on top. 

“What’s that for?” Fang said curiously, sitting down as usual next to Aris and tilting his head to get a better look.  

“Aris has been here for one-thousand days,” Rai announced proudly. Beside him, Han smiled and uttered a quiet good-morning to Fang across the table. 

“One-thousand?” Fang exclaimed, before a hand promptly came down on his head and shoved his face dangerously close to his bowl of soup. 

“It’s too early to hear your voice.” Aris’s murmur was heavy with weariness. “Shut up for a bit.” 

The man’s fingers dug into his scalp briefly, brushing through his hair before he removed his hand. It sent a weird, jolting tremor through his shoulders and Fang bit his lip in an unconscious attempt to hold back his flush.  

It had been three days since he’d first started working – three days since he’d done that while inhaling Aris’s scent and imagining the man’s voice. Though he only saw the man in the morning and for a few minutes after curfew, during those times his body would disintegrated into butterflies. 

Lowering his head, Fang busied himself with breakfast, gaze flickering upwards as Rai started talking again. The boy always finished his meals remarkably fast – he didn’t eat much, and even then didn’t seem to mind chatting with his mouth full. 

“So how is long is one thousand days, huh?” Rai was saying, his voice bright but taunting as he leaned over the table and stared at Aris.  

“Two years and just about nine months,” Han answered almost automatically. 

“You were here thirty-four days before me so I’ll be catching up to you soon,” Rai said, waving his spoon around. 

“It’s not something to be proud of,” Aris replied grimly, squishing his finger against a rapidly growing hole in his piece of bread. “Except for Tao, we’re the only ones who’ve survived longer than a couple months. If the researchers start investigating, who knows what they’ll do to us.” 

“Typical Aris,” Rai sighed airily, grabbing a piece of bread from the one in 1000 and dangling it above his mouth for a couple seconds before snapping it up. “Always worried about yourself,” he said, voice muffled as he chewed. “As for me, I couldn’t care less. They can do whatever they want to me.” 

“A couple months?” Fang, who had been too busy swallowing to speak up until now, finally managed to swallow and interrupt curiously. “What happens to everybody after a couple months?” 

Almost immediately, all three of them averted their gazes – but after a couple tentative glances back, Han spoke up hesitantly. 

“Shantao, have you heard about the flesh-eating virus?” 

Nodding, Fang opened his mouth, about to speak when Rai let out a peal of laughter and slapped Han on the back with a hard, solid thunk. 

“What kind of stupid question is that?!” Rai said loudly, grinning viciously and standing up on the bench, where he stuck out his hand and pointed at Aris. “Aris! Come, you owe me a fuck.” 

“What?” Aris said warily, lifting his eyebrow at the boy. “I thought I said I’d never do it with a brat like you.” 

“Not in a thousand years, you said,” Rai said triumphantly, pointing at the decorative bread-tray sign on the table. 

“Last time I checked, years and days were different,” Aris sighed heavily, neverless getting to his feet with his mostly finished tray in hand. 

Alarmed, Fang shot Han a wide-eyed look and saw the dark-haired man looking at him, too. But the man just smiled a little helplessly and shrugged. 

“Don’t we have work?” Fang elaborated, turning and glancing anxiously at Rai and Aris’s retreating backs. “Where are they going? Was he serious?” No fair! He barely managed to bite the last part back. 

“We have two days off after five days of work,” Han explained, patiently sipping on his cup of tea as he watched Fang shovel food hurriedly into his mouth. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere,” he mused. 

Pausing, Fang met the man’s dark irises for a moment, comforted by the friendly-looking glitter in his eyes. Taking a breath, he swallowed and took a smaller bite of bread, chewing slower this time. It was strangely quiet without Rai facilitating conversation, but it wasn’t like he’d never been alone with Han before. Just the day before yesterday, Rai had disappeared after dinner, leaving only Han to keep him company during evening recreational hours. When he’d asked Han where Rai was, a dark frown had crossed the man’s face and he’d replied brusquely, “probably meeting some other guys.” After that, Han had taken him to the computer lab, where they’d spent the rest of the evening. Fang didn’t have much experience with computers and Han showed him a couple simple games, which delighted him to no end. Sometime while he was smashing buttons, he became distracted by Han typing away furiously beside him and glanced over.  

An email, to his mother, Han had explained. Perking at the mention of ‘mother,’ Fang had edged himself closer, oblivious to the discomfort in Han’s eyes. But he had a hard time understanding anything, anyway, and sat back. Seeing the boy’s stare, round with curiosity, Han had chuckled and explained his story.  

His father had been the owner of Xiangzhou hospital, the largest hospital in that district of Zhuhai where both he and Fang were from – and not too far from the park where Fang lived. Himself, Han had been a freshly graduated medical student and had just started working as a physiologist. But as Rai had blurted out the first day, one of his patients – a pregnant girl with respiratory issues – had been murdered by her boyfriend, who apparently didn’t want to deal with the commitment, and Han had been framed. During the case, both his lawyer and father died of the flesh-eating virus, and amidst the chaos he ended up being judged as guilty. His mother was still alive, but psychologically unstable. His father’s will had transferred most of the family riches to Han, and Han was going through the process of relinquishing everything to his mother. When Fang had asked why, Han had quieted but eventually admitted that he didn’t think he was ever going to leave Siguang-Ri prison. 

“I’ll clean up.” Han’s voice’s interrupted him as, out of habit, Fang grabbed both their trays once he was finished.  

“It’s okay,” Fang began, but the man tugged the trays out of his hand.  

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be quick,” Han insisted, getting up and brushing past. 

Curious, Fang glanced over his shoulder, his gaze following the man and eventually landing on a large orange figure near the tray depositing area. Tao, with his two buddies. As Han approached, Tao’s face contorted and he seemed to shoot over a couple words – but Han ignored him, and returned to the table without incident. 

As the man met Fang’s stare, his look of frozen nonchalance morphed into a faint smile. “Anything specific that you want to do today?” 

Fang pondered thoughtfully for a while – until now, he’d never had to think about what to do with his free time. The answer had always been working, looking for work, or panning for money outside the mall. But when he met Han’s patiently expectant gaze, he thought back to the email. “Is there a way for me to contact someone if they don’t have a computer or an address?”  

Han’s brows furrowed in deep thought, but eventually he gestured for Fang to get up and they headed out of the cafeteria. “There’s a post office, but it’ll be hard without an address. Is there someone who lives nearby who can deliver it to that person?” 

“Hm, yeah, probably, but I don’t know their address either. I know their phone number, though?” Fang laughed a little forlornly.  

“I’m sure that’s enough for us to work with.” Han offered him a gentle sort of smile. “Are you thinking of contacting your mother? You mention her often.” 

“Yup!” Fang grinned abashedly. “I’m sure someone has told her by now where I am, but still, she must be worried. Her health isn’t very good either so I want to reassure her that I’m okay, if I can. She’s done a lot for me when I was down, and… I can’t exactly say the same. I should’ve done things better,” he added in a quieter voice, grin fading as he lowered his head in a subdued silence. But that only lasted a couple seconds, and then Fang looked up again with a shrug and an airy scoff. “Well, at the very least I can tell her that I’m fine and that I’ll find my way back to her soon. After all, it’s not like I did anything bad so they can’t be keeping me for a long time, right?” Intending to cheer himself up, Fang flashed a bright smile over at Han, only to falter when he saw a stricken look on the man’s face.  

“... Han?” Slowing down tentatively, Fang blinked up at the man’s suddenly pained expression. “Are you okay? Are… are you sick?”