Chapter 3

Dreams and fantasies were always beautiful, but the same couldn't be said for reality.

Blake came back in the evening on Friday under the glow of the sunset. That was right—he was back, and the first stop was my house.

Maybe it was because my house was closer to the station, so Blake came here first. Since he had come such a long way, he was probably hungry. I assumed that he would leave after dinner.

But one wait led to another. Before long, Blake was lying on my bed.

I felt utterly speechless as I was being held in Blake's arms. Not only was I being held, but I also had to listen to Blake's nonstop yammering. Why did Blake have so much to say? Was there any way to get this annoying person to stop talking?

As I listened to Blake talk about the new things he experienced at his new school, I found myself gradually drawn in. Blake's stories were quite interesting.

Moreover, Blake's voice was very pleasant to the ears. If I had to describe it, I would say it was very soothing and could put one at ease.

"Blake, can you not hold me while we sleep? It's uncomfortable!" I complained.

"How is it uncomfortable? Tell me so that I can adjust to your comfort," Blake replied.

I fell silent and didn't say anything further.

"Oh, my. Are you angry and giving me the silent treatment again? Did you get used to life after I left? Did you miss me? I missed you so much! Can't I hold you for old times' sake?" Blake asked.

"If I let you hold me, can you shut up?" I thought in exasperation.

Blake stayed until after lunch the next day before leaving. When he left, he made a point of asking me to walk him to the road. Hence, I had no choice but to follow him with a wooden expression.

"Here, take this and buy some candy. I'm leaving now," Blake said.

As I looked at the ten-dollar note in my hand, I thought that going to school far away really did make a difference. Blake must have had a pretty substantial allowance every week. After all, I myself only got one dollar a day for my pocket money.

It seemed like the heavens had heard my request. Although Blake returned to my house on the following Friday as usual, this time, he behaved differently. Apart from greeting people, he didn't talk much.

The strange tone of Blake's voice made me think that he must have caught a cold. Fortunately, I had listened to my mom and put on more clothes when the temperature dropped recently. Otherwise, I'd sound as terrible as Blake did if I caught a cold. Blake seemed to struggle whenever he spoke.

I was secretly pleased about this.

That night, Blake treated me like a bolster as usual and held me in his arms. But at least he wasn't as talkative as last time.

Compared to Blake's stories about high school that stirred one's imagination and longing, I preferred the peace and quiet. Blake had caught a cold at the most perfect timing.

I wished that from now on, every time Blake came home during a break, he'd catch a cold so that he wouldn't talk that much. He wasn't particularly talkative with others, but he just couldn't stop babbling around me. Now, he was finally silenced.

This time, Blake stayed until I finished my homework the next day and left after lunch. He didn't say anything unnecessary when he left, but he still gave me some money.

This time, it was a 20-dollar note. This was one of the few things that genuinely made me happy. If Blake was this quiet every time he came back, I could reluctantly accept being held while sleeping for the sake of the extra pocket money.

After that, Blake didn't come back every week but every other week instead.

I also learned from my parents' conversations that it wasn't because Blake had caught a cold—it was because he had hit puberty. Blake's voice had started to deepen, and I myself would go through it when I grew up as well.

Still, I found the situation quite funny. Could it be that Blake lessened his visits back home because his voice sounded awful?

If that was the case, it was way too amusing.

"Hey, Blake. Why aren't you talking? You used to be so chatty. Tell me about your school."

"What do you want—"

I burst out laughing, while Blake was at a loss for words. He had barely spoken, but I couldn't help but burst into raucous laughter.

At long last, I got even with Blake for the ghost stories he told. Sweet revenge was finally mine!

After that, no matter how much I tried to provoke him, Blake refused to talk again. However, he still came back every other week.

Each time he returned, he went to my house first and stayed there until after lunch the next day before leaving. Whenever he left, he would give me some money. Most of the time, he gave me 10 dollars. But sometimes, he would even give me 20 dollars.

As the times he gave me money increased, my parents found out soon enough.

They thought Blake shouldn't be giving me money since he was still a high school student. They didn't want to take his money and even tried to ask how much he had given before, intending to return it.

But Blake insisted it was his own savings and claimed he hadn't given me much.

Sometimes, to avoid being seen by my parents, he'd secretly slip the money into my hand. As my mom and dad couldn't stop him, they had no choice but to tell me not to accept the pocket money from Blake. But of course, I didn't heed their request.

And so, a semester passed. My relationship with Blake improved partially due to the latter's voice changing, which caused him to talk less. The other reason that led to the improvement was the generous pocket money Blake gave me.

I had an introverted personality, so I didn't make any friends at school. Blake could be counted as my friend. Sometimes, I couldn't help but think that Blake was actually quite nice.

When the new semester started, Blake's visits were reduced to once a month. Meanwhile, I had gotten used to being held while sleeping. Even when the weather was cold, Blake's body was always warm. I went from being forced to hug him back to actively leaning into his arms.

After helping me with my homework and having lunch, Blake would go home. When he left, he'd habitually slip money into my bag with a smile and remind me not to tell my parents.

At some point, Blake's visits became irregular, and the routine I had finally gotten used to was disrupted again.

Gregory said that the class Blake was in was an honors class. In other words, it was the best class in the school. As the study pressure mounted, Blake couldn't come back to visit so often.

Later on, I only occasionally heard about Blake's news from the adults, which usually involved him winning some competition or being the top scorer in some exam. Then, there would be words of admiration about how smart, well-mannered, and worry-free Blake was, followed by complaints about their own children.

I had grown numb to these praises about Blake long ago—I had heard them all the time since my childhood. Every time the adults praised Blake, it would then be followed by how I failed to rise to my cousin's level.

No matter how hard I tried—even with Blake's tutoring previously—my grades were still more or less average. They didn't go down, nor did they go up. It was astonishingly stable.

For some reason, Blake didn't come back even during summer and winter breaks as time passed. I felt I hadn't seen Blake for a long time. It had been so long that I had almost forgotten what Blake looked like.

This was not an exaggeration. One Friday during the first semester of sixth grade, I suddenly heard someone calling me while walking home from school. The voice was unfamiliar but pleasant. The timber of the tone was music to my ears.

"Nate, say something. Don't tell me you don't recognize me anymore?" The person in front of me was very tall. In fact, he was so tall that he looked like he could be an NBA player.

His features were still defined and handsome, and he looked familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time. The sunset behind him was so dazzling that I couldn't open my eyes.

Tears unconsciously welled up in my eyes. I raised my hand to block the light in front of me. Everything seemed just like that morning on the first day when I started attending elementary school. The only difference was that Blake had gotten a lot taller.

"Oh, are you crying upon seeing me? Do you miss me that much?" Blake said teasingly.

I fell silent for a moment. Although I didn't want to entertain Blake's meaningless question, I couldn't help but wonder if everyone who went through the voice change would end up with a voice as pleasant as Blake's. His voice was to die for.

That night, I thought Blake was acting strange. After dinner, he insisted on leaving, no matter how much anyone tried to get him to stay.

"I'll come over tomorrow morning to help Nate with his homework. I have something going on tonight, so I have to go home," Blake explained.

"What's so urgent that it can't wait until tomorrow?"

"I really need to go. I'll leave while it's still light. You all rest early. I'll be back tomorrow."

"Oh, he's always in such a rush!"

I thought Blake's behavior was becoming increasingly weird. In the past, Blake always found ways to touch and hug me. Now, he not only refused to sleep with me but also kept a distance consistently.

When I asked him questions and got a little too close, Blake would take a step back. He used to cling to me and insist on holding me while they slept, but now he was acting all shy. What had gotten into him?

This strange behavior continued until he took the SAT. Afterward, instead of staying home to rest like other students, Great-Uncle Gregory told us that Blake went to where his sister worked. He wanted to relax, relieve stress, and make some pocket money there.

Some time passed before the news of Blake achieving the top SAT score and being admitted into a prestigious university in Southvale traveled back. However, I didn't get a chance to congratulate him in person before he enrolled in university.

It had been a long time since I had seen Blake.

At that point, I thought I might have lost Blake as a friend. After all, we weren't the same age. Strictly speaking, Blake was my elder. Therefore, we couldn't really be friends. Maybe I had been the only one to one-sidedly consider Blake a friend all this time.

Perhaps Blake only saw me as a kid who was fun to tease when there was nothing else to do. Now that I had grown up and wasn't as interesting, it was natural for us to drift apart. There was nothing wrong with that, was there?

The time for me to start junior high arrived. My grades were always mediocre, so I didn't have time to lament my lost friendship. I had to spend more time studying.

I was inherently introverted and quiet. I preferred to be alone and do my own thing quietly. I felt more comfortable approaching life this way. At school, I didn't particularly get along with anyone or any group. I didn't manage to forge deep friendships typical among boys my age.

Blake had been an exception in my life. He had forced his way into my life, intervening here and there, only to leave quietly in the end.

He made me mistakenly think that we had that kind of brotherly friendship shared by other boys. But really, how could we be like brothers? No matter what, Blake would always be a family elder to Nathan.

Although Blake didn't come back often after he started university, legends about him were never lacking within the family. Blake's amazing feats pressed down on me, suffocating me. As I was always being compared to him, I had no choice but to spend more time studying.

But seriously, Blake's actions were contradictory. He distanced himself from me, yet he still put on the act of being a concerned cousin. Whenever my birthday came by, he would send me presents or birthday cards.

When I was in eighth grade, Blake underwent another change yet again. Whenever there was a holiday of three days or more, he'd come back without fail.

Family gatherings were normally held on minor holidays. Whenever there were holidays that lasted a few days, birthday and wedding banquets would be held.

It seemed like all the intense studying had given Blake some kind of concussion. Previously, I could just eat in peace and keep a low profile during gatherings or banquets. Now, every time Blake came back, no matter the occasion, he would be showered with praise first. Then, parents would start to compare him to the younger generation and criticize the youngsters in the family.

The scolding was bearable. The hardest part for me was that whenever Blake spotted me, he would find a way to stay close to me. Then, he would start chatting ceaselessly and pile food on my plate.

Whatever I couldn't reach, Blake would get it for me. Whatever I didn't like, he'd add it to my plate anyway. As for the food that I liked, Blake would make sure to get some. Blake would even get me some of the food he thought was good too.

Looking at the mountain of food in front of me and listening to the elders' teasing remarks, I felt a strong need to ask Blake to get his brain checked.

He must have studied so much that he finally developed some kind of mental issue. If he kept delaying it, it might become untreatable.

But no matter how much Blake clung to me, he never stayed overnight at my house.

Alas, putting that all aside, I now began to dread long holidays. The current Blake was way too scary. He himself was even scarier than the ghost stories he once told me.

Maybe because thinking about Blake triggered memories of those ghost stories, I wet the bed again, just like in elementary school. I once thought the ghost stories traumatized and terrorized me, but it was actually Blake who was the most terrifying.