Work Text:
“With your father willing to help, you actually stand a chance of getting an IC,” Jia En says, eyes shining with happiness as she hands Adik the envelope of forms. She’s been working with this pair of brothers for a couple years now, and for light to finally show at the end of the dark, dark tunnel they’ve been walking in, it’s times like this where she feels that doing all these volunteer work is worth it.
The envelope remains suspended in the air, Adik’s hands remaining firmly at his sides. Jia En looks up, confused. “Adik…?”
“I have no father.” Adik’s voice trembles with rage, instead of joy, and Jia En’s happiness quickly turns to frustration. She and other volunteers have spent ages tracking down this man, another couple months wheedling him into agreeing to doing just this one thing for the son he left at the roadside all those years ago, and now Adik is throwing all of that away, throwing a chance at his own future, a chance to support Abang better away.
“You don’t have to go back to him.” She says, giving the envelope another impatient flap. “You just have to meet him exactly once, go to the office and get all the documents signed, and that’s it. Just fill out these forms-“
“I don’t want it!” Adik bursts out, knocking the envelope from her hands in a fit of rage. “I’m not meeting him! I don’t want him! I’m perfectly fine without him!”
The carefully arranged papers scatter across the floor, and with an exasperated huff Jia En kneels to quickly gather them up. Adik’s always been the harder to deal with of the two, treating the volunteers as unwelcome busybodies, sniffing around for trouble, when they’re just trying to help.
“We spent so much time and effort on this,” she mutters, intentionally loud enough for him to hear. “Now you say you don’t want it?”
She regrets it the instant Adik explodes, grabbing her and yanking her up from the ground by her collar. “I said I don’t want it! I didn’t want any of this! How many times must I say it before you understand?! No! I don’t want him!”
“Adik, stop!” Her hands scrabble frantically at his white fisted grip, but he’s strong, built from years of grit and hard work, construction, running from police, fights even, God knows what he’s been up to-
“Do you understand me now?!” He yells, flinging her against the table. The corner knocks into the back of her spine, bruising painfully, and she tries to duck away from him, envelope forgotten in the chaos-
He gets a grip on her jacket again, yanking her towards him again, so close that she can smell his breath. It’s musty, moist and hot with anger, and she thinks with a moment of wild, hysterical humour if the brothers had ever gotten good dental care.
“I’m never seeing him again. Not in this life.” His voice cracks, and he tosses her aside. She just manages to catch the side of the table as she falls, just in time to prevent herself from cracking her head open on the kitchen floor. He turns away from her then, and Jia En takes the opportunity to flee, leaving the precious envelope and her bag behind.
She doesn’t stop running until she reaches the small, cramped office that her non profit organisation has rented. The others are out on their own home visits or still waiting in line at the governmental offices, and that gives her an opportunity to catch her breath and calm the swirling chaos of her mind that’s still in a panic.
She doesn’t think she can go back to that house anytime soon.
Abang is just finishing chopping up his twentieth-thirtieth? He isn’t really counting-chicken for the day when a tap on his shoulder startles him out of his focus. It’s one of the Bangladeshi workers he sees going around for odd jobs sometimes, and he’s saying something, though Abang has to squint for a while to read his lips. With the Bangladeshi it’s a toss-up between English and Malay, and they form their lips differently for certain words.
The gestures he’s making helps a bit though. A hand moving at waist level, another hand gesturing at Abang himself.
“Adik kau datang cari you.” Your little brother’s here for you.
Abang bites back a little smile at how Adik would be indignant at the gesture used to refer to him - really putting the ‘little’ in little brother, huh? – as worry takes over. At this time Adik would usually be sleeping in after all of his nighttime forays, which Abang is still not happy with, so him showing up at the market could only mean two things – either he’s finally listened to Abang and decided to come do some more proper work, that being odd jobs they could scavenge here and there working for the people here, or he’s in trouble.
Knowing Adik, the sky would probably turn green before the former would happen. Which means it’s probably the latter.
Adik is waiting at the back of the stall for him, shuffling his feet, eyes downcast- sure signs of trouble, and Abang is already gearing himself up to give a lecture when his gaze drops to what Adik is carrying.
Is that-
Jia En’s handbag?
Abang’s heart drops into his shoes. He’s started signing furiously before he’s even within 3 metres of Adik.
Please tell me you did not rob Jia En. Return the handbag to her now, and you’re going to apologize, and beg her to not press charges because you know that both of us will be finished if she does-
And then he gets close enough to see Adik’s red rimmed eyes and bruised knuckles, and Adik starts speaking before he can come to any more horrible conclusions.
I didn’t mean to, I swear. Adik’s hands fly with a frenetic energy, the lady’s bag dangling from his wrist jerking side to side with his wild motions. His lips move with an equally desperate energy. She came and told me she’s found my father, and she wants me to go back to him so that I can get an IC, but I didn’t want to, I can’t go back to him, and we argued, and I pushed her, and she ran.
In that minute, Abang goes from horror to happiness to helplessness to frustration, then back to horror again. It’s such a whirlwind of emotions that he’s slapped with that he’s stunned for a second.
Not getting a response from Abang, Adik’s hopeful eyes dim into a quiet, sad despair. He leans forward, hugging Abang, and murmurs some inaudible words. He’s placed his head on Abang’s right shoulder, the side where Abang is completely deaf, and the cheap hearing aid Adik had gotten him for his last birthday isn’t strong enough to pick up Adik’s quiet words from the other side.
Abang gently pushes Adik away so that he can sign.
I’ll return the bag to Jia En. And I’ll talk to her. You. Go home and stay there. We’ll talk after I finish work.
Adik nods, dejectedly, and hands the bag over to Abang. Abang wishes that he could talk to Adik right here and now, but the middle of the market isn’t the best place to do that, and besides, he can’t afford to miss work right now.
He goes back to the stall, and exchanges breaks with the Bangladeshi man from earlier, who looks happy at getting an extra hour of work pay, and trudges over to Jia En’s office.
He’s been there a few times, to fill in forms that seemed endless, missing precious work time for a slim hope that he’ll finally have a country to call his, that’ll call him hers. But that hope’s grown dimmer by day, and right now the only hope he has with them is for Adik.
Adik isn’t like him. He’s whole, healthy, a bright and cheerful spirit that takes in the noise of the world and adds his own, loud voice to it to make sure he’s heard. He’s the one with parents still out there, maybe not caring about him but at least there’s always a possibility of one of them vouching for him so that he can get a home, citizenship somewhere, be it Malaysia or Thailand.
There’s a future for Adik.
Abang isn’t religious. He can’t afford to be, knowing if there is a God out there, he’s the one that the god had chosen to forget about, to abandon. His birth family had been Taoist, and he remembers being taught to kneel in front of statues and offer oranges and peaches at certain dates, but the statues were all gone with the fire.
But when he passes by shrines as he pushes a new batch of goods, when he looks at the white, polished churches across the street, he offers just a spot of prayer, a hopeful thought, that if there’s a God out there, please, please.
Take care of his little brother.
Adik can’t sleep.
He’s running on fumes by now, but as he paces the tiny flat, chewing on his lip, he’s so wired that he can’t even lie down.
The envelope sits on the table, papers neatly arranged and in order.
In a moment of wild madness Adik had actually picked them all up and read through them before putting them in order. He had then punched the wall right after, before bursting into wild, uncontrollable sobs.
It was then he remembered Abang. Who had soothed him when he cried, flicked his forehead when he was being unreasonable, cracked eggs just a bit too forcefully on his forehead whenever he did anything that pissed Abang off.
Abang could fix this. Abang would know what to do.
He’d taken Jia En’s bag to Abang at the chicken stall, then, but he saw Abang’s look of disappointment and the conclusions he came to. Which, to be fair, were reasonable, but Abang’s unreadable look when Adik had finished explaining struck fear into his heart.
Abang had told Adik to come home and wait. So Adik did.
He probably hadn’t been this obedient since he was about 12.
Now that Adik has calmed slightly and rethought things, a new fear crept into his mind.
Abang would probably want him to meet his father.
It is the decision that makes most sense, after all. Jia En was right, it’s only one meeting, he won’t have to go back to that house, to that man, but gods above Adik’s terrified.
He remembers very little of that house, having been cast out of it at 7, just before he’s due to start primary school. He remembers that timing well, at least, because it was an argument over school that ultimately culminated in him getting thrown out of the car and tumbling into the grass at the side of the road.
He hadn’t known what was coming then. He remembers a soft body he could curl into, words in Thai which he’s forgotten by now, if he’s ever known to speak them, being yelled at to stay quiet in his room. There was lots of yelling, and pain too. He remembers a wicked looking stick he’s feared, and a gesture reaching for a belt at the waist which had him flinching. He remembers trying to hide all the hangers in the house under the mattress, only to be beaten with a broom instead. He remembers a day where he wakes up to a man’s harsh words instead of a warm hand clamped over his mouth and gentle shaking, and he’s dragged into a car.
Which he is later pushed out of at a random turn.
To this day he still doesn’t really understand or know what’s happened. His memories are confused, jumbled, and he’s unwilling to dig into them either. He would probably have latched on to the idea of his mother being the kind one, the good one, the one who wanted him if not for memories of her taping his mouth shut and pinching him whenever he made too much noise.
He isn’t wanted. He knows that.
And he also knows that he will not have anything to do with his parents until the day he dies, if he can help it.
Abang hesitates at the door of his own home. Adik is on the other side, and Abang still isn’t sure what he’ll say to him.
He’s met with Jia En, and while she’s still shaken, after a lot of apologies on Abang’s side she finally got her message across that she won’t be pressing charges and there was no need for Abang to worry. She’s thankful for her bag back too.
I don’t think I can go back to your house anytime soon. She’s admitted, running a hand through already dishevelled hair. He can see bruises forming on her wrist, likely from where Adik’s grabbed her, and a wave of fury directed at Adik surges before he suppresses it. I might have to take a break from this. I’m sorry, Abang.
He takes a deep breath, and unlocks the door.
Adik’s sitting at the table, head in his hands, but he looks up as Abang enters. Abang doesn’t look at him, turning around and locking the door behind him. He avoids Adik’s eyes that follow him as he goes to the kitchen out of habit, only to pause at Adik’s hesitant tug at the edge of his worn tank top.
Adik wordlessly points at the table. Dinner’s already made on the table, two hard boiled eggs sitting at the middle, a tentative peace offering. He’s also made soup, water with salt and a few vegetables floating sadly in the clear fluid.
Abang sits then, and reaches for the eggs, trying to ignore how Adik’s eyes track his every move. Adik hesitantly reaches for his own egg once Abang has got a firm grip on his own, and waits.
Abang cracks his eggshell on the side of the table.
Adik’s face falls then, and he abandons the egg and his own bowl of rice, getting up from the table to go to their room. But Abang slaps the tabletop, and he turns back around.
I’m angry at you. Abang signs. Do you know why?
I’ve been bad. Adik says, not signing, his fists clenched in the cloth of his T shirt. I scared Jia En.
You hurt her. Abang rises from his seat, so that he’s at the same level as Adik. Fury fuels his every sign. She gave you a good thing, Adik. This is a good thing. Just do what she says and get your IC. You can have a better life. Why are you being so stubborn about it?!
It’s not a good thing! It’s not, it’s not! I’m not meeting that man, I’m not going back to him! I have no father! Adik is shouting now, expression twisted and furious, mouth opening and closing so rapidly that Abang almost can’t keep up if not for the subconscious signing Adik is doing.
No one is asking you to go back to him! It’s just one meeting, one and you’ll have a future! Abang can feel his vocal cords straining, he might’ve made some sounds, but he’s so furious right now that he doesn’t care. You have a chance, don’t waste it! You deserve better than this!
Adik suddenly goes silent, head bowed, and Abang realizes with a start that Adik is crying. He says something, but his head is bowed, so Abang can’t make out what his lips are saying.
Adik suddenly rams into him with a hug that almost bowls him over. He’s raised this tyke well, at least, considering how heavy he is.
His head is on the left shoulder this time, and Abang hears his words this time.
“Gor, I’m scared…”
They have a long talk, that night, and Abang is pretty sure that the Bangladeshi man will be happy over getting to cover Abang’s morning shift because he isn’t going to be able to show up at work with the amount of sleep he’s gotten last night. Which is to say, none.
As it turns out, Adik’s filled out all the forms while he had been waiting for Abang to come home.
His little brother does want a future. An IC. A place to belong.
He just doesn’t want it without his big brother.
It took some time to coax that understanding out between the two of them. To Abang, meeting that man was just a means to an end, another form they had to fill out to get another step closer to citizenship.
To Adik, that meant confronting his childhood trauma, a deep seated fear that he would have to reunite with that man and leave Abang. It meant acknowledging that man as his father, even just on paper, to look at him and say ‘please help me’ when he wanted nothing more than to run far, far away from him.
It also meant being different from Abang.
Once, they were two lost children, forgotten by the world, left to disappear. But when one of them becomes real, what would happen to the other ghost?
We can’t rely on Miss Money forever for everything. Abang signs firmly.
An IC isn’t going to change anything, gor. Adik sniffles. I still don’t have an education, or skills. I’m only good at getting into trouble.
But now you have a chance.
What about you? I don’t want to leave you.
I’m not leaving you. We can keep staying here, but we actually rent under one of our names this time. You can run all the errands. Pay the phone bills under your name. Get your motor license.
I get to drive you around legally now. Adik cracks a smile.
Abang ruffles his hair, and with his other hand he brings out the half cracked egg and smacks it soundly onto Adik’s forehead.
That’s for being an idiot.
You picked this idiot up at the roadside and he stuck, too bad. Adik taps his own egg onto the centre of Abang’s forehead. Abang internally winces at the reminder of how he found Adik, bruised and bleeding from a horrible case of road rash. He’d been lost and wandering then, drifting alone in a world with no family, no ties, no papers, no purpose.
And the bright smile of the little boy at the sight of hard boiled eggs, the giggles as he demonstrated cracking an egg on his forehead gave him a reason to live once again.
You don’t have to face that man alone. I’ll go with you. Abang signs, leaning against the doorway as Adik does the dishes. He’d better capitalize on Adik’s newfound obedience for as long as he can before it wears off. Adik flashes him a grateful, relieved smile amidst soap suds. He ducks his head at Abang’s next signs. Also, you owe Jia En an apology.
Adik does apologize, in his own Adik way, when he hands Abang a pepper spray two days later and tells him to pass it on to Jia En, along with a clumsily written apology note. Abang raises an eyebrow at the choice of apology gift.
It’s so she has something to spray me with if I every try that again. Adik tries to pull off a nonchalant shrug, but his eyes are dead serious. Tell her to keep that with her at all times.
Jia En hasn’t shown up at the office since that day, and Abang is informed that she’s taken a month off, assisting her brother at his clinic, but her co-worker assures him that she’ll pass it to her when she sees her at church service on Sunday.
It’s a…surprisingly practical gift, for those of us who work in these parts. Where did you get this? I might want to buy one for myself too.
Abang could only shrug and promise to ask Adik for his supplier. He also takes the opportunity to ask about setting up a date for Adik’s IC application, which in his opinion couldn’t come sooner. Adik’s taking up his shifts at the marketplace today, and while he’s happy that Adik’s given up on his shadier dealings, he also hopes that with that IC Adik will be able to secure better opportunities than odd jobs at the market.
He goes home with an appointment three days away and a pair of cheap but brand new trousers for Adik.
Adik hates that Abang is dressing him up like a pig for slaughter, but he sees the proud look in Abang’s eyes and allows Abang to stuff him into the pair of new trousers. The pair of brothers come to a stop at the threshold, however, staring at the two pairs of slippers and two pairs of covered shoes they have.
Adik’s covered shoes have a hole at the tip of the big toe, clashing horribly with the rest of his outfit- new collared blue shirt with a hastily repaired tear, newer trousers, a watch that’s run out of battery that Abang’s scavenged from God knows where- and holed shoes. Adik almost bursts into hysterical laughter.
He can’t very well wear slippers either, so Abang finds him a pair of black socks which hopefully won’t show up as obviously through the hole and it’s off to the office.
That man is late, and Adik’s fidgeting gets worse as the new social worker assigned to them – Pei Xin, a friend of Jia En’s from church – goes through his forms for the third time, making sure that everything is there. They’ll want to get this done in one visit.
He’s starting trembling at some point, and he’s pretty sure Abang can feel it through the hand he’s placed on Adik’s shoulder. Both of them jump when the old man ambles in.
Pei Xin goes to meet him, thanking him for coming and for his time. The old man says he’s late because he has to drop his daughter off at school first and he doesn’t want his current wife finding out about this so he had to run some errands for an alibi before coming. Pei Xin nods and hums understandingly, though her smile grows strained. Adik does his best to block everything out as Pei Xin leads that man to the counter to fill in more forms, and Abang squeezes his shoulder as Adik does his best to disappear into his seat.
Adik is called over to the counter too after a couple of minutes, to place his signature on the forms that man had just filled in. He does his best not to look at that man, but he can feel that man running his gaze over him, evaluating him, and he wonders what he’s thinking about the child he’s pushed out of the car and left to die all those years ago.
The woman at the counter asks him a question, but blood is pounding and roaring in his ears, the urge to just deck out that man beside him warring with the instinct to stay quiet keep quiet don’t make any noise he’ll hit you-
And Abang is suddenly by his side, giving the Malay woman a thumbs up. Abang’s inserted his body between Adik and that man, and Adik suddenly remembers to breathe. Abang leads Adik to the corner, where a tiny photo booth is set up, and Adik suddenly realizes this is it, his photo’s gonna be on a card, it’s gonna be on the card. His card.
He smiles, eyes on Abang, as the shutter clicks.
Pei Xin’s an angel, Abang thinks. Jia En’s probably mentioned Adik’s issues with that man to her, or it could be a good guess. These social workers handle hundreds of cases, after all.
She’s quickly separated out all the forms that needs that man’s signature, identifying all the procedures that that man needs to carry out and arranging it so that that man’s visit lasted only all of 30 minutes. He’s gone when Abang and Adik emerge from the photo corner.
You’ll need to wait 2 weeks. She holds up two fingers for Abang’s benefit. They’ll send you a letter, and you can come here to get your IC. Congrats, Adik.
Adik still seems out of it, gaze slightly unfocused. He snaps back to it enough to thank Pei Xin as they part ways, but he’s quiet the entire bus ride back. Which was highly unusual for someone as boisterous and noisy as him, but at least he’s stopped shaking.
Abang would’ve expected more though, maybe plans to finally get that motor license he’s been dreaming of since he was sixteen, to open a bank account to have a safer place for the wad of cash he knows he’s been accumulating behind his back, or to apply for a more permanent job position plumbing or repairing bikes and cars. But the first thing Adik does after changing out of the formal clothes is to topple onto the bed and curl into himself.
Abang taps his shoulder, earning a glance from Adik. Are you alright?
Adik curls further into himself, and Abang kisses goodbye to his afternoon shift, crawling into the bed as well. Adik turns over, but Abang pulls him back. He cups his little brother’s face, and without his hands free, he tries to convey his message with his eyes.
Talk to me.
Adik starts crying then, and Abang heaves a sigh before pulling his little brother in. These past few days has seen more of Adik’s tears than the past 10 years.
Adik doesn’t start talking until they’re apart again, when he can sign and Abang can see his lips.
I was scared. How am I scared? He’s a little old man now and I’m taller and bigger than him. Why am I still scared?
He still doesn’t want me.
Will you still want me
Why do I still want him to want me?
Nobody wants me
Please don’t throw me away
Abang has no answer for him.
Only the one answer that’s worked for them both over the past 15 something years.
I’m here.
I want you.
You don’t have to be scared now.
You're all I have.
Because I’m here.
哥哥在。