End of a story

Writing about Chubby in my diary had some good and positive outcome. For the first time in months, we talked. I had half hoped he would read it. I didn't know how to find a way to open the discussion. The next day, when I got back from the runthrough of Winterreise, I went to his room. I had been thinking about the many possible ways to find a solution. I had also tried to distance myself from the anger and frustration I felt toward him and decided that I wished him all the best. He was on his chair, with his computer on his lap (as he does every evening, when back from work). I tried to sound cheerful.

"I have found a solution to the situation. I'm going to ask a friend to sign the lease for me, even if he may not be living there." I started. "I suppose the landlord doesn't need to know all the details..." I was even considering taking the whole flat by myself and develop more activities. Jay has sent me a short message saying that he may have an idea.

"I have read your diary..." Chubby said.

So he had. I only wished that he wasn't to upset about what I wrote. That must have felt like a big slap on the face. I knew that it was a difficult moment for him. To explain, to say things, to express himself. 

He took each point that I mentioned in the diary and tried to shed some light. He also admitted that his behaviour could not really tell me what was going on in his mind or his life.
Ryan and I was were chatting online one day and he asked me about Chubby.
"How's Chubby?"
"The same... although it's hard for me to tell. We normally only exchange no more than 4 words every day: 'good morning', and 'good night'. Sometime only two when I don't see him in the morning. Sometime even less, because he's only grunting 'mmmm' when I address him."
Ryan laughed.

I learned that his parents were not actually going to buy him a flat. They wanted him to invest in one, since he was making a decent living now with his position at the LinLin Gallery. Their part was to come up with sufficient money for the down payment. The rest would be Chubby's to pay... A good way to save money was to stop sharing the flat with me and go live with hi uncle's in Banciao. I don't think Chubby really wants to, but he is cornered for his parents would nag constantly him.
"Beside, I don't want to buy the house now. I want to go to London and do my master's degree" Chubby told me.
"You should do want is right for you, and not listen to your parents. You are too young to start getting into the trouble of buying a house. It's important to honour yourself".
The last comment was left without answer. Chubby will move out by the last week of June. Will I hear from him afterwards? Asian parents put some pressure on their children. I wonder if they realise that. I suppose many of them would claim it is for their child's good...