One by one, I lifted my fingers from the undulating floor. Sunset-coloured waves ebbed and melted back into the normal hardwood flooring of my bedroom. This time the patterns reminded me of rolling hills in the countryside. A wide, open field under a limitless sky. My Shield ability came with drawbacks, but it gave me security of a kind that the real world couldn't.

After discovering my strange ability, I spent weeks devoting my energy into articulating its rules and laws. I spent weeks observing the patterns it made on walls and floors, trying to decipher its code. The patterns didn't follow logic though--it mimicked my emotions. Visualizing my emotions helped me greatly in understanding them, but it was only through trial and error that I figured out my power's parameters.

Shield changed people's opinions in a one-way direction. They believed what they wanted to believe: that I was the awkward guy who wasn't worth your time to try talking to.

It was counterintuitive, but I was so used to having myself be misinterpreted. So used to having people tell me of another version, another Tai who didn't seem to align with who I was inside. Instead the illusion that people chose to see ruled my life. So really, the scariest thing was when I'd meet someone who didn't see me that way, only to gradually realize that they didn't really want to be my friend.

In that way, Shield built a snowglobe of predictability. It was a closed system, a complete melody, a cycle that started and ended exactly as I thought it would. Even when my love for music disappeared the night I used Shield for the first time, my ability helped me regain that loss.

MONTY: Hey, I'm sorry about that. If you really don't want a music manager then I'll stop bugging you about it.

MONTY: You probably don't want to talk to me right now but can you at least explain to Raj what happened? They like to act chill but they're probably hurt and confused.

Oh, right! I sent a quick thank-you to him--not for letting me meet Rajathiran so unexpectedly, I was still unsure about that--but because I wouldn't have known how Rajathiran was feeling otherwise. I didn't want to break another relationship before it even began. I texted them.

RAJATHIRAN: Oh okay. People say I'm intimidating but I didn't realize lol

RAJATHIRAN: But like it wasn't because I said something offensive or because you didn't like me right?

TAI: You never said anything offensive. And I don't know you that well, so I don't know.

RAJATHIRAN: I'm glad! Text me when you want to meet up with Phiona

Still, after obtaining information about Rajathiran's music manager friend, I did my research. You could say I was stalking Phiona's Instagram profile, but I needed to familiarize myself with what could potentially happen at our potential meeting. Potentially.

Phiona Maharaj-Hussein worked with small-name and successful artists. I had spent hours scrolling through her professional social media, looking at how she promoted musicians and the overall sense of purpose her online presence had. She played every instrument under the sun. Unlike my own Instagram, where I filled my feed with snippets of my songs, hers had a magical number of likes. That could be thanks to past connections with a record label company. Recent posts suggested that she had cut ties though. She didn't post much of her personal life, but that was okay—knowing a person had nothing to do with how well you'd get along with them.

One message to Phiona or Rajathiran would bring all the help I needed and maybe snap me out of this creative funk. But was that me talking, or Monty? I knew myself better than anyone. And right now I didn't need more emotional whiplash. Besides, if I became Phiona's client and miraculously didn't mess up, I'd have to factor that into my budget.

Instagram was addicting though, so I used my time to catch up with everyone's lives. Monty's account was sprinkled with progress on his visual novel game, academic awards, some event he went to, a Hackathon he won with other people...and on and on the list went. The only posts that weren't related to his achievements were pictures of an album by the OBGMs--his favourite rock band--and his most recent post: pictures of him and Joachim eating out at an ice cream restaurant.

This surprised me, since I thought they were keeping their relationship secret. Then again I knew that his friends knew that Monty and Joachim were dating. So what did he mean by secret? His account was private, so it might be his parents. Understandable. I hadn't told my parents yet that I was dating Nora.

I swiped to her account. Her posts were sporadic, like she posted whatever was nearest to her when she remembered. Ever since her parents' divorce though, she'd been more consistent. Most of it was cooking recipes. One was a drawing of her interpretation of Durian, a song by Cutsleeve. I grinned. We didn't communicate well with words, but just looking at the drawing of her sitting among yellow foliage told me everything I needed to know. The bold colours and thin pencil outlines reminded me of my impression of her when we first met: decisive, but thoughtful. Like she had the future measured out before her, down to the last minute.

It was why I was uncertain how to approach the topic of her family. Any mention of that, and she became a different person. We existed at opposite sides of a canyon; we knew what the other one was going through, but it seemed impossible to reach across. I wished I knew how to help her, and I wished that other people knew how to "help" me.

My stomach growled, but when I opened the fridge, it was empty. Time for shopping.

—

Toronto's Chinatown had a few decent Vietnamese grocery stands where I could speak comfortably with the vendors. Emerging from one of the shops, I walked back to my car and unloaded the fruits and vegetables. Chinatown was a money-saver for not only Asian staple foods like shrimp, but also crunchy, fresh produce. Looking up, I brushed falling snow out of my eyes and read the vertical storefront signs that stuck out of the buildings like a rainbow of bookmarks.

Doing errands on my own ate up a huge chunk of time, though. There were lots of stimuli that pulled my attention in ten different directions--grocery music, conversations, squeaky shopping carts, and the smell of fish. I frequently lost my train of thought and had to backtrack, double-checking and triple-checking if I had forgotten anything. I might not be able to do things perfectly on my own, but each shopping visit left me feeling accomplished. It was the small victories in life that counted.

It was harder to keep track of those victories.

Should I reach out to Phiona?

The obvious answer was no. My social fumble with Rajathiran was proof of that. I couldn't stand jumping into the nebulous pool of socializing, because it was so rare that things didn't end in a disaster.

I missed my home in Kingston. Heck, I missed university. For all the headaches it gave me, it mapped out my tomorrow and next week and next month. I took out my phone and debated texting my parents for help. The black screen reflected my face, and the snowflakes that melted upon contact blurred my silhouette, so I could really imagine it as anyone from my family. My siblings and I all inherited the same heart-shaped face, medium tanned complexion, black hair that turned chestnut in the sunlight, and a tendency to rebel against our parents' visions for our future. The difference was that a) my acne from my teenage years refused to disappear, and b) I didn't have a successful job.

My own negativity scared me. Where was the Tai from two years ago, who had announced his plans to pursue a career in music? Who focused on the present rather than the chasm growing between me and my future? The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the past--before Shield, before moving from San Francisco to Canada, before adulting--wasn't so different from the present. I still felt invisible, caught between proving my ability to myself and proving it to others.

I watched as a small crowd gathered around the man sitting on a plastic chair on the sidewalk, switching his fingers between the frets of his guqin. Though I didn't understand anything, the way he picked the strings made an intricate rhythm of sadness, mixed with hopeful swells.

This was what I loved about music: you didn't need to understand what people said to understand what they felt inside.

A music manager would understand that, right?

Sliding into the car, I started the ignition and formed a short-term plan. One goal at a time. First: save up enough money so I could afford the extra help. Probably through Uber Eats, since I felt more at peace in my car. Then...I would decide what to do.

Monty had a point--I needed to do something to help myself--but it seemed impossible when the very definition of success clashed against my own capabilities.

Please let me know how to improve this chapter. I started off with a vision but I admit I am disappointed with the result. It feels lacking. Also, is the explanation of his power clear, or are you confused on anything? Please let me know, clarity is not my strong suit especially since Tai's power is less straightforward.