《I'm Not The Protagonist》
Prologue: "What Use?"
"WAIT! PLEASE, DON''T DO THIS! HAVE MERCY!"
The figure, clad in battered armour, reached out in a frantic plea, his fingers grasping at the air as if to stop the inevitable. His sword lay forgotten by his side, and his voice trembled with raw fear, cracking under the weight of desperation.
"T-THIS WORLD CAN BE OURS! ALL OF IT."
He flung out a trembling hand, gesturing to the vast expanse around him¡ªgrand, endless¡ and utterly ruined. Corpses littered the battlefield. Smoke curled in the distance. Whatever world he spoke of was already long gone.
A man stood over him, his grin cold and sharp, capable of cutting deeper than any blade. He loomed above, his presence heavy, the weight of his authority emanating from the simplicity of his words.
"All your struggles, all your sacrifices... And yet, this is how you fall. How... disappointing," he said, his voice dripping with disdain.
"I could have your head, but what use would that be?"
His blade pressed against the pleading man''s throat, slicing away any last shred of hope.
"What use?" he repeated, almost to himself.
The sun caught the edge of his sword, glinting as if savouring the moment. Then, with one swift, merciless motion, he¡ª
"CUT!"
And just like that, the illusion shattered.
The director''s voice boomed across the set, and everything came to a halt.
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
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"What do you call that? Huh? Acting? Surely not. Because that is not acting, you bloody imbeciles!" He was not a kind man.
"All of you are too stiff. No emotion. I need to feel your suffering. SUFFERING!"
With an exasperated sigh, he rubbed his temples.
He took a seat in his director''s chair, and with directorial flair, he gestured to the camera crew and the actors.
Now, before you get the wrong idea¡ª I don''t play the hero.
...
I''m not the villain, either.
Hell! I don''t even get a line.
I''m one of the dead guys littering the battlefield, actually, just over there; if you squint hard enough, you can see me.
A nameless corpse.
Just another piece of scenery, lying motionless on the floor while the real characters soak up the spotlight.
You''d think being a corpse is easy, right?
Wrong.
Do you know how hard it is to stay perfectly still while someone else monologues about the tragedy of existence over your lifeless body?
Do you know how many times I''ve had to play dead just to have a sword accidentally poke me in the ribs because some rookie actor doesn''t know how to stage fight?
And let''s not even talk about the discomfort.
This armour?
Fake.
The dirt?
Real.
The ground? Hard as a rock.
My back is screaming, my leg fell asleep twenty minutes ago, and I swear to the gods, if we have to restart this scene one more time, I might actually die! For real this time.
The crew shuffled back into position.
The director, still sitting, raised his hand in the air, the weight of the entire production resting in that single moment of stillness.
"And¡ from the top."
Everyone held their breath.
I exhaled, shifting ever so slightly to find a more comfortable way to be dead.
Then¡ª
"Action!"
And just like that, the story began again.
Chapter 1 - And...Scene?
You know the drill, right?
That whole lights, camera, action thing? The black clapperboard snapping shut, the microphone dangling from above, the director screaming at everyone like a caffeinated banshee?
Yeah. That one.
Well... can I be honest here?
That part of acting? Always felt... off to me.
The cuts. The pauses. The way everything comes to a screeching halt every few minutes. It kills the flow.
Get real with me for a second here.
I mean, if you''re gonna play a character, shouldn''t you become them? No second takes. No hesitations. Just pure, unfiltered immersion.
Right?
That''s what true acting is.
Or at least¡ªthat''s what it should be.
The best of the best.
Like...
The protagonist. The one with main-character energy so powerful it bends the very laws of the universe.
Call it plot armor if you will. But that''s just good writing if you ask me.
Or the side character, so forgettable they might as well be a random prop in the background.
Poor guy... What was his name again?
Or the villain¡ªthe perfect villain. The one who lurks in the shadows, voice dripping with malice, a smirk that promises ruin... only to lose to the hero in the end.
Every. Single. Time.
Actually...
Let me tell you this.
I''ve searched. Oh, I''ve Searched.
Capitalization very much intended.
Desperately flipping through story after story after story, hunting for just one¡ªjust one¡ªwhere the villain actually wins.
Is that too much to ask for?
Huh?
I guess it is.
Cause nothing.
That''s what I''ve discovered.
Nothing.
It''s like searching for hay in a stack of needles¡ªwait.
That''s not how the saying goes, does it?
Was it a stack of¡ªwhatever!
The point is, who cares about hay, needles, or whatever twisted metaphor that saying is trying to paint? Because unless you''re the protagonist?
Your fate is sealed.
And that? That''s total bullshit.
In fact, my mind is racing with so many possibilities right now.
Honestly, my mind is racing with possibilities right now.
If I were a side character? I''d nail that role. My name would be so forgettable, it''d vanish from memory the moment you blinked.
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If I were a villain, I''d be so damn good at it, I''d win out of sheer, unrelenting tenacity. Plot armor can suck it.
And if I were the shining hero¡?
¡ Maybe life would be just a little bit nicer to enjoy.
Right?
Tick.
A cicada screamed in the summer heat.
Tick.
The last lonely bird cried out before the sun swallowed it whole.
Tick.
A cruel reminder that time kept moving forward¡ªcompletely indifferent to the people who wished it would stop.
I looked up at the clock.
Maybe if I stared at it long enough, I could force it to¡ª
"Mr. Yuki Hero!"
A voice sliced through my thoughts like a guillotine.
I blinked.
Standing before me was a woman flipping through an ungodly thick stack of papers. Brown curls bounced as she licked her finger, flipped another page, licked, flipped¡ªdear god, as a doctor, does she not know how unhygienic that is?
"Blood type B, five feet ten, age seventeen?" she recited. "Am I correct to assume?"
Well, it''s a bit rude to read out a man''s life like that; what if somebody heard? That''s sensitive information, lady. Especially that height part; I''m at least 6 feet!
Also¡ªto assume?
Of all people, shouldn''t doctors be the last ones making assumptions? Especially with my entire medical history sitting right there in their hands? Licking their fingers, doing god knows what!
Is what I ought to say.
But what I said was, "Uh¡ yeah, that''s correct."
Like the dog I was.
She nodded.
Lick. Flip.
"From what I can see here, you are¡ perfectly healthy."
Then¡ªher voice faltered.
Lick. Flip. Brows furrowing.
"In fact¡" she hesitated, scanning the pages. "It''s a complete contrast to the state of your mother''s health."
Tick.
The sound pressed against my chest.
"I''d have to say it''s hereditary. From her father''s side, perhaps¡ª"
Her voice blurred.
Like I was hearing it through water.
The world tilted.
The ticking grew louder.
Louder.
"I would like to say full recovery is¡ possible¡ but¡ I''m¡ sorry, Mr.¡ª"
"MR. YUKI HERO!"
The world snapped back into focus¡ªhard and fast, like a rubber band smacking me in the face.
The sterile white walls? Gone.
The antiseptic smell? Gone.
The doctor? Nowhere.
Instead¡ª
"Mrs. Bellbottom?"
I nearly laughed.
Nearly.
"THE AUDACITY!"
Her voice boomed through the room like a war horn. Arms crossed. Eyes blazing.
"To ignore me! ME! Your teacher, as I sacrifice my precious time to ask you a SIMPLE question! MR. YUKI HERO!" I blinked.
My brain was emptier than a pack of gum among school kids.
Unfortunately, my mouth has this... unremarkable talent for saying the worst possible thing at the worst possible time.
Except with doctors. Doctors are scary.
"Uh¡ well¡" I paused, giving the dramatic moment the respect it deserved.
"The real question we should be asking¡ is¡ why are you at my doctor''s appointment?"
Silence.
Awkward, painful silence.
Then¡ª
Laughter.
The entire class exploded.
Mrs. Bellbottom turned the color of an overripe tomato. You know, the kind that''s also sagging and looks like it''s about to explode with rage.
"YOU WANT A QUESTION?!" she screeched.
¡ Oh boy.
"HERE''S A QUESTION FOR YOU! WHY IN GOD''S NAME ARE YOU EVEN IN MY CLASSROOM?! WHY BOTHER COMING TO SCHOOL?!"
She said that and a bunch of other insults that I''ve decided to spare your ears from.
...
Wait a minute.
¡
Classroom? School?
I blinked.
Desks. Chairs. Students.
Students, not that fake laughter you usually hear in TV shows.
All staring at me like I''d just waltzed in wearing nothing but socks.
And then there was Mrs. Bellbottom, ready to drop the French Revolution on me.
She was French, by the way.
She sighed. Twice. Then stared at me like I was a wilted houseplant.
"Just pay attention next time," she muttered, walking back to her desk.
The laughter turned into snickers.
Not the chocolate kind. (That would of been nice.)
No, not that.
The mocking kind. The kind that makes you feel like garbage.
"He''s so lost."
"Is he even on this planet?"
"Doctor''s appointment?! Pfft! What a loser!"
And how is having a doctor''s appointment something to mock? You''re the losers!
But through the snickers and Mrs. Bellbottom''s monotone lecture, I faded into the background.
Like some office drone, living the same boring life over and over, in a constant loop of mind-numbing routine.
Or like a 9-5 convenience store worker. Life defined by depression. Scanning item after item. Beep.
Sweat.
Beep.
Clammy palms.
Beep.
A small child stood frozen at the checkout, eyes wide and lip trembling.
"Yuki!"
I found my focus.
The register scanner.
The dull hum of fluorescent lights.
The artificial scent of plastic bags and cheap air freshener.
I wasn''t in class anymore.
I was at work.
And I was currently scaring the absolute soul out of a child.
I followed his gaze¡ªto my own reflection in the register screen.
My face was¡ not friendly.
My boss was making frantic hand gestures. SMILE. SMILE, DAMN IT!
I tried.
I really did.
I forced a smile¡ªif you could even call it that.
But the kid screamed. Ran.
And then came my boss. Dragging a hand down his face. "Don''t. Smile. Ever. Again."
He said either that or¡ª
Chapter 2 - Youre Fired!
"You''re fired."
¡
Wait. What?
I blinked, my brain buffering like a bad internet connection.
Mr. August Power¡ªyes, that was his real name¡ªstared at me with the dead-eyed exhaustion of a man who had seen too much nonsense in one lifetime.
His arms were crossed. His foot tapped impatiently.
I opened my mouth, but he beat me to it.
"Kid, you just made a child cry over a lollipop. A lollipo damn it!" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you know how much bad PR that is? Do you?"
"Uh¡ª"
"You are single-handedly ruining the reputation of this fine establishment," he continued, gesturing grandly to the convenience store, which¡ªlet''s be honest¡ªlooked more like it belonged in a house demolition ad. Either that or the final stage of a horror game.
Flickering lights. Barely stocked shelves. A sad excuse of a slushie machine that made more noise than actual drinks.
"Sir, with all due respect," I said, finally finding my voice, "I''m pretty sure this place has no reputation to begin with."
Silence.
Dead.
Empty-store silence.
Mr Power inhaled sharply through his nose.
Stupid mouth of mine, I thought, followed by a sigh. Because I knew¡ªthat was the kind of breath managers and bosses alike take right before they either fire you or launch into a ten-hour lecture about "company values."
Then¡ª
"HA!"
He burst into laughter, slapping my shoulder like I''d just told the greatest joke known to mankind.
"You got guts, kid. You really do!" He grinned¡ªthe kind of grin that was definitely a threat.
"But seriously," his face turned grave. "I''m not kidding. Make another kid cry, and you''re actually fired."
''Another'' kid.
Yes, you heard it right. That was not the first kid to cry over my face. Which, frankly, I don''t understand cause my grandmother said I was handsome.
So, middle finger to those damn kids anyways.
Another hearty slap on my back. Then he turned, whistling as he strolled out the door.
He paused.
"Be more like Lorian; why don''tcha?"
Ding.
The chime echoed in the empty store.
And with that, he was gone.
I stared after him.
Processing.
The buzzing fluorescent lights. The low hum of the register. The quiet ticking of the clock.
It all felt¡ strange.
Off.
Wrong.
Tick.
My fingers tapped against the counter.
Tick.
The register screen flickered.
Tick.
My reflection stared back at me.
¡
I was trying to process the fact, that I just got fired, rehired, and then threatened in the span of what it takes a cashier to scan an entire trolly full of items, as they stare into the soul of that lonely child waiting for their mummy to¡ª
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Ding.
The door chime rang again.
I thought it was Mr. August Power coming back in to change his mind, but to my surprise, it was a customer.
A shadow moved past the aisles.
I straightened up.
Footsteps. Slow. Purposeful.
Then¡ª
A bag of lollipops was placed on the counter.
A thought ran through my mind.
"What''s with the sudden buzz of lollipops? Are they in style?"
I looked up.
¡
And locked eyes with a deer.
No.
A deer-headed man.
In a suit.
I blinked.
He blinked back.
Silence.
A long, awkward, reality-defying silence.
"Just those, thanks." he said, voice very polite, very masculine.
¡
I had so many questions.
So. Many.
But instead¡ª
I just nodded.
Because apparently today was just going to be one of those days.
My hands moved on autopilot, scanning the candy.
The deer-man patted his pockets. "Sh*t. Where did I put my card?" He asked.
Then he looked up at me.
Big, glossy deer eyes.
Staring at me, like it was common for deers to lose their wallets.
"You take cash?"
I nodded.
"Great. I have a coin somewhere in here."
He rummaged through his pockets and pulled out the biggest bloody gold coin...I had ever seen.
Ever!
The thing was at least the size of my fist, and how he managed to just stroll around with that thing in his pocket like it never existed.
Beats me, as he just proceeded to place it on the counter.
Then, without another word, he grabbed his lollipops and walked out.
That was it.
¡
That''s all that happened.
¡
What more do you expect?
What more do you want me to do?
Because all I could do¡ªand all I did do¡ªwas stare down at the coin.
Appreciate its fine, intricate engravings.
...
And slide it into my pocket.
What?
It wasn''t going to fit in the register anyway.
It looked like something straight out of the medieval era.
"Is this even¡ currency? Modern currency?"
But then again¡ª
Do I have the right to question a gold coin?
When a deer-headed man just bought a bag of lollipops? With a giant gold coin?
...
Yes.
Yes, I f*cking do.
I have every right to question everything.
Who?
What.
Why?
Why was there a deer-headed man casually buying candy from a convenience store?!
Was that even real?!
Why lollipops of all things?
I''M SICK OF LOLLIPOPS!
I glanced at my reflection on the register screen.
Dark circles. Sleep-deprived. A haunted expression.
¡
Yeah.
No.
I must be really tired.
So tired I''ve started seeing things.
Or maybe¡ª
Maybe something was seriously wrong with today.
DING!
The door chimed.
Another customer.
I slowly turned my head.
And froze.
What.
The.
F*ck.
Forget the deer. We have bigger problems now.
Yeah, no, the deer couldn''t even compete with what just walked in.
It was every teenage boy''s worst nightmare.
Or dream.
Depending on how you look at it.
"OHMYGOD¡ªISN''T THAT BOY OVER THERE, LIKE, SUPER CUTE?"
A girl''s squeal nearly shattered my eardrums.
I barely had time to process what was happening before I saw them.
A group of girls.
But not just any group of girls.
The group of girls.
The kind that every teen movie has. The ones who travel in packs, gossip like it''s their full-time job, and somehow have the power to ruin¡ªor define¡ªyour entire high school experience.
And, unfortunately, I was now one of their victims.
"Yeah, I tots get what you mean, girly!"
Another girl chipped in.
The girls scattered around the store, giggling, whispering, and doing whatever it was that girls like them did.
And me? You''re wondering what I was doing?
I was dreading it. Every. Second.
Not only did I look like a sleep-deprived zombie, but I was so not prepared to interact with customers at this level.
No.
A mere cashier like me had no right to even be looking in their direction.
But you can''t blame me, boys.
Because I found myself staring at her.
She was different.
Long, dark hair cascaded down her shoulders like a scene out of a drama. Eyes like molten gold¡ªsharp, but warm. Like she knew all your secrets before you even spoke. And lips that curled into the kind of smirk that made you question all your life choices.
I didn''t know her name yet.
But I would.
Oh, I would.
A mental note was made.
When that girl comes up to the counter, I''m asking for her name.
Easy plan, right?
¡
Wrong.
Because by the time they got to the register, my palms were soaked with sweat.
And worse¡ª
The girls approached, carrying what was essentially the entire store''s inventory, and dumped it onto my counter.
I swear, I could feel my hair turning gray.
I started scanning their items.
Lollipops. Of course.
Then, that moment came¡ª
I locked eyes with her.
Her gaze was piercing. Hypnotic. A weapon designed to annihilate any man''s common sense.
My palms started sweating.
Sweat dripped down my back.
I recited my lines in my head.
''Hi, excuse me, but may I ask your name?''
No. Too formal.
''Ma''am, with all due¡ª''
Absolutely not. I''m a cashier, not a medieval butler.
''You look gorgeous today.''
¡
I wanted to die.
I was sh*tting myself.
But before I could rethink my life choices¡ª
She was here.
Right in front of me.
Eyes locked.
Me.
Her.
Oh well.
Here goes nothing.
You miss 100% of the shots you take.
Wait...
That''s not it...
was it¡
You can''t miss a shot if you don''t shoot?
No, that''s dumb.
You can''t take a shot if you¡ª
F*ck it.
"Hi," I croaked.
¡
Despite the voice crack,
I PREVAILED.
"Could me ask name?"
¡
...
I butchered it.
Totally. Utterly. F*cked it up.
It was over.
Finished.
I braced for impact.
For mockery.
For giggles.
Anything.
But instead¡ª
...
She smiled?
She SMILED!
A radiant, godly smile at that.
And to my absolute delight, she answered.
"Lara."
A single tear fell down my cheek.
And in that moment...
I was truly happy.
The girls left the store giggling.
And me?
I just stood there.
Staring at my register.
Trying to process the absolute rollercoaster I had just survived.
¡
Maybe today wasn''t so bad after all.
Chapter 3 - Under The Bridge
Momentary.
That''s the word I''d use.
Short-lived.
Fleeting.
Really, it was.
The scene replayed in my head like a dream I never wanted to wake up from. The embarrassment? Yeah, still fresh. But above it all, rising like a champion, was satisfaction.
To most, it was just a name. But to me¡ª
Ding!
That stupid door chime.
And like that¡ªpop¡ªthere went my moment.
I looked up, already knowing who it was.
There are some people in life who just have perfect timing. The kind of timing that makes you question whether God personally assigned them to ruin your life.
Lorian.
Mr. Why-Don''tcha.
In the flesh.
Tall. Blonde. Smug. And twenty minutes late¡ªagain.
Yet, somehow, I''m the one getting compared to him?
Well, boss, to that, I say: I am deeply, profoundly, and spiritually disappointed in you.
Lorian walked in like he owned the place, throwing a lazy grin at the girls ¡ªwho, by the way, we''re barely noticing my existence but suddenly turned into giggling messes at the sight of him.
Pathetic.
He strolled over, hands in his pockets, like he was about to bless me with his presence.
"Yo, my man!" he grinned.
My man?
Yeah, sure. Maybe back in elementary school, but ''my man'' now? Yeah, no way buddy.
The girls outside were still eyeing him like he was a sculpture that had wandered out of a museum, they had basically become one with the glass, which frankly I would have to clean later on.
"Those girls¡ need I say more?" he added, grinning as he gestured over his shoulder.
"You''re late," I said flatly.
He shrugged. "And?"
And?
AND?!
I had half a mind to grab this guy by the collar and shake him like a maraca.
But instead, I took a deep breath. I was better than this.
He smirked.
"So?" he asked.
"So, what?" I shot back.
He took a glance at the girls.
"So how''d it go?" His smirk widened.
A cold sweat ran down my back.
The flashback hit like a truck.
The stuttering. The voice crack.
The verbal trainwreck. The absolute disaster.
But he didn''t need to know that.
So I grinned.
"What can I say?"
"My guy!" Lorian clapped a hand on my shoulder, laughing like we were war veterans reminiscing about old times.
I should''ve shrugged him off, but¡ªpathetically¡ªhe was the only person I could share this small joy with.
We weren''t exactly friends. More like¡ ex-friends.
I''d known him since childhood, but back then, everything was different.
Then puberty came along, decided to bless him, and left me in the dust. I moved to the States, while he stayed here, and somehow, fate decided to throw us back into the same minimum-wage hellhole.
We chatted, or rather, he just rambled on about his new girlfriend he got, or whatever and the shift dragged on.
By the time I glanced up at the clock, the small hand was on the 9.
Finally.
I did a little celebration dance, in my head, of course.
Lorian had, unsurprisingly, left twenty minutes ago.
Because of course he did.
So, there I was, closing the store alone, doing his job on top of mine, wiping down the windows, I basically had to scrub the girls lollipop smears. A little miserable, sure, but at least I had time to think about the important things in life.
Like what ring I should get for Lara. You know, the big things. How many bedrooms for the house, etc, etc.
With the shutters down and the doors locked, I stretched my back and started walking home.
I took one more glance at the convenience store, thought some bad thoughts, did some second-guessing, decided to do a double take and just make sure the store was really locked, and then decided to finally head home.
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Kowaregachi.
Random, right?
Well, that was the name of my town.
I had no idea what the name meant, but I''d been born here, raised here for seven years, and then ultimately left.
Most nights, I would walk the same path home, never really the one to detour, as I had a lot of things to do at home, but tonight felt¡ different.
The moon was shining in a way that felt hopeful.
So, on a whim, I took a different route.
The first alleyway I saw, I stepped in. Crossed my fingers. Hoped it wasn''t a dead end.
And lucky me¡ªit wasn''t.
Because of that fact, on my travels, I saw stray cats, a couple of rats, a dog here and a dog there, a bunch of interesting night critters, old apartment buildings, and an old unfinished skyline, on the path of decay.
But nearing the end of my fateful adventure, I found myself at a bridge.
The moon grinning down at me like it knew something I didn''t.
I wasn''t one to reminisce or anything, but if you were there, you would have done the same.
Standing, still, admiring nature at its finest.
I wish I could describe the scene to you, but this was one of those moments that felt more than words could really capture.
Truly, it was like the world was still, the world was silen¡ª
CRASH!
The sharp sound of metal slamming against concrete shattered the moment.
Maybe not so much.
Annoyed, I furrowed my brows, and curiosity took control as I followed what I assumed was where the noise came from.
Searching like a detective, addicted to finding that one case, the trail led me to the underbelly of the bridge.
To be honest, I didn''t really do much detectiving¡ªI kind of just wandered over there¡ªbut that''s beside the point.
Because under there, I noticed a faint orange glow.
Fire?
Maybe.
A homeless guy.
Probably.
But what drew me in wasn''t the glow.
It was a voice.
A familiar voice.
"HAHA, you''re so right! He really is like that, isn''t he?"
I froze.
Lorian.
Of course.
Now, listen, I know eavesdropping is bad.
But.
I had to.
So I peeked behind a pillar, and there they were¡ª
Lorian.
The same group of girls from earlier.
Lara included.
And a couple of other guys I didn''t recognize, throwing rocks at metal sheets, doing God knows what, the source of the sound.
Well, well, well.
Not to be clich¨¦, but this was rather interesting.
And not in a good way.
"He''s such a loser!" one of the girls snorted.
I blinked.
Not a great thing to say to said loser. But whatever. Could be anyone, right?
"Lorian, why do you even work with that guy?" another asked.
¡
¡
Okay.
Let''s be rational. It could be any ¡®guy¡¯, right?
There''s a lot of ¡®guys¡¯ out there I''m sure.
"He''s a weirdo, a creep, and honestly just plain fugly." A lot of the girls agreed.
I stood there, rationalizing.
Our workplace is big; it''s got a lot of employees. Its vast¡ª
...
Nope.
There were only three of us employees.
Me.
Lorian.
And Rena.
And Rena, last time I checked, was not a guy.
Which left one option.
I stood there, hidden behind the pillar, the cold of the street night suddenly feeling a little too cold.
"Well, what am I supposed to do? I''m not the boss." He retorted, throwing a pebble at the metal sheets.
"He''s such a loser though! I mean, did you see the way he was stuttering around you, Lara? And those pervert eyes of his! Yuck!"
They hadn''t mentioned my name yet; heck, they might not even know my name, but despite this, the comments found a little crack in my heart and lodged themselves. I mean, I''m a pretty strong guy, mentally, and I''ll be lying if I said physically too.
But what truly hurt the most, was-
"Yeah, he really is, the way he stuttered and that voice crack." Lara burst into a laugh.
"Oh, that voice crack, that was really entertaining." She wiped a fake tear from her eye.
"You gave him your name though, why?" One of the girls asked.
Lara pondered for a moment, then answered.
"Why not?" She shrugged.
"Give him a little bit of hope for his teenage fantasies." With that, they all came together in perfect harmony, laughing and mocking.
At this point I was ready to leave; I had heard enough and seen enough.
I just got divorced before even getting married.
And really, it was my fault for even being there; if I had just gone home the same way, my day would have ended on a high.
My body was already moving in the direction of home, and I was really ready to leave, when¡ª
THUNK!
Another pebble was thrown at the metal sheets; it sounded quite heavy for a pebble though.
But what was it to me?
"OY! LOOK AT THIS!" One of the boys shouted, overly excited.
It seems the rock, not the pebble, shifted the metal sheets to reveal a little family of a mother cat and a couple of kittens, hissing excessively.
The boys started laughing, huddling around the cats.
The mother was frantically hissing and clawing at the group.
"Feisty, isn''t she?" One of the boys remarked.
"Hey, don''t cats sell for a lot?" Another boy asked.
"It depends on the breed; what do you think, Lorian? Do they look expensive?" Another boy answered.
Lorian, waltzing over like the main character he is, inspected the cat, and said.
"For the litter, maybe 500, give or take."
The boys started cheering, excited.
"WE''RE GOING TO BE RICH!" They all started laughing.
Lorian reached down, ignoring the mother cat''s frantic hissing.
With his usual smug grin, he made a grab for one of the kittens. The mother cat lashed out, claws raking across his wrist.
"Argh! You little¡ª" His expression twisted in annoyance as he glanced at the trickle of red, dripping down his wrist, before morphing into something far uglier.
His leg swung back.
Then forward.
The dull thud of his boot striking the mother cat''s side rang out beneath the bridge.
A sharp yowl tore through the air as the cat tumbled across the ground, crashing into a pile of garbage bags.
The boys roared with laughter.
"Damn, that thing went flying!" one of them hooted.
"Nice one, Lorian!"
The girls giggled, watching the scene with mild amusement.
Then the real chaos began.
With the mother cat dazed, the boys lunged for the kittens. Tiny cries of distress filled the night as small bodies were snatched up by rough hands.
"Look at this one! It''s so small!"
"Dude, check this one out, it has markings and sh*t¡ªthink we can sell it for more?"
The kittens squirmed, mewling desperately, their tiny claws scratching at their captors. But the boys only laughed harder, holding them high like prizes at a carnival.
I saw red.
Before I even realized it, I was moving.
One second, I was behind the pillar.
The next¡ª
CRACK!
My fist connected with Lorian''s jaw.
His head snapped to the side, his body stumbling back. Shock flickered across his face before rage took over.
Silence.
Everyone was overly confused on how I got there and why I was there, so we all just stared at each other for a bit.
Then¡ª
"WTF? Who''s this guy?" One of the boys jeered.
"Yuki, you little¡ª" Lorian wiped his mouth, eyes dark with fury. "You''re so f*cking dead!"
My breath was coming fast, my body tensed for another strike. My hands shook¡ªnot from fear, but from adrenaline.
I had training. Aikido. Nothing fancy, but I knew how to handle myself.
At least¡ I thought I did.
Because here''s the thing they don''t tell you about fights in real life:
Numbers matter.
A lot.
Lorian wasn''t alone.
I was.
A hand grabbed my collar. Another slammed into my gut, knocking the wind out of me.
I barely had time to register the pain before a fist cracked against my cheek. Then another. And another.
I stumbled, legs giving out beneath me as I hit the ground, the taste of blood filling my mouth.
But even as my vision blurred, I still curled protectively around the mother cat, shielding her with my body.
The kicks came next.
Blows rained down, laughter ringing in my ears as sneakers met ribs, shoulders, and legs.
I gritted my teeth, holding back any sound of pain.
I wouldn''t give them that satisfaction.
Heels clicked against the pavement.
The laughter quieted just enough for me to hear a familiar, disappointed sigh.
"Ugh," Lara muttered. "Look at him. Pathetic."
I shifted, lifting my head just slightly. Through swollen eyes, I saw her staring down at me, arms crossed, nose wrinkled in disgust.
"And he was actually thinking of confessing to you," one of the girls snickered.
Lara rolled her eyes. "Gross."
Lorian stood there, wiping his bleeding lip. "The hell is wrong with you?" He shouted.
Then, just like that, they all began to turn and walk away, the others trailing behind, still chuckling, still mocking.
The kittens were gone.
The mother cat trembled beneath my arm.
And I lay there patheticly, alone under the bridge, staring up at the grinning moon.
Truly pathetic.