'WHAT THE FUDGE...'

I blink at the screen. To say that I'm baffled would be the mother of all understatements.

'Could it be an error? Perhaps, someone messed up the digits...'.

Being the polite guy I am, I quickly water down my annoyance. My fingers start tapping.

Me: I'm sorry. You seem to have contacted the wrong number. I think you are mistaken.

Message Undelivered

Me? A secret agent? I glance down at my, mind you, not so plump frame. Gosh, people can be so careless at times.

As I go back to chopping up the cucumbers for the salad, my phone buzzes again.

Unknown: You should have informed us before going MIA.

'This is ridiculous, but humouring them a little can't hurt, right?'

Me: Tell me my name.

Message Undelivered

Unknown: Now that we have located you, we have a mission for you. Your success or failure will determine your future with the agency.

'Are you kidding me right now?!'

Me: Mission? Agency? Have you seen me? Nothing about me screams Agent. And if I am who you say I am, then tell me my name.

Message Undelivered

I roll my eyes and wipe the vapour off my glasses with the help of my apron.

My phone goes off again, much to my irritation. I open it, half expecting it to be someone else, but nope. It's the same number.

Unknown: Don't take this lightly.

'I will do whatever I want, you- you-'

I fail to come up with appropriate swear words and am about to turn off my phone when it vibrates, indicating the incoming of yet another message.

'Do people type at the speed of lightning nowadays?'

Heaving a sigh, hoping it will help me calm down, my fingers click on the message to view it. Instantly, an almost overwhelming desire to dial the number and snap at the sender of these ridiculous messages fills me.

Unknown: We will be sending you the details of your mission shortly.
The man (Owen Summers) has something we need. You don't need to know the details at the moment.

Me: Nope, sorry. Bye.

Message Undelivered

"Jon, are you done with the salad?" Emma's voice calls out. Pursing my lips, I quickly stuff my phone back into my pocket. I turn it off, hoping that the lack of replies would make the sender realise that he had the wrong guy. Me, a secret agent? Huh! Fat chance.

"Yeah, I'm almost done, Em!" I respond and sprinkle a little more salt and pepper over the sliced veggies.

"Please finish it and get over here, alright?"

"Got it!"

******

"Gosh, today was a hell of a tiring day," Jeff sighs, wiping his damp hair from the shower.

"Yeah, it was, and if I find that you've used up all the warm water again, I'll whack you so hard that you won't be able to lie down on the bed straight," I grumble.

"If that happens, then take that as payback for not siding with me earlier today," he sticks out his tongue at me, and I smack his head.

Whatever he says in reply is drowned as I slam the bathroom door shut.

The warm water pours down in smooth rivulets down my body, washing away the foamy lather along with it. The feel of the water gently drumming my skin relaxes me, and I stand there, with my eyes shut, feeling my cramped muscles ease, and let all the worries and tension fall away like dreams.

One after the other. Till...

"Hey, Jeff!" I suddenly jerk out of my reverie and quickly turn off the shower knob. As I received no answer, I call out again.

"Jeff? You there?"

"Oh, curse you, Jon, I lost the game because of you again!"

Laughing, I step out of the bathroom, drying my hair with a towel. "You lost because you were too dumb. How is that my fault?" I tease him, and he whines like a kid, flailing his arms on the couch.

"Hey, I've something to tell you, buddy," I go to my room and slip into a baggy t-shirt and pyjamas.

"What? You got knocked up?"

"Jeffrey."

Jeff snickers and puts his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright," he chuckles. "I'm listening."

I join him on the couch and switch on my phone after the whole day. Of course, there are no missed calls. I have no one to call me anyway.

"I finally got to know who I am, oops, who I was before you gave me a name," I announce with exaggeration and placing my hand on his shoulder, I open the messaging app and give him the phone.

Jeff raises an eyebrow and takes the device from me. His jaws drop.

"The heck?!" He shoots me an incredulous look, "Agent 23?! You..." He trails off and gives me, mind you again, not that protruding belly a good once over. "You are... were a secret agent?!!"

"Seems like it," I chuckle.

"Wait, wait," he frowns. "Did someone find the pamphlets? You know the ones that you had put up about yourself?" He mindlessly scrolls up and down the screen.

"I didn't put up any. I changed my mind at the last moment. I don't know why, but it didn't feel right."

"Then, this is surely a prank. Someone from the staff maybe. Because with this figure..." He laughs, and I playfully smack him on his arm. We sit and laugh at the incredibility of the whole situation when his phone rings. The ringtone being the anthem song of the Game of Thrones.

"Hey, Mum!" He chirps and mouths a "give me a minute" to me, to which I nod and tell him not to hurry. Jeff gets up from the couch and walks off to the balcony.

I go back to the room that we both shared and flop down on my bed; it creaks. I sigh and close my eyes, thinking if I had ever offended anyone. I sigh again; I don't remember anything about my past. And as of now, I am just an ordinary cook.

Suddenly Jeff's voice comes over from outside the room. "Damn! We forgot to take out the trash this morning!"

"Oops!" I sit up.

"Ah, never mind, I'll take it out now."

"Should I come with you?"

"Nah, it's not a big deal. I'll do it. By the way, your mission is hot. If I weren't straight, I would tap that ass."

"My mission?" I yell, wondering what Jeff was on about, but instead of a reply, I hear him huff and puff from the kitchen, and then I hear the sound of the door closing.

I lie back down, deciding to ask him what he meant later.

All of a sudden, a blood-chilling scream echoes through the street; my eyes fly open, and I see the lights coming on in the neighbouring houses. I scramble off the bed, and after pocketing my phone, I rush outside.

People were beginning to open the doors and windows of their houses to check.

I fling the door of our shared apartment open and stumble outside to find Jeff lying on the ground in a pool of his blood.

"Jeff!" I shout, quickly cradling his bloody head into my lap. His blood seeps through the gaps in between my fingers and into my favourite grey pyjamas. I don't care.

"Young man, we've called the ambulance. They're on their way. Don't worry, your friend will be safe," our next-door neighbour tries to calm me down.

Tears roll down my cheeks as I feel Jeff's still frame getting cold and watch his pale face.

A neighbour offers me a handkerchief, and I stare at it, stare past it.

I don't know what to do.

Everything is a blur when I hear the sirens blaring and see Jeff lifted onto the stretcher. I vaguely hear someone asking, "Who will be accompanying him to the hospital?" and get onto the vehicle silently, shaken to my core.

I shiver at the sight of my lively, jovial friend lying all bandaged up and deathly still on the bed and the monitors and tubes sticking out of him. The blood from his wound on my hands and pant legs had dried long back, making it difficult to move my fingers.

The movement within the vehicle, the ear-piercing sirens wailing, the blood on my hands, everything is a little too familiar. I get a sense of Deja Vu and an urge to throw up.

But I don't. Not in front of Jeff.

Jeff will be fine; I know he will. He is a good man. I repeat the words like a mantra to calm myself. It doesn't help. But it does help me stay focused, conscious.

I grab the doctor as soon as he comes out. I plead with him to tell me what had transpired.

"Calm down, Jon," the doctor says solemnly. It is only then that I realise that the doctor is none other than the one who had treated me when I had first arrived here.

"Doctor Smith," I choke.

"From the preliminary examination, we can tell that it's probably a case of assault. There has been major blood loss, but thankfully, no internal bleeding; Jeff should be fine when he decides to come back to us."

My chest suddenly tightens, and breathing becomes near impossible. I suck in a breath noisily. "Back to us?" I repeat.

The doctor purses his lips. "Unfortunately, he has entered a comatose state due to excessive blood loss. Unless he awakens from his coma, there's no way to tell if there are any side effects."

"Jeff is in a coma?" I whisper.

"Yes, he has completely shut down due to the blood loss."

"When will he-"

"I am sorry, Jon. But that's all I can tell you as of now," the doctor places a hand on my sagging shoulders and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "Stay strong."

I can't bear to look at Jeff anymore. Not without feeling the urge to wail. I can't break down here, in front of him. I exit the ward but find it impossible to leave. I slide down the wall and bury my face in my hands and cry my eyes out.

"Your mission is hot." Jeff's last words come back to me, and I fish my phone out of my pocket. The sight of it makes me want to cry again. Jon had bought this for me, and no matter how much I had persuaded to let me pay him back for the price with the help of my salary, he had vehemently refused. Blinking the tears away, I type the password to unlock it. The messaging app opens; it was the last one opened by Jeff.

I see four messages in the inbox. The first one was an image file; the other three were unread: two text messages and another image file.

Ignoring the first image file, I click to open the second message.

Unknown: Your mission is to get close to him. Befriend him, make him trust you unconditionally. Make yourself indisposable. We have found a way for you to initiate the first contact. You will find the details in the image.

I skip the image file and open the last text message.

What I read sends me reeling with shock. Cold sweat runs down the side of my face; my heart thunders. I struggle to pull in a breath as if I had run a mile in a minute.

'What's this?! What have I done?!!'

Unknown: This mission is a top tire. Failure to comply or disclosure will lead to unimaginable consequences. Do not attempt to contact us. We will contact you. Be aware of your surroundings. Stay vigilant. We have reason to believe that we are not the only ones interested in what he has.
You have twenty-four hours to prepare yourself and get there.

My fingers fly over the keys, and I type the message ignoring the ache in my heart and tears in my eyes.

Me: No, please. Please don't harm anyone else. I'll do as you say.

But I refrain from sending it. The agency doesn't want me to contact them, so I won't. Not till I have succeeded.

I clear the message and open the image file. It's an image of an advertisement. I go over it and open the previous file.

"Owen Summers." The heading reads. I wait for the image to load, hoping for the man to look like a villain so that I wouldn't feel guilty about deceiving him.

Alas, fate kicks me in the butt once again. I look at the white ceiling and question the powers up there. 'Why are you so fudging mean to me, hmm!?'

Why you ask? Because the face that stares back at me looks nothing like the villain I had expected but a twelve-course meal.

"Your mission is hot. If I weren't straight, I would tap that ass." I recall Jeff's words once again, which, this time, bring with them a realization about myself that had as of yet eluded me: I was gay.

I gulp thickly, stuff the phone back into my pocket with shivering hands, and stand up on my trembling knees. Then, wiping my sweaty, blood-smeared palms on my sides, I walk out of the hospital, hoping against hope that I perform well. After all, not only my future but the future of my chosen family depended on it.

{ Chapter Word Count: 2256 words
Total Word Count: 3926 words }