You come in waves

Till you're all I know

Then you fade away

Into nothing

Weighed down by dark matter inside

You leave me frozen

-

「Section One | The Hidden Side of The Mall」

「Lycas Heel」

People's lives are daily flipping of a coin. Heads and tails that make up your day. A good day or a bad day. Those unprecedented circumstances or situations that suddenly tackles you with a big hug or something that bites you hard on the rear. 

A perfectly good example of these was when I thought five-year-old me was going to die on some stupid cause as falling off in an escalator. That moment was the coin showed heads for me. On the other hand, it showed tails for my mom, seeing her for the last time stretching out her hands as the floor-plate gave away.

But for some strange reason, people tend to forget the third side, well, the existence of the third itself. Drop a coin and chances are it'll land on either side. But there are rare occasions when the coin will remain standing, neither falling flat on the ground as it spins so very still. Then, stops.

It symbolizes a moment of decision, a moment of choice. What people called being stuck on a crossroad. It's up to you where to turn. Where to go from there. You, yourself, for once, to decide how you'll go from here.

The coin flipped and remained erect for me one time and ever since then— although I can't remember when that was— I let it stay there. The coin standing still. A pedestrian forever watching the waves of trodding people in the main road. It was comfortable, almost fitting, like how wearing a hoodie is comfortable, which is why I'm wearing one too.

I stare at a mug of coffee recently placed by the waitress on my table. 

"You got the wrong guy," I tell the waitress, my throat dry as ever. "I didn't order one."

"Oh, no. Definitely not. You're our last customer tonight and you're still here idling."

She's right. I took a quick scan around, and there is not a single customer like me idling here. The old lady on the counter I assumed to be the manager catches my eye because she's smiling at me a pleasant smile I haven't seen for a long time. Practically, where I work for doesn't require smiles and pleasantries. Puns are frowned upon there too. Seeing the smile was refreshing for one, that I gave the good old lady a quick smile back.

"So, we thought you needed one," finishes the waitress.

I don't drink coffee, though. It's too bitter for me. "Thank you. But, you know, I should still pay for it."

"No, no, it's all in the house! Take your time sorting things out, boy. Have a nice, pleasant evening." 

Boy. As if they were pointing out my age. If I remember it right, I'm twenty-three years old now and I want to forget it.

Sourly, I stare at the glass my shoulder was leaning on, seeing a closely reflective image of a person who looked surprisingly different after all these years of not expressing vanity. He has this kind of messy curly hair that stubbornly sticks up on his forehead with years and years of not combing it to their proper place. A skin that grew accustomed to his photosynthesizing habits, it turned to a redder complexion. And his eyes makes me want to punch them out of their sockets. There's not a reflection of light on them as if the soul inside there was sucked out. So dull, sunken, and horribly baggy. Good seeing you again, me. 

Diverting my attention through the glass, the man I was looking for shows up among the crowd as if trying to fit in and going with the flow. Sadly, he wasn't doing a good job in that aspect. If he wasn't too clingy on his shoulder bag and keeping his eyes still ahead, it wouldn't look too obvious.

Sighing, I fish my disposable phone out from my pocket and type the words: [The chicken is on the move.]

As much as I want to mope around some more, there's a particular assignment I'm dealing on tonight. Getting up from my seat, I pat my shoulders, noticing just now with a glare that there are specks of dust.

-

The vibe is different in observing the surroundings inside a building compared to observing on the far side away from the bustling crowd. At least, that's what it's like for me here in this so-called Pearl of the Orient Seas. You feel powerful, in control of your surroundings confined in your home. Going outside is similar to throwing yourself into a sea of unknown, multiple flipping of coins. I inhale the fresh air of air pollution, and simply the carbon dioxide that goes along with it. For as long as I remember, Indigo City has this weird way of being less air-fresh outside than it is on the inside of your home too. Either it smells like cheap gasoline, cornered garbage, or rotten stale river... pretty much contradicting the capital's name.  A passing smell of tobacco takes me into a coughing fit.

Squeezing my way through, I follow him to where he's going, mirroring the crowd in their pace better than him. He begins to jog, maybe realizing a bit too late that pretending was a bad idea and it's better to scat already. I hurry my pace, not leaving him in my sight. There are too many crowds to pick up the sound of my footsteps, so I'm not all that worried...

...Until immediately we were somewhere else. I have no choice but to lighten my steps and scratch my back against the cemented, possibly spitted-and-peed-on walls, registering the idea of his choice for almost-empty, narrow roads. I take a little peek to see—

There's a face close to my face!

I recoil from a sound of ruffling, saving my face from being sliced. For a brief moment, I stop breathing. My heart thudding heavily all of a sudden. The jersey guy noticed me too soon, it caught me off guard a moment there.

Knife ready on hand, his body tenses in a forward lunge.

I can't pinpoint in my head what I should do for the best, so I duck my head to dodge, quickly keeping my distance. But I don't like this at all. "Buddy, I didn't come here to fight you. Just—"

He bellows, stifling what yet to be my complete friendly speech. His attacks are even faster now, too fast for me to say something outright, swinging his knife in reckless arcs.

"Can you calm—"

Whoosh!

"Do you—" Swish!

"Let me fin—"

Swish-whoosh!

"Um—"

He does another failed swing before he finally stops attacking me, taking a breather for himself. Cursing, he points his knife at me threateningly.

Well, I don't really feel threatened when that knife is shaking from his hands. I fake looking scared, just in case.

"If—" He breathes in and out once more. "you take a—" He wheezes a little. He must be really exhausted. "—step closer...."

He trails off, moving his knife towards the bag he's carrying in one hand, shoving through the leather. "I'll make sure you won't get this back without a scratch!"

My eyebrows frown before I can control it. "But didn't you just came all this way for that?"

Without a second thought, he tears a hole through the bag. Me and my smart mouth.

"Take a step forward and see if I care!"

Though my heart feels like they're palpitating, I keep my breathing calm and steady. My shoulders relaxing in a hunch.

"I have no other choice, do I?" I say slowly, my left hand scratching the nape of my neck with a dramatic sigh, but the other—which is on my hip at first— reach inside my hoodie in a casual swift. The kind of movement when you just want to straighten your jacket out of habit. 

Before he finally realizes what I was really doing in the first place, a pistol is aimed at his stead.

"Sorry." 

I squeeze the trigger. Shooting him—

"Aagh!"

—Or so he thought I would.

I fire my blank gun to an empty space next to him, somehow giving a little scratch on the concrete. The jersey guy kneels on the floor in an instant, his hands protecting his head. The confusing thing was, his bag isn't in his personage anymore like it just disappeared into thin air from his hands.

I was about to look around for it when I dart to a sound of something that just dropped, the knife. Followed by the dull thud of the bag. The files splay outwards from the broken zipper. I guess he needed the job, as dangerous it is, to buy a fixed zipper bag. Going over to the files, I perused them in haste even if they're classified information that I'm not supposed to see, or decided for myself not to see.

"Oh, God..." A brief gasp comes from the guy, reminding me that he's still here. As if unable to get up he drags himself backward. His expression unexpected on his face as it is directed at me. An expression of fear. "You...you're..."

"What? Do you know something about this?" I say abandoning the bag and clamping the files in one arm, taking a step forward close to him since he's defenseless to attack me.

"Stay away from me!"

My eyes went wide. It's a strange way of shouting at the top of his lungs. He shouted as if he's afraid of me. I just stand there watching him scurrying off Scot-free. Or letting him, since I was saying the truth that I will not kill him. The file I have on hand is what matters, sighing in relief that I am successful in this assignment. I slowly shove back my pistol inside my hidden pocket. My fingers a little shaken due to my adrenaline and that coffee I drank earlier, I reread the file again, examining the names and pictures, including a profile background on me.

"Where is he?" questions my partner, hearing her jogging louder behind me. "Don't tell me you left him off the hook?"

"He ran away," I answer stiffly. "Sorry. I'll report this to coach. So, bye."

I pass her. Intentionally. Partly because I'm in a hurry, and partly because I'm not in a mood to confront my partner now.

It was only when I arrived at the building I realized I wanted to know more. Only one person who knows the situation more than me is the head honcho himself of the organization I worked for. Dubbing himself, The Chief.

Unfortunately, I haven't thought about the fact it takes two hours to go there by foot. And I arrived at measly an hour and a half by running. Thankfully, although the building is already closed in curfew hours, I have the ID for me to still go in. The bodyguard waves a hand as an okay-you-shall-pass sign.

"Lycas?" The Chief regarded me in surprise as he was zipping up his pants. By my guess, he had just come out from the bathroom, fulfilling nature's call. "Why are you heaving so hard?"

Taking a moment to breathe, I drop the files dirtied by the sidewalks onto his desk as he settled himself to his chair.

"Oh," The Chief says for a start, his face looking quite confused. "You could've called me that you have this and pass it by tomorrow morning, you know. I trust you that much."

"Sorry, but I kinda broke your trust an hour ago." I pause, reflecting for a second. "Not sorry."

The Chief's eyebrows move into a quick frown. "What?"

"I saw what's inside them," I explain a little more, and even though he's the head honcho of this entire organization, I still have some guts to glare right at his cobalt-blue eyes. For him, it didn't matter, since he's glaring back at me, harder, than I do. I choose my answer carefully. "Accidentally."

"It's not your 'Oops, a candy just dropped onto the floor, accidentally. So, I'll just accidentally pick it up and eat it. Accidentally.' excuse, is it?"

My eyes widen, surprised and a little hurt that he brings that touchy subject a few weeks ago. "Damn it, that was toffee candy!"

"You could've asked permission to have one!"

"You were being selfish about them!"

"I was just teasing you!"

"Then that's all your fault, Coach. Not mine!"

He shoves his hands up in the air. "Fine!"

We give ourselves time to get some oxygen into our lungs. Feeling a little better with how our argument turned out, I plan to heave out a sigh. But it stifled, frowning at myself, sensing that there's something I just missed. Pretty sure, I came running back here for a better reason other than this stupid little fight we have about his awesome toffee candy.

Almost, just almost, I forgot what I was doing in here. 

Gritting my teeth, I added, "Glad we agreed on that candy issue, but now I'm still waiting for your—"

"Answer?" he offers in a professional way like how mind-reading detectives say it. Dramatically, he sighs. "I told you already, my answer will be, no."

"What? How can you—"

"I know I'm handsome even in this age, but you know that I'm not interested in my own sex, and I, as you already know too, have a lovely wife."

I stand there frozen. What came out as a reaction to his joke is not a cold stare or a laugh, but shocked. There's a painful tug in my chest. "Why... are you changing the subject? I'm shock enough to be on that list, but them, of all people—"

"Cas,"

I was about to cast another demanding look at him. Instead, my eyes slowly widen.

Suddenly, he looks old. Spots on his tanned face have creases; near his eyes, on his forehead, between his eyebrows. His slicked-back salt & pepper hair isn't a style, but a disguise of his age. Suddenly, he's in his true forty-nine years old form. Not the kind of childish old guy he puts up with on his face. The marks of his old age so convincing for me that anytime, anytime soon, he'll be lying flat on the cold hard floor, not breathing anymore.

Suddenly, I remember how people's lives can be very short. I quickly take my eyes off of his face.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you anything about this before," he adds, smiling a sad smile. A part of me thankful he speaks up right away the moment a thought comes to me. "Come tomorrow before noon, and I'll tell you everything. I promise. Just give me time."

Not like I don't understand what that feels too. I had a heavy secret weighing me down every single day of my life, and unlike the Chief distracting himself, I'm mostly just staying still.

I look back up at him, glaring with much intensity as I can that I learned from my partner. 

You better, I say from my eyes. I should be understanding. In a way, I should not prod him for tonight. 

I leave the building, wondering if this will be the first night of me not getting any sleep. Goosebumps start to gather on my skin and yet the weather tonight is warm.

---☆--||--★---

Just to be clear, the lyrics above and all others by the following chapters came from the band itself, Starset. It's an awesome feeling that most of their songs actually resonated with my story.

Joie de vivre.