Married to Work

It was heavy.

Something weighed down on his body, held him in place like an anchor. It looked to be an arm—burly and broad. It was hard to breathe. His entire body ached.

Bread stared at the ceiling. His head kept spinning out of control, and his eyes… He lifted his hands. Twenty… fingers? What just happened? One moment, he saw Azan, and the next, he was on the floor, squashed like a sandwich.

He flipped himself over and clawed his way out from underneath the massive figure. He tried to stand, but something about his body… It felt wrong. In every aspect of the matter. His legs wobbled uncontrollably, and he couldn’t tell which way was up.

Without much resistance, he crumpled over.

He reached out again but to no avail. There was nothing to grasp. No hand to help him up, no eyes to watch him fall… Except Azan’s. He was watching everything with a scrutinizing gaze.

Cautiously, he made his way over. But instead of Bread, he strutted towards the lone figure on the floor. He crouched down and nudged the body with his pen. Then he flipped the heavy individual over.

“Gunther…?” Azan whispered under his breath.

Gunther? Dad?

“Gunther?” Azan shook the figure. “Where did you come from? Why did you—Gunther! Gunther, answer me!” There was no movement. “Are you… dead?” He stumbled back. “Dead…” he repeated. “No, what about our company? What about us? We were supposed to do this together!”

“D-dad…?” Dead? No, that couldn’t be… “Dad, can you hear me?” His voice croaked weakly as it fell on deaf ears.

“He’s dead…” Azan fell to his knees. Color seemed to drain from his face. “He’s… dead?” But then his eyes suddenly widened. “No, this isn’t bad… No, this—I’m… free?” Azan started to laugh maniacally. “He’s dead!” He grabbed Bread’s shoulders and shook. “You wanted to see him, yeah? Well, here he is!” He aggressively gestured towards the lifeless body. “I hope you both rot in hell! Together! Just like you wanted!” He jumped up. “What a lovely reunion!”

Blood started to pool around Dad. A dark, cherry puddle. It spread, seeping through the spaces between the tiles.

No… Bread dragged himself over. He felt weak. Not again… He tried to get up, but his knees buckled. His vision blurred and dulled as if somebody were toying with the lights. But he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t let him die alone…

Not like Coach.

With his remaining strength, he reached out. Strained his arms to hold his unmoving hand. It was right there drenched in blood… Just out of reach…

Azan crouched in front of his eyes and watched—stared as he continued to struggle. A wide grin thinly stretched across his face. “Aww, how touching,” he remarked. “Haven’t you noticed?” He motioned towards Bread’s chest. “You’re not in any better shape.”

Bread looked down. The green light around his energy core was flickering in and out. There was a crack in the center. A hole.

“Killed two birds with one stone.” Azan grinned even wider. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

Bread suddenly felt an emotion he hadn’t felt before—anger. No, that wasn’t it. It was something stronger. More primal…

Hatred. Pure, unadulterated hatred.

That smug look on Azan’s face. He hated it. He wanted to get rid of it. Erase it from existence. He wanted it out of his sight.

“What’re you glaring at?” he mocked. “You can’t even move.”

As the fury funneled through his body, Bread suddenly snapped his hand towards Azan’s ankle. He grabbed and squeezed, digging his fingers into the skin.

“What’s this? A last ditch effort?” Azan tried to pull him off. “Let go.”

“No…” He closed his eyes and started to concentrate, pulling every fiber of energy out from his body. Every leftover strength he had…

Something started to stir inside.

“Let go!” Azan kicked him in the head. “I said let go! Stupid fucking tin can.”

He could feel the ice cubes. They were forming, sliding through his already weakening body. The tips of his fingers started to pop and crackle…

“Both of you are the same!” Azan continued to kick. “Same breed of stupid, yeah?” The kicking intensified. “Don’t even know what it means to take responsibility!”

His muscles relaxed, but his grip held strong. Electricity crashed through his artificial veins, freezing over like bitter, winter rain. And then, he let it all out…

Azan started to convulse. He dropped to the floor. And pieces of his memories—

Bread’s grip tightened. He didn’t want those memories. He just wanted to make him suffer. Just like what he did to his dad. He wanted to—

…

“Sign it.”

A holographic document hovered over his nose.

“Sign it, Azan.”

Divorce papers.

“It’s over.”

“W-wait. What do you mean divorce, honey?” He examined it closer, zooming in, reading each sentence word for word. Divorce papers. It was divorce papers.

“Don’t make this any bigger than it has to.”

“Honey, wait. Relax. Let’s think this—”

“Don’t tell me to relax! I waited ten years for you to change. Ten! There’s no relaxing anymore.”

“Honey—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why…?”

“You know why.”

A myriad of possibilities flew through his mind, but none of them seemed to fit her reason for why. “I… don’t really follow.”

“Oh, you don’t know? Maybe it’s because you’re never home. Never there for the kids. Not even for me! You still don’t know? You still don’t get it? We were robbed a few days ago! In broad daylight! Did you know that? Do you even care?”

“I have work. You know that. I’m sure the security—”

“You have work? You always have work! You never not have work. You’re always out there, meeting with other more important people. Not even one single day of the month for us!” She scoffed. “And you know what’s worse? It’s that most of the time, it’s your friend who takes all the credit anyway! I’ve never seen you on the news; I’ve never seen you anywhere! All that work for what?”

“Please, that’s so superficial. We should think of our daughter—”

“I am! She doesn’t even remember your face. Because you keep changing it like it’s some goddamn daily makeup routine! And for what? Because somebody’ll come killing your ass? Nobody even knows you! Why worry?” She buried her face into her hands. “It’s like you’re not even there. Like you don’t even exist in our lives. How do I love someone I can’t even remember? I…” Her lips trembled. “I don’t even remember what kind of person you were when we married. It’s like I’m living with a stranger…”

“I… I’m sorry.”

She pursed her lips. “It’s too late for that.”

“Can you give me another chance? I’m… trying. It’s just, work is taxing, yeah?” He gave a smile to try and lighten the mood.

Instead, she teared up even more. “I can’t even remember your smile, Azan. The one that I fell in love with…” She grabbed her bag. “I’m sorry. I just can’t do this anymore.”

“Wait, hon—”

And she was gone.

Azan stared at the hollow emptiness of his office, his hand outstretched as if he were still expecting her return. But it wasn’t long before his arm slowly fell back to his side.

She wasn’t coming back.

He finally dropped to his seat. She was right. Every reason was on point. He never wanted to be number two. He never grew up telling himself that he’d be satisfied living in someone’s shadow.

He wanted to be the best like everyone else—the one to shine in the spotlight. But with his skill set, he was better suited for this—to control and manage the chaotic mess his friend created. To let that genius shine through the cracks of his ingenious plans. He was better suited to be in the background. From the very beginning.

To him, there were only two options—continue or quit. And quitting wasn’t an option. Not without him… That damn brilliant son of a bitch…

For just a few minutes, he silently wept. He had already severed his tear ducts; there wasn’t a single natural thing left on his face. But he still wept. Felt the imaginary tears flowing down his synthetic cheeks. Because he knew he still didn’t have it in him. He’d simply weep rather than chase her. He’d simply weep rather than leave Simular behind. He’d simply weep and never choose to change. Because he knew… deep down…

He just didn’t have the courage.