Misunderstandings

"So, what were you doing here at a time like this?"

"I was at the library. Just a group study session with my friends. Tell me first, those two were part of the South Gate, right? Who's this Brendon guy? And why in the world were they chasing you? And also-"

"Come one by one..." Bryant winced as he touched his swollen cheek. "It's... it's a long story."

After guiding Bryant to the nearby corner store, I led him towards the restroom. He leaned over the sink, splashing water onto his face, attempting to cleanse away some of the bloodstains. Meanwhile, I swiftly gathered essential supplies from the store's shelves - bandages, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and soft cotton pads. It was evident that we needed to mend him right here and right now.

Initially, he resisted my efforts, struggling to stand and make his way to the store's counter himself. But his wobbly legs gave way, and he stumbled back to the ground. Finally, he silently accepted my help, allowing me to assist him to his feet again.

With his arm around my shoulder and my arm supporting his waist, we slowly made our way to the store's counter. I could feel the weight of his battered body pressing against me. Good thing he hadn't lost consciousness; otherwise, carrying him would have been an even greater challenge.

As we reached the counter, the storekeeper, an elderly man with a thick pair of glasses perched on his nose. He glanced in our direction but remained silent, directing us with a nod toward the restroom located at the rear of the store. It seemed he'd witnessed countless peculiar encounters throughout the years. I guided Bryant to the restroom and then proceeded to collect the items I required from the store.

"Remember the last fight we had with the South Gate?" Bryant muttered as he turned off the tap. I carefully poured some rubbing alcohol onto a cotton pad. When I began to dab it onto his cuts, he winced and let out a sharp, "Ouch... ah... hand it over. I'll handle it myself."

He snatched the bottle and cotton from my grasp.

"Are you acting like a kid now? You didn't flinch at those bad guys, but this has you yelping?" I chuckled, which seemed to irk him a tad. He scowled, biting his lip, and continued tending to the cuts with the alcohol.

"So, what about South Gate?"

"Oh, yeah. After that fight, their leader left the gang without prior notice. I don't know what traditions or rituals they have, but Brendon ended as the leader of the 7th generation South Gate."

"You seem to be quite familiar with this Brendon guy-"

"You also have some history with him, if you remember the time the others ganged up on you thinking you're someone else."

"Yeah. Clearly."

"Well, Brendon and some others were causing trouble here and there using our name. So we were looking around for those imposters, and your timing was just perfect enough to get stuck in the crossfire."

"Sounds more like you guys were the ones causing more trouble for people."

"Whatever. Brendon and I went to the same middle school. But he was always the violent type as he is now, so no one got along with him that much. But his strength is no joke. If he was the leader back during the showdown, then they'd surely win. In the end, the whole thing boils down to the fight between the two leaders. And as he knew they'd lose, so he didn't even show up that day." 

"So... he's just trying to get revenge now? Or force you to give up the turf?"

"Who knows what's going on in his mind. But I heard that he'd beat up some of his own team members. Apparently, they were too weak to even be there to begin with. "

"In-fighting. He seems to be the worst." 

"Well, these kinds of things happen everywhere. If you're weak, you'll be weeded out by the strong. But sometimes, that's not the end of it. When life gets monotonous, some folks aim to crush even those as strong as they are, just to assert their dominance."

So the strong have their own problems too.... At first, I believed Bryant was just like Hugh, someone who crushed others to stay at the top. But now, seeing him nursing his wounds... maybe we're not all that different after all. The facade of being at the top... and the shadow that overbears the presence of the weak – what did these things really mean?

"Can you win against him... Brendan, I mean..."

"Brendan? No doubt he is a skilled fighter. And he's been doing this shit longer than me..."

"That means you'll lose, huh? Then better stay away from him."

"Wait, I didn't mean that. I mean, yeah, he is good and all, but for now I'm the leader of East Gate too..." Bryant spoke with a sort of confidence that even emanating from his eyes. "I'd surely win."

"Oh, by the way, I brought this too. Have it."

"What is it?" he asked, eyeing my outstretched arm, as I handed the chocolate bar to him.

"Reese's. Didn't you say it's your favorite?"

"You've remembered it? Seriously?" Bryant stared at the chocolate bar, then at me, and suddenly burst into genuine laughter. It was the first time I'd seen him laugh, not in a sinister way, but with a genuine, hearty chuckle.

"So, you don't even know why those two gave you a run for your money?"

"They just caught me off-gaurd. Do I seem that weak?"

"I mean, yeah..." I couldn't help but tease him. After all, the people he got into a brawl with, including him, seemed to lack common sense. Though I shouldn't be saying that out loud... for the sake of my neck. 

I must have been staring because Bryant hissed, "Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?"

"Oh... nothing," I stammered, feeling somewhat embarrassed. "I was just lost in thought."

Suddenly, the door behind us slammed open, startling both of us. My heart leaped to my throat for a moment. Were those two troublemakers back? I turned around to see who it was.

"Reol, there you are! I was looking for you all over the place."

"John?" I was taken aback. But beyond surprise, I was feeling a multitude of other emotions, emotions that were difficult to put into words. Was this kindness? Friendship in action? Though it was me who had called him earlier for help... honestly, I hadn't expected him to come rushing over here. 

"Oh, and Bryant, you're here too," John exclaimed, panting heavily as he leaned on his knees for support. 

"John, did you run all the way here?"

"Yeah. I was actually puzzled at first, wondering what on earth was going on. So, what happened exactly?"

Could it be pity? Yet, the way his eyes conveyed sincerity and relief... Just hours ago, the only think I could think of was to put as much distance between us as possible. I didn't want to look into his eyes even. After what he told me in the library... just how much of John did I truly understand? It felt as though I had completed a full cycle on a ferris wheel, only to find myself back at the base, back at the starting point. "Actually, Bryant ran into some thugs, and they roughed him up pretty bad."

Bryant elbowed me on the back hard. "Don't phrase it like that!"

"Alright, my bad. I suppose you understand now why I called you."

"To make them think you had backup, huh?"

"Yeah, but I never expected it to actually work."

"It was quite the gamble, but I guess it paid off. I was literally on edge, thinking about what I'd do if things were really out of hand."

"Doesn't matter. I could've handled it myself," Bryant retorted.

"The same guy I had to practically carry here." I teased, gently patting him on his back.

"Alright, alright, I give up," Bryant conceded with a grin.

I guess Bryant was right back then... we're really so often to make others misunderstand about ourselves... just as often as we're to misunderstand others too.