Fists

Bryant’s gang cheered like crazy for a few minutes after the fight. Then, after their adrenaline went down, they gradually dispersed until it was just Bryant and me left standing outside the abandoned factory. The sun had already bent along the horizon, casting long shadows throughout the crumbling building. Shafts of golden light streamed in through shattered windows, illuminating the thick layer of dust that coated everything. It was creepy and quiet.

He told me to sit on one of the splintered wooden crates carelessly scattered around the room. I cautiously obeyed, brushing against the rough edges of the crate's surface to clear the dust. Bryant joined me on the cold, hard floor. A loud thud, along his ragged breaths filling the small space between us. Every now and then, he winced with a low groan. Despite the cuts and scars all over his skin, he still managed to wear a smile - one that caught me off guard... and also surprised me coming from him. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence was heavy, but not uncomfortable. I glanced at Bryant, noting the way the shadows deepened the lines on his face, making him look older, more worn. I exhaled a long stream of breath, then turned my gaze toward him. "You guys were lucky.” I said, nodding my head. “The cops didn't show up in the end."

Bryant’s expression turned grim all of a sudden." You could tell that, or maybe we were just unlucky last year..."

"What happened last year?" I asked.

He seemed surprised by my ignorance. "So you really don't know anything, huh? You could at least enquire someone..."

I shook my head. "No one told me before. And I didn't know whom to ask."

"Whatever, good call. Usually, I don't want to talk about it either. But it's just that the police cracked down on us during last year's showdown. The bosses from both groups were arrested. Everything was pure chaos. We still ended up with the turf, as we were in power the year before that."

"The leaders were arrested... Owen, was it?"

"Yeah."

"And then you were chosen to lead next."

"I've already told you before... these are huge shoes to fill. By the way, do you know why I had brought you here the very first time."

"To tease me...?" came the quick reply.

"That's also true." Bryant let a really long sigh. His eyes hung towards the ceiling, as if carefully picking the next words. "Keep it just between the two of us. But when I look at you, it's like I am seeing a part of myself."

"You're kidding with me, right? No way we are alike."

"No, no, I'm not kidding. Though saying my past self would sound better."

"Your past self?"

Bryant chuckled, a low, dry sound that held no real humor. His expression softened, just a little, as he looked back at me. 

"You know... when I grew up... I always had a misconception that being true to myself and my emotions would lead to isolation. I believed that if I acted the way I wanted to, no one would want to be with me or follow my lead. For example, if a friend was being bullied, I thought standing up for them would only result in me being alone and regretful. So instead, I chose to blend in and go with the flow of others. That way, I thought I would have people around me."

"But you're nothing like that now."

"The realization is like a punch to my gut. I would've called myself an eyesore if I saw my past self now. Let me finish though..."

It was like he was making an honest confession. Letting everything in him out. Although, it's hard to believe when you hear it from him... but the intense look in his eyes told me he wasn't lying.

"When I first started high school, I slowly began to realize just how fragile it all was. And then one day, I got caught up in a street fight. It wasn't even my fault, just wrong place at the wrong time. But someone who knew me saw me there and reported it to the school. And just like that, everything fell apart. No one stood up for me."

"I guess I can relate to that. I've been in something similar in my previous school too."

"Like how all their eyes seem to be judging you all the time. Trapping you in some sort of cage."

"Yeah."

"But when I thought everything was over, it was my previous boss, Owen, who helped me get over with. As ironical as it may be." He chuckled softly. "He taught me a way of living I had never known before. He taught me how to raise a fist, and how to connect the punches. You know, your punches speak a lot about who you are. I'd said the same thing before, right? If you can't even raise your fists, then you're no one."

"Yeah, I somewhat remember that..." I said. "So now you're carrying on with he'd taught you, in his place?"

"That's an overstatement. I'm nothing like him. I'm not a good leader."

"But they all seem to respect you a lot."

"I'm just good at packing punches. Nothing else. Even Ash, though it's hard to tell, but he's really good at studies. And also making strategies. They are all good fella's."

"But I still think you make a good leader."

"Well, they also said the same. After making me the new leader, they all say that we are now the 5th generation of East Gate."

"5th generation... what's this generation thing."

"It's the serial of the leaders who've led the gang before. It was the 4th generation under Owen. After Owen got arrested. At first, I had no intention to become the next leader. And even now I believe I'm just a substitute until the 4th generation boss comes back. But one thing is that, and it was Owen who had taught me it, is you're not the one who'll walk up to the top. It is everyone else who'll carry you to there. People who'll relate to what you want to do. I'm always relying on them. Even then, they also rely on me with how I am. And to live up to that, I do what I must."

"So that's what you were trying to tell me that day. Though I couldn't really understand what you were trying to mean."

"Don't get me wrong. It's your wish how you choose to live. But instead of trying to adjust with everyone around you, do what your heart tells you to do. At least, there will be someone who'll still be with you. And in your own way, live up to their expectations. That's all I wanted to say."

"I guess I'm finally getting what you're trying to tell me."

"No need to overthink. I'm just feeling overly good today. That's all." His eyes fixed at a distance, away from me, as he murmured almost to himself, "I can now rest easy when Owen comes back."

Then, just as it appeared we had reached his house, Bryant abruptly halted in his tracks. His steps became hesitant, and he seemed reluctant to go any further.

I regarded him with puzzlement. "What's the matter, Bryant?"

At first, he evaded my question, his gaze dropping to the ground as if in search of the right words. Eventually, he let out a sigh and admitted, "Actually, this afternoon, I had a heated argument with my mother. I said some really hurtful things and then stormed out of home. I'm pretty sure she doesn't even want to see me right now."

"Would you like to talk about it?" I offered gently.

"No, I don't."

I knew I shouldn't intrude. I've had my fair share of arguments back home, and now, as I looked at him, those memories seemed to resurface, uninvited. Similar words, similar pain. "But what's your plan now?"

"You've already poked your nose in too much. Just leave me be."

Saying things... for which I later regretted, words left unapologized for. Looking at Bryant now, I started to grasp the significance of owning up to one's mistakes and seeking forgiveness. "Allow me to meddle a bit more. If you believe you're at fault, then apologize. But don't carry that burden needlessly."

My words seemed to hit a nerve, prompting him to lash out at me. "What do you even understand, huh? Being blamed for everything and anything! And she won't even listen to me... not even once."

Those same words... I vividly recalled uttering them too... to my brother, to that person I met on the rooftop. But I had never imagined that someone else might be feeling the same way as me. "But if you leave it like that..." It felt like watching my own breakdown. "There might come a time when you'll regret it, not being able to say 'I'm sorry.' And that hurts the most."

He slumped his shoulders down again, calming down. "Listen, thanks for helping me out tonight. And thanks for saying that too. I'll handle this on my own from here...."

Despite his words, a storm of worry brewed within me. It felt as though an invisible, heavy shroud clung to him, as if beneath his tough exterior, he secretly yearned for someone to help shoulder his burdens, even if he was hesitant to admit it. "Alright," I reluctantly said, finally releasing his shoulder. "But if you ever need someone to talk to, you know where to find me."

But as we were about to part ways, out of nowhere, a woman appeared, striding toward us with determination in her eyes. She seemed to materialize like a specter, and before Bryant or I could react, her hand connected with a resounding slap against Bryant's cheek.

The sudden, sharp crack of the slap reverberated through the quiet night, leaving us both utterly stunned. Bryant staggered back a step, his hand instinctively rising to his reddened cheek. Surprise and confusion flickered in his eyes.

Was she Bryant's mother? I couldn't be entirely certain, but there was a strong resemblance between them, especially in their eyes, which bore a striking similarity in different ways.

"Bryant, how did you get so hurt? What were you up to all this time?" She finally spoke, posing one question at a time.

Still rubbing his cheek, Bryant retorted, "Why are you hitting me then!? Can't you see that I've cut my lips?"

His mother's stern expression wavered for a moment, as her eyes widened, seemingly taking in the extent of Bryant's injuries. However, her emotions quickly shifted to a blend of anger and relief.

"Don't you dare say that. Do you realize how much I worried about you?" Her voice cracked as she fought to restrain her tears. In a heartbeat, she pulled Bryant into a fierce hug, both of them sinking to the ground. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she held Bryant tightly with her emotions gushing forth.

"I searched for you... everywhere..." she sobbed. "Do you even know how terrified I was?"