We didn't say much as we finished eating. But Mia kept smiling in this strangely shy way, stealing looks at me with her lips pressed together tightly whenever she thought I wasn't paying attention to her.
My thoughts wandered.
Mia's eyes shone bright. "Thanks."
I was silent.
"For... well. The day." She clarified, scratching her cheek, a sign that showed her nervousness, as if her smile didn't make it obvious.
"No problem, Noona. I enjoyed it myself." And that wasn't even a lie.
"Mhm."
I wondered if we were both thinking about the same things.
Mia bit her lip and reached into her purse, fishing around and pulling out a tube of lip balm. The scent of strawberries wafted in the air between us. I wasn't surprised.
Her eyes darted up at mine for just a brief second before focusing back on her task. Applying a thin, shiny coat of the stuff with her ring finger. Her lips shined.
I waited, watching. The pink tip of her tongue flicking out to taste it.
The image, combined with the earlier sight, made me increasingly conscious of every breath and heartbeat.
What would it taste like, to kiss her now? Sweet, tart strawberries on her soft mouth? It was an intrusive thought that made me hate myself, for just a split second.
She capped her tube of lip gloss with a satisfied smile and looked up, her expression expectant, almost eager for praise.
"Let's go." I wasn't in the mood for it, so I picked our stuff and gestured to her to stand up, so we could leave this place as soon as possible. She nodded and we left the place in relative peace and quiet.
"So... no movie?" She pouted as we walked.
"Not in the mood."
I didn't bother elaborating on that, just continued to stare at the path ahead.
This couldn't happen, I knew. But, in a twisted way, a dark, almost sinisterly enticing way, it might have to happen, one way or another, and I couldn't tell whether the excitement in my stomach was anticipation or fear. "Maybe." I muttered. It was safe. It didn't promise anything.
I had to get my head in the game; couldn't be sidetracked like this. Not like this.
She gave a small nod and smiled again.
The rest of the trip passed quickly as Mia talked about the last season of a TV series she'd watched. Something I couldn't care less about. She talked anyway, knowing it wouldn't change a single thing.
Still, I couldn't be that annoyed. And it was nice, this strange, peaceful feeling, knowing that we'd had each other's backs in a literal sense, and that she wanted to spend more time with me.
I've never had this in my previous life. Not something so... gentle. It felt soft and sweet.
Maybe that's what I was trying to protect. That innocence.
The afternoon was a lazy one, sunlit and warm.
I looked up.
We were finally back home.
"You're listening, aren't you?" Mia had been droning on and on for at least thirty minutes straight and the words began to jumble into meaningless sound in the end. I gave her the best 'yeah' I could manage without actually lying and opened the front door. I took off my shoes.
She did too.
"I'll go take a nap." I muttered. I needed my brain to shut the hell up. I climbed the first step and—
Su Ah blocked my path, not voluntarily of course. She blinked, first in surprise and recognition, then her eyes alternated between me and Mia.
"You two have been out?"
Mia nodded, humming, as she climbed past me. She stretched, a look of satisfaction on her face. "Yeah. We were together."
She raised an eyebrow. "Almost all day?"
"Yes."
"Surprising..." Su Ah looked down for a moment, as if contemplating something. I didn't know what she could possibly be thinking that would require her to furrow her brow and make her eyes seem that intense. "There was an accident at the mall today, did you...?"
"Yes, we were there. Saw everything." Mia replied, still stretching, making damn sure her assets were high and on display for me. I didn't focus on that. Instead, I chose Su Ah's serious expression, which was far more compelling. "Though, if you want a more detailed overview, just ask our lil' brother, hm? He was there to make things right."
I sighed. "Noona—"
Mia gave a mischievous little grin, like a gremlin, and scuttled off to her room with quick, light steps.
Su Ah, with her back turned towards her older sister, hadn't caught that expression. "I'm curious, could you elaborate on that, Jae-il?"
"It wasn't much. Nothing to do a report about, seriously. Just happened to be the right guy at the right time." My voice was firm as I shrugged and stepped up on the next stair. "So, if you'll excuse me." Once I had more of a higher ground, I ruffled her hair.
"Wha—Hey! You're messing it all up!" Su Ah cried, almost in outrage. She pouted as her hand quickly tried to fix her hair from the mess that I've reduced it to. It didn't really change anything and she huffed.
She tried to glare at me in that semi-annoying way. Her attempts were cute, but hardly effective.
I walked away, up the stairs.
xXx
My life felt like a dream, sometimes. Maybe it was because it was so damn peaceful, yet so... weird. The way everything seemed to fit into place and yet felt utterly bizarre, the way my family was, in some aspects, so completely unlike any family I've ever experienced in my life. Then, the memories of my past self.
But, there was some normalcy within the insanity. I didn't question the reality of it, just accepted the odd bits as facts, like puzzle pieces. Perhaps it was the whole situation with Mia that made me a bit more aware of it, that my life wasn't as normal as I might've wished. Or at least, not 'normal' in a conventional sense.
I lay down in my bed, just as confused as before, if not more so, about my own head. My own life and the shit that went along with it.
With that thought in mind, I closed my eyes, hoping that sleep would fix my problems. It didn't.
Dreams weren't an escape for me.
...
I saw a memory.
A glaring sun. An orange-tinted, hazy sky, like the horizon on fire.
A young boy stared up at me, his face covered in bruises and blood dripping down the corner of his mouth.
His chest heaved under the weight of fear. A plastic bag clung to his skin, fogging with each shallow breath.
"Where is Rafael Costa?" My voice was calm, like I'd asked him the time of day.
Certainly his time of the day, since his life was hanging by a breath.
The boy shook his head, trembling, fingers twitching against the rope that bound him to the chair. His eyes screamed louder than his throat ever could.
I slipped the bag up for just a second. Enough air to taste life again. Enough to make him believe it was still his choice.
"You're young." I said, and some part of me actually meant it. It wasn't the first time I saw someone so young getting mixed up in this shitstorm. Shouldn't kids aspire to be football players, maybe doctors or lawyers? What the fuck is wrong with this place? "You don't need to die for him. So, tell me. Where is he?"
Silence. The boy's jaw clenched, bloodied lips pressing shut.
I slipped the bag down again. His breath came frantic, shallow. The sound of plastic sucking against his skin filled the room, louder than his muffled cries. I counted in my head. One, two, three—at ten, I pulled it back up.
He gasped like a fish on land.
That smell. Sweat, blood, piss. I had grown used to it, had smelled far worse.
"You think he cares about you?" I leaned in, close enough that my words could crawl into his ear. "Costa's probably drinking right now. Laughing while some chick's sucking him off. You're nothing to him. So why protect him? He's a walking dead man. You know that we'll get to him. We always do. You can be free. You just have to tell us."
The boy shivered, eyes darting, searching for something in me. Mercy, maybe. I had none to give. My mother's face burned behind my eyelids. Her body crumpled on the street, not even a target, just fucking collateral. Just fucking collateral. Costa's bullets had carved a hole into my world, and the boy in front of me was just a lock to be picked.
I was going to destroy Costa's world, and anyone who helped him build it.
I pressed the bag down again. Longer this time. His legs kicked. Chair scraped. He coughed and gurgled. My pulse never wavered. I wasn't angry, not anymore. Anger had burned out months ago, replaced by something colder.
When I pulled it up again, his lips moved before his lungs could catch up.
"Rua… Rua das Palmeiras…" He gasped. "Safehouse. Please…"
I stared into his wide, terrified eyes. The truth always came out. It was just a matter of time and air.
"Good boy." I muttered, standing straight, and ruffling his sweaty hair. "You did good. Very good." I smiled.
The boy's chest heaved, thin shoulders jerking with each sob. The words were out now, spilled like blood.
Rua das Palmeiras. A safehouse.
I stood back, watching him. My part was done.
The soldiers outside shifted in the hallway, boots heavy against the concrete floor. I gave a quick nod. One of them cut the rope loose.
The boy collapsed forward, coughing, clutching his ribs. For a second, he just stayed there on his knees, gulping air like it would never be enough. Then he looked up at me—eyes red, full of hate and terror both—and scrambled toward the door.
I knew before he moved what he was going to do. Rats always run. Straight to whoever they think can save them.
I drew my sidearm.
Bang.
A sharp crack. His body hit the ground before he reached the threshold, face pressed into the dirty concrete. One neat hole in the back of his head.
He twitched once, then stilled.
I lowered the weapon. Silence settled in.
"Loose ends." I muttered. To myself, to the men outside, maybe even to the ghost of my mother. If she had been watching over me, I could only hope she would have understood. Loose ends and nothing else. In the Favelas, ties always got burned, and lives always hung in the balance. The kid would've either returned to a cartel's employ, gotten killed for the mistake he's committed, or be living the rest of his short life knowing the fact that his name, his family, his entire identity was registered as a 'mole' in Costa's cartel.
There were no good choices, there never had been. Not for a kid from the slums, where even life wasn't a right, just an eventual inevitability, something to fight for until you could do so no longer.
"Dreams are hard to come by in the favelas..." I said, one last time, as I stared at the kid's dead eyes. "They're supposed to be sweet and peaceful, an oasis in a hell. A break from the constant heat and violence, the smells and the tastes, the blood and the rot..." I chuckled, shaking my head.
I've done enough introspections for an entire day. I had to focus. It was only a matter of days, at most, before the information the kid provided was rendered useless.