Chapter 74 ; Laughter, Noodles and Promises

It was the afternoon. The sun gently beat down on our shoulders, and we had settled near Master Shyu's cafeteria.

The old man already knew us—or rather, he knew Sakolomé. That madman had just devoured thirteen bowls of noodles.

He finally stopped, sighed loudly, and said:

— Damn, I can't take it anymore!

Sally, on the other hand, was barely at her second bowl. She looked at us with a grimace somewhere between disgust and surprise:

— You guys are really gluttons…

Sakolomé, all proud:

— You've got to eat well to have strength…

And then, nothing more. Total silence.

I looked up.

They both stared at me, mouths open.

Even Master Shyu had stopped serving. Even the customers at the stand had frozen.

I finished my twenty-fifth bowl calmly and breathed out:

— Another, please.

Sakolomé exploded:

— Damn, Oscar, you're a beast, man…

Sally couldn't believe it:

— Whoa, you still have room? Master Shyu's noodles are the heaviest I know. Normally one bowl is enough to weigh down your stomach but…

I just replied with a sly smile:

— You don't know that some people transcend that…

Sakolomé started laughing, shaking his head:

— Save some room for the cakes later, idiot.

Damn. It's true. I had forgotten the cakes.

The afternoon went on like a waking dream. We acted like fools, challenged passersby, ate again, as if the world had no rules.

We laughed, we shouted, we lived.

And for once, Sally was there, really there—not to brush me off, not to frown or judge me, but to laugh with me.

To run by my side.

It was silly, but at that exact moment, something inside me cracked.

I understood.

Understood that if I had stopped playing the tough guy, the dark guy, the one people fear… maybe we could have always lived like that.

Like fifteen-year-old kids.

I wasn't the monster I pretended to be. Not today. Not with them.

We started running through the city like crazy people, aimless, without logic. Just running.

— Hey, why are we running again? Sakolomé gasped.

— Haha, I have no idea, Sally laughed, but I don't want to stop!!

And I… shouted without thinking:

— I want to have fun like this every day!!

And I meant it. With all my heart.

We ended up collapsing on the grass in a small park.

I was out of breath. So were they.

Sakolomé lay star-shaped, arms spread wide as if he had just survived a war.

— Damn… even my eyelashes hurt from running so much…

Sally, sitting cross-legged next to him, chuckled softly. Her cheeks were pink, partly from the effort, partly from the setting sun.

— Admit it, you're an old man in a young body.

I stayed sitting, knees drawn up, elbows resting on them. I looked at the sky. It had that burnt orange color I loved. A shade between an end and a new beginning.

I said nothing. Not right away.

There was a silence around us. Not an awkward silence, no. One of those that fill you more than weigh you down. As if the world, for once, had pressed pause to let us breathe.

Then it came out, almost without thinking.

— This is real life, isn't it?

— Huh? Sakolomé said, without moving.

I didn't move either. I just kept talking, looking at the sky.

— Those moments… when your cheeks hurt because you laughed too much. When you don't have to pretend. When you forget everything else…

I didn't look at them, but I felt their attention. Especially Sally.

She was staring at me, I knew it. She had always seen me as a provocateur. A guy who brags, who plays the tough guy.

But there… I was just me. A somewhat lost kid who had just touched something he had been searching for all his life—without ever knowing how to name it.

Sakolomé smiled softly.

— Yeah… You're right. And it's free, too. Just being here. Together.

I wondered out loud:

— I wonder why it's so rare, then…

A cloud passed in the sky, the wind rose slightly.

The kind of wind that carries memories yet to come.

Sally lowered her eyes, her hands playing with some blades of grass.

— Maybe because people are too busy playing roles. Protecting themselves. Trying to please. Attacking…

Her voice softened, as if she didn't dare finish her sentence.

— I know I've done it too. Many times.

I turned to her.

I was about to say something. A joke maybe, or something clumsy. But I stopped.

I understood her.

She wasn't just the strong and brilliant girl of the group. Not just Sally always on top.

She too had her cracks. Her regrets.

Like me.

So I breathed out sincerely:

— I don't want to play a role anymore. Never again.

Sakolomé raised an eyebrow, a small smirk:

— Seriously? You're going to give up your throne as "king of idiots" at school?

We burst out laughing. Even me. And damn, it felt good to laugh without filters.

I jumped up and held out my hand to Sally, then to Sakolomé.

— Come on. I don't want this day to end.

— What do you want to do? Sally asked, intrigued.

I smiled. One of those silly, mischievous smiles I love.

— We're going to steal the moon.

— What?! Sakolomé said.

— Or at least watch it from the top of the hill… as if it belonged to us.

And we took off again. Running. Shouting. Laughing.

As if we wanted that moment to stay frozen.

As if, by living like this… we could fix something. Inside us. Between us.

It was getting late now.

In a deserted alley, just next to an old garage, heavy boots struck the ground with irritation. The night silence was broken by the sharp sound of hurried, furious footsteps.

A rough, grumbling sigh:

— Damn… all this is starting to piss me off.

The boy punched a car already dented on the side.

His fist sliced through the rusty metal like wet paper. The vehicle split in two with a grotesque metallic screech, collapsing on itself.

In the darkness, his silhouette vibrated with contained rage. His yellow eyes glowed in the gloom, like two slits of a wild beast.

Another boy calmly approached, shirtless, hair tied at the top of his head. A black tattoo covered his right shoulder, serpentine and menacing. His red gaze was cold, detached. He wore orange prison pants, his top tied around his waist.

— You should stop getting so angry… Grafay.

Grafay emerged from the shadows. His messy white hair almost looked blue under the light of a tired streetlamp. He wore a simple white t-shirt, wrinkled, and the same prison pants.

— We've been searching for a while. And we find nothing. It's seriously starting to piss me off, Yuki.

Yuki shrugged, impassive, before leaning nonchalantly against a crumbling wall.

A third individual joined them. He walked slowly, arms hanging. His shirt was open, showing a thin chest and visible ribs. His gaze seemed empty, almost absent. His short, almost shaved hair gleamed slightly under the moon.

Grafay stared at him, frowning:

— You don't seem bothered, huh, Nairo?

The boy looked up, indifferent. His voice was neutral, almost weary:

— Meh…

Yuki turned his eyes toward the other end of the alley, where the darkness became dense, almost tangible.

— Tomorrow, we'll continue the search. No rush, anyway…

A heavy silence settled.

In the distance, a dog barked. Then nothing.

Only the dull echo of their waiting… and the anger slowly boiling beneath the surface.