Chapter 246 The Truest Bond of All
As they ran from the crowd of angered hyper-religious protesters, Howard Jones and this dark stranger ducked into an empty alleyway and hid there. They caught their breaths and tried to see if they had lost the angry mob.
"We're in the streets now. They probably won't follow after us with their guns and stones out in public." Howard said, though he was actually doubtful.
The stranger by his side did not say anything, only observing him. Howard felt almost as if his gaze was wrapping around him like fine cloth, and it made him a little uncomfortable.
He decided to break the silence by asking a stupid question:
"Are you alright?"
Of course he wasn't alright. He was shirtless in the cold, with several scratches and wounds from the stones thrown at him. He also had a large gash on his hip where a bullet had grazed it.
But the man just chuckled, as if he just found their situation funny.
"You should look at yourself first, Sir. You look like hell."
Howard only realized now his own injuries, but he did not really pay attention to the pain. Instead, he supported the weight of the man, half-dragging him out of the dark alleyway.
"We should call for an ambulance. I don't want that wound to get infected."
He had taken him to the telephone booth and dialed 911. Soon, the ambulance did arrive, and the responders seemed surprised that both the caller and the supposed 'victim of violence' were injured. Howard just left out the part where he was also beaten up and stoned completely in favor of helping this random stranger.
They were treated inside, and Howard could sense that the man did not like the feeling of alcohol on his wound. So he decided to distract him from the pain.
"I forgot to ask your name. I'm Howard Jones." He introduced himself.
The man nodded. "Nice to meet you….. Ugh. Would you stop rubbing it so hard?"
He spoke to the responder as if he was just some friend who did not know what they're doing. Howard couldn't remember if it was a man or a woman anymore, but he does remember how the responder scoffed and said:
"Your brawls just keep on getting worse and worse, Mr. Faust. Maybe you should try being more careful this time if you hate getting treated that much."
This Faust guy retorted: "I don't hate the treatment. It's just that you're making it bleed more if you go that hard…. Damn it!"
He managed to dissuade the responder from continuing further, and they just let him. They went up front, and Howard was left alone with this Faust man.
"So….. You know that guy—"
"Don't act dumb." The man said. "You heard him. I'm a Faust. I bet you just feel lucky now, huh? Well, let me tell you that my father couldn't care any less if I got shot in the head, so no, you won't be getting any reward from saving me."
"Reward?" Howard frowned. "I don't understand... I'm not from here."
The Faust guy suddenly blinked. "Oh. I see."
Howard smiled sheepishly. "I'm actually from Nebraska. Got my things stolen by some thugs... Should have expected it from a big city, but I barely had anything. I just wanted to apply for the Arts Academy."
The man suddenly softened his gaze at him. "So….. Even with all that, you still went up to stop a mob from shooting down some stranger. Do you want me to believe that someone's that naive?"
Howard waved away this general distrust. Clearly, this man's mental state was not that stable. He was borderline suicidal earlier, and he seemed to despise Howard because he foiled his plans for suicide.
So Howard was patient with him.
"It's not naive to care for others. Besides, I can't stand all the shoutings of those people anyway. They're so loud."
The man chuckled at this again. "Yeah….."
He then went to Howard's side, and pointed at the several bandages on his body. "You don't seem to feel hurt from those."
"Ah... No. It hurts a lot, I just tend to get fixated on things that draw my attention." He scratched his head. "You know when you find something that you really like? Like some rare stone on the street or an art piece in a library that just speaks to you?"
The man furrowed his brows. "So... You didn't notice the pain because you were fixated on those protesters?"
"Er….. Yes?"
It was less about them, but Howard felt it would be strange if he said he was drawn in by this man's aesthetics.
The man just seemed to consider something to himself, and nodded. He extended his hand.
"George Gordon Faust. I prefer G.G."
Howard happily shook it, feeling satisfied like he had managed to coax a wild cat on the street.
"Nice to meet you, G.G. So your family is famous or something?"
G.G. shrugged. "In the field of medicine, yes. They're both doctors and entrepreneurs, real big names in the American Crimson Cross organization."
"Oh, the Crimson Cross….." Howard nodded. "But, well… I take it that you're not that close to them?"
G.G. didn't answer. Instead, he just went closer to Howard and pointed at his eyes.
"Your eyes are so dark, almost like obsidian. I can see my own reflection clearly."
Howard knew he won't be able to make him open up easily, so he just blurted out.
"I know what it's like. I know what it's like to have parents whose expectations you can't meet and will despise you no matter how hard you try."
G.G. suddenly stopped looking close into his eyes, and seemed to look at him as a whole now.
Then, he made a sad smile.
"Do you, now?"
That was how it started. Everything just spilled between them easily, just as easily as it did with Gunnar.
But Howard couldn't tell anymore if the sorrow that he had seen was real or fake.
He will never trust that man again, but….
Deep down, he still wanted to believe that the person he was before, the pains they shared that night….. Those must be real. He hoped they were real.
The G.G. he knew, who would sigh by his side and say things like:
"There are times when you just can't stop asking yourself…. Why me? Why do I have to be different from everybody else? Why must I have the qualities for the world to hate me? But it's pointless."
"You'll always be the monster in someone's eyes. We all are. I see those shallow-minded, pretentious idiots who praise some invisible force to be monsters, and they see the same for me. I have accepted it now. I'll just keep on being what they hated, then. If all I'll ever get was hatred, then that's how it'll be."
Was he just a fraud? Or was his words as true as what he was inside?
Howard remembered the promise he made after hearing those words.
"I don't hate you. I will never hate you, G.G. You'll have me, and we'll have each other. Two monster friends against this monstrous world."
In the end, he did fail that promise. He failed that truest bond that anyone could have, much deeper than words can describe. It was something transcendent, something that someone may call being 'best friends' or even 'soulmates'. They were once two halves of one.
And because of breaking that promise, he changed.
So…..
Howard could only blame nobody but himself.
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