Things resulted being more difficult than he anticipated.
It was not hard to catch up. He had always been a silent companion to Mucho, so it was easy to not arouse suspicion and blend back into his old routine.
Time seemed to flow by, at this point Sanzu was not even counting the days, just mindlessly following his past routine until he could find some sort of clue, a direction where to go.
The toman meetings where irrelevant and in his opinion a waste of time. However, it was relieving to see his king alive and well.
Mikey was weak here. There was an artificial lightheartedness in the way he moved, as if forcefully holding onto his youth. Everything about him felt artificial, the way he smiled, his relaxed posture, the joking tone he would share with the rest of the founding members.
It felt as if only Sanzu could see through him. This Mikey has not reached his full potential, he has not experienced true loss and true heartbreak. He was not the king yet.
A sense of betrayal filled Sanzu, underwhelmed by the view. It felt stupid to be dissapointed, Mikey was fifteen after all, and Sanzu a grown-ass man. The Mikey he idolized was someone he helped shape into being the perfect leader, something he would never hesitate to repeat the process of over and over again if it meant getting his perfect future.
One where Mikey does not fall off a building under his watch.
His only relief was that that horrid wench was still nowhere in sight. No mention of a crybaby with piss coloured hair has been made yet, no sudden appearance or a change in routine. Sanzu hated surprises, in times like these he wished he could better remember the following months, as he could not recall when exactly the boy would show up.
To be completely honest, Sanzu felt restless. Right at that moment the required weekly meeting was reaching its end and he had heard nothing of value spoken in all those hours.
While spacing out he kept his eyes focused on Mikey, who must have been doing some motivational speech based on the reactions around him.
Weeks may have passed but it was still difficult to find some quality cigarettes that were not overpriced, perhaps he should look a bit harder because he truly needed some sort of relief from the toman's dramatic bullshit.
His hatred for teenagers grew each day, Sanzu could barely handle the over-dramatic speeches and conversations these kids had each meeting.
They are fifteen for crying out loud. How bad can life get at fifteen, really? (Not counting the several deaths of course)
Days have passed while stuck in the past and with each passing moment Sanzu was more convinced that he may actually be trapped in hell.
No matter the complaining, the simplicity of his routine was something Sanzu did not mind all too much. Everything was predictable, people were easy to read. School was a breeze. Let's not talk about family matters, thank you very much.
The shift happened in the blink of an eye, everyone was saying their goodbyes, the only ones standing still were the captains, who were most likely waiting to talk about more private matters.
Sanzu himself could not wait to move from his stiff position. Despite doing nothing for so long he felt all sweaty and gross.
His pride was too big to willingly take public transport and he would rather die than ride a motorcycle along a smelly teen. Which meant that he would have to walk and endure the horrid muscle pain all the way to a comfier and warmer destination.
This night was a lesson in never forgetting to bring your own transport.
The only thing keeping him going was the idea of a bath along with a glass of wine and just several hours for himself. There is no worse combination than being a teenager with withdrawal symptoms from drugs he has not even taken yet. Placebo was such a bitch.
