Defender's Heartbeat

Chapter 23

Diego

Enzo was my best friend, but it was clear that he wasn't transparent with me. I had known him since he was five, and he was like a brother to me. I had always treated him as such, but he didn't share his secrets with me. Enzo was allowed to come to my home or visit other friends anytime. However, going to his house required permission from his Papa. Over the years, we had been to his house only three times. When I was little, it was not a big deal for me. But as I grew up, I realized that something seemed off about Enzo and his family. Yet, he was still like a brother to me, even though he didn't share most things with me.

I had never seen Enzo's Papa or anyone else attend parent-teacher meetings. His close connection with his bodyguard puzzled me, and he never talked about his home or family.

During our childhood, there was a period of a few months when Enzo suddenly became mute. Even after he started speaking again, he never shared what had happened during his silent phase. Another odd thing was finding blood on his white school shirt sometimes. When he got blood on his shirt, he always tried to hide it. Today was no exception, and despite obvious signs of pain, he pretended everything was fine. I had already discovered that Enzo was different from any of us. You couldn't just ask him a question and get an answer. If he didn't want to respond, he would never respond. He was stubborn. He could stay silent for days.

"Enzo, why is there blood on your shirt?" I asked, and he looked at his shirt.

"There's a drop on your collar and one here," I pointed to the side of his shirt. He quickly buttoned his black school coat to cover the red stain.

Enzo usually wore his uniform casually. Sometimes, he even removed his coat and shirt and stayed only in his vest inside the school. Teachers couldn't control him because his Papa controlled the school until his son left. On days when I spotted traces of blood on his shirt, he made sure to wear his uniform impeccably, as if trying to conceal something.

"It's not blood. Just some paint," Enzo claimed, his expression unchanged. If I hadn't seen the blood, I might have believed him. He was a perfect liar.

"What about the other days?" I asked, and it was clear he didn't like this conversation at all.

"What other days?" he asked, avoiding my eyes.

"This is not the first time I've seen blood on your shirt," I said, and his look shifted. He seemed angry about getting caught.

"No, man. It's not," Enzo insisted firmly.

"Okay, keep your secret with you then," I hissed, looking away.

"Hey, I just fell," he said, looking at me anxiously.

"Is it that hard to tell?" I asked angrily.

"Okay, I'm sorry I didn't say it at first," he apologized, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. He looked guilty now and worried or sad. I wasn't sure with that look.

"This is crazy, Enzo. We've been best friends since we were 5, and I still don't know you," I said, and he looked at me with pain but said nothing to defend himself. And it was painful for me, too, because my best friend was hiding so many things from me. He looked like he was suffering alone. I didn't want to feel distant from him.

"Hey, bros," Elijah and Noah approached us.

"Who's upset?" Elijah asked, examining our faces.

"No one," I said, just staring nowhere.

"Okay then, let's take a group photo," Elijah suggested.