Success.
Ever since I was a tiny child, that exact word would invade upon me. Focus on what I want to be and have to do to become better. You have to be twice as good. You have to be twice as smart. You have twice as powerful.
I want to do what I want. I wanted to create my own stories. Tell my own adventures. How did I get here? Why did I ever buy that ticket? Why did I ever get on that train?
Why...?
Why...?
WHY...?!
CLAP!
I was devouring my own reflection in a yellow cat helmet. In the dead of night. Streets lights brightly showing, cars flying by. That's right.
I was getting off work from the Cat Café. I could still feel the warmth from outside. Yet, it's still so cold. Damn. How could I forget my jack? I always brought it. Practically a security blanket.
The motorcycle rider continued to look back at me, grabbed out their cell, began typing. Why were they here tonight? Don't they have a job tonight? Job? That's right. I had to down by his house again. I need to pick up those drugs first and deal them again.
Dealing was better than making. Making took time. Time means having patience. And people sure as hell don't have it, especially in this city. Besides, wouldn't want that smell going on in my apartment. Better caught having it than making it, plus easier to hide. It sure as hell got me a lot more money than this minimum waged café.
I check my watch. 22:45. Fat chance now. Hopefully I could get something. Can't afford not having any money. Especially at how well I'm doing.
'You okay?' the cycler's screen. 'I was supposed to take you home. Remember?'
That's right. I asked them earlier. I couldn't have any more thugs stealing off me.
"Yeah." I confirmed. "But... you take me somewhere first?"
They looked at me for a second, then began typing once more.
'As dark as it is?'
"Please?" I begged. "Then straight home."
They would sigh if it were possible. They reached on the side of motorcycle, grabbed an extra helmet, and handed it to me.
I thanked them, getting on the bike. I hugged their waist from behind, and we were off. I told them the address, but of course they knew the city too well as a transporter.
We past the blue flower shop. Damn. Around the corner in a gang war going on. Especially that, how could I forget that. Something about a murdered college. Poor fucker. I should've warned them. Luckily we got by safe.
I hop off the bike, removing the helmet.
"Wait here." I tell them. They nods.
I look at the brick apartment building. Like the sidewalks, the stairs were worn out, handles rusted, some windows either barded or busted, some lights on, some off. I began up the steps, into the building. Third floor, second door on the right, room 207.
Hesitantly knocking. Can't be too loud, considering it was the dead of night. No answered. Another knock, hard this time. I waited a few seconds later and the door finally pull open. That smell burst out of the apartment. Too strong, most likely to get a very annoying headacheˡ in a couple minutes. The male groggily looks at me. Most likely a mixture of sleep and high.
"You were-"
"-suppose be here hours ago." I finished him. "I got backed up by work and time flew... You got any left."
He rolled his eyes and closed the door. I waited, hearing light rustle going on behind the door.
Ow. There's that headache. I keep forgetting to not breathe when his door opens. It's like hammers tapping on all sides of my skull.
I hear footstep nearing the door, this time hold your breath stupid. The door opens and on queue I held my breath. He hands me the brick². Huh... more than I though.
"I'll work on it." I say leaving, once at the steps I began to breathe again. Goddamn headache.
I get down back to the cycler. They hold their hand up, signing me to stop.
"What?" I questioned, watching their gloved hand type away.
'You don't need a job like this.' It said. 'I'll find you one.'
"Well if it doesn't involve a snitch, a loose cannon, or a pre-teen, no thanks. Besides, I got myself into this, I have to repay." I admitted.
The helmet watched me for a couple seconds, then went back typing. 'How?'
"Asking TOP men for money isn't what I wanted. They just kept adding on taxes. Or... ya know, deathvoyage." I joked.
They kick their stand to set their motorcycle and hopped off into the building. Their movements seemed frustrated. Were they mad?
"What are you doing?" I questioned them. They sign for me to follow them and I did.
'What's the room?' They questioned. 'What floor?'
"Why?"
They stormed up the stairs angrily. "207."
It hit me. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. They can't be serious. If they do this the whole gang might come after me. I grabbed their arm, trying to make them stop. They look back at me.
"If you fuck him up, then I'm fucked." I told them. They tilt their head in confusion.
"His gang buddies will come after me, stupid. I already got it bad enough, I don't wanna risk anything."
They pull away, kicking the door open. Before I could grab them again, the door close in my face. Oh shit. Oh shit. Yelling. Objects were thrown. Screams. Two neighbors poked their head out. Goddamn it.
Celty opened the door yanking the brick from my hand and throwing it back into the apartment. I didn't bother to look inside. Just wanted to go home and that's what Celty did. Also bothering to stay over.
I couldn't fucking believe this. Was death upon me in my very room? Or was it down the street? Those screams were loud, one of the members had to have heard it. Why it so silent? Do I go into hiding now?
A hand was plant onto my head. I sighed and looked at smoked. Celty took their helmet off, it was so calming just to stare it. Dancing so freely.
'You won't get hurt.' They typed, leaving the device on the table. 'Everything will be fine.'
And if was. If you considered a warm day a given letter to you as fine.
It's been weeks. Nothing has happened. Well nothing bad. It was a lovely day. Midday, clean fountain, litter free park, leaves green. And letter from Celty, they had nice handwriting. The letter usually contained the usual "How's your day going?", "Did you catch the new show Kasuka was in?", "This woman that I delivered to was a little off..."
The letters were heartwarming. This time she tapped a piece of candy to it, I smiled re-reading it. I grabbed my pen and began replying to the letter on the back. Unlike Celty, my handwriting wasn't... well. Yet, Celty always told me how cute it was. I rolled my eyes.
I heard the familiar motorcycle as the end of the park. I looked up giving a small smiling. I walked up to the cyclist, chuckling. It couldn't be help, why did I fall for this headless horseman?
'Hi.' They typed. 'You read my letter?'
"You ask every time." I tell her. "And every time I tell you I did."
I leaned closer to them, lightly bumping my head on their helmet. They bumped back.
"Thanks."
