The Outsider

Part 2

And again, as I wake up, I realize that the only thing standing between me and happiness is reality. Every day feels like a barrier, but today I decided to get up, try to socialize, and maybe even fit in though deep down, I knew that could never happen. Somehow, the streets remain the same, filled with different people but the same monotonous stories. People, with their small dreams, continually get crushed by the weight of reality, yet they remain blind, unable to see they're chasing something that doesn't even exist. Autumn is nearly gone, and the cold wind signals the impending arrival of winter, the season when things always seem to stir.

I walk through the city and encounter two people. One is on his knee proposing, and the other is crying. All I can think is how I want to tell her to save her tears for another day because worse ones are bound to come. And just like that, I'm back in my head, lost in my thoughts again. But this time, a familiar voice interrupts my spiral.

"Hey, Alex, I was looking for you," he says.

"Really?" I reply, barely able to muster any enthusiasm. Honestly, I couldn't care less.

It's Nate Benedict. Yes, I've made a note of that name. It's the only thing that matters about him, after all. Nate is one of the Benedicts, the middle son of Bart Benedict, who owns more buildings in The Bronx than anyone else. Why would a middle-class guy like me be hanging out with someone who's inheriting an empire? Even I could not answer that question without going back a year.

One year ago:

It was another empty night for me. Christmas, to be exact. I found myself in Sweet Afton, a place that's prestigious yet tolerable when I witnessed something only a kid born with a silver spoon in his mouth could do: pure chaos. Nate was living like there was no tomorrow. He was a true prince of the city, high off the ground, detached from the reality the rest of us live in. But even through all that bravado, I recognized something. We had something in common. Despite his flashy life, neither of us cared about anything. We were both empty inside, but while I knew it, he didn't. His problem, like many of the rich, came from daddy issues. To satisfy my own inner curiosity, I decided to fit in, befriend him, and maybe even become his ally.

It didn't take much effort. I introduced myself before he could drown himself in liquor. Time passed quickly in his world of gold diggers and fake people, a hundred women swirling around him, each vapider than the last. Eventually, even he needed a break, slipping away to the bathroom for a timeout. At that moment, most people would've thought I was insane or creepy for watching him, but I don't mind. Society shaped me into this; blame the game, not the player.

It was strangely entertaining to watch someone like him—someone who strutted around with no care in the world. The type who wouldn't last a day without Daddy's money to catch his every fall. It was pathetic, really. But just as I drifted back into my head, Nate snapped me out of it.

"What're you staring at?" he asked sharply, pulling me back to the present.

I played it cool. "Sorry, I zone out sometimes, especially when I'm, you know, peeing." I threw in a little humor, trying to lighten the mood and maybe make a connection.

"Yeah, tell me about it," he said with a smirk. "So, are you enjoying my party?" He was flexing, of course. The party was probably the only thing he could take pride in.

"It's great, actually," I lied. "I'm Alex, by the way." I introduced myself, knowing full well that politeness would force him to do the same.

"Nate. Nice to meet you. And hey, make sure you enjoy my party, okay?" His voice dripped with arrogance as if this entire event was just one big performance to prove something.