Beneath the Surface

Part 6

In the dim light of the garage, Yok's hands moved deftly, his fingers stained with oil and grease as he lovingly worked on his bike. The hum of machinery filled the space, the scent of metal, fuel, and rubber mingling with the faint trace of exhaust. Kumpha's garage had become a sanctuary for Yok, where the problems of the world seemed to disappear behind the steady rhythm of engine work. His bike stood on the stand in front of him, half-disassembled but gleaming like his prized possession, every part a piece of a puzzle he loved putting together.

This was more than just a job. It was a passion-an escape. Yok ran a cloth over the bike's polished body, his mind focused on nothing but getting it perfect. The creak of the garage door opening behind him barely caught his attention. The figure entered silently, the tap of shoes on the concrete floor finally pulling Yok's attention away from his work.

Yok glanced over his shoulder, seeing a slight figure-brown hair, glasses, neat clothes. He was holding a lunchbox in both hands, looking around as if searching for something or someone.

"Hey," Yok called out, wiping his hands on a rag. "You looking for Sean?"

The figure nodded politely. "Yes. Is he around?"

Yok gestured to the back of the garage. "He's back there working on a car. Probably buried under a heap of parts, knowing him."

The figure smiled and, with a little bounce in his step, hurried off toward where Yok had pointed. Yok knew him well enough by now-White, Sean's boyfriend. Always tidy, always polite. He had a calming presence, and Yok liked that about him. He watched White disappear into the back before turning his attention back to his bike.

Just as Yok was about to continue, the garage door creaked again. Another figure entered, but this one moved with less grace, and the air seemed to grow heavier. Yok didn't need to look up to know who it was.

"Beat up again, huh?" Yok asked, his tone half-amused, half-concerned as he crouched next to the bike, tightening a bolt.

The figure that stepped into the light was White's twin, but an exact opposite in almost every way. His name was Black, and where White was calm and tidy, Black was rough and unpredictable. His short hair was messy, his skin covered in bruises and scrapes, the corner of his lip split with dried blood. He wore a sleeveless shirt, revealing bandaged hands from another round of whatever trouble he'd found himself in.

"None of your business," Black muttered, scowling as he dropped onto a nearby crate, rubbing his jaw. "But I'll make those guys pay. They won't know what hit 'em next time."

Yok chuckled, leaning back and resting his hands on his thighs, eyes glinting with sarcasm. "Yeah? And how many times have you said that now? Let me guess-three or four beatdowns later?"

Black's scowl deepened, but there was a glimmer of stubborn pride in his eyes. "This time's different."

"Sure, sure," Yok responded, unable to hide his smirk. He leaned against his bike and crossed his arms. "Where's Gram? Haven't seen him around."

Black waved it off. "Dunno. Didn't show up today."

Yok raised an eyebrow but didn't press it. Instead, Black leaned forward, eyes gleaming with a wild idea. "Listen, I found something big this time. A plan to take down one of those corrupt rich bastards."

Yok's brow furrowed slightly, sensing where this was going. "Yeah? And what's this plan? You know you've gotta be careful, right? Last time you got yourself into deep shit."

Black scoffed, leaning in as if about to tell Yok a great secret. "I found the mansion of this politician. The guy's filthy rich, but all his money's from blood and dirt."