Gangster next door

Growth

The event took longer than expected. The entire time Mrs. Smith was smiling ear to ear. Though she can be insufferable at times she really is a nice lady.

After sharing some wine and food with the other attendees everyone started to exit the church slowly. As i stepped out Mrs. Smith called out.

"Yes? "
"Oh I'm sorry for asking you to do this but can you take this with you?" she said while holding up a paper bag
"What is it?" i said as i took the bag curiously.
"It's for the young man you live next to. It would be unfair if he's the only one to not be able to taste these tarts" she said with a wrinkly smile. Eyes squinting as her smile grew.
I swear this lady is too kind for her own good. It's annoying.
"His loss then. He should've come if he wanted these goodies-"

I got cut off by a screeching noise followed by a huge thud.
Turning around i saw a bike had crashed into a pole across the street. The bystanders quickly rushed towards the unfortunate guy who-
Wait. That bike.
It’s.. Oddly familiar..
Without a second thought i approached the scene.
"Oh my God, are you okay?!" i said upon seeing my neighbour, on the floor holding his right arm in his left. His elbow bleeding.
He just looked up and then looked down avoiding others gaze.
Is he embarrassed?

"Thank you for your help. But i think you should go home and rest now. I'll take it from here" i said to Mrs. Smith and the couple from down the street who helped my neighbour get to the house.

"It's nothing. If we don't help each other then who will?" she said with that annoying kindness of hers. "And young man.. Make sure to treat the bruise properly and eat loads" she peeked behind me and told Sokolov before leaving.
"You can leave too. The bruise is nothing" he said ever so quietly.
"Well no can do. You see i don't like to abandon requests. Unlike someone... Mrs. Smith entrusted me with you" i said as i approached him.
His house was empty. Only a couch sat in the middle of the living room and a small tea table. That's it. I see some takeout food packets and empty booze bottles laying here and there.
"By the looks of the house it doesn’t look like you plan on staying for long "
"What makes you say that" he says with a raised eyebrow.
I ignore his question and without much of a word disinfect his elbow.
"And..done. Make sure to keep the wound clean. And Mrs. Smith sent some food too so eat that too" i say while collecting my things.
And as i was about to leave i stop and turn to look at him..
"The next time you see Mrs. Smith,  just tell her you were in front of the church because you wanted to attend the event. That'd make her happy."
He slowly nodded. I turn again to leave when he spoke..
"Is everyone here like this?"
"Like what"
"Nosy.."
"You mean caring and kind?"
He finally looked at him, legs spread, elbows resting on his knees.
"The town folks could've left you there but they didn’t because they're kind enough to help those in need. Despite you not going today Mrs. Smith packed the food just so you wouldn’t be left out. It's not nosy.. It's called being considerate and kind hearted.."
"And what do they get out of this? A pathetic thank you? Having an excuse to show off how superior they are because they're kind? Or maybe expecting the other party to help you in need too when You're in trouble? Well guess what.. They don't " he said with madness in his eyes. I couldn’t help but stare.. No. Observe. What leads a man to think like this?

"Have you ever been kind to anyone Mr. Sokolov?" the question slipped but i didn’t regret asking it. I saw as something passes through his eyes. For a moment he got lost in his thoughts..

"If you’ve ever given or received kindness you’d know this is where hope comes from. A hope there's people out there ready to lift you up when you fall.."

"What about you? Would you lift me if i fall?" he spit out the words, looking down. His tone cold.

"Yes.. I would"
He looked up almost immediately upon hearing my answer. His eyes full of surprise. He hadn’t expected me to so say it knowing we aren’t necessarily fond of each other.
In my job I've come across several events where people have died just because the other person was blinded by vengeance. In moments like this i would always thing, -if i had been here i would've helped them- if i had been here they could've been alive - everyday i regret the deaths of strangers. Even though I've got no power is this world. But would i step back when given the opportunity?  Never.

NEXT MORNING
I was leaving for work when i saw a truck standing infront of out yard. It was unloading furniture. I looked at my neighbours door to see him already looking at me.
As soon as our eyes locked he started walking towards me
"Ms. Luna are you leaving for work?"
"Uhm..uh yes..."
"When do you get off work?"
"At 6pm..why?"
He rubbed his nape and looked at me hesitant
"I'm not familiar with the town yet so i was hoping if you could help me with grocery shopping "
"Ahh.. Yes why not. Let's go after i return"
"Ok.. See you then"

EVENING
We had spent the last hour walking through markets. And I've found out this man knew almost nothing about.. Well living. The entire time he was cluelessly staring here and there. He was even dressed weird. Who wears caps and masks in the market?

"And... we're home" i said placing the grocery bags i was carrying in front of his front door.  "I guess now you know the key locations now Sokolov "
"Sokolov?"
"It's your name no?" i said with a slight laugh.
"It's my surname. Sounds weird without a mister "
"And it sounds even weirder when i have to call my not-so-old neighbour with his surname "
"Vincent"
"What?"
"You can call me Vincent.. " he said.. The cold gaze no longer existed in those eyes. He wasn’t smiling. Nor was he serious..
"Ok..Vincent.. " i say with a small smile.
He nodded and entered his house.

Over the past few days I've got to know more about Vincent. He indeed is from Italy. He's unexpectedly a good cook too. He's been dropping by delicious pasta often. He's been more interactive with the town people too. Well not much but he definitely doesn’t ignore them. He told me he worked at the container cargo just outside the town. But one thing about him..
"Where's you family from?" i asked midst the conversation as we were walking back from the market. 
He just looked at me. As if he himself was trying to find the answer.
"There's a bug in your hair"
"Oh really? " i start hysterically ruffling my hair. By the time i looked up he was already walking way ahead of me..

So i figured it must be a sensitive topic for him.