A heart to heart; who ever said that parenting was easy? What was supposed to be a calm, normal outing ends with a lightning
Chapter Seven - Flash
It had been four years since Isaiah Israfel's life intertwined with their had been a street urchin since he could walk—he, Mabel, and Neo—and when early teenagehood was reached, they found themselves in occupation with the Xiong clan. The Xiong were a surrogate family of sorts—Hei's omma, mother, was quite fond of the trio, and eventually, Hei himself was almost like an older brother to them—a criminal, surrogate family. It got to the point where omma herself stopped the trio from going up the syndicate ladder, and instead pushed them towards more… orthodox occupation. A parental figure; because god knows that if they needed anything it was exactly that.
Omma apparently owed a life debt to Isaiah's grandfather. Four and a half years ago, his parents had unfortunately passed away in a car crash, then four years ago, his grandfather breathed his last. The boy has an uncle, however, for some familial reasons, he refused to take custody—and so,after some time tracking the boy down, omma took on the reins. Well, technically she did. Four years ago, coincidentally, had only been two years since Roman finished his service in the Royal Marines. He had to admit that, at that moment, he hadn't any specific purpose in life, and omma had always been able to read him like an open book. And so she, not necessarily ordered but more pushed, Roman and Neo to look after the boy. It was to help the boy and give exercise when the two will have kids of their own, she had joked. Well, four years on, dare he say they were doing a decent job. Though like any, hiccups will ensue.
Like now, for example.
I guess he heard Miltia. Roman sighed. A smile, yet perturbed. He stood up and walked around the seat to be next to Isaiah. "What makes you say that, kid?"
"I… I think—" he bit on his cheek; boring a hole into the boutique's floor; hands clenched on the fabric of his trousers, threatening to rip at any second.
He placed a hand on Isaiah's back, the boy to turn his head towards him in response. One kept his glare while the other adopted a stern glint in his eyes. Roman slowly inhaled and held, waiting until Isaiah followed, and exhaling. The process repeated for a few times all the while Roman gently rubbed the boy's back. He waited until Isaiah relaxed before asking once again: "Why do you think you're a freak? How?"
"It's just— That is, I'm…" he sighed, almost exhausted, then in a whisper, "Do you think I should stop talking to Söze?"
Roman briefly turned his head towards Neo and she quickly responded with a nod. The woman began ushering the children to the other side of the boutique with the employees following behind. Standing up, Roman waved his hands over his shoulder and beckoning the boy to follow. They walked, and ended up outside a cafe in the other avenue just a street away from the boutique. With lunch time over they managed to find a deserted seat in the corner patio of the cafe. Roman got himself milk coffee and Isaiah parroted his order, prompting the former to tease his ward.
"Ain't that gonna upset your stomach again?" Roman joked, hiding the grin behind his cup of caffeine.
"Oh, shut up." A sniff, yet he too followed with a sip of his drink.
They weren't alone, as some patrons still remained in the cafe's exterior. Friends, university students, Beacon attendees? That being the case they were secluded enough to Roman for the conversation that will be had. But that was for when they get comfortable with the place. Five minutes pass, then ten; it was about half an hour of the two staring at the passing peoples and vehicles, the fluttering orange leaves blown by the wind, complete silence.
Roman noticed the boy had propped both elbows on the table. Staring into his cup, playing the liquid around with a spoon as if trying to break up the non-existent reflection of his visage. Roman opened his mouth to begin, yet nothing comes out immediately. He had thought he managed to formulate what he wanted to say in the last twenty or some minutes, but apparently, as usual, it is not as simple when it comes to Isaiah.
"Söze… Söze is…" Stumbling, Roman clicked his tongue. Straightening himself up, Roman held his cane under his chin and looked to Isaiah. "Söze isn't some… delusion, isn't he kid? What did Dr. Myron say again?"
The question drew an expression out of the boy. Both of his ears flattened; Roman could see his lips quiver, almost as if struggling to form— no, to let out boy blinked, swallowing his spit. "No, he's a… a manifest."
Roman hummed. "And what would that be?"
"Roman, Dr. Myron alr—" he was interrupted by an open palm.
"Just humour me, kid," Roman cut in with a smile.
"Well, he's…" A pair of emerald green eyes, much much brighter than Roman's own, fell down once again to the drink in its owner's hands, almost ashamed, or perhaps distressed. "He's not just an illusion. It's not some crazy man disease or anything where I'm imagining things." The boy began tweedling on his thumb as he explained. "I know that he isn't real, and so does my brain, but even with that, he is still there— oh, shut up," he muttered the last part to the empty seat next to Roman before continuing: "He's like a… display of security that my fucked up—" Isaiah was unaware, or chose to ignore Roman's muttered comment about his language—"brain decided to keep around." With a pointed finger, Isaiah began lightly jabbing the side of his head. "Chemicals going wild. And with time, maybe this asshole will disappear as well," Isaiah finished with a sigh.
Roman kept silent, nodding. Steepling his fingers with the thumbs under the chin, he smiled with his response, one that he'd given many times before: "He's your guardian angel of sorts, then."
Isaiah scoffed, crossing his arms and looking away. "One guardian angel to be miserable with, sure. Sometimes I can't even hear what I'm thinking without his snide remarks."
Roman kept his expression and before, except now speaking in a deadpan: "You twos'a peas in a pod."
The boy scoffed. Leaning on the palm of his hand and looking away. "Whatever you say, old man…"
"I'm 29! I am not old!" protested Roman almost immediately, in jest. Like an exercised act. Another silent befell their table; comfortable; the two seemed content to let it linger but for the daily bustle of the shopping avenue. Roman seemed like he wanted to get back at Isaiah for the comment, and soon an idea struck. Taking out a metal case from his coat, Roman pulled out a cigar and placed it between his lips. He smirked while attempting to light the tobacco product. "Hey, tell me more about this girl in your class."
His ward's response was immediate. Another groan. Swiftly throwing an arm on the table—barely missing the cup of over-sweetened coffee—and slammed his face against his forearm. Isaiah briefly bared his teeth at the empty seat. Roman liked to imagine that Söze was egging the boy on, also.
"Yeah, see, Söze knows what's what," he teased, sparking the sulphur on his match.
Isaiah raised his head at the comment. He looked once at the empty seat and then back to Roman, a sneer present. "Are you sure you're not crazy as well? You can't hear him, right?" Roman remained silent, grin becoming wider. Once again he continued sulking. The boy rested his chin on the table, mumbling, "I don't even know her name…"
Roman chuckled. Well, I guess he is still a pre-teen boy after— wait… His match had burned, cigar unlit, and the words were finally registered. "Wait, what?"
The boy raised his chin ever so slightly to look, eyebrow cocked. "What?"
"How long has she been 'bothering' you?" he stressed with his fingers.
"Since the start of the week, why?"
Roman took a breath, his palms pressed together. "So. You're telling me… that this girl has been getting out of her way to talk with you for the last few days, even bringing you lunch, and you don't even know her name?"
"Uh…" he turned his confusion to Söze, and then back to Roman. "Yeah? Should I have…?"
Good lord, and I thought I was dense. "Well, at the very least, kid, yes."
"Oh…"
As he said before: hiccups.
Catching a glimpse of tri-coloured hair from the distance, Roman flashed a smile at the owner, alongside the children in tow. That said, Neo looked less than pleased carrying all those bags herself and the ball of energy that was Miltia, the latter more so literally. The woman looked ready to give him a piece of her mind, and Roman had the perfect smoke screen.
"Neo, can you believe this kid? He doesn't even know the girl's name!" he announced, much to the boy's chagrin, and at the same time crooking over to Neo with both hands stretched ready to take the bags of clothing.
This worked, evidently, as the deep frown directed at Roman was instead turned into one of bewilderment at Isaiah. The boy, understandably, gave up. He thew his hands up as Neo placed her on both hips, disapproving as ever. "Fine! I'll get her name by tomorrow, ya happy?! Now come on, I've got homework to do." The boy stood up, grumbling, practically marching past and ahead of the group.
He left the adults endeared, and the kids confused.
"What the heck is going on with Isaiah now?" asked Miltia, tilting her head at Roman and Neo. The two looked at each other; and laughed.
"Oh, nevermind that." Roman kept a chuckle as he addressed the girl, only stopping when he kneeled to Ion's level. Placing a hand between the boy's ears, Roman smiled. "Heya, kid. Got all the clothes you want?" The boy nodded. "Yeah? Any of them any good?" This elicited a cough from Neo. Turning over his shoulder with a smile, the woman was looking down at him while tapping her foot. "Well it ought to be when Neo's picking. She does have a great fashion sense."
Instead of responding, Neo only rolled her eyes—yet a smile was ever present—as she took the twins in each hand and began walking away. And so did Roman, with Ion in hand. They eventually caught up to Isaiah, or perhaps it was more accurate that the boy eventually slowed down to the group's pace as they continued the stroll. A few minutes later, with Melanie still telling a story to Neo, they reached the street where their vehicle for today was parked.
Confident enough with the people around, Roman let go of Ion's hand to rummage around the pocket of his coat. The metallic jingles of the keyring were heard. Stepping ofF the sidewalk, Roman unlocked the SUV and began organising the bags of clothes into the boot.
"So!" he began, "What's next on our list?"
"Lunch!" Miltia exclaimed.
"I want the cheese grits they have on 5th," the other Malachite chimed in.
Isaiah kicked a pebble into an alley.
"Chili dog…" Roman heard Ion mutter. Looks like he learned about that from one of the girls.
He raised an eyebrow, looking over to Neo. "Can two year olds have chilli dogs?" She only shrugged, clueless as he was.
"Yeah!" Miltia chirped. "I still remember, ages ago! Dad gave us the chilli dogs from…"
Her story was phased out by the traffic as Roman continued placing all of their shopping bags into the car, eight in total. He gently lowered the boot with a smile, SUV's rear door closing with a distinct metallic creak. Roman was now able to look through the vehicle's back window, and through it he saw, across their street and only a few cars ahead, a black van unloading half a dozen or so men and women.
With rifles.
"NEO, DOWN!"
A/N: Retvrn... to some semblance of an upload schedule.
My research revisions are finally done! Sorry it took some time! As an apology, I'll upload the next chapter next week. After that the schedule returns to the usual bi-weekly uploads.
Hell, if this story gains traction again, I might just upload it in the next few days.
Next chapter out on 31 July 2023 (Maybe even sooner!)
Thank you for reading, and till' next time!
