"If you got the chance, would you ever leave?"
"Hmm, no."
"Why? Don't you want to live a different life? Taking a different path than this? This life that we are living."
He stays silent for a moment, taking his time and thinking of what to say. His hand fiddled with the cigarette he had while his eyes gazed upon the empty night sky. He thought of an excuse, trying to give something of an answer. But eventually, he couldn't think of one and simply let out a self-deprecating laugh, "I don't deserve a different path."
—
The first drag always tastes bitter; the hint of charcoal and burnt leaves doesn't leave a good impression on his throat.
And yet he inhales it, letting the smoke swim around inside his mouth and enter his lungs. After a moment, he let it out; a resigned sigh came out of his mouth while his eyes looked up at the dark cloud in the skies.
It's shit. It tastes like shit.
And yet, Leo kept on putting the shit inside his mouth.
He hates the taste, he says. It tastes horrible, he complained. He has been complaining about it the last 10 years or so, and yet he keeps smoking it. Kept relying on it.
He hates it, but it's the only outlet he has. It kept him calm, it kept his mind clear, it stopped the sound inside his head, and… unwanted voices in his mind.
It will bring harm to him; it will make him unhealthy. Make him strap in a hospital bed to receive 24/7 hours of treatment. Making him bedridden in his 30s.
He knows; he knew long ago. He isn't a fool.
He wishes to stop, to not rely on it, but he can't help it.
It's a terrible habit he accidentally picked up.
"Bloody hell." He mumbles to himself as he slicks his hair to the back and takes another drag. The cigarette still burns around his finger, slowly dying the more he smokes it.
"If you don't like it, then don't smoke it."
Noah told him that long ago. That if Leo dislike it, he should try his best to avoid it but it wasn't that simple for Leo.
Noah would laugh when Leo complained; he would make fun of him and such. It annoys Leo, but he can't bother to do anything. To Leo, Noah is the only decent person in the family. It's the reason why he tolerates all of Noah's bullshit.
He is a good man; he even gave Leo a gift, something Leo is not accustomed to.
For Leo's birthday, Noah thought it would be a perfect gift to give to him—another brand of cigarette.
Leo never once changed brands nor tried other cigarettes. He still continues to smoke the same shitty charcoal for the last 10 years. Even when Noah gave him the gift, he never once opened it.
Until now.
Fishing out something in his pocket, Leo pulls out a pack of Marlboro Gold. The package seal is still unsealed, unopened. He never tried it since he is convinced that all cigarettes taste the same and the only thing different is the boxes.
The previous cigarette that burnt on his lips slowly died. Leo opens his pocket and kills the cigarette with his portable ashtray.
He slowly exhales as he opens the box.
"This is for you, you bloody cunt." He took one out and put the box back inside his jacket. Taking out a lighter, he hovered it in infront of his cigarette.
Click!
A small flame covers the front end of the cigarette, and slowly he inhales it, tasting it, letting it swim inside his mouth, but immediately something tastes different, forcing him to cough.
"KAHK! AH, fuck! cough, cough, bloody hell."
It tastes much harsher on his throat, nothing like what he use too.
He remembers Noah told him it was supposed to taste a bit sweeter, but it tastes more like empty paper. It burns too fast, and it wasn't like his normal blunt. It's dry and makes his throat scratchy, definitely not what a gold Marlboro is supposed to taste like.
"Bloody hell. It got stale." He groaned and spat on the ground; he put the cigarette in his portable ashtray and massaged his throat. Granted he kept that box for more than 5 years, he should have known about it, and yet he went ahead and smoked it.
He let out a sigh and took a look at the stone in front of him; it stood up front, and there were words engraved onto the stone.
Here Lies, Noah Nelson
The stone wrote, and it made Leo let out a rough laugh. "Nelson, huh? That's not bloody yours, that's for sure."
He hasn't seen him for the past 2 years, and now all of a sudden Leo discovers that Noah has been long dead, buried 6 feet underground. He didn't know; it took a long time for the news to reach him. They didn't have a proper way to communicate. It's one of the reasons why the news of his death came out of nowhere for Leo.
"So Nelson, was it worth it? You could have died by a bullet or gotten stabbed to death or maybe even died honourably." He kneels down and fishes out two cans of beer from his pocket and places one beside the stone while holding the other one in his hands.
"You live dangerous lives, and yet what kills you is a bloody disease."
"Stage IV cancer. What a bloody joke." He opened the can and took a long sip.
"How pathetic." he mutters. He placed his can on the ground and took the can beside the stone, opened it, and poured it onto the grave.
"You left the family. We all expected you to do great things with your life. I expected you to do more. And yet you die.... you die."
"If you were killed, it would be easier. I can just beat the living shit out of the person who kills you." He held his drink and took another sip. "Cancer. How the hell did you get it when you never even smoke? hahahaha… haha…" He let out a dry laugh while his eyes bore into the stone once more.
This is depressing.
He doesn't really know what else to say. He had never mourned someone's death before. Regret crept in, but he doesn't know why he is being regretful, but he can't help it. No, that itself is a lie. He knew; it's just that he hasn't been honest about it. He is usually never honest about it. Feelings aren't something he's used to expressing since it's easier to bury them deep than acknowledge them.
But maybe today, maybe it's fine.
With him gone, maybe he will be able to admit to such thing.
"I... I miss you. After you left, my life got... stale. All that... bullshit... teasing and such, I miss it. I don't know why I can't admit it. I guess it's easier for me to not acknowledge it, maybe. But… you're right, I end up missing you, Noah. I miss how we used to hang out late at night. We would eat chicken and drink some shit beer while at it. You would talk about a game idea you had, and I just… listen." He let out a sigh as he took another sip of his drink. "It's sad to see you gone so soon, old friend."
He's finally honest, but at this point, it's useless. The dead cannot speak.
"Pathetic…. How pathetic."
Truly pathetic he is.
—
In a hotel room.
Leo let out a long sigh; his hair is soaking wet, making him grab another towel from the counter.
He exits from the shower and makes his way to the work desk that the hotel provides him.
He let out a tired groan as he made himself sink into the chair. He closes his eyes for a minute before taking a glance at the table. A letter. He took a glance and reached for it.
The letter didn't give a name or anything. It didn't say from whom nor say who it was for, and yet, a strange woman gave it to him.
"…How did she know who to give it to?" After he was done giving his respects, just before he was about to leave, a woman stopped him.
She was neither beautiful nor ugly, simply average. She has dark black hair, and her face is hard to leave an impression on. He wouldn't remember her if she hadn't given this letter to him.
"This is for you, mister." Just as Leo was about to ask more questions, she vanished. The interaction was strange; it made him sceptical of who the sender was, but part of him knew.
He tapped the side of his chair as his other hand began holding the letter; truly, it was a strange occurrence, but Leo had nothing to lose even if he opened it.
And so he does. Inside, there's a note and a flash drive. He took out the flash drive and put it on the table. He unfolds the letter and begins to read it.
"By the time you receive this, know this: I am dead.
If it were by choice, I would choose an epic way to die, but dying in the hospital bed isn't that bad. I make connections; I make friends and even… met someone.
It's hard to believe considering our profession, but after I left the family, I managed to live by, and I am working towards my lifelong dream.
Inside the envelope is a flash drive. And inside there, it's my very first game. Shocking, isn't it? ME! Managed to actually do it. I made a game. I actually went and did it, old friend. I achieve my dream. HAHAHA.
I don't know how popular it will be; actually, I don't really care. Point is, I did it. And I'm really hoping that you play it.
I know you have mixed feelings about me, but the fact that you are reading this makes me happy that you still regard me as a friend.
I have done a lot of bad things in the past; I'm very fortunate to be able to make this. I really am. Leo, Thank you for being my friend, for helping me, for saving me, and for listening to this dumbass dreamer.
Stay safe, old friend, and I hope you find your own happiness one day.
From your former family, Noah.
P.S., play my fucking game, you pretentious dick."
He placed the letter down on the table; his other hand began massaging his forehead. His heart felt heavy, and truly he had mixed feelings about it.
He took another glance at the flash drive. "This is his will, isn't it?" Finger tapped on the chair, and he let out a tired sigh.
"...Fine, I will play your game." He took the flash drive from the table. "But know this, I will shit on it if it's dogshit."
The game is called Fate Calamity.
Leo rolls his eyes upon seeing the name; he doesn't like the sound of it, or he was just shitting on it just for the sake of it.
As he boot up the game, his screen is met with a bunch of text.
—
Fate is a strange thing.
Nothing can derail its course.
That's what they will tell you.
But know this: even that is a lie.
Fate can be changed.
It doesn't have to stay on a singular track.
Please guide yourself into a different path.
Please guide yourself into a different future.
And please guide your strength in this world.
—
Leo read the lines, and he couldn't help but laugh.
"This guy. He's been playing too much of another self 5. He definitely took inspiration from it."
After that, he met with a golden screen and a white text that says start.
He pressed enter and he met with a loading screen.
He waits for a few seconds,
Zing-
His head feels heavy, his eyelids slowly closing.
W, what's... going on?
Bam!
The next thing he knew, his vision went dark, and the last thing he saw was a glimpse of white text.
—
[I will wait for the day]
[When you remember, old friend]