MC's eyes were fixed on the five guys standing before him as his heart started racing at the sight of faces all too familiar. He had seen them a while back when they passed the ice cream shop, laughing and carefree, which contrasted with the tension now heavy in the air. They'd already bought ice cream, so there was no logical reason for them to be here. But a smirk on Jake's face told him this had to be no accident.
"Oh, yeah, I'm here for the funeral," MC replied tersely in a firm voice, while his stomach was boiling with anticipation. He hoped his curt response would discourage further interaction. "I don't recall us being friends."
For an instant, Jake's face flickered; shock replaced the smug grin for a moment. It was quickly overtaken, though, by a wave of anger that contorted his features. "Well, let's just say that you're not welcome in this town," he spat, venom dripping from his words.
MC glanced over his shoulder through the window of the ice cream shop. Maximus was still happily perusing the different flavors, totally oblivious to the confrontation unfolding just outside. MC was thinking fast, his mind racing with how he could get out of this potentially dangerous situation without involving his little brother.
"Do you cut?" The question came out of nowhere, so jarring and unexpected that MC whipped his head back around to face the source. It was the scrawny kid, the smallest of the five, who had spoken. His eyes gleamed with a morbid curiosity that made MC's skin crawl.
"What?" MC asked, his face twisting in confusion and discomfort. What on earth had he just heard?
Before MC could process the question, the scrawny kid lunged forward and, with surprising strength, grabbed his arm and started scrabbling at his sleeve to push it up. "I heard your mom say you were sick mentally, so you do cut, right?" he pressed on excitedly-accusingly.
MC couldn't help but glare at Jake, a surge of anger cutting through his fear. Who was he to spread rumors about MC's personal struggles? The idea that Jake had been discussing MC's mental health with others-twisting it into some sort of town gossip-made his blood boil.
He jerked his arm back hard, sending the scrawny kid stumbling. "Can you leave me alone?" MC growled; he was running out of patience. "I'm not interested in getting along with you people."
The tension in the air was palpable as MC stood his ground, acutely aware of how outnumbered he was. He silently prayed that Maximus would stay oblivious just a little longer, giving him time to defuse the situation before it escalated further.
"MC, who do you think you are?" The bully snarled, his face contorting with rage. "Do you think you are better than us?
MC would normally cower in fear when people came at him with aggressiveness, but for some reason, he was just angry. Maybe it was because they had screwed him over in the past. Or maybe what Maximus said earlier was correct. Whatever the reason, he didn't feel like backing down this time.
"I don't know, maybe I am," He spat sarcastically. "Since I don't go up to people and annoy the fuck out of them."
That is when all hell broke loose. Jake's face contorted in anger, and with no warning whatsoever, he lashed out and sent his fist connecting squarely against MC's face. The contact had sent waves of pain around MC's head, but before even his brain could catch up on the exact thing that was happening, things escalated into a full fight.
MC backpedaled as the taste of iron filled his mouth from the trickle of blood oozing from his lip. His world blurred, in some sort of rage and adrenaline overload; his heartbeat pounded in his chest like some primal drum. Jake stepped forward, fists clenched, eyes alight with something very nearly primeval in its ferocity-an expression that sent a shiver running down MC's spine.
"You're going to regret that, loser!" Jake snarled. The voice was loaded with malice. Before MC could get his bearings, Jake plunged forward again, trying to deliver another savage punch. MC ducked at the right time. He felt the whirling of the wind when the fist of Jake passed nearby, narrowly missing the side of his head, and hit the brick wall behind with a nasty mark.
"What's wrong, Jake? Couldn't hit me even if you tried?" MC shot back, the hot surge of anger pumping through his veins morphing into a newfound determination. He took a defensive stance, head low, ready for whatever came next.
Jake sneered, looking at his crew standing by, their laughter a nasty backdrop to the chaos escalating. Emboldened, he gestured for them to join in. "Get him, boys!"
The two larger members of Jake's crew barreled toward MC, their size intimidating, but an unexpected defiance surged within him. MC dodged the first tackle with a half-step sideways, using his smaller frame and speed to evade the clumsy duo.
"Is that all you've got?" he taunted, fresh adrenaline boosting his confidence.
His friends exchanged bewildered glances at the fight that MC was showing. He felt strong as he danced around, avoiding punches and tackles as his body moved almost on instinct, like he had trained for this.
One of the bullies lunged, but MC was ready. He threw a quick jab to the gut, causing the guy to stumble backward. Seizing the opportunity, MC followed with a swift kick to the knee, sending the bully crashing to the ground with a grunt.
"See? Anyone can throw a punch, but it takes skill to land one!" MC shouted, locking eyes with Jake, whose composure started to crack.
"Get off him, you freak!" the scrawny kid yelled, scrambling desperately forward. He swung wild, but MC sidestepped him with grace, shoving him aside to send him tumbling into a nearby trash can with an embarrassingly loud clang.
A thrill ran through MC, not just from the fight, but the knowledge that he was something more than target practice. He could fight back, and he was doing it well.
The old habits dying hard, Jake was furious and relentless. Infuriated, he charged at MC, putting all he had into the fight. There came one that sounded really sick as his fist landed square on the rib cage of MC; a sharp pain flowered at his side.
But there was no backing down now. "You think you can scare me, Jake? I'm so tired of your stupid games!" MC spat, anger fueling his next move. He pushed through the pain, swinging a quick right hook that landed squarely against Jake's jaw, feeling a rush of satisfaction as he watched Jake recoil in shock.
Off Jake's face, the smirk that had dominated was replaced by a flustered rage-a sight that snapped something inside MC, as he wasn't just defending himself but was standing up for everything that Jake had taken away from him, for that time he had felt helpless before.
"Is that the best you can do?" MC growled, still gasping for breath, yet seemingly filled with a newfound source of strength. And before Jake could get his bearings, he dove again, prepared to show just how wrong he'd been for messing with him.
"What in the world is going on?" A high-pitched shriek pierced the air, cutting through the sounds of the scuffle. "Fighting in broad daylight!"
The circle of people froze mid-attack, fists still clenched, bodies still tensed, but they all slowly turned to see who had so boldly interrupted them. A gray-haired woman, thick-rimmed glasses glinting under the street lights with shock and disapproval, stared at the circle from the edge of the sidewalk. Wrinkled hands grasped a worn leather purse to her chest as if the leather would protect her from the violence in front of her.
The interruption slapped MC back into reality with jarring force. They were brawling in the middle of the town center, surrounded by quaint shops and manicured flowerbeds. A wave of absurdity washed over him as he realized every pair of eyes in the vicinity was now squarely fixed on them. Passersby stopped to gawk, some of them raising their phones to capture the spectacle.
Just then, the jolly tinkle of the ice cream shop's bell cut through the tight-lipped silence. Maximus burst out, clutching a cone tightly in each hand, darting from MC to the group of boys and back again. In just a split second, he assessed the situation and was off, racing to MC's side.
"Let's go!" Maximus urged in a low urgent voice, already turning, ready to bolt in a second. MC didn't need telling twice. He shot Jake one last defiant look-a mixture of anger and satisfaction coursing through him as he took in his former friend's disheveled appearance and rapidly swelling eye.
Then they were off, feet pounding against pavement as they fled the scene. They ran past several shocked onlookers, dodged around parked cars, and cut through narrow alleys between buildings. The sound of shouting fell behind them, replaced by the rhythm of their labored breathing, the rush of blood in their ears.
They ran until their lungs burned and their legs were jelly, stumbling to a stop finally in a snow-covered clearing deep in the woods bordering town. The sudden quiet was almost deafening after the chaos they'd left. MC's chest heaved while he tried to catch his breath, the cold air rising in plumes of vapor with every exhale.
He spotted a fallen log nearby, brushed the thick layer of snow off, and slumped down onto it. His face throbbed where Jake's fist had connected, and he could already feel the skin starting to swell. He scooped up a handful of snow and pressed it against his cheek. The sudden cold made him wince, but the numbing relief was almost immediate as the snow started to melt against his flushed skin.
"You were incredible back there," Maximus burst out, in equal parts awe and apprehension as he handed MC one of the ice cream cones-simple vanilla, his favorite. "I had no idea you could fight like that. When I first looked out the window, I thought you were getting jumped!"
MC discarded the rest of the snow, and a pink-tinged patch showed upon the pristine white of the ground. "I know how to fight," he boasted. "I was always getting into scraps as a kid." He took an experimental lick of the ice cream, its cool sweetness contrasting with the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. "I guess I just got fed up with their bullshit."
Maximus nodded vigorously, attacking his own ice cream-a towering monstrosity of multiple flavors that threatened to topple with each enthusiastic lick. "Yeah, but I think that was a good thing," he said between bites. "You shouldn't let those jerks push you around. It's about time you stood up to them."
"Yeah," he agreed, filled with this pride and a lot of disbelief; still, he thought, he shouldn't have been capable. The last time he'd thrown a punch was back in the day when his body recalled exactly what it had to do, all by instinct. To stop this tormentors after years seemed quite an exhilarating feeling. "You're right, but we probably ought to head on back soon, Mom's going to wonder where we are."
A flicker of concern crossed Maximus's face. "You're afraid that Jake will rat to his family, right?" he asked, clearly thinking about the possible consequences of their impromptu street brawl.
MC shook his head, a slight smirk playing upon his lips. After all those years, he still knew Jake pretty well. "Nah," he said confidently. "Jake was the first to throw a punch. He won't say a word. It would make him appear weak."
As they sat in the quiet of the woods, adrenaline working its way slowly from their systems, MC felt a strange mix of emotions: satisfaction over finally having stood up for himself, the concern of what may or could happen next, and that strange sense of nostalgia he still held for his town.
…
"What happened to your face?" MC's mom asked, her voice full of concern as she handed him a pack of frozen peas. Her eyes scanned his face, taking in the swelling and discoloration that was already starting to form. "Did someone attack you?"
MC did not want to admit he had been in a full-scale brawl in the middle of town and was hesitating. He pressed the cold pack against his cheek, wincing slightly at the contact. "Sort of, but it's really fine, mom," he said, trying to downplay the situation. "It's nothing serious. Tell her, Maximus."
Maximus, who was just now licking his giant multi-flavor ice cream cone to an end-much to their mother's dismay since they had barely eaten a decent meal-intervened to back his brother. "Yeah, he was whuppin' their butts, mom," he said with a slight ring of pride, not grasping this wasn't a good defense either.
His mother frowned some more, the furrows of concern tracing their way across her forehead. "MC, you must not engage in fights while still sick," she said in that scolding manner with undertones of frustration and worry. She reached out to gently turn his face toward her, wanting a proper look at what damage was done. "You must first be quite fit and sound once more before taking part in such strenuous activities with your body.
MC listened to his mother's protest and was greatly aware of how thin and malnourished he had become and how unlike the athlete he had once been some years ago. "I'm sorry, mom," he said in a soft tone, genuine remorse dripping from his voice. "I swear this is going to be the last one."
His mom nodded, seeming to accept his promise, though doubt lingered in her eyes. Just as the tension began to ease, the front door creaked open, drawing everyone's attention.
Jake came into the house, looking even worse for wear than MC, a nice black eye forming where the blow had landed and his clothes rumpled and dirty. He was a mess, a far cry from the confident bully of earlier in the evening.
"Oh dear, what happened to you, Jake?" Their mom asked instantly, though feeling very tensed; quickly reached for another pack of frozen peas from the freezer and extended to him. "Did you get into a fight too?"
Jake's eyes cut between MC and his mother, a flash of anger and shame crossing his face. He glared at MC but said nothing about their altercation. "You could say that," he muttered, snatching the peas from her hand before turning to head upstairs.
MC watched Jake retreat, satisfied and at the same time uncomfortable. He did not care that he was bruised since it was not his fault that Jake attacked him. However, he couldn't get over the feeling that, with the lingering hostility between them, this was far from over.
"For Pete's sake, is everyone in this town involved in fighting?" their mother exclaimed out loud, her eyes on the form of Jake until he disappeared upstairs, then she turned and faced her two other sons, frowning.
"You boys must stay near the property for the rest of the day," she declared, her voice firm enough not to allow for any arguments. "I don't want any of you getting hurt again. This town seems to have gotten rougher since we left."
MC and Maximus exchanged a quick glance before nodding in agreement. After the events of the day, they'd had enough excitement to last them a while. "Sure, mom," they said in unison, resignation and relief mixed in their voices.
As their mother bustled about the kitchen, muttering about the need for more ice packs and first aid supplies, MC caught Maximus's eye. His little brother gave him a discreet thumbs up, a silent acknowledgement of MC's stand against his former tormentors. For the first time since he'd come back to this town, MC felt a small spark of confidence.
"I'm going to read to the end of volume 15," exclaimed Maximus, jumping from his chair with the exuberance of a youth. His eyes gleamed with excitement, ready to plunge into the world of "Survive or Dive!" "You could read with me, you know. It's always more fun together."
The temptation was there for MC to continue the series, the allurement of being flung into a world of make-believe strong, for a moment. Yet, he had other plans, a pull toward something he had been avoiding since their arrival. "Nah," he said, shaking his head slightly. "I'm going to visit a place I haven't been to for a long time."
This information drew a sudden interest from Maximus. He leaned in, his eyebrows arcing. "And where's that? Some sort of secret hideout?"
"The backyard," MC explained, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his voice. "There's somewhere there that I need to see again."
Maximus nodded, sensing the weight behind MC's words. He gave his brother a small smile before heading off with the manga.
MC left through the kitchen door, the cool air nipping at his face as he stepped outside. A murder of chickens immediately confronted him, their feathers ruffled in the light breeze as they pecked industriously upon the ground in hope of revealing some snippet of food. The soft cluck of their murmur joined with the soft whisper of wind through bare branches-a symphony of rural life. He hadn't stood here in years, since that night when everything changed.
His gaze drifted towards a nearby oak, whose twisted limbs seemed to reach like skeletal fingers up to the overcast sky. Winter's chill had rid the tree of leaves, but it was no less a guardian of memories left from summers past. Nestled between its sturdy limbs was a small treehouse, its weathered planks telling stories of hours upon hours of youthful adventure and whispers of secrets. MC's heart clutched as he stared at it, remembering the day that it was deserted and forgotten, much like the friendship it once housed.
With a deep breath, MC approached the tree. He reached for the old rope ladder, its fibers coarse against his palms. For a moment, he hesitated, half-expecting the aged rope to snap under his weight. But it held firm, creaking slightly as he began to climb. Each step up was a step back in time, memories flooding back with every rung.
At last, he reached the top, pulling himself onto the platform with a grunt. The treehouse stood before him, a time capsule of his childhood. MC ducked through the low entrance, entering the space he once considered his private sanctuary.
The interior was exactly as he remembered, frozen in time like a photograph. Boxes full of dog-eared comic books were stacked in one corner, their colorful spines faded but still legible. Gone was the large plastic container they used to fill with candy and snacks, no doubt long since removed by his mother in a cleaning frenzy.
His eyes went to the walls where photos still hung crookedly. Pictures of him and Jake grinned back at him – two boys on the verge of adolesence, arms thrown over each other shoulders, without a care in the world. MC's throat thickened as he looked at them, remembering how once-easy their camaraderie had been.
But its most iconic feature lay in the middle of that treehouse: two worn bean bags, whose colors had dulled with time but still could unmistakably be theirs. One red, one blue, sat next to each other, a physical representation of an unbreakable friendship.
MC approached the blue beanbag, his fingers tracing over his name, which was in black Sharpie across the material. "Been a long time, buddy," he said so low the words barely escaped his mouth.
He sank onto the bean bag with a sigh, and it molded to his body, welcoming him back like an old friend. MC leaned back, staring up at the ceiling where glow-in-the-dark stars still clung tenaciously to the wood. His mind wandered, grappling with the question that had haunted him for years: Where had everything gone so wrong?
…
Five years ago, on one fall day, June 25, 2001, when the sun was slowly setting, casting golden warmth through the yard, MC and Jake settled into their treehouse. A soft light lit up their faces, coming from some lantern overhead-a soft light for quiet conversation, secretive in the tones used by these youngsters. The air was alive with the feel and smell of fallen autumn leaves that spoke of adventure.
"I don't believe it. Our moms won't let us go see Endless Circus Delight," MC complained, sprawling deeper into his beanbag, fingers absently tracing the now-faded blue in the place where he had written his name in permanent marker. "She knows they're going to be in town this month, and who knows when we will ever get another chance like that. That's not fair!"
Jake furrowed his brow in deep contemplation of their situation. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a shoebox of assorted candies-a stash of sweets they had been saving for just the right moment. But even now, as he passed the box to MC, his usual ebullience was tinged with a hint of disappointment.
"Yeah, it sucks," Jake agreed, peeling the wrapping off a piece of saltwater taffy and shoving it into his mouth. "Mom says it's too dangerous, but we're not little kids anymore. We can handle ourselves."
As Jake spoke, a sudden look of inspiration struck MC, and his eyes lit up with mischief as he sat up, nearly toppling the beanbag in his excitement.
"Why don't we sneak out and see the show anyway?" he suggested with a mischievous grin already playing at the corners of his lips. "We could just go quickly and come back before anyone notices. It's perfect!"
Jake's face turned from uncertainty to excitement; his eyes brightened with a new enthusiasm. Still, a flicker of apprehension sounded in his voice as he asked, "What if we get caught? My dad would kill me if he found out."
MC shrugged-what was a little danger to them? The feeling of rebellion soared sweetly in his stomach and drowned out his voice of reason. "We won't," he said brazenly, shouldering Jake a playful nudge. "Come on, don't you wanna see Endless Circus Delight? Think about it, man-the acrobats and the fire-eaters, and the animals from wherever! It'll be great!"
Jake lagged a little, weighing the possible danger against the choice. Then a slow smile crept up onto his face to match the excitement already beaming on MC's. "Sure, why not?" he retorted with growing enthusiasm. "Doesn't that start at 8:30?"
MC nodded, already furiously planning in his mind their night of derring-do. "Yeah, we can just chill until the main event starts and slip out before anyone will even miss us. Perfect!"
Crouching together, planning their move in muffled whispers, little did they know how grave that decision was to become. It was a treetop hideout for his innocence now, holding a secret between two boys and setting events into action that neither of them would have imagined.
They exchanged grins, their shared excitement fueling their resolve. The flickering lantern cast dancing shadows on the walls, as if warning them of the dangers that lay ahead. But in their youthful exuberance, MC and Jake were blind to the potential consequences of their actions. Little did they know, their impulsive decision to sneak out that night would have far-reaching repercussions, forever altering the course of their lives and the lives of those around them.
It was not until the sun had finally dipped below the horizon and cast the world in a soft twilight that the boys decided to set their plan in motion. Little did they know, the Endless Circus Delight would bring more than entertainment-it would bring chaos, heartbreak, and a mystery that would haunt their small town for years to come.
…
MC opened his eyes, confusion clouding his mind like a thick fog rolling in off the sea. When had he fallen asleep? The last thing he remembered was sitting in the old bean bag, lost in memories of the past. He rubbed his eyes in annoyance, the gritty sensation a stark reminder of his unexpected nap. As the cobwebs of sleep cleared, the fragments of his dream still lingered on, like echoes of that fateful October night five years ago. The memory of sneaking out to see the Endless Circus Delight clung to him like a persistent shadow, refusing to fade even as consciousness fully returned.
Disoriented, MC peered out one of the treehouse windows. The late-afternoon golden warmth had turned an inklike blue speckled with stars. How much time had passed in this memory fall? It wasn't exactly comfortable to wake up and realize he had lost so much time unconscious in this place of child nostalgia.
Lifting himself up, stretching muscles aching from the poor sleeping position, his gaze fell upon a sight that almost stopped his heart: Jake, framed in the treehouse entrance, was achingly familiar and jarringly different. Those eyes that had once looked warm and mischievous now bored into MC with undisguised malice. Lantern light highlighted the hard lines of Jake's face, a far cry from boyish softness.
"Looks like you finally woke up, sleeping beauty," Jake said; his voice was a low growl, oozing sarcasm and barely contained anger. The nickname, once affectionate, stung like a slap in the face. "Dinner's ready."
Before MC could utter a word, Jake turned and went down the ladder with fluid, purposeful movements. The short encounter had left MC reeling, his mind racing to put into perspective the Jake of his memory and this stranger who'd just spoken to him.
Left alone again in the treehouse, MC was more aware of how different Jake looked now. Gone was the lanky, carefree 13-year-old boy he once knew. Standing in his place was a young man, taller, more muscular, his frame filled with the kind of strength that came from hard work or dedicated training. Jake's features had sharpened, whittled by time and hardened by experiences MC could only guess at. The boyish roundness of his face had given way to a strong jaw and cheekbones that seemed chiseled of stone.
But it wasn't the physical changes that so struck MC, as the cold in Jake's eyes and the tension of his shoulders seemed to tell of burdens carried and battles fought. Gone was the ease of a smile that had been trademark Jake; in its place, a scowl that seemed deeply etched into his features.
The jarring contrast made MC all too uncomfortably aware of how little he himself had changed. Where Jake had grown and changed, MC felt like time had stood still-the same skinny, insecure boy who'd ran from this place five years ago. He looked down at his own body, taking in the scrawny arms and narrow chest that had refused to fill in with the passing years. His reflection in the darkened window showed a face still clinging to the softness of youth, unmarked by hardships that had clearly shaped Jake.
The reality of this hit him like a ton of bricks, and a wave of inadequacy washed over him. The world-and Jake-had moved on without him, leaving him like some kind of relic best forgotten. That treehouse, once a haven to share dreams and laughter, was to him no more than the tomb of a long-dead friendship.