Then, he raised his head, green eyes finding mine. And his lips parted as his voice echoed, uttering, "Germaine… I trust him, Stella. He's worked for me for a long time. Even before I became the leader of the Cyclo Gang."
The moment Mangé said this, my gaze softened. And funny enough, my gaze wasn't the only part of my body that softened. I think my heart did too. It began to beat softly, too softly. In fact, my heart felt like a soft, squishy cushion that had been soaked with water.
My lips stretched, and a small, wry smile painted my face as I stared at Mangé with my softened gaze.
I see.
Then, I let out a soft, really soft sigh.
The moment I did, I refused to close my eyes.
Why?
It was quite simple. Tears had welled up in them. Meaning that the moment I even tried to blink, the tears would have poured. So I kept my eyes wide open, and as I did, I swear scenes flashed through my eyes.
They were scenes of the times that I spent with this blond bastard who sat cross-legged at the counter opposite me.
I began to wrestle. To wrestle with my own body, and with my own tears. Fighting so hard to stop them from pouring out.
My heart. My now softened heart. It squeezed inside of me. An electric-like feeling coursed through my entire body at that moment, causing me to clench my fist that remained buried in my pockets.
He has… played his card.
The entire room turned into a blurry haze in my tear soaked vision. I couldn't make up left or right, I couldn't.. I couldn't see properly.
But the funny part?
I could still clearly see the determined expression on Mangé's face amid the blurry haze.
My stretched smile slowly faded as I licked my dry lips, parting them to speak. To utter.
"—" I could not speak.
Again, I tried. I forced myself to say something.
"—"
Nothing.
I couldn't say anything. It was pathetic. Stupidly pathetic.
Why was I feeling that way? Why? I had to be strong. I had to be cold.
The journey ahead of me was a long and arduous one that required a perpetually steeled heart.
I knew of this. I knew of this fact.
But then, why was the simple fact that I was going to cut Mangé off forever so… Painful to me?
Why did it affect my heart so much?
I had no idea. My mind knew and agreed with my logic.
But my heart refused to comply.
There, in the room, the room that once felt warm, I stood, the air blowing against my face now cold...
Cold. How cold it was.
"I… see." I finally spoke, breaking through the stretched-out silence.
I turned, facing my back to Mangé as I prepared to walk out the door.
"I'll be taking my le–"
"You won't even allow me to finish? I'm not done talking." Mangé said all of a sudden, actively causing my halt.
He's not done talking?
"That coat you're wearing." He said.
I turned my neck, narrowing my eyes as I stared straight at him, viewing the awkwardly playful grin he had on his face.
"What about it?"
"I'm the one who gave it to you, remember?"
"..." My eyes widened. Just subtly. "I do."
"And do you remember what I said to you the day I gave you that coat?"
At that point, I turned fully, facing Mangé once more.
"I do."
Immediately, Mangé stood up from his chair, taking calm steps toward me, his grin never fading.
"I found you at night, under the dark skies and the lone moon, sleeping on the cold ground in the park area. I asked if you were cold, and you…" He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "You told me you were fine. That the cold was nothing to you. But I knew you, Stel, knew you were hiding the fact that you were cold. So I gave you that coat. I still know you. And I have always known you. I know you like keeping your pain and every single problem you face to yourself. I've known that ever since we were kids. That's why I told you, on that day, that–"
"That you're going to bring change to the backlands. And make sure that I never have any problems in the first place. And with that, I'll have nothing troubling me, and nothing to keep to myself." I completed.
Of course.
Why did I forget?
Why did I ever forget?
Mangé's eyes widened, and his grin broke. But those eyes closed immediately as the broken grin transformed to a soft smile, emboldening as he shook his head softly, moving his hands toward me.
Toward my shoulders. And he placed them there.
He clenched my shoulders firmly with his unusually warm palms.
And then, he looked me straight in the eyes.
His eyes were clear. They had no sign of fear, hesitation or sadness.
They were just… just clear.
"Germaine is someone who I'm using, trying to enforce that change I told you about. But you, Stella? You're not a subordinate of mine; our relationship isn't something work or professionally bound. You are my family. The only one I've ever considered my family. I trust you, Stel."
Does he never get embarrassed saying things like this?
I took my gaze off Mangé. His warm smile had infected my heart, causing my own lips to remain widened.
I took my hands out of my pockets, grasping Mangé's hands on my shoulders, and taking them off.
"Alright, that's enough," I said. "Let's go sit down."
Mangé chuckled, raising his hands like a surrendering criminal.
"I was just trying to make a point." He said, walking toward his chair.
"And I've understood your point," I replied, walking toward my chair that lay beside Mangé's, and sitting on it.
On the counter, only Mangé's plasma pistol and our empty glass cups lay.
My gaze lingered on them for something less than a second. And then, I took my gaze off of them, but not looking at Mangé. I just stared straight ahead, at the stacked bottles of drinks behind the counter.
Change.
"Thank you, Mangé." I spoke with a low voice that calmly reverberated in the room.
"Hm? What for?"
"For… I don't know. Just thanks!" I exclaimed with a slightly louder voice.
"Hahaha!!"
Annoying bastard.
I let out a soft sigh.
I need a drink. Shouldn't have finished that glass of whiskey in one gulp.
"You no longer smoke?" He asked, taking out a chilerate from his pocket — the shit that I had been addicted to smoking for years.
"Yes, I don't anymore. Heard the weeds those things are made of were cultivated on the Spiffian home planet, I want nothing to do with them." I replied, grabbing my empty glass and hitting it on the counter, causing a soft clang sound to echo. "But I'll go for another drink."
Mangé scoffed, grabbing his pistol, pressing the trigger softly, causing a low blue light to escape the nozzle, and with it, lighting his chilerate.
"Dumb rumors." He spoke as he exhaled the smoke, knocking twice on the table; the sign that alerted the bartender, "And you're still racist toward the Spiffs, huh?"
"Racist?" I asked, letting out a small chuckle as I scrunched my nose in a miniature effort to filter the smoke from his chiler, "You're way too funny."
"Alright, alright." He said, putting an abrupt end to the small talk. "Let's talk business. Strategy, plan, and all the other nonsense. We need to raid those spiffs you so abhor so I can get my key back."
He's still subtly calling me racist. The bastard. And that reminds me. The backers gave him that key. And I came here to get information about the backers.
I can't believe I almost left without getting the information I came here for.
"We'll get to that. But before we do, I have to first tell you exactly why I came to visit you. And I want to hear your plans too. Not the plans you have for the spiffian raid, but the plans you have in mind for the change."
Having Mangé as an ally won't be so bad. Now I've finally confirmed that he hasn't suddenly gotten a hunger for power during the times I haven't seen him. He still has the same goal. To change the backlands. For the better.
How cute.
Here I am planning a 'heist' that'll span the entire world.
"Oh." He exclaimed, "Alright, then. You go first. What exactly is the reason you came here?"