--------------
Femi decided that he was done for the day. He packed up his gear and decided to leave the cafe. He couldn't stay for long, anyway. It was getting crowded, something he disliked being a part of
The sensations outside the cafe hit him like a freight train. A cluster of okadas drove past him, blowing dust into his eyes. A lorry that seemed to be carrying tubers of yam blared its horn continuously to try to get people out of its way. A street vendor was trying to shove fried plantains into his face.
It was too much.
Too unstructured and overstimulating.
He reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of noise-canceling earbuds. It was a survival mechanism, something he had perfected that helped him get through six years of schooling.
Was it lonely?
Sometimes…
But he was safe. He felt safe.
To him, that's what really mattered.
He connected them to his phone and hit the shuffle play button.
Something melodic hit his ears. It was "Cornfield Chase" by Hans Zimmer. Since his early years, Femi had always been fascinated by the grand piano.
How rows of keys and strings could create such beautiful pieces throughout the span of human history. The lorries and bike horns all became a low hum. The shouting traders and hooligans all became mimes.
He took in a deep breath, after making sure he didn't forget anything, then started the walk home.
He thought about what Tunde said earlier: 'Pure luck.'
It wasn't that Tunde said it with the intention to offend him or anything…
He was just too... loud and unnecessary, to say the least.
Femi looked at a bunch of students who seemed to be shouting and laughing at each other's bad jokes. The way they shoved each other into the road to cross the street, not really minding the potential dangers around them.
To him, they looked like bad players in a battle royale—diving headfirst into situations without thinking, spraying a bunch of bullets hoping one hits their target.
It's like they lived life on auto-pilot.
He wasn't like that. But he wasn't the main character, either.
He saw himself as just another random guy.
Orbiting friend groups, waking up and sleeping, reading, and passing exams.
You know…
The regular stuff.
He never really fit in anywhere. I mean, people acknowledged his presence. He wasn't invisible to his peers. If he asked to borrow something, he wouldn't be turned down for no reason.
If he said hello or good morning to his seat partner during class, she'd respond in kind.
But he never got invited to come to parties or sit with them during a lunch break.
He was always the guy that walked behind the group as they walked forward, sometimes forgetting his presence.
The typical NPC in his own life.
"Maybe it's better this way," he thought.
If you're underrated, no one tries to pick fights or challenge you.
You'd be left alone to your devices.
Sometimes people mistake his silence for weakness. A typical bully would show up trying to take something from him, but a cold stare was all it took to tell the bully if he tried anything funny, he wouldn't come out of it unscathed.
Most of the time…
It was a lonely but safe strategy.
He had already reached the gate of his estate.
The noise of the city slowly receded even further.
He always thanked God that his parents had a place in an estate.
They weren't rich, but they were very comfortable.
They made sure he was too, as they knew some of the tendencies he had while growing up.
But to Femi, home wasn't a place where he shut himself out of the world.
It was one of the few places where he could truly be himself.
His muscles finally relaxed when he reached the gate of his compound.
To him, the game was over.
The streets were far behind him.
He was at the place where he could truly be Femi.
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
The outside world exhausted him.
He quickly took off his bag and began to search for his key to unlock the gate.
It was something he suggested to his parents so he didn't have to yell at the gate for someone to come unlock the gate for him.
After stepping in and locking the gate,
He began walking towards the house.
The air smelled like rain-dampened concrete and pesticides.
But more importantly, it smelled like one of his favourite things in the world.
Melon seeds popularly known as egusi. The spicy aroma of the food assaulted his nostrils.
His stomach let out a growl, betraying how hungry he was.
He opened the door and was hit by a wave of cold air from the air conditioning,
Instantly drying all the sweat on his body
"Welcome home, my boy," his mother called out from the kitchen. She was a bit sweaty from cooking.
She didn't shout at him for being late. She didn't bombard him with questions about his grades or anything. She knew and understood her son. He always needed a moment to decompress after stepping in from school.
"Good evening, my lady. I trust your day was eventful," he bowed to his mom as she dropped his bag on the chair.
She scoffed at him, "Do I look like a princess to you, abegi…" she laughed.
"I mean, you're the queen of the house, so you're not far off from the mark," he answered unapologetically.
"Oh, it's because you smelled your favorite food. No wonder, I knew all this praising can't just happen randomly," she said as her son was smiling sheepishly, scratching his head.
"You're not taking a bite until you go shower. Then you can eat to your heart's content." Before she even finished the sentence, he was already taking off his shirt, revealing a set of toned abs.
"Already 2 steps ahead of you," he said as he ran to the bathroom.
"My son is fine o, but with his shy attitude towards life, will he ever get a girlfriend? I wanna carry my grandkids...," an internal monologue was going on in her head as she walked towards the kitchen, setting the table for her kid.
A few minutes later...
He was sitting on the table. A bowl of soup on the right and wraps of fufu on the left.
He reached for it and tore a chunk off, moulding it between his fingers.
Grounding…
He dipped it into the soup and took a bite.
The heat and spicy flavour of the food chased away any lingering irritation from the cafe.
He wasn't an NPC here. He was just a son.
He felt safe.
When he was done with the food and clearing the plates, he told his mom he'd be in his room.
She wanted him to stay longer, talk to him some more, but she also knew what came next for him after a long day, so she left him to go do his thing while she tuned in to one of her favourite shows on Bolly-TV.
In the corner of his room, resting on a sturdy frame,
A Yamaha keyboard.
It wasn't something expensive or high-tech.
But it was something he saved for two years to buy.
To him, it was worth more than any high-end PC setup.
He sat on a cushioned stool and cracked his knuckles.
He didn't use a headset or anything.
He wanted to hear the music in the air.
He didn't play any song he knew...
He just played…
a chord, then a melody…
He closed his eyes so he could stay immersed in this feeling. In the game, he was always calculating reload times and player trajectories. It was the same part of him—the part of him that saw patterns and numbers while everyone else saw chaos. But here, it wasn't about survival and destruction. It was about creation.
His fingers drifted across the black and white keys, creating a fleeting and melancholic vibe that filled the room. For the first time today, Femi w
asn't drifting; he was leading. He was creating a world that made sense to him.
He lost track of time, and the sun was already setting, casting shadows across the floor. He was safe and happy.
But he had no idea that this was the last normal night of his life.
No idea of the horror that awaited him in the near future.
Ignorance truly is bliss…