Pitbabe S2, Chapter 29 pg 2

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 29 pg 2

   Something else felt off. Maybe I’m overthinking or assuming too much, but I sensed a shift in Phii Alan’s emotional current. Before, whenever Jeff came up, he’d radiate this bright, annoying glow—sparkling eyes, beaming face, even his voice. It was the kind of vibe that made you jealous. But now, that glow seems dimmer. Not completely gone, but lacking the dazzling spark that used to stir envy. Instead, it’s dulled to a disheartening shade. I have no idea when this started or why.

   “Jeff isn’t the type to order me to do or not do anything. Even if he’s worried, he’ll just say he’s worried. He won’t sit there telling me to stop this or do that. He doesn’t think it’s his place.”

   “Kinda weird, that Jeff.”

   “I used to think he was weird too, but I’m used to it now.”

   “If you look at it positively, it’s nice that he gives you freedom.”

   “That’s the thing. Jeff sees me as an adult. Unless I’m being a complete idiot, he doesn’t say much. He lets me figure it out.”

   At first, I didn’t quite click with Jeff because of his closed-off, aloof personality. Plus, we had a falling out when I wrongly accused him, causing a big mess. So we were never that close, and it even felt like we couldn’t stand each other. But after everything settled, I had a chance to open up to Jeff about my stupidity and apologize sincerely. That’s when I learned that Jeff isn’t just a stubborn, heartless kid. He simply understands the nature of the world he lives in and the people who breathe in it, deeply and truly. He’s rational, but at the same time, he feels like any other human. When I apologized that day, Jeff didn’t give a long speech or a life lesson. There was just his calm expression, steady eyes listening intently. When I finished, he lightly patted my shoulder, nodded, and said, “I’ve messed up too.” Just that one sentence, but it became both an autobiography recounting the past and a prophecy for my life moving forward.

   He didn’t say I was wrong, but he didn’t say I was right either. He didn’t say this mistake was forgiven. He didn’t utter a word about whether it was good or bad. He didn’t tell me to take it as a lesson. He just said he’d made mistakes like mine too. He acknowledged it was wrong, and that mistake had earned the name “once mistaken,” because it only existed in the past, not the present or future.

   That was the best advice I’d ever received.

   That’s why I was genuinely happy that Phii Alan found Jeff. I used to have no idea what kind of person would suit Phii Alan until I met Jeff. Now I can define it: the person right for my big brother should be both a child and an adult, a leader and a follower, a questioner and an answerer. Not because they have to bear a heavy burden to stand by Phii Alan, but because my Phii needs someone wise enough to know which gaps to fill at the right time, so his heart can function at its fullest. In my eyes, Jeff is that kind of person.

   “Good that you quit, but wouldn’t it be better if you didn’t sit here inhaling my smoke like this?” Phii Alan said.

   “A little’s fine. No big deal.”

   “A little’s the real troublemaker.”

   “Then get up and ditch me.”

   “Why don’t you get up, huh? I was sitting here first.”

   I laughed, delighted at getting under his skin. At least when Phii Alan spat out curses, I could catch a faint whiff of his old self—the one I missed and hoped to see again when I came back. Even if it was just for a split second, it was enough to lift my spirits. But it’d be so much better if that steady self could stay permanently, not just flicker briefly like now.

   “I quit smoking because in prison, I once kissed a guy I hated just to get a single cigarette.”

   I blurted it out without preamble. I knew full well that my grim prison stories made my big brother uncomfortable, but this was probably the only area where a kid like me could claim more experience than him. Phii Alan turned to look at me. He pursed his lips slightly, uneasy, his downcast eyes clearly searching for a decent response to my story. But I figured no such response existed.

   “He looked like a junkie, probably was one too, cause he managed to smuggle in piles of weed and cigarettes. Used some, sold some, sometimes traded for stuff he wanted. When I first got in, I was dying for a smoke. A friend told me this guy had some, so I went to ask him.”

   “And he asked for a kiss, huh?”

   “Actually, he asked for more, but I wasn’t down for that. So he settled for just a kiss.”

   “Was it worth it… for just one cigarette?”

   “In there, a single cigarette could change your status.”

   Phii Alan’s face filled with guilt, like always when I brought up prison. I tried to talk about it often, acting like it was no big deal, but he showed no signs of getting used to it. Probably because he was convinced it was all his fault, Phii Alan still couldn’t shake off that stigma.

   “If you say sorry again, I swear I won’t dare talk to you anymore,” I cut in before Phii Alan could open his mouth. His next sentence was one I knew all too well, and honestly, I was sick of it. If I didn’t put my foot down today, I’d probably have to hear it for the rest of my life.

   “Okay,” Phii Alan said, looking resigned. But I was thrilled I’d finally gotten through to him. “I won’t apologize anymore.”

   “I’m just telling you this because I wanted to, you know,” I said, locking eyes with him, searching for any faint spark left in his gaze. Sadly, it was too dim to see anything now. “There’s a ton of stuff way more embarrassing than this. I couldn’t tell everyone, but with you, it’s easy. I could keep going for ages.”

   I didn’t have the guts to say, You can tell me anything, you know. For some reason, it felt like saying that might pressure him to rack his brain for something to share. He’d probably overthink it—how to phrase it, what I’d want to hear, what to say, what to skip. And after spilling it, he’d worry about how I’d feel, how I’d react. Instead of feeling relieved, I might just make him more uncomfortable. But if I shared my own stories, maybe it could crack open the door that was starting to close.

   “Thanks.”

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