Overdrive!

We didn't say much as we walked to the small roadside food cart.

The guy running it was half-asleep, slumped behind a chipped counter with a fan that barely worked. An old bulb swung overhead, flickering like it was about to die. The smell of fried food hung thick in the air.

"Two egg rolls," I said, fishing out the last few crumpled dollar bills from my pocket.

Sunny just stood there beside me, arms crossed, his busted knuckles starting to turn purple. I noticed he didn't even check his wallet.

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, dropping the coins on the counter. "I'm buying. You saved my face from becoming paste. It's a fair trade."

He didn't argue. That was something I liked immediately — he didn't over-thank or act awkward. Just nodded and sat down on the bent metal bench by the cart. I sat beside him.

For a while, neither of us said anything.

The food guy handed us the rolls in foil wrap. Greasy, hot, and honestly kind of perfect.

Sunny unwrapped his slowly and took a bite like he hadn't eaten all day.

Maybe he hadn't.

I looked over. His cheek was swelling up worse now.

"You should ice that," I said.

"You got ice in your pocket?" he replied.

I snorted. "Fair."

We ate in silence for a bit. Then I said it before I could overthink it.

"They used to do that to me. What they were doing to you back there. The beatdowns."

He didn't look surprised.

"I know," he said. "I've seen the bruises on your arms when you came into the store."

I looked down at my roll. "How come you never said anything?"

"What was I gonna say? 'Hey, you getting stomped in the bathroom again?'"

I laughed.

It was stupid.

It also felt... good. Lighter.

"I used to think I'd just take it forever," I said. "Like... if I stayed quiet long enough, they'd get bored and move on."

"They don't," he replied.

"No. They don't."

I looked at him. His hood was still up. His eyes were sharp, but not cold.

"Why do you fight like that?" I asked. "Like... not just swinging wildly. You were thinking."

He shrugged. "My brother taught me. A while ago. Said if I was gonna survive in this city, I should at least know how to make someone regret raising their hand first."

"Smart brother."

"He's dead."

I blinked.

"Oh."

Sunny kept chewing. "He wasn't smart enough to stop fighting. That's what killed him. So I try not to fight unless I have to."

I didn't know what to say to that. But I didn't ask more. I figured if he wanted to tell me, he would.

We finished our food. My fingers were still trembling a little from the adrenaline, or maybe just from how real everything suddenly felt.

Not just the fight.

But this.

The moment after.

"You know," I said, wiping my hands with the corner of my shirt, "if someone had told me this morning that I'd be fighting side-by-side with the quiet guy from the corner store, I would've laughed in their face."

Sunny stood up, stretched his back, winced.

"If someone had told me I'd be eating egg rolls with the kid who used to cry in the third-floor bathroom, I would've ignored them."

I frowned. "I never cried."

He raised an eyebrow.

"…Out loud," I added.

He smirked. "Thought so."

We tossed our wrappers into a broken plastic bin.

The street was still quiet, but something felt different now. Lighter.

Maybe it was just the adrenaline wearing off. Or maybe it was because, for the first time in a long time, I wasn't walking home alone.

We hit the corner again. The part where our paths split.

Sunny looked down the road.

"You gonna be okay tomorrow?" he asked.

"Probably sore."

"School's gonna notice."

"Let them."

He nodded once.

Then paused.

"I don't really do friends," he said, like he was warning me.

"I don't either," I replied.

Another pause.

"Guess that makes it easier," he said.

"Yeah."

He turned and started walking.

I started walking too.

In the same direction.

He noticed.

"…You live this way too?"

"Yup."

He didn't say anything.

But he didn't tell me to leave either.

So we walked.

Side by side.

Not talking.

Not smiling.

But not alone.