Chapter 25

'Are you happy now, brother? She's here and her friends are in prison. The patrol came and took them away, Daniel was there, he said hello to you,' the curly-haired guy said, sitting on an armchair by the fireplace.

The fire lit up the dark room in James Foster's house, where now the two best friends, as always, sat there in the evenings, telling each other about their day or sharing something important to them.

'Quite satisfied,' Jay breathed tiredly, leaning his head back against the chair. 'Has Daniel been fired from the police yet? In other respects, I'm glad we have connections there, why be against the extra ones, right?'

'I agree with you.'

Jay gets up from his seat, searching diligently for something he suddenly needs.

'Where are they?' The guy was indignant, throwing everything off a small glass table next to the chairs.

Some books that Dean sometimes read fell to the floor, opening in the middle. 'And when everything is in your hands, interest begins to disappear. But are you sure that no one will take it back? Hold it tight and don't let go. It's easier to pull it out with open hands than with closed ones, pressing your palms closer to your chest.'

'What heresy are you reading?' The blond man got nervous, picked up the book from the floor and threw it back on the table.

'Normal book, what’s wrong with you?' Dean was indignant, throwing a piercing look at his best friend.

He's actually used to seeing the mood of the once-cheerful kid he used to play in the playground with as kids change quickly. The years have changed a guy like the nights change so quickly.

'I lost my pack of cigarettes,' the guy sighed wearily, flopping back into his chair.

The light crackle of red-hot firewood in the fireplace swept through the cozy room, plunged into darkness. The flame swayed lazily from one side to the other, giving warmth to those in this room. The young guy was sitting on an easy chair, throwing a woolen blanket over himself. Now he remembers the time when the terrible incident happened.

Seven years ago, Mr. James Williams Foster received a ten-year sentence for selling hard drugs. The guy was very lucky, because the representative of his defense sentenced him to five years in prison for special difficulties.

'Do you remember that year?' The boy asked, taking a deep breath.

'Damned year,' the curly-haired boy, who was lying on the couch with his legs up on the armrest, let out a grin.

'I agree,' the blond agreed, taking a sip of strong, aged cognac.

The young man, lying on the couch, bent his arms at the elbows, placing them under his head.

'The year we lost our best friends,' Dean said wearily, remembering bits and pieces of the past. 'Do you remember how their bodies burned? How the fire consumed them... It is still before my eyes,' the young man said bitterly, closing his eyes.

A tear rolled down his cheek, falling behind the collar of his T-shirt. Jay nodded his head, completely forgetting that his last best friend couldn't see anything at the moment.

'There was nothing left of them, just hot air with fire that dissipated away,' the curly-haired guy wiped his wet cheek with the bottom of his T-shirt.

'We were all so closely connected, knowing each other since we were babies. We did not even have time to say goodbye to them, the last thing that sounded then was 'Run, we will delay them.''

'But we saved Kyle's girlfriend,' Dean remembered about the red-haired girl of his best friend.

'Yes, but she committed suicide the very next day. She loved him so much that she couldn't live a day without him. I think Ari was very brave, because she was not afraid of the things that Kyle was doing, the young man concluded, taking a sitting pose. She loved Kyle and was always by his side despite his dangerous life.'

'Just crazy,' Jay shook his head, throwing more dry wood into the fireplace.

'What are you talking about?' Dean didn't understand, raising his eyebrows at the bridge of his nose.

'About them.' Foster turned his head towards his friend, peering into his eyes. 'Do you remember how he kept everyone in fear?' Dean nodded in agreement. 'Kyle was cruel, he always killed,' the blond got up from the floor, shaking his hands from dust and from small pieces of wood left after firewood. 'We've always done cleaner things,' James remembered, taking a seat next to Dean.

'Well, that’s what I mean, Kyle has only been kind to her. No,' the blond protested, deciding to say otherwise. 'I will say more, he was affectionate and gave her his love.'

'Madness,' the curly-haired boy breathed out, leaning back against the back of the couch.

'What happened to Brandon? I didn't know anything about him. They didn't talk about him in the colony.'

'He was killed.' The guy lowered his eyes, clutching the fabric of his T-shirt in his fists. 'He was killed like the last mongrel. His girlfriend turned him in as soon as he came to her right after the explosion. I never liked this whore. I think her name was Nicole.'

'And who killed him? In prison they couldn't, I would have known about it.' The guy had hope for Brandon.

He thought that he was lucky and now he lives his life. Jay continued to believe that Brandon was the only person who was lucky enough to get out of the burning warehouse. He did not seek information about him because he was afraid. He was afraid to find out the truth and lost hope. Another friend left this world, leaving James and Dean alone. 'He was killed during his arrest. Everyone said that he resisted and the police had to put a bullet in his chest,' the guy slammed his fist on the armrest, shouting out his thoughts.

'He just couldn't resist! His body had numerous burns and bruises! They got rid of him because he was a hassle for them! Our business was too neglected! And so, no body, no problem!'

'I'm sorry,' James said softly, holding himself back from a tangle of tangled feelings.

'He's dead, and you're just fucking sorry?' Dean rose abruptly from the couch, glaring menacingly at Foster.

The guy was silent, realizing that the curly guy just needed to speak out. He kept everything to himself for so many years, each time listening to his problems and feelings from him, at a time when he himself was broken. Dean never spoke because no one wanted other people's problems.

'He died! They are all dead!' The guy grabbed the blonde by the T-shirt, lifting him from the couch. 'They saved our lives, but they finished theirs!'

'Calm down, brother. You can't get anything back.' Jay tried to remove Dean's hands from his T-shirt, ignoring the fury and anger in front of the guy. The enraged eyes had lost their green color, giving way to a darker marsh color of the rainbow. The guy continued to scream, splashing out his emotions at will.

'Fuck, Dean, chill,' the blond growled, shoving his friend in the chest.

The curly-haired boy staggered back from the push, but quickly regained his balance, standing firmly on his feet. 'Don't tell me what to do! All the time you just do what you tell everyone!' Shouted the young man, clenching his hands into fists.

Feelings of anger and resentment burst out on their own, because it is difficult to keep something in yourself for so long. Because feelings always come out of the body, despite the fact that you do not want to show them, referring to the quick 'not now'.

'You promised that we would always share everything! You fucking told me we were brothers in spirit! Look what you've done!' The boy turned around, throwing up his hands.

'What did I do, Dean?' Foster asked, holding back his anger.

His eyes were so dark that nothing could be seen through the darkness. His veins in his arms were so visible that it was breathtaking to see them. His muscles tensed in the same way as the opponent at the moment, who was standing in front of him. They are ready to kick each other's asses right now.

The two best friends stood near the fireplace, holding themselves back from stabbing each other.

Because even best friends have their differences.