I left the restaurant after paying the bill for those bastards who'd skipped out on it.
(I thought to myself: Those bastards just called me to pay the bill—they didn't even eat.)
While driving home, I spotted a figure I hadn't seen in years stepping out of a café, sipping coffee.
I pulled over and parked nearby before calling out to him:
— Nelson, idiot, is that you? How have you been?
Nelson: "HEY YOU WANT TO DIE…!? Eh!? Brian!?... Bastard... it's really you."
(Nelson stood frozen, stunned. His expression shifted from disbelief to a teasing grin, like he was seeing someone he genuinely missed. Then he gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder.)
He was Nelson Velázquez—a tall Latino man, around 1.80 meters, athletic build, dark skin, dark eyes, and deep brown hair.
He'd grown up with me back when my Dreifus identity was still under wraps. His mother had worked at the house where I lived as a child. Then he said:
Nelson: "It's been 10 years, and you're still an idiot. How can you greet me like that? Do you want me to give you a beating?"
— Look who's talking… you know I learned that from you, Hyung.
(Nelson burst out laughing, then put on a mock-serious face. He was always the joker, and this was just how we connected.)
Nelson: "Haha, very funny... wait! You... where did you learn Korean?"
— A friend from university taught me, he was Korean... I learned it because I lost a bet on a project, so I had to. Besides... before that, I always had the feeling they were insulting me.
Nelson: "Who?"
— Nah, just some guys I met playing online.
(Nelson frowned, intrigued. He kept his eyes on me, waiting for more. His expression softened as the pieces clicked.)
Nelson: "And did they?"
— Yeah, some of them. I think they assumed I was illiterate, so they took advantage... But once I started speaking their language, most of them were embarrassed and apologized. Some were just frozen in shock—haha, I loved their reactions.
Nelson: "Don't tell me you... learned Korean just to mess with them, right?"
— That's right, you know me well, Hyung.
(Nelson laughed hard, giving me a light smack on the shoulder. His laugh had the same ease as before—like no time had passed. He always made me feel like we were still the same, no matter how much we'd changed.)
Nelson: "Damn, you don't change, still the same idiot as always."
— What have you been up to, Nelson? I thought you went to Korea.
Nelson: "Yeah, I was in Korea, but just for two years. Then I went to China, and after that, Japan."
— Japan...? You went to Kyoto, right? Did you see my grandmother? How is she?
Nelson: "Yeah, but I only went to Kyoto about three times in the three years I lived in Japan."
— So, where did you stay?
Nelson: "In Hiroshima Prefecture, Fukuyama City."
— So, you went to Hiroshima for...
Nelson: "Shut up... I know what you're about to say, so shut up."
— But...
Nelson: "You're about to say something about radiation and Godzilla, right?"
— Well...
Nelson: "Grow up, will you?! Damn… htmp... haha... hahahaha."
— Hahahahahaha
(Nelson laughed openly, shaking his head and nudging me. His laughter had a warmth that made everything feel lighter.)
Nelson: "I'm glad to see you still have that side of you."
— I don't understand what you're saying, but can I ask you something?
Nelson: "Sure."
— Did you succeed at being a novelist?
Nelson: "Do you think if I had, I'd be here? You ask stupid questions, idiot."
— So what happened?
Nelson: "I went to Korea, China, and Japan to dive into their cultures and strengthen my ideas, but nothing ever felt good enough—at least to me. I guess there's this stereotype that only they can create novels worth adapting... kind of like how some Latin Americans automatically assume every Asian is Chinese."
— Hahaha, you probably had a lot of trouble.
Nelson: "You have no idea. Apparently, they hate it when you mix up their nationalities."
— Well, that's obvious, right? It's like assuming you're African just because you're Black.
Nelson: "Hey, that sounded really racist, but it's a good point."
— So, when did you come back to the U.S.?
Nelson: "About a month ago, but I have to return to Korea."
— Why?
Nelson: "For work."
— What are you working on, Hyung?
Nelson: "Five years ago, I submitted some character concepts to Arcade and won a contest. Last week, I reached out to them… and they offered me a position at their Asian HQ as a Creative Advisor."
— And what content did you send them?
Nelson: "Back then, Arcade held an online contest for fictional characters. I sent in my ideas, and apparently, five out of the six characters I submitted were chosen."
— So why'd you wait so long to contact them?
Nelson: "That was my choice. They reached out after I won, but I kept chasing the novelist dream. They told me the door would always be open. I also helped develop the concepts and storylines for those characters—and got paid. That's how I survived while I was in Asia."
— So now you're working for Arcade... but why Korea? They have a branch in Texas.
Nelson: "They're assigning me to the main Asian office. Apparently, the new game will be run on three servers across the three main branches."
— So you'll be based in Seoul.
Nelson: "Yeah... but hey, bright side—free video games."
— Bastard, you better lend me some when you get them.
Nelson: "You're from the richest family on Earth—go buy them."
— Hahahaha
Nelson: "Hey, I've got someone to meet. See you later, Brian?"
— Of course. Here's my contact info.
Nelson: "Well, goodbye, old friend."
— See you, you bastard.
(Watching him walk away felt surreal. Despite everything, Nelson was still that presence in my life that, although distant, never really vanished. His return reminded me that while life wasn't perfect, maybe, just maybe, it could still get better.)
Nelson and I had last parted ways when we were teenagers.
We had a fight I wasn't mature enough to handle. As a result, his mother was fired. We never saw each other again—until now. But before they left, Nelson had told me:
Nelson: "Brian, I don't blame you for what happened. I think my mistake was treating you like an equal, like a brother, instead of the young master you were. Goodbye, old man. I hope you're okay."
His words broke me. Honestly, I saw him more as a brother than my actual siblings.
He was family to me. But he left... and I couldn't do a thing. My father had made the decision. And now, he's back.
As I watched Nelson disappear into the distance, silence wrapped around me. The warmth of the reunion, the laughter, the conversation—it all slipped away as quickly as it had arrived. I turned back toward my car, and a wave of exhaustion hit me like a freight train.
(Damn, I'm so tired... playing all night with Marlon was a terrible idea... I've been running on fumes all day. I'm gonna drop dead if I keep this up.)
That bone-deep weariness settled in again. Rest never seemed to be an option in my life.
(But for the first time in a while... I feel like things might finally be looking up.)