bulletproof (2/2)

"I want to be a legend", he said to me once. "A legend of the streets."

"Shouldn't you have a mortal enemy if you're a legend?", I asked him.

"Yes, but the best friend who supports me is the most important person.", he smiled. "Will you be that?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

I've always admired and loved him so much, and he deserved every and each bit of admiration of love anyone felt for him.

He was kind, yet strong; confident, yet emphatic; powerful, yet caring.
And everyone around him noticed that.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

A fist to his face and he moves a step to side, turns around, using the momentum for the kick that lands on the attacker's back and as the attacker falls, he avoids another punch, hitting the next attacker in the stomach and turning to the next one, punching him in the jaw and they're all down and he's standing before me, without a scratch.

"Are you alright?", he asks, and I can only nod, at loss of words from amazement.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

I was always the invisible one. The one no one's friends with. The loser. Until he came along and jerked me awake from that nightmare.
We went to primary school together and those few precious years were the best time of my life.

And then we parted our ways, we went to different secondary schools.

But I kept an eye on him - I had nothing else to do: I again became the loser, and now, he wasn't around to save me. So I kept an eye on him and got in the same university as he did.
He was, slowly but steadily, making a name for himself on the streets, and it made me happy, because he was finally fulfilling his dream.

We saw each other a few times in the corridors of university buildings, but only once a spark of recognition has lit in his eyes, and he ignored it.
But it's okay.
He still remembers me.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Once, when we still were in primary school, and before I got to know him, before he saved me, I bring my father's gun to school.

My nickname back then was Ghost - I was "visible" just enough to get a mock nickname - so, that day, they wanted me to prove to them that I am a ghost, and they said if I did, they'd start being friends with me , because real ghosts are interesting.

So, naturally, I wanted to do it. I wanted friends. ...to hell, I needed them. And I took the gun, removed the safety, just like my father showed me every Sunday, and I put it up to the right side of my head.
Just as the cheering has became the loudest, just as I started pulling the trigger, he ran to me from my left side, moved the gun from my head and the bullet fled to him. But he was lucky enough, or his reflexes were good enough to move him from the trajectory of bullet, so it only grazed him.
Silence fell down, hard and cold as ice, as he looked at each of them, still holding down my hand with the gun.

Then he laughed and said:
"It seems that I am bulletproof!"

And everyone laughed with him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was our first encounter.
After that, bullies tried to pick on me for a few times, but he fought them all off and they eventually gave up.

So I led a happy life, while he was with me.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

In secondary school, I wasn't important enough even for a mock nickname. Even professors sometimes had forgotten about me.

But I didn't care.

He was important, and I kept an eye on him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

While his gang was growing, I noticed his uneasiness and I  found out it was because he didn't do anything, because he was sitting all day in their headquarters doing nothing.

So I made some work for him...

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

And he didn't manage to do anything.

I guess it's not personal enough for him to do it?

...I know what I can do.

And it's only me who can do that for him.

Yeah.

It's only me and him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

I've always thought he was unbeatable. The strongest. The most powerful.

Bulletproof.

But in the end, it turns out he was only human...