Win squints.
He's pretty sure the man standing on the sidewalk holding three bags of groceries and other whatnot is Bright.
Granted, the man was facing away from him but Win was confident there were very few 6-foot-tall men wearing the exact same thing Bright was wearing this morning who live or work near their store.
Not the mention that said outfit comprised of jeans and an old sports jersey with the name Bright very clearly printed on the back.
It was quite confusing then that despite Win calling out his name and gently honking his car horn, that said man refused to turn around.
Okay, it wasn't really confusing.
Bright has been very blatantly avoiding Win these past few weeks.
It would be offensive if it wasn't so silly.
Take right now for example. Win was driving his pick up truck. Bright was very clearly struggling with everything he was carrying. But the stubborn man still pretended he was not Bright or that he could not hear nor see Win - like a prize idiot.
Win wondered if Bright was determined to dock behind counters, hide behind curtains, and take off running for the rest of his life.
Win decided that Bright can do all that nonsense but today, he wanted no part in it.
So he puts the vehicle on park, hops out of the car and unceremoniously gets Bright's bags and places them in the vehicle.
"Hey!", Bright protests a little too late. "Give those back."
"Now you're talking to me?"
Bright searches for words but ends up merely huffing.
"Get in," Win says as he hops back in the driver's seat.
"No," Bright says stubbornly.
"Suit it yourself." Win makes a show of stepping on the gas, making the engine rev loudly.
"Give me back my bags."
"No."
"That's theft."
"Report me then. There's a police station near here. I can give you a lift," Win grins. He couldn't help it. Teasing Bright had become his favorite pastime.
Bright made it so easy with his shenanigans.
It was such welcome distraction for Win that he could be snarky, playful and downright annoying towards Bright. It took him awhile to figure it out - that both pleasantries and sass would earn him the same comical silence and avoidance from the other. But once he realized he could pretty much say anything and Bright would react the exact same way, Win took it as a fun challenge. Finding a variety of ways to push Bright's buttons and making a game out of extracting any other emotion from the stubborn man.
"What do you want from me?," Bright says, voice whiny.
Win's grin stretches wider. Who knew Bright could whine? "What I want is for you to admit that you need my help. Look at your grocery bags, the handles are about to snap off from the weight."
"I would have managed."
"Manage no longer as I literally have a truck. Hop in."
"No."
"Suit yourself. I am giving away your bags to the first person I see."
Bright makes a big show of sighing very very loudly. And Win responds by revving the truck engine yet again.
"Fine," Bright grumbles as he opens the door by the passenger's seat.
"I think you mean 'thank you.'"
"Kidnapping and theft are not things to be grateful for."
Win laughs. This fucking asshole.
He stirs the vehicle to the left and proceeds towards the highway.
"This is not the way home!"
Win turns on the car stereo. "You did say kidnapping."
"The groceries will go bad!"
"Please. Those are canned goods and a carrot."
Bright mumbles to himself and crosses his arms across his chest but Win notes that he also leans back on the seat - and he will take that as a sign that Bright has resigned to his fate.
It really should annoy Win how stand offish and childish Bright acted around him.
But the weirdness of the man was a welcome distraction in Win's life.
It was like a daily game - teasing Bright and cornering him into conversations.
Once or twice, he had caught Bright smiling and it felt like a prize.
The grief has waned over the last few months but of course it never disappeared. He had read that once before, that grief stays but changes in form. And he was living proof that was true.
He is thankful his has evolved from a thick black night into pinpricks of pain that sometimes attack his heart.
At least now there were moments of light.
And Bright would never believe it - Win hardly can - but all his childishness and his little games of 'I can't see you' have helped Win move forward by forcing him to feel things more than sadness - like perplexity, disbelief, and amusement.
He was sure this wasn't Bright's intent. He was certain the now sulking man was trying to push Win away.
And it may be alarming that it was having the opposite effect. Perhaps it meant Win's mental state was more askew than he thought. But it was what it was and Win couldn't deny that these small interactions were the highlights of his day.
And it may be pure delusion on his part but he could swear Bright liked him.
Sure, he was avoiding him and hiding from him and often times flat out ignoring him - and alright okay. Maybe Win should see his therapist more often.
But that is a problem for Future Win. Present Win wanted to drive off into the sunset and do something fun with this maybe-reluctant-maybe-not man.
"Where are you taking me and my food?," Bright grumbles.
"I don't know."
"Win, let's just go back to the store."
"No. That's not what I want."
Maybe it was his hyperactive imagination. Or perhaps wishful thinking. But Win swears he sees Bright soften.
"What do you want then?," Bright asks, head turned away from Win.
A fair question. It takes Win awhile to answer. "I want to scream. I want to curse the world at the top of my lungs."
Win waited for Bright's snarky retort. Waited for him to insist that Win turn the truck back around.
Instead Bright turns on the console above the radio and inputs words into the GPS.
Win startles but doesn't question the situation. He listens to the electronic voice and follows.
- - -
There were many hills and abandoned half-made buildings in this area of Bangkok.
Years ago, this was being sold as the Upper East Side of Asia. But recessions and typhoons and everything else happened. And now, it was all overgrown weeds and unpainted walls. There were a few residents here but they lived in small makeshift houses instead the palatial apartments this area once promised.
Win wasn't quite sure what they were doing here. Not that he was complaining. He was simply curious.
Bright keeps walking, a couple of sodas stuck awkwardly in his back jean pockets. Win follows wordlessly.
He keeps following as Bright picks open the door on one of the sturdier looking buildings.
In a couple of minutes, Win finds himself on a rooftop overlooking the city. He could see trees and Mount Providence mingling with the garish grays of concrete and the bright lights of billboards and vehicles. Bright leans on the railing, he too was staring into the vastness before him.
Win approaches him and quietly stands, almost immobile.
Bright glances at him. "Scream."
"Excuse me?"
"You wanted to give the world a piece of your mind - here's your chance."
Win hesitates, embarrassed to be so loud with his emotions.
But Bright is looking at him intently now and he could feel his strength and the silent reassurance that he has Win's back.
Was it him over reading Bright's expressions? Possibly, but he decides to trust his instincts.
He closes his eyes and opens his mouth.
The sound he lets loose is guttural. Agony lived on every decibel and syllable, cutting the silence like a lacerated knife.
He is winded when the last of the sounds escape into the air. He thinks there is nothing more inside of him but he felt another scream working its way through his gut and out his lips - like vomit and bile but in aural form.
His scream blends with another.
He realizes Bright has began shouting too.
The other was hurling every curse and invective into the abyss.
Win starts to do the same - delivering a diatribe he had only kept in his head since that night at the hospital.
When they were done, they slumped on the concrete roof, chugging warm soda from even warmer cans.
"Do you feel better?," Bright asks after an amount of time.
"I feel empty - but in a good way. My body feels lighter."
Bright nods.
"You do this a lot?," Win asks.
"Once or twice a long time ago. But I quickly realized then no one was listening. The deities don't care. Not enough to change anything anyway."
"You never know."
"Oh, I know."
"I don't buy your cynicism. After all, you brought me here."
"Can we go home now?," was the gruff response.
"Can't we stop somewhere to eat?"
"It's a long drive back. The last thing I need is to get stuck here."
Lightning crackles in the sky before Bright could even finish his sentence.
A millisecond later, rain pours in torrents.
The two men hurry into the building.
Bright sighs as his socks squish in his equally drenched shoes. "I take it back. The deities aren't indifferent. They hate me."