"The greatest day in your life and mine is when we take total responsibility for our attitudes. That's the day we truly grow up."
- John C. Maxwell
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"Why are you kind to strangers, Fletcher?" asks Jayden.

The two sit in Fletcher's tent with the entrance zipped further open. The businessman wants to leave the cramped space right away but Zizi's watching them like a hawk from outside. He doesn't know why she's signaling him to stay inside.

So being immobilized and bored turns into conversing with the musician.

Fletcher rubs his aching limbs, flinching every time a bruise bothers him. The thin blanket is piled on his lap.

After giving the question a few seconds of thought, Fletcher responds, "Because my mom told me to be more of a giver than a taker. She said that the world survives with every bit of good."

Jayden crosses his arms, "You're simple minded if you think like that." When a person gives, he expects them to want something in return. There's always a catch in this reality.

Fletcher sighs, "I guess I am." but his neutral expression turns into an unexpected smile. "Though, I do like sticking to what I've been raised to believe."

Jayden shakes his head, not agreeing with the musician's childlike approach at life. The world is full of monsters disguised as people. Only the strongest will survive reality.

"So enough about me," says Fletcher. "I'm surprised you're still here conversing with me. I can tell you don't like being kept in small places like a tent."

Jayden's eyes flicker to Zizi who still staring at him from outside. He grumbles, "Well I don't have much of an option." He then glances back the musician and shrugs, "Think of this as me pointing out you're hopeless."

"Hopeless?" chuckles Fletcher.

"Well, with your view on life mixed with whatever trouble you got yourself into makes you prone to an endless cycle of loss," explains the businessman.

Fletcher shakes his head, "I take my chances with how I work. I believe I do fine, thank you very much." He grabs his violin case and slowly maneuvers around Jayden to exit his tent.

When he stands up straight, Fletcher falls forward.

"You have tomorrow to get more money for this week's payment. We'll be merciful with you, hombre. JC's a horrible friend to choose," laughs the large Hispanic.

The two thugs beating him up come to a halt. They laugh with the man calling the shots. One pushes Fletcher to face up with his foot; it is easy with how limp the musician is.

Fletcher groans, shielding his face while the thug says, "You remember the Street Dealer's kindness. Don't go against us or you will wish you were never born."

A last kick to Fletcher's side, the three men leave him in the dark alleyway.

His consciousness fades to black for a few minutes before he can get up and drag himself across the street.

Fletcher feels two arms hook under his to prevent him from falling.

"It's not a smart choice to be moving around," says Jayden from behind.

Fletcher doesn't pay attention to the man, only remembering the painful memory. He has until nightfall to pay the Street Dealer. He'll have to perform on the streets right away.

"Hey," mutters Jayden. A few seconds ago the musician was all nonchalant but now the guy's silent with a serious look on his face. A weird 180 for Jayden to understand.

Zizi hurriedly approaches the two, glaring at Jayden as if he was the one that hurt Fletcher. She takes Fletcher from the businessman's hold, examining the injured man from head to toe.

"You shouldn't be up moving, Fletch. Stay inside and rest."

Fletcher shakes his head, pleading "I need to go. It's important, please Zizi." He breathes a shaky breath to regain his composure.

Zizi frowns; she never wants to control Fletcher's decisions so how can she deny his plea?

She sighs, "... I-.. Be careful, dear. I don't want someone to find you collapsed at on the streets again." Zizi shifts he attention to Jayden, "And you, if you want to stay longer, I suggest you keep an eye out for Fletch okay? Anything happens to him, I'm holding you accountable since you can't seem to function on the streets without him."

Jayden takes the last statement as an offense. The woman has no idea how much money he has- used to control. If he is back to his company, she would see that he shouldn't have been on the streets in the first place.

"Do I make myself clear?" she presses.

"Yes." Might as well humor the lady.

Fletcher grins at Jayden; he appreciates the businessman for siding with his side even though Fletcher can feel Jayden not caring one bit. The musician eagerly pats Zizi's shoulder as if saying a silent, "I'll be alright."

He then motions Jayden to follow him. They can go to his usual spot. He can earn the money and pay before night falls. No worries right?

Just like the previous day, Fletcher leads Jayden to the open square. It takes them a lot slower to arrive because the musician is limping all the way.

Fletcher places his case on the floor and takes out his violin. He's glad he let Jayden hold onto it yesterday before he got beaten up. Who knows what would have happened to the old violin if it was still with him?

Jayden analyses Fletcher's condition. It's not like he cared but now Jayden's got a mama bear watching him. He doesn't want to tussle with the woman if anything goes wrong.

The former CEO speaks up, "You sure you can play, man?"

The musician looks at him, wide eyes at the question. Doe he care?

Fletcher shrugs, "It doesn't hurt to try."

But boy was he wrong with that.

Yes, Fletcher can still play, attracting a crowd like always. The issue is the songs aren't flawlessly played. Jayden cringes at some hiccups he can catch, noticing the quality of the performance decreasing. At least the mistakes are not notable enough for the average passerby to hear.

Jayden enjoys the music as much as the crowd does. They sway slightly to a smooth melody or tap their feet when a much speedier song starts.

He still can't believe how skillful Fletcher is. He's only been to a few concerts with his mother. Fletcher's talent should be shown to a much larger audience.

Fletcher's already tired after five songs, panting at the nonstop performance. His pause indicates a break for him so the crowd slowly disperses as he sits by his open case.

His gaze stares at the dollar bills. Is it enough? He takes his bow and places it on the violin strings to test how longer he can play.

"Anymore of that and you'll only worsen your injuries, especially that nasty bruise on your elbow," says Jayden. Fletcher halts his attempt.

This will have to do then. He couldn't help but fear what the businessman says; if he gets worse, how can he earn money for next week or the week after that?

Fletcher pockets his cash and puts away his violin. He grunts when he slings the case over his shoulder.

Jayden continues, "I don't understand why you want to stay in that camp. With your talents, you wouldn't have to live there." He unconsciously begins walking towards the park. Fletcher follows behind not noticing the choice of route.

Fletcher fiddles with the strap of the case. He frowns, "I can't leave them. They're like family."

"Every homeless person there?"

"Not related by blood."

Jayden shakes his head, "I swear, they are only leeching money off of you. They are all weak that only you are able to provide for them-"

"That's not true," Fletcher interrupts. "The people that live in our camp stay because they are trying to figure out a way to get their life in control again. Zizi makes sure no one gets harmed or looked down upon. We have friends who are doing their best to leave addiction. There's guys who're job hunting everyday but it's difficult when they don't have the right clothes to present themselves in. We have strong people who escape domestic abuse and have to hide out in the camp. We have families that are evicted from their home because they're spending money on their daughter's hospital fee-"

Jayden shakes his head, "But none of that matters. People look after themselves. That's life. We are not some community that wants to ensure all the 'woeful' sob stories out there. The country would be bankrupt-"

"What's with you?!" Fletcher growls. His hands form fists, tight enough to show the white of his knuckles. "Can't there be genuinely kind people out there? Why must you insist such a negative outlook on the world?"

"Because reality sucks!" yells Jayden.

Fortunately the park isn't busy so only a few heads turn to their direction.

Fletcher calms himself, giving a minute of breathing time. He sighs, "This is about you, right?"

"Huh?"

"You work so hard only to loose everything. I'm sorry I wasn't seeing your perspective." Fletcher's gaze is like a cage anyone can't get away.

Is it the look of pity?

Jayden grits his teeth as his jaw tightens. This isn't about him. Is it? He... he's never changed his mind about how vicious the world works. But this anger... it's not like him to loose control and vent his frustrations.

All his actions after getting fired from his own company, is rage building at the question, "Why is this happening now to him?"

Has the world gone out to get him personally? After everything's he's done, the lost of a normal childhood, the rapid growth of becoming an adult, the pressure from his parents... life, reality still asks for more?

Was he truly happy?

Jayden remembers what Zizi said earlier.

"-you can't seem to function on the streets-"

The former CEO glares at Fletcher, accusing him silently for the rush of senseless questions plaguing his mind.

Jayden says, "I'm not some helpless weakling who can't take care of themselves. I don't need your pity while you have nothing to show but a stupid outlook and an old violin." He turns away from Fletcher. "I can handle myself."

As Jayden begins to walk away, Fletcher asks, "Where are you going?"

"Anywhere but here," he answers. "And one with a bath." Jayden chooses a random direction. He can sense the musician following after him.

"I thought your friend isn't going to help you," pesters the musician, trying to get Jayden's attention by walking alongside him.

"He won't."

"Then what are you going to do?"

Jayden faces Fletcher suddenly, "I will figure something out! I always do. Now, leave me alone." He stomps away, leaving a baffled Fletcher.

The musician doesn't pursue no further; if the man insists on not receiving help no more then he'll leave it to that. He's got acquaintances around the city who would pass news like wild fire if a new face on the street's being troublesome.

Fletcher decides to head back home. He might run into the Street Dealer so he can pay whatever cash he has on him. Maybe he'll finally leave him alone? The musician still doesn't know what JC's done to owe so much.

He kicks an empty soda can on the sidewalk. The metal bounces on the pavement, rolling onto the street, and gets smashed by an incoming car. Fletcher hums his mother's favorite song, clearing his mind full of worries.

"Amigo, finally back."

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Like a beast lurking in the shadows, a figure gestures Fletcher to approach.

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A/N: Vote & Comment