When Olive decided to tell Victor about his hovering blade's tale, he figured that it was better for him to do it tomorrow day, since the sky outside was getting darker and darker as the sun moved toward the horizon.
That was yesterday.
So when he woke up, he prepared himself and called Victor right away as he exited Lockson's Tower with the longsword in his hand. Just like yesterday, instead of going by car, Olive bothered himself by riding a public bus full of people inside. But compared to yesterday's ride, this one would definitely be a little less tiresome. It was fortunate that Victor's home was not located in the city's outskirts but instead, located in the city's second layer.
The bus stopped after what felt like a long time, and realising that he had arrived, he exited the bus and walked toward Victor's house right around the corner. Then, he saw it, an apartment building connecting with the other apartments — but with a different design. Its walls were made out of bright red bricks, with several windows decorating its empty wall, together with fire escapes fixed to the bricks for each window.
Entering the building, Olive climbed the stairs until he reached the second floor, where many doors stood in a corridor. Some of them were left ajar. There, he walked to the door at the end of the corridor and gave the door a little knock on it.
Knock. Knock.
Olive waited. When no response came after minutes of him waiting, he gave the door another knock.
Knock. Knock.
"Hello, is anyone home?"
But just like before, there were still no answers. Frowning, Olive pulled out his phone and searched for Victor's contact number, but as he searched, he heard loud footsteps coming towards him just beyond the door, and the door opened.
A woman, younger than Olive's father, stood at the door looking at Olive with surprise. She has the same features as Victor, brown hair and brown eyes, but her face was gentle — unlike her son's.
"Oliver, dear! I'm so sorry! We didn't hear you before. "
Olive smiled.
"Hello, Mrs. Vancouver. It's okay, there is nothing to worry about. Sorry for bothering you by the way, but is Victor home?"
"Victor?" She said. "No, he's downstairs buying something at the convenience store. Do you want to see him?"
Olive nodded.
"Well alright then. Come in, come in. You can wait for him inside, have a lunch with us while you're at it."
She gestured for Olive to come invite himself in. But Olive only came here to see Victor, so he protested.
"Oh no, no! Please, I only come here to talk about something with Victor. There's no need for that."
Chuckling, Mrs. Vancouver then continued to persuade him. But each time, Olive refused. Well... that was until his stomach let out a long growl.
Mrs. Vancouver looked at Olive amusedly.
"Oliver, dear. Are you sure you're not hungry?"
Face red, Olive turned his head away.
"Umm... I guess I can eat one or two."
And just like that, he found himself eating a delicious pasta salad with Mrs. Vancouver, with Mr. Vancouver sitting next to her and the longsword leaning on the dining table. There was no sight of Victor anywhere in the small dining room. Shifting a little, Olive asked:
"When is Victor coming?"
Mrs. Vancouver just smiled. But instead of her answering his question, it was Mr. Vancouver who looked up from his pasta and answered.
"Don't worry. It usually takes him fifteen minutes or so when he is buying something downstairs. He'll be back in no time. It's been thirteen minutes since he left."
"Oh, I see. Alright then."
Mr. Vancouver. Although his hair and eyes were different from Victor's, there was no doubt that he was his son. Their face looked identical, after all. His naturally angry-looking face, with his arched brows and narrowed eyes, looked almost like he would punch someone with the slightest agitation. But even then, his features were average.
Olive sat in a somewhat awkward silence with only munching sounds accompanying him and the Vancouvers. Or so he thought, when a sound of a doorknob twisting thundered in the silence, though not the loudest sound there was, it was as loud as it could get for Olive, considering how quiet he'd been.
A tall figure emerged into the dining room with plastic bags in his hands.
"Oh, hey Olive. Sorry for the wait. Just wait for a second, I need to put the groceries in the fridge."
Olive didn't answer and just looked at Victor taking out his groceries and putting them in the fridge. His friend today was unkept, a little though, barely anyone could have noticed it. His hair was messier than before, dark circles under his eyes, things like that. Stuff that a tired person would look like.
...When he was done, Olive stood up and took his dish to the sink to wash it, which was quickly snatched by Mrs. Vancouver, who was convincing him to let her wash it.
"Please, Mrs. Vancouver. Just let me wash it — I'll feel guilty if I don't."
"Sorry, Oliver. You're our guest, it'll be rude for me to let you wash the dishes."
Not wanting to argue more, Olive gave in. Behind him, Victor had finished organizing the groceries. Looking at Olive with a weird face, he grabbed Olive's back collar, dragging Olive to his room.
"Come on, what is it that you want to tell that made you rush here?"
Stumbling, Olive tried to get close to Victor and whispered.
"Actually, can I talk with you on the rooftop?"
Victor halted. He turned to Olive with a raised brow and asked.
"Why?"
Olive glanced at Mr and Mrs. Vancouver, making sure that they were out of their earshot. Then, he looked at Victor again.
"...what I'm showing you later needs to be done outdoors. You know, for better visuals."
Victor stared, letting out an exasperated sigh, he muttered.
"Fine, it better be worth it. I haven't gotten a good night's sleep for two days."
"Oh, believe me alright. It's worth it."
With a tired expression on his face, mixed with a skeptical look, Victor headed out.
"Yeah, whatever."
'We'll see how that face of yours lasts."
Olive thought, as he followed Victor to the door, his face beaming with some sort of winning excitement... A few steps away from the door, Olive then remembered that the longsword was still sitting on the chair at the dining table, which he later then seized immediately, continuing his way to the apartment's rooftop.
... When the door leading to the rooftop opened, winds immediately hit Olive's face and his hair, making it flutter unpredictably.
The rooftop was empty. No person could be seen on the rooftop except two teenagers taking a sit on one of the benches placed on the platform.
Once they had found their comfortable place to talk to, Victor urged Olive to show him what he wanted him to see with a head gesture. However, he doesn't need to, because Olive had already revealed the longsword in a matter of seconds...
"Ta–da! Look at it!"
And he did. Victor stared at the longsword in Olive's hand, bemused. Not even an ounce of slight interest was seen on that face of his. Rather, he looked... irritated.
"A... sword?"
Olive nodded vigorously, making Victor shift his gaze to him instead.
"Let me get this straight... you came all the way here just to show me... this?"
Olive nodded again.
Staring at Olive for some more time, Victor let out an exasperated sigh.
"One day... I want to rest. For one day!"
Then, he inhaled.
"Well, Olive... Uh. Thank you, I guess. For showing me this. Anyway, thanks for stopping by."
Groaning, Victor stood up and took a step toward the door.
At the sight of it, Olive scoffed.
'This guy. Does he really think I called him here just to show him this? What kind of idiot does he take me for?!'
No, really. How long had they been friends? Olive swore, that sometimes it was like Victor did not know him at all. Kind of insulting if you ask him.
Almost a decade of being friends, and he still acted like he had known him for far less than five years.
Before Victor could reach the door, Olive stopped him.
"At least hear my story before you go! I haven't even gone to the good part!"
Groaning even louder, he walked back and sat down again, looking at Olive, feeling frustrated. Olive nodded, hearing him mutter.
"This better be worth my while."
With a beaming face, he said.
"Don't worry about it. It will! So let's see... where do I start?"
Well, how about the part where he almost got shot in the head and was an inch close from being alive yesterday? Surely that would have left him terrified. Or maybe he would just doubt his story.
But thinking better, he decided to go against it. That's not really a strategic way to attract a tired person's attention after all. So, when Olive talked, he decided to left out his memorable experience with the loan collector and only told Victor about how he had summoned a magical, floating blade yesterday!
It was safe to say that the more Olive talked, the more Victor stared at him strangely.
"...and when I waved, it followed! Hah! I guess I'm a wizard now!"
When Olive finished talking, he noticed that Victor was looking at him rather strangely.
He hesitated looking at Olive with concern. When he was done, he leaned forward and put his hand on Olive's shoulder, and another on his forehead.
Olive understood that motion. That was why he felt a little bit insulted...
...When Victor was done examining, he paled. Leaning back, he asked.
"O–Olive... are you mad? Did... did those bastards two days ago hit you in the head?"
Olive scowled.
"I'm not mad! I'm telling the truth!"
Sadly for him, Victor didn't seem to hear him, looking panicked with clear terror in his eyes instead.
"Oh god. I should have just given them her number if I knew this was gonna happen. What do I do, what do I do?–"
"Hey! I'm not lying! I really did summon a floating blade!"
Victor stopped. He looked at Olive with the same concern and terror as before, and took out his phone.
"Delusional, I see. I'll call Mr. Lockson and inform him about your... unwell condition."
Olive's eye twitched.
'Why is this son of a...'
Then, with a determination to prove him wrong, Olive stood up and took the longsword.
If he didn't want to believe him, that was fine. Even Olive could claim that he saw a flying elephant if he said so himself. If Victor didn't want to believe him with words, then he will make him believe him with visual proof.
Olive tried to summon the magical blade like he had did yesterday. While doing so, he heard Victor muttered something about how he might need to start searching for an asylum when he saw Olive's action.
No blade appeared. Olive tried so hard to summon it, that it even made his face flush red as a result. Somehow, summoning it today was harder. He tried so hard to recall what he felt and what he had thought when he summoned it yesterday...
Turning around feeling a bit embarrassed, Olive saw Victor staring at him with a deadpan expression.
"That was... Uh... awkward."
Victor shook his head and shifted his gaze to his phone again.
On the screen, Olive saw his father's contact being displayed on it, Victor's finger moving to press a green, circular button below, making him panicked.
In his panicked state, Olive's wish for the blade to appear before him grew stronger.
And then, to his relief, he saw it. The floating blade.
"Victor, look! The blade!– Wait, wait! Don't press it!"
He shouted, seizing Victor's arm at that instant. Giving Olive a scowl, he raised his voice.
"Listen I know you're–"
Olive sighd and placed his hands on Victor's head and forcefully faced him toward the floating blade to make him look. And shutting him up too.
"Hey! What are you–"
"Look at it!"
"Fine!"
Victor tossed Olive's hand aggressively, shaking his head with a deep frown... he then focused his eyes on where Olive had turned his head to and looked at it...
At first, his face was blank. It was really hard to discern what was going on in that head of his. Then, Victor rubbed his eyes and looked at it again. This time, though, discerning his thought became easier with one look of his wide, circle eyes.
'Knew that's going to take his attention.'
Victor turned to Olive, and the blade repeatedly. Pure confusion written in his eyes.
"Wha–What the? Wha– how?"
Smirking, Olive said.
"Told you I'm a wizard."
Hesitated, Victor stood up and walked closer to the blade warily. He studied it carefully. With an intense look.
God... Olive would appreciate if he dropped that fiery eyes of his. His face was angry-looking already! Why would he want to make it more angry?!
A less angry look would be better!
Unbeknownst to Olive, Victor had already braved himself up to lay a finger on the blade, his fingers tracing the blade smoothly.
'That was fast.'
Maybe a little bit too fast. Looks like Olive had seriously underestimated how composed his friend would be in this situation... well, better that than panick.
When Victor was done tracing the radiant blade, he asked:
"Y–You said you control it... right?"
Olive stared at his friend.
Victor's face was obscure from his view, seeing only his cheek and nose from the back while he took a long stare at the magical blade. So, Olive had no idea what to expect from him.
Olive shrugged. Instead of answering his question though, he just waved his hand to the side. And the blade followed. It seems that the blade had followed his command accordingly this time. Thank god...
Victor saw it. He didn't asked another question to Olive and just stared at the floating blade again...
But, abruptly, he turned to Olive the next second, startling him greatly. Olive could've sworn he heard some sort of crack when he did.
"Hold up! Can you launch it?!"
'Launch it? Why would I–'
Then, he froze.
With mouth slowly opening wider and wider, it was then it occured to him...
Mentally aiming the blade toward the sky, he commanded it to launch upward. For a split second, the sword stood still, then, it shot upward. As high as it could the sky, throwing a gust of wind below.
As it got too high, Olive willed it to stop. And it stopped as fast as it launched earlier.
The two of them, Olive and Victor, froze in their place, looking up at the sky.
After seemingly what felt like forever, Victor broke the silence.
"Olive..."
He tilted his head toward Victor.
"...you thinking what I'm thinking?"
As if reading his thought, Olive asked to clarify it.
"Does it have something to do with Bottles and Cans?"
Victor nodded, and Olive understood it right away.
The longsword's blade descended slowly, unaware that it was about to be use as a joke rather than a weapon.