Tired.
The stench of the slum's open sewer curled up his nose, dragging his already gloomy mood even lower. Dung swerved his motorbike around a gaping pothole, muttering, "Should've just slept at the nightclub."
Half-dazed, he tried to remember why he'd even wanted to come home. Oh, right—he'd been suffocating from putting up with old Liễu's brood. Father and son, husband and wife—the whole damn lot. If he had to spend the night in some place that reminded him of those people, a place that made it clear he was still leeching off that stinking-rich family—hell no.
He kicked down the stand in front of a place that looked almost decent compared to the rest of the row. Between the two damp, moldy lines of houses ran a set of train tracks. Dung was reaching for the padlock when he froze. It was already hanging loose on the latch.
"Son of a—" He'd lost count of how many times he'd cursed today. All he'd wanted was to crash in his own place, and now some asshole had to ruin it. He fished out the gun hidden on him, then nudged the door open.
Water was running in the bathroom. On the little round dining table sat a school satchel, dumped there carelessly, notebooks spilling out. The mess made Dung exhale sharply. He slapped the gun down on the table and swore again. Then he strode straight for the bathroom and pushed the door open without knocking.
"Hey—!"
The guy showering inside jumped, chucking a bar of soap at Dung. He even looked ready to storm out and bop the intruder on the head with a water dipper.
"You little—can't see someone's in the shower? Nearly gave me a heart attack!"
"Hell, if you can leave the damn padlock dangling outside the door, what's there left to be scared of, Hiền?"
Hiền—still naked—froze, grinned sheepishly. "Forgot."
Then he went right back to pouring water over himself.
Dung barged into the bathroom like it was his own, taking care of his business.
"Hurry up so I can shower too," he said, tugging his fly down.
"Just one bathroom and you're hogging it?" Hiền drawled, toweling off before reaching for his clothes.
"Say one more word and you can sleep outside."
"I pay rent here too, you know. Don't go pulling your big-shot Dung Tây act on me."
Hiền snapped the towel hard across Dung's waist, then walked out.
"Ow! You little punk, close the door!"
"What for? Not like there's anything left to hide," Hiền laughed, dimples deep in his soft cheeks.
Dung kicked the bathroom door shut with his foot, muttering curses under his breath. The cool dippers of water gradually washed the foul mood off him until a head poked in, making him jump.
"Wanna eat?" Hiền asked.
"Can't you be polite for once?"
"Learned from you."
Dung flung a dipper of water at him.
"Gross!" Hiền yelped, dodging just in time. "So you eating or not?"
"You cooking?"
"Nope. Canned stuff. Saw you snatch a few tins the other day. Look at you, getting all chummy with those GIs lately."
"Get lost."
Dung went back to scrubbing himself. Outside, Hiền was already cracking open the cans.
"Mmm… smells like America!" Hiền called out.
Dung came out shirtless, smacking him on the back of the neck.
"What, sniffin' America now?" Dung asked.
"Go on, take a whiff. See why everyone's cozying up to the GIs who run our streets."
The two young men locked eyes, tension in the air.
"I bet a loudmouth like you's gonna get shot by them sooner or later," Dung said, flopping down on the bed.
"If I take one of those hairy bastards with me, it's worth it," Hiền shot back, spooning up the can of meat stew, "You not eating?"
"Got any leftover rice?"
"Nope."
"You've been home for hours, why didn't you cook some?"
"Didn't feel like it. I'm not your maid. Just eat this." Hiền shoved the can toward Dung.
Dung took the can and scooped out a few mouthfuls, his face showing zero enthusiasm. Then he went over to the coat rack, fished his wallet out of his pants, counted a stack of bills, and set it down on the table in front of Hiền.
"For the kids' lessons," Dung said.
"I told you I'm not taking it!" Hiền shoved the money back toward him.
"Take it, so I can be done with it."
"No. I grew up there too, consider it my way of paying something back."
"Would be nice if you knew how to be that grateful with everyone."
Hiền shot him a look. "Just spit out whatever you're trying to say."
"You know damn well I'd never take a single cent from the orphanage for anyone. You figure out yourself where this money came from."
Hiền let out a mocking laugh. "Then I'm sure as hell not taking it."
"Still hung up on your pride? Don't think a few bucks from work is gonna keep you alive in this city. Just take the money, finish school, and quit stirring trouble."
"My life's none of your business."
"I don't care, but your ma's always crying to me."
"I don't—"
"Say you don't have a ma. Go on!" Dung cut him off.
"Then try having one like mine and see if you can keep that smug face."
Dung jabbed a finger at him, raising his voice. "Don't think just 'cause you're grown I won't hit you. Wait till the day you really don't have a ma—then you'll see."
"I lost my ma years ago."
Dung shot to his feet and slapped Hiền across the face, the same way he used to when the kid was little.
"All that schooling, and this is what you say? Ungrateful, heartless nonsense?"
"You're no better than me. You and her are always up to filthy business, leeches feeding off the rich."
Dung snorted. "There it is, trying to play the hero again? Wake up. People like you are just wreckers."
"I only wreck the high and mighty, the greedy, and the ones who side with evil… like you!"
Hiền suddenly remembered the first time he'd dared to be a rebel. It was when he tried to stop a little girl at the orphanage from being sold off to some fat-cat tycoon. Back then, it was Dung who ordered two of the bigger boys to grab him and shut him up. After that uproar, Hiền was thrown out of the orphanage.
Dung looked at him, knowing exactly what he was talking about.
"If I hadn't punished a troublemaking rebel like you that day, the whole orphanage would be on the streets by now."
"And if I hadn't rebelled, there'd never be any peace."
"So, you at peace now?" Dung shot back. "I'm telling you straight, quit dreaming about those rallies. The more you march and shout, the more you'll have to pick up a gun and shoot someone."
"Taking out a few informers like you wouldn't be so bad."
Dung planted his hands on his hips, staring hard at a corner of the room, forcing himself to stay calm.
"Some of your buddies from those protests are already rotting in the infamous "tiger cages" of Côn Đảo prison. Keep it up, and next time I'll be the one to put you there."
"Talking that big means you really are one of the government's snitches, huh?"
"Even you believe that gossip?"
"I don't believe, I just watch. You've been strutting around for years without bowing to anyone. Oh, and that time… you had the guts to dress up like a rocker and 'kidnap' me in the middle of the crowd…"
"Should've let them take you for good."
"Should've woken up earlier that day, just to see you in that rocker getup."
"Son of a—"
Hiền patted Dung on the shoulder. "Anyway… I owe you one. Next time you need me for something, just say the word."
"I do. Stay away from my little Út, you hear? I'm not letting you pull him into your mess. That's my gold mine. Lay a finger on him and don't expect me to hold back."
With that, Dung pulled on his shirt and trousers and walked out cold.