-I-

"Então... porque vens connosco?" [So... why are you coming with us?] crooned da Graça without preamble when I climbed into the helicopter.

Turning around, I stared at him in the dark. Why? The idea of not having him in the village triggered my anxiety for some reason, which was very irksome. But I had no idea why. It was highly unlikely for me not to know the answer to something. So my answer was: "It sounds explorative. And they have a Wi-Fi connection in that village." I bent over the entrance and pulled him up onto the helicopter.

FUNAI base provided transportation for us as the village we were going to was two hours away by helicopter. Taking the river would be anachronistic and a waste of time.

"Explorative? Really? That's a real adjective?" He grabbed my arm when he staggered on his feet but let go in a matter of seconds.

"Not believing a linguist's words about words is like being blasphemous toward God about His texts."

He slumped onto the seat next to the door. "How come God is always with someone like you and abandons someone like me? Ridiculous," he dished out in a prosaic response.

"Why? God has never abandoned His children." I sat next to him and buckled up.

He laughed, more like a scoff. He looked like he would brook no nonsense from me.

The blade started slashing the cold air, and he started gazing at the dark. I didn't know what his deal was. I was sure I didn't yank his chain in any way. He was different after yesterday. I thought if my demeanor that night didn't creep him out, nothing would bother him. Unsolicitedly, the Amazon had proven me a lot of things, and one of them is: I am not as infallible as I believed I was.

As Chaves, Alicia, Zack, and Michael climbed into the helicopter, the whirring of the rotor blade became too loud for us to talk.

Throughout the journey, I was hoping for some reassurance that da Graça wasn't mad at me for something-a smile, maybe a small talk. But even when the first light stained the horizon, he didn't look in my direction. Even when the sunlight hurt my eyes, he didn't pay me any attention. He didn't talk to me. He only talked to Chaves and Alicia.

The insidious remnant of my ten-year-old self in my brain forced himself out, trying to dominate my consciousness like that night. He was a pusillanimous wretch I didn't enjoy accommodating. I closed my eyes, pushing him to the back of my mind.

Stop it. He's not Alex. You can't get attached to him.

I looked over da Graça's shoulder and was instantly distracted by the scene. "Holy Mother of God." I gestured a cross on my chest. I didn't have to be eco-activist to have a lump of grief stuck in my throat. The jungle looked so vulnerable.

For miles, the terrain was nothing but blackish-green mass spreading the Earth. A slim brown river slithered through the mass of trees, away from our direction. But somewhere in our far left, a huge-miles huge-semicircle of fire and clouds of smog swirled up and toward the north, juxtapositioning the white clouds in the sky. Beyond the fiery semicircle was dry land. It looked like a warzone; a burial ground for the rainforest.

"This is the most deforested part of the Amazon," Chaves remarked. "The forest around here is cut down and burned at a rate of one soccer field per minute. Gold miners, farmers, and loggers invade this place. There are tens of thousands of fires set ablaze to clear this part of the forest just this year. Sadly, their invasion force is stronger than the forces to protect the jungle."

Fraught silence accompanied the rest of the journey. We flew for another half an hour toward the south. Here, the forest was full of misshapen plots of brown earth. The landscape was nothing but farmland and pastures with occasional banana and palm trees. Skinny cows with bulged ribs and hundreds of chickens could be seen gathering around water holes.

We landed on a small outpost fringed by yellowed grass on the edge of a village. The village chief and several others welcomed us in Portuguese. They shared features typical of the Amazonian indigenous people; heavy brown eyes, broad nose, and tanned, rough skin. The chief was stout, with bushy, dirty black hair.

Instead of houses made of dried leaves, they had cement-block and wood-plank houses. We passed a small one-room building that I suspected as a school. The population was paltry-less than a hundred villagers.

"This place is the most newfangled indigenous village in the Amazon," the chief said as we crossed the dirt lawn, passing tens of scattering chickens. "We forged a partnership with Google Earth to track high-risk deforestation zones a few years ago. Our work helps the survival of the rainforest." He pointed toward a steel tower on the edge of the village, circa hundred yards from where the helicopter landed. "You can say we are the ones who defend the jungle from the inside."

I saw what he meant. A dominant structure rose from the ground on our left. A 12-story Wi-Fi steel tower. My fingers twitched to reach for my phone when I saw a young girl sat on the cement-block of one of the houses, watching a cartoon, from the sound of it. But I decided against it. They didn't have to see any sob drama between me and Alex.

Sweat trailed my skin after ten minutes of itinerary discussion in the chief's house. Two pedestal fans were not doing an optimal job on the corners of the nondescript, dusty house with how blazing the weather was. The chief took out his phone and pulled up Google Earth, showing us a small brown plot in the middle of the forest, where the intruders mined gold. When asked, he said that it was dangerous to go there, but he would bring us on a patrol around that area tomorrow.

As I expected, the villagers spoke in a very different language. But most of them could speak Portuguese, so the communication was without demarcation, and I didn't need to remind the child in my head to stop whining every time he listened to a foreign language.

-II-

Dusk fell and mosquitoes reigned. Da Graça, Chaves, and the students gathered in the center of the village around a campfire, enjoying the night and feasting on alcohol. Drunkards.

As the only sober person in the group, I headed to the house (more like a room) accommodated to us. I was in dire need of a shower, but I'd rather speak with my brother all night long. So I took out my phone and threw my rucksack on the single bed. Looking at the screen, I couldn't see even a single bar of reception. I still tried calling him, but of course I was disappointed. I threw the phone on the bed and took off my clothes.

I turned the creaking knob and stayed under the running water. The streams flowing through my skin were rejuvenating. It felt as if my lysed skin cells were absorbing the cold water like sponges. The bathroom was painfully small. I could only lean forward enough to place my hands on the small, once-used-to-be-white sink. The water plummeted on my nape. I stared at my reflection in the filthy mirror. Other than the reflection on the lake and on whatever items that were reflective, I hadn't looked at my face since I reached the rainforest. The person who stared back at me made my heart skip a beat. I looked like my brother, and it hurt more.

Thick stubble covered my jaw. My face and arms were now two tones darker than my chest. My hair cascaded down my neck, uncovering the dragon head on my right shoulder.

I stood under the water for what felt like an hour, shaving off my beard and armpit hairs. I wrapped the provided stiff towel around my waist and stepped out of the bathroom. I changed into a t-shirt and shorts and snatched my phone. My heart was pounding from anticipation.

There was it. My network provider. I tried to FaceTime Alex.

No answer. My heart dropped. Taking in a shaky breath, I sat on the creaking mattress I pulled down from the bed and tried for Milada, my kid sister. No answer too. After several tries (between Alex and Milada), Alex finally answered the call.

"Luuk?" I heard my brother before I saw him.

"Alex!" The video blurred from my tears.

"Oh, baby brother. Luuk, I was waiting for your call." His gravelly voice crackled, both from sadness and the bad reception. The video glitched. He leaned over. "Hey, are you okay, sweetheart? Are you eating well? Have you been sleepin' well? Did anyone pester you?"

"Alex. I... I just got a reception here in this village." I dried my nose with the back of my hand, but more tears and snot wetted my chin. "Alex, I missed you. I want to go back. I swear I lost ten pounds staying here." For ten minutes, I listed every hardship I had to go through staying here.

He tsked. "You want me to come and fetch you? I can get D to fly me there tonight. Seriously, Luuk? The Amazon? Three months? What makes you think you will survive that long without me?"

"I was being stupid, but you know it's something I must do. It would be hard for the kids to graduate without me."

"You're being unnecessarily nice, brother. You could've been here, working with me. But you insisted on going there." He growled, pinching his nose.

I shook my head. "You know I don't like dealing firearms. And I don't like your clandestine activities."

"But you're damn good at it. Come back. We need you. I need you." He paused. "There's nothing clandestine about our business. It was years ago, Luuk. And you know those bastards deserved to die for what they did to you."

"I don't give a damn about those pigs. They could fucking die for all I care. I just don't like seeing you put yourself in unnecessary danger."

"I put myself in danger for you, and I would do that a thousand times over." He kissed his teeth and ran his fingers through his beard. "Just... stay safe and come home to me. I've missed you."

I turned to my right, resting the phone on the mattress, facing me. "What. Your wife can't keep your hands full?" Jealousy coursed through my veins. He promised he would marry no one. Now, look at what happened. She was there with him, and here I was, alone.

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Alex shook his head. "Juliana can never replace you, baby brother. You know that."

Then why did you marry the bitch? I almost asked him but decided against it. I didn't want to talk about her. I already lost half of my good mood listening to her name. I loved my brother more than God Himself, but I still hated him for marrying her.

"Anyway, where's Milada? I tried to call her too, but I couldn't reach her," I asked.

Alex's face turned as stoic as a boulder. "She's in Europe."

"Why don't you just say Rotterdam? She follows daddy back?"

"Slovakia."

"Huh? Slovakia? What's with the shithole?"

He kneaded the dragon head on his thick neck, the same tattoo I had on me. "She's in Slovakia. She has a... pen pal or something like that there. She insisted on going now that you're not here to stop her."

"You are there to stop her!" I stood up, pacing the small room as fast as my heartbeat. "Jesus, Alex. Don't you know how many swines are out there in Europe? Haven't ya of all people learnt from our mistake? Really? A sleazebucket pen pal from that shithole? And you let her go there alone?"

"Of course I didn't let her go alone. Calm down, Luuk. Jesus. I asked D to follow her."

"She hates Dom. She won't go anywhere with him," I said, suspicious.

"She won't hate it if she doesn't know D is following her." He chuckled, lower than usual.

Instantly, as if it wasn't there in the first place, my worry subsided. Milada couldn't be safer now with Dominic being there.

Dominic is everything we want him to be. A PA, a martial arts instructor, a driver, a bodyguard, a butler, a babysitter, an assassin. The list goes on. He has been with us before I was even born. He's family.

The door to the room opened with a loud creak.

"Ah, Luuk. You already 'sleep? Sorry," Chaves slurred. "Hey, what's the mattress doin' on the floor?"

Ignoring him, I said: "Alex, I have to go."

"Who's that? You okay there?" my brother asked.

"Nobody important. Just... get Milada back home. I'll talk to the stupid girl when I come back."

Slovakia? You've got to be kidding me.

We exchanged goodbyes, and I placed my phone on the mattress. I craned my neck over my shoulder and saw Chaves sprawled over the other single bed against the wall, snoring. This wasn't even his room. I couldn't ask him to get the fuck out now.

I hated the idea of sharing a room with a big gay guy like him. It made my stomach squirm in trepidation and disgust. The kid I kept in the box behind my head was trying to escape, so I stepped out of the suffocating room, just to bump into Zack and Michael who were walking arm in arm, talking rubbish I couldn't understand. Jesus. Their breaths smelled like something crawled in their mouths and died. It aggravated my bad mood.

"Hey, doc. You-"

I sidestepped Zack. I didn't need to listen to his drunk bull. I just needed air. Clean air.

"He really is a grumpy ol' bastard, huh, Mike?" I heard Zack said. Loud and clear.

"Shush. He could hear you," Michael whisper-shouted.

"Yeah, I've heard worse, fuckers," I said under my breath, walking in a random direction.

Then I heard two consecutive smacks and another voice (sober voice) said, "Once you get your drunk asses sober tomorrow, I'm gonna have you apologize to Professor Smit."

I stopped at my track and turned around.

Da Graça and Alicia were standing a few feet away from me. The sensei was shoving the two idiots into the room next to the one I just exited. He then stood facing the door for a few seconds before glancing in my direction. His small bow almost escaped my vision from how dark the surrounding was. Without a word, he stepped into another room after Alicia and closed the door behind them.

He really was being weird.

-III-

I woke up to Zack and Michael whispering and nudging each other's ribs.

"Jesus!" I sat straight on the wooden recliner chair. I fell asleep in front of my room. "Why the fuck are you standing here? What time is it?" Blinking a few times, I checked my watch. Barely six in the morning.

"Jona wants us to apologize for something I can't remember. Whatever it is, I'm sorry, Professor Smit. Please accept my apology." Zack offered me a glass of milk with an insincere smile on his homely face.

Pulling the rubber band around my wrist, I gathered my hair into a bun. "What? Is that for me?" I stared at the glass of milk in his hand.

"Yes. As a... token of apology." Zack kissed his teeth.

I stared at it. They didn't poison it, right?

"Eles não o envenenaram. O leite é me," [They didn't poison it. The milk is from me,] da Graça said as he passed us. He cast me an unnecessary look of annoyance.

Did he just read my mind?

"Did I ask that out loud?" I asked Zack.

He harrumphed and shook his head while exchanging stupid looks with Michael.

I took the milk from Zack and flailed my hand to the two of them. "Now leave me alone." I gulped down the milk in one breath and placed the glass on the floor the same time I stood up. "Sensei, wait," I called out, and he shut the door. Tsk. I skipped the knocking and entered the room. "Da Graça, precisamos conversar." [We need to talk.]

He was on the bed, folding his towel. He glanced at me for a second and shoved the towel into his rucksack. "Que? Você realmente pensou que eu envenenei o leite?" [What? You really thought I poisoned the milk?]

"Well, with that attitude of yours, I'm not surprised if I drop dead any moment now."

"My attitude? What's with my attitude?" He stood and slung the bag on his shoulder. "You should get ready. We're leaving for the deforested site in an hour."

I shoved the door closed before he could go out.

He backtracked and raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Stopping you until you tell me what the hell is going on. I'm sure I didn't yank your chain in any way."

He clenched his jaw and exhaled. "Yes, you didn't. Nothing. Nothing is going on."

"Did we get off on the wrong foot? Since that night, I kinda feel like you might've got a problem with me. Is it? Is it because of that night? Listen, I know it was creepy. It's a long story, but I... I couldn't control myself when it happens. I—"

"It was not because of that."

"So something is wrong. What? Don't... Don't tell me you're falling in love with me or some shit like that. Is that why you're distancing yourself from me?" I shivered. "Good God, I'm not a fucking homo, and I swear-"

"What? No," he almost shouted. "I'd rather be in a relationship with Aarón than falling in love with someone like you." He rolled his eyes and tried to walk passed me.

Oh, boy. Something boiled in my stomach. The kid in my head didn't like what he just said. I took a step toward him. "Don't you dare put him above me."

He looked me straight in the eye. "Oh, he has always been above you, is above you, and always will be above you, Professor Smit."

My heart pounded from an emotion that dreadfully felt like jealousy-the same emotion I felt every time my brother smiled at his wife.

He scoffed. "I've known him for six years. I barely even know you for six weeks. What makes you think you're superior in any way? Just because you regressed that night, just because I let you hold me, just because you have a brown belt, just because God always attends to your life and ignores mine, doesn't mean you're superior in any way."

What resonated with me was God attends to your life. Now the emotion turned into confusion. "Wait, come again?"

His cheeks flushed in red. Embarrassment flashed in his reddened eyes. "Nada. Esquece o que eu disse." [Nothing. Forget what I said.]

I grabbed his arm when he tried to go out. "No, no. I think this needs to be addressed. God attends to me? What do you mean?"

"Forget it. It's not you. It's me. Now let me go."

"Wow. How cliché. That's your argument? It's not me, it's you, so you can treat me any way you want?"

He shot me a hateful look. "Why do you even care? You hate people. Your treatment toward people isn't the best either."

"Obviously 'cause I don't give a rat's ass about them! But you're not them."

His subsiding reddened cheeks flushed again.

"Sensei, please. I..." I let go of his arm and pulled my hair down. "Okay, listen. I couldn't help myself that night. I was aware of what happened, but I had no control over my regression. I haven't the faintest idea why or what makes me feel safe around you. Maybe coz you're a sensei and you teach kids?" I shook my head. "Jesus, I'm not making any sense here," I said under my breath. "You see, I've only ever regressed in front of my brother. Only him. Now it happens in front of you. And although I hate to admit this, and I hate that I'm depending on a stranger like you, but you ignoring me will just aggravate my condition. So, help me God, just cut this crap."

My chest rumbled from the fear of him ignoring me, the fear of being helpless and nobody was there to help me through it. I didn't have Alex here. Da Graça was my only choice. The back of my eyes burned as I dreaded the uncertainty. I would kneel and beg if I had to.

He sucked his lower lip and averted his eyes. After many seconds, he said in a small voice. "Como posso ajudar?" [How can I help you?]

"Diga o que se passa com você. [Tell me what's wrong with you.] Won't you talk to me? Did I do something? I doubt it. But if I wronged you or made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. Just please, please God, let me make it right."

He sighed and pointed to the door. "Can we at least get you ready, Professor Smit? We're going to be late."

I stared at him until I was sure he wouldn't run away. "Sure. Only if you promise to tell me what the hell is going on with you..."

He nodded. "I promise, Professor Smit."

"Luuk. I'm getting annoyed hearing you call me that. Just... Luuk." I opened the door for him and we headed to the next room. "So... get down to brass tacks." I stepped into the room and gathered my things.

He scratched his earlobe and wore a faint smile. Then he said, "I'm not lying when I told you it's not you, but me."

I looked at him. "So what's the problem? I don't get it. Why are you talking in circles?"

"Coz I... I don't have a point." His voice was weak. The bed squeaked under his weight. "I... I was jealous of you, I guess."

"Ah... Completely understandable. But why?"

He chuckled, and my mood soared. "Well, you just make it easier to not feel jealous anymore." He sighed. "You know that day you told me you have brown belt in Jiu-Jitsu?"

"Yes, what about it?" I sat on my rucksack opposite of him, resting my elbows on my knees.

"I was supposed to take the brown belt promotion exam six months ago."

Then the circle connected.

"But you couldn't... because of the accident," I said in a softer voice than I intended to.

He nodded, and his eyes glazed in tears. He removed his black-rimmed glasses.

Oh boy. Is this crybaby going to cry again?

"I've been doing Jiu-Jitsu ever since I was ten. Fourteen fucking years. After years, I finally reached my dream. But no. I just had to have the accident. I wanted to just... die that day. I even prayed to God to just take my life away. Living has been so... so cumbersome for me. But here I am. I survived." He paused, rubbing his nose. "I think God really, really hates me. Nothing, and I mean it, nothing has ever gone right with my life. Everything is just... a clusterfuck of bad lucks." He sobbed into his palms.

Oh, dear Lord. What should I do?

His sobs were the only sound present in this room for a few minutes. I sat next to him with zero ideas on how to coax a sobbing, grown-up man. Well, he wasn't that grown-up. But at twenty-four, he was no spring chicken either. Still, he was kind of mushy. Crying emasculated him even more.

I patted his soft, black hair. "I have no idea what else is wrong with your life other than the accident you had, so I have no say on your skepticism about God. But you seem like you've grown up into a decent guy. Hell, a great guy. You're only twenty-four but look at you. One of the most successful businessmen in Stanford. I read about you in the alumni magazine, you know. Having three high-tech gyms all across Stanford is not a small achievement. And you're one hella polite guy... when you want to be."

He stared at me. Silent tears rolled down his reddened cheeks. His golden irises gleamed behind the tears. "That's the thing. I don't want to grow up as a successful guy."

That made zilch sense. "What do you mean?"

"It means my life sucks and nothing you say will change it. Nothing you say will help me." He rubbed his face with his shirt and stood. "Vamos." [Let's go.]

"Just to be clear," I stood up too, "are we... great now? You won't get weirded out if I suddenly act like a child? I hope it won't happen again. But-"

"Luuk. Lido com crianças há dois anos. Mais uma criança não fará diferença." [I've been dealing with little kids for two years. One more kid won't make any difference.] He clenched my arm and gave me a reassuring smile, although I was sure he wasn't sure of his reassuring smile either.

For no earthly reason, I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and hugged him. I used to hate tactility; now I only found it irritable.

Patting his back, I said: "I'm glad you hashed it out. And... you may think that God has abandoned you, but remember what I said before? That I will pester you into being my best friend? Guess what? I like you as a person. A lot. So I'll make sure to cling on to you and make you feel like your life has a purpose. What say you? I promise I'll be that purpose. Even if I'm just there to annoy you."

The promise sounded incredulously weird, but it wasn't my concern at the moment. He seemed to be more fragile than me.

He burst into shaky laughter and grabbed the hem of my shirt. Then he cried. He clung to me and cried into my shoulder.