David (half-smiles, eyes darken slightly):
Takunda.
Takunda was... fire. Where I bent, he broke. He was loud. He was brave. He had dreams that didn't fit the walls of the orphanage, dreams of flying, of getting out, of standing tall. He had a mouth that could talk you into anything, and hands that could build you something out of nothing.
He'd get in trouble for talking back, for standing up to the older boys. He didn't mind. They didn't scare him. Not like the matron. The matron was something else. But Takunda didn't see fear the way I did. He wore his defiance like a second skin. And I watched him, I admired him for it.
--——
David (narrating, voice growing more reflective):
Takunda always said I was "a quiet one" — not a compliment, not an insult. Just a fact. The boys would joke about it, saying I was too quiet for a boy who was supposed to be a fighter. Maybe that's what made me different.
Because there was a time when I didn't fight. I didn't argue or stand up for myself. I didn't even scream when the older boys shoved me against the walls, or when Matron's cane came down on my back.
I just… endured.
But Takunda, he didn't know the word "endure" — at least not in the way I did.
He was loud. He was brash. He was wild, but somehow, he could always make the pain of the world seem smaller. I didn't know how, but I never asked. I just followed. And that's when we became a team — in our own strange way.
He'd find the trouble, and I'd follow, silent, watching, waiting. I didn't know how to protect him, not really. I was always too far behind, but I never let go.
David (pauses again, glancing down at his hands):
Me? I was the watcher. The keeper. The one who stayed behind, silent in the background. I never wanted to be seen, not like that. There was safety in silence, you see. You don't get hurt if no one knows you're there. You don't disappoint if no one expects anything of you.
But it wasn't enough. The greatest truth Adrian is I was a coward then, when I should have fought to protect myself I cowered. Lowering my head everytime when I should have done the opposite. Its safe to say I was jealous of how Takunda acted in the face of danger.
——————
There was one night I remember — the kind of night where everything seemed heavy, like the air itself was holding something back. We were in the yard, two of us against the rest, laughing because there was nothing else to do.
But I remember, that night, Takunda looked at me, and he said, "You know, David, there's more to being alive than just existing. You should try living."
I didn't understand what he meant.
David (pauses, looking off into the distance):
In the morning, Takunda didn't show up at breakfast.
He always showed up, even if his face was bruised or his hands were covered in dirt. So, when he wasn't there, I knew something was wrong.
I didn't ask. I just waited.
David (his tone turning serious, the weight of memory pressing down):
He came back late that night, limping, covered in dirt, his eyes wild like a storm had been inside him. He didn't say a word. Just crawled into the corner of our room, curled up with his back to me, and closed his eyes.
I didn't ask.
Because there was something about that night… something I didn't need to know.
I never asked Takunda what happened.
But the next morning, he didn't show up at breakfast again.
---
David (pauses):
I found him.
I found him behind the church, near the overgrown bushes where the broken boys used to go when they didn't want to be seen. His hands were shaking, but his eyes were focused on something I couldn't see.
He turned to me when I stepped forward, and there was no anger in his face, no shame. Just… emptiness.
"David," he whispered, voice so small, so far away. "I couldn't protect you. I couldn't protect myself."
---
David (shakes his head, almost in disbelief):
I didn't know how to fix him.
But I sat next to him. In the silence.
And in that moment, I realized something. Takunda was more than a loud, wild force of nature. He was human. He had wounds I couldn't see, and a heart that was heavier than mine.
And yet, he had never once let me fall.
---
David (after a long pause):
We never talked about that day.
But after that, something in me shifted. Maybe it was because I knew that Takunda didn't need me to fix him. He needed me to be there.
And from then on, I tried. I tried to be more than just the stone. I tried to speak up, to step out of my silence, even if it wasn't easy.
But the truth was, I couldn't escape it.
I was still the quiet one. Still the boy who said little, who held the weight of the world without a word. Still the boy who didn't know how to make things right.
But somehow, with Takunda by my side, that didn't feel as lonely.
---
David (softly):
It's funny, isn't it? How much a boy can change — just by being seen.
--
David (voice turning soft and reflective):
Takunda and I were different. In a place where the world was loud and painful, we found our peace in the quiet between us. It wasn't always easy. But we had each other.
And in the end, I think that was all either of us needed. We survived
---