Searching For Andromeda 7 Be Careful

"Yeah," was all Ephraim could muster to say. "I thought so too."

Lucian had been his friend ever since middle school. They were typical cla.s.smates turned into friends; ones with same interests, and with same ambitions. The only different thing about them is that—Lucian is Lucian, and Ephraim is Ephraim. Lucian Guerrero is the most zealous, brash, and belligerently clingy person he ever knew.

Lucian had been the first person to ever pick a fight with Ephraim at middle school (solely because he misunderstood him) and that was the start of their friendship. Ephraim was the kind of person who would smile at everyone, and would help you with your homework—whereas Lucian on the other hand, looked standoffish; with his long, brunette hair, and bangs almost covering his sharp, dark eyes, he certainly gave the vibe of an evil lord emitting a dark aura. He had the face of a sn.o.b, and he was impetuous and loud—which was the opposite of Ephraim who was more collected, gentle, and just generally had warm air around him.

"You're odd," says Lucian when Ephraim was helping him with an a.s.signment. They were the only ones left in cla.s.s; Ephraim had volunteered to help Lucian, who was one of the students to take extra lessons due to his failing grades. He was teaching him mathematics—among other subjects.

Ephraim tilted his head. "Odd?"

Lucian nods.

"I don't understand, but thank you." Ephraim dismissively exclaims. "So, in order to get the x-intercept . . ."

"You're a fake," Lucian bluntly says. "You're always smiling. It's weird."

Ephraim blinked. "Pardon?"

"You're young, but you're . . . old. You talk like you're old, but you're just my age. It's weird," Lucian says as he plays with the pencil. "It's odd."

"Anyway, look at the Cartesian plane. . ."

"You're faking everything. Being nice to everyone and all. I know you're mad sometimes," Lucian exclaims. "But you still smile. You're kind of a sham."

"I don't consider myself as one," Ephraim exclaims. "I'm teaching you. Could you please listen? You're going to fail at this point."

"Why are you so concerned anyway?" Lucian smirks. "Didn't ask you to teach me,"

THUD.

Lucian blinked and saw a pen digging right through the paper down to the wooden desk. He slowly raised his head to see a smiling Ephraim, looking down at him.

"I said," Ephraim states. "Look at the Cartesian plane,"

"Y-yes?" Lucian obeys quickly and stares at the hole on the paper.

"Now, in order to get the x-intercept, you need to look at this axis . . ."

**

"I don't get it, but I think you're going to screw it up," Lucian says. "Gut feeling."

"Screw it up?"

"Yeah, I mean, look at that cutie over there," Lucian says. "HOW are you gonna handle being in one, isolated place with a girl?"

". . . I'm not you, Lucian,"

"THE POINT IS," Lucian grabs both of Ephraim's shoulder. "She's cute. Totally my type."

"Esmeralda?"

"That's her name?" Lucian grinned. "Cute. Make sure to give me her number once you have it."

"I have it," Ephraim says nonchalantly. "But I won't give my team member's personal data so easily. Are you stupid?"

Lucian grunted. "It's because you have it easy with women—while I have zero luck with them. I graduated and haven't even got on a date!"

"It's because you're loud," Ephraim mutters.

They were in an airport; Ephraim's flight to Peru was about 9 AM in the morning. Only he and Esmeralda were the first ones to arrive. Esmeralda was sitting on the bleachers meters away from them, head bowed down. Lucian, who was sending Ephraim off, had his eyes set on the small biologist. Lucian has been one of the boys who had a hard time talking to women even in his age. Lucian, after all, had an uncanny impulse of retorting with an angry tone whenever he talks to any woman. He scared off every woman in the cla.s.s (Cecily had been scared of him since day one).

He was poles apart from the gentle Ephraim.

"d.a.m.n . . . she's so cute." Lucian exclaims. "I like her. She looks cute in that ponytail. Her hair's so long. She's so cute,"

"It's because of that online game you're playing, right?" Ephraim says. "It's that small character."

"N-n-no! Wh-what the h.e.l.l, o-online games? Are you friggin' serious? Hhha, I don't play those kinds of n-nerdy kinds of stuff."

"Yes, yes. I'll just dismiss the fact you sent me an invitation code to an Otome game," Ephraim exclaims. "Doki Doki Love Love Academy? Are you serious, Lucian?"

"Fine, dammit," Lucian cursed. "It's not my fault I can't handle women. I needed a freakin' guide."

"Right," Ephraim smiles. "And you got addicted."

"Addicted? No," Lucian says with a straight face. "I learned."

"Yes, your taste definitely shifted from bust to loli."

"I- I—"

"You're so naïve, Luce," Ephraim says. "Oh. Looks like the two of the team are here."

Berthold and Samuel came with their backpacks and had dressed neatly. Berthold had a briefcase, which (as far as Ephraim could guess) contents comprised of medical supplies.

"h.e.l.lo, team leader." Berthold greets. His eyes drifted to Lucian.

"Berthold, this is Lucian," Ephraim says. "Sam, this is Lucian."

"Che," Samuel retorts.

"h.e.l.lo, Lucian," Berthold politely exclaims as he shakes Lucian's hand.

"Sup?"

Berthold smiles. "I presume you're here to send Ephraim off?"

Lucian grinned. "You betcha. Raim's gonna be lonely, his Mom sent me to send him off."

Samuel snorted. "Mama's boy, huh?"

Lucian tilted his head and looked down on Samuel. His gaze went back to Berthold. "Your brother?"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" Samuel retorts grimly. "BROTHER?"

"No, no, no." Berthold shakes his head, as he raised both of his arms and waves it in disagreement. "He's a part of the task force."

"That's odd, he's short," Lucian says bluntly. "How old are you? 12?"

Samuel exclaims a loud curse; "I'm the freakin' researcher in this stupid team. Know who you're talkin' to!"

Lucian grinned and ruffled Samuel's hair.

"You kinda remind me of my elementary self," Lucian exclaims.

"WHAT? a.s.sH—"

Ephraim refused to listen to Samuel's bantering, and the dense Lucian adding fuel to the fire. Berthold was there to calm Samuel down, and Lucian did not have a single filter in his mouth—it was evident he considers Samuel as a child, and (did not know) it was offensive. Ephraim sauntered to the vending machine to get a canned coffee, and then headed to the waiting area, sitting beside Esmeralda. He hands her the coffee.

"Th-thanks," Esmeralda says, and then for a second, their eyes met. She immediately averted her big, lush green eyes, and then proceeded to stare at the cold canned coffee in her hand.

Ephraim drank the coffee, as he stares at her.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

"O-oh. Yes. I—I'm fine."

"That's good," Ephraim exclaims. "Esmeralda,"

"Y-yes?"

"I have been wondering . . . why did you take the job?" Ephraim asks, not looking at Esmeralda. "There are many things you can do that focuses on your expertise."

Esmeralda remained silent.

Ephraim faced her and saw her gaze was still fixated on the coffee. Her wavy, honey-blonde strands fell on the side of her face, which masked her expression.

"Sorry, was that too intrusive?" Says Ephraim. "Anyways—"

"I—" Esmeralda starts. "I wanted to . . . get out of my comfort zone."—she says, as her grip tightens to the canned coffee—"I wanted t-to . . . not be too strange."

Ephraim stares at her for a while and then smiles.

"I see."

Esmeralda blinks and then lifts her head a bit to look at Ephraim. She only mustered to stare for mere seconds before she averted her gaze once more.

"Oi, hag, stupid team leader," says Samuel. "Hiroaki's here."

Hiroaki Mochizuki arrived at the airport already wearing a gear. He had a black leather belt with a pocket for guns and ammo. He had military boots, and he walked with such air; people eyed him with mixed fascination and confusion. Hiroaki Mochizuki was a man with an appeal, Ephraim was aware of that. He had handsome features, and a tall stature matched with a lean, toned body. He was a head-turner. Even Esmeralda raised her gaze to stare at Hiroaki.

"Who the h.e.l.l comes to the airport on a gear?" Samuel exclaims. "Is this even legal?"

"I suppose, there are exceptions," Berthold says.

Both Esmeralda and Ephraim went towards Berthold and Samuel. Hiroaki leaned to the gla.s.s walls, closed his eyes, and then crossed his arms.

"a.s.shole didn't even bother to greet," Samuel says, clearly annoyed. "He's almost cool but he's a friggin' sn.o.b."

"Ah, Sam. You like him, huh?" Berthold exclaims as he smiled.

"What the h.e.l.l are you talking about, Bert?"

"It's unusual of you to praise someone."

"Che,"

Although Ephraim and Esmeralda walked together towards Berthold and Samuel, Esmeralda kept her distance, with head bowed down. Samuel went towards her with a c.o.c.ky smirk plastered over his face and then started to tease and banter. With that as a trigger, Esmeralda snapped and also started to mock Samuel, leaving Berthold and Ephraim simply looking at them with tired, dead eyes.

"Hag!"

"Shorty!"

"Uncharismatic!"

"Immature!"

"Aha . . . children," Berthold starts. "This is why I refused to be a Pediatrician . . ."

Ephraim eyed Berthold, who was looking tired through his spectacles. Ephraim had the habit of observing people and a.s.sociating them with movie characters—if the president was Rick O'Connell, then Dr. Berthold Wagner would be a younger version of Keanu Reeves. He thought of Esmeralda, Samuel, and Hiroaki as well. He still couldn't a.s.sociate Esmeralda and Hiroaki with anyone, but he could think of Samuel being Kevin from Home Alone. He definitely did not look like Macaulay Culkin, but Samuel Albrecht's devilish att.i.tude reminded him of the character's childish, playful traps.

"That reminds me, Doctor," Ephraim says. "You are summoned by the president to this project, even if you got a job, right?"

"Hm? Yes,"

"Why did you ditch your job for this project?" Ephraim asks.

"Aha. . . . yes. I figured that would confuse you," Berthold answers. "I had a stable job in California, but let's just put this in Layman's term. The president and I had been in rough situations back in the days, and he did favors for me. It's time I return the favor."

Ephraim eyes Berthold keenly, and then he proceeded to smile.

"I see."

"Your flight's in a few minutes," Lucian says. "And it seems like you can board the plane now."

"Oh," Ephraim exclaims and nods at Berthold, who went towards the arguing Esmeralda and Samuel to appease them. They went to board the plane with Hiroaki following.

"So . . ." Ephraim starts. "Off I go. Tell my Mom I cried before I boarded,"

Lucian grinned, "yeah."

Ephraim snorted. "You look like you're going to miss me,"

Lucian grimaced. "What the h.e.l.l bro, no h.o.m.o."—Lucian laughed, and then as his laughter disappeared, it was replaced with a small smile. "Anyways . . . take care, and be careful out there, Raim."

Ephraim chortled, and then tilted his head a bit as a hint of his bemus.e.m.e.nt. "You're a bit of a worrywart today, are you a mother hen? What in the world have you eaten?"

"a.s.s," says Lucian. "No, I didn't eat a.s.s; you're an a.s.s, specifically."

"Ah," Ephraim nods, evoking his usual smile. "Off I go now. Tell Mom I'm alive and well, and I would come back shortly. I know she asked you to come in her stead." He says. "You can go now. I don't want my team thinking I'm parting ways too emotionally,"

Before Ephraim could even turn to board the plane, Lucian's grip on his shoulders had stopped him to take even a step. He turned to glare at Lucian, yet Lucian was, for the first time—had an austerely worried look written all over his face. Ephraim, for a second, felt vexed as their gaze met. He has never seen Lucian like this.

"Be careful, Raim," Lucian says.

"I would be," Ephraim answers, a bit perplexed. "You're really acting weird, Luce."

"I know," Lucian exclaims. "My gut's been telling me some weird stuff."

"Guts don't talk."

"I know, Dumba.s.s," says Lucian. "But be careful out there."

"Yes, yes, mother hen." Ephraim smiles and brushes Lucian's hand off. "Don't be too worried, it's not like I'm going for good,"

At that time . . . if only Ephraim realized the weight of Lucian's words—

If only he had taken his words to heart . . . he would have—he could have saved all of them.

If only.