Chapter 3 (1/2)

To be honest, I wasn’t too surprised that Pokerface knew my address. With his abilities, I reckon he could get the address of the American president if he wanted to, let alone that tiny house of mine. What I was surprised about was that I somehow had gotten stuck to him like a piece of caramel candy ever since Fats started to go berserk, and the fact that he hadn’t flipped the table and called it quits. He actually stayed until the end of the party and even got in the car with me.

While I was focused on this feeling of surprise, the cab driver slammed on the gas and started racing down the street, fearless because there was no compet.i.tion on the streets this late at night. He practically drifted as he turned each corner, making me bounce in between the car window and Pokerface. I was petrified! What if we got into an accident?!

Pokerface paid for the cab and got off when we finally made it home. The moment he stepped out, he turned around to grab me by the shoulder and I got yanked out by his incredibly powerful grasp. Just as I hit the ground, I took a few steps forward to catch my balance and my head started spinning again. I could barely stand so I quickly crouched down.

I heard the revving of an engine behind me and the cab left. I was balled up like a mushroom on the side of the road with my knees tucked tightly in. I was trying to wait for all my brain functions to recalibrate before standing up again.

I heard footsteps pa.s.sing by me and stopping in front. A sense of pressure loomed down from above. It appeared that the person had crouched down as well and put a hand on my back.

Pokerface? He hasn’t left yet?

I peeked out between my arms to see a pair of semi-worn Camper shoes. It was his all right. I wanted to look up but my head felt so heavy so I kept rubbing my forehead to alleviate the aching. However, at that moment, my stomach churned, causing me much discomfort.

I was half-joking when I had said I’d never been drunk since university. I had been drunk all right, but not once had I been as drunk as this time. At least I had been able to walk by myself. Normally, the one pa.s.sed out on the ground wasn’t me and I often had to take care of the ones who were. Thus, I completely understood how annoying and disgusting it was to take care of a drunken b.a.s.t.a.r.d, yet I was that b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I was conscious but my limp hands and feet just wouldn’t listen to me.

Pokerface didn’t rush me or push me but rather stroked my back with unbelievable patience. I couldn’t help thinking that he must have had previous experience taking care of drunk people.

Who was fortunate enough to have him do that?

Fortunate. Hah, that was actually what I thought.

“Keys,” he said while tapping me after what seemed like a minute. Or maybe it was an hour.

“Huh?” I looked up.

Keys? Oh right, keys. That’s how you get the door open.

Without much more thinking, I started rifling through my pant pocket with the astonishment of Columbus when he discovered the New World.

Keys, keys, keys. Where are you? I hear you tinkling so why can’t I pull you out?!

He probably didn’t want to wait until the sun rose for me to find my keys so he let out a quiettsk and reached into my pocket. In less than no time, he fished a string of keys out.

Once he got the keys, he got up and went to the door. I was still where I had been, listening to him inserting the keys with precision and getting the outer door and the inner door unlocked. The pair of Campers came back and then I was lifted up under my arms and dragged towards the house.

Throughout the process, all I saw was the asphalt road, the doorstep, the doormat, and then the wooden floor, and when this thing that was called a sofa came into sight, my vision experienced a blackout. By the time I realised, I was already lying flat on the sofa.

The metal door closed with a bang. The pitter-patter of Pokerface’s footsteps resonated in the house. I thought he would just leave after tossing me into my house. After all, his mission was complete. But it turned out that Pokerface was a good person and it seemed he was determined to see the whole thing through. His shadowy figure moved away and then approached. I felt my limp self being pushed upright off of the sofa. I squinted at his face but it was blurry.

“Water.” Something cold and hard was placed against my lips along with his simple utterance.

I moved my gaze down. He had pa.s.sed a gla.s.s of water to me. I didn’t think too much since he was the one who gave it to me and tilted my head back with the edge of the gla.s.s against my lips.

Once again, it turned out that it was hard being a good person.

The thought hadn’t even occurred to me when I was gulping down the water, what devastating results would ensue drinking more liquids when your stomach is already filled to the brim. By the time I realised this, the water had already slid down my throat, and when I opened my mouth to say ‘No!’ I ended up making an ‘urgh’ sound which was followed by a cascade of vomit.

Pokerface was quick to shrink back after grabbing the gla.s.s, but not quickly enough: nearly half of the barf sprayed onto him. Even though I did my best to cover my mouth, needless to say, the rest welled out of my mouth and dripped onto my body.