Chapter 25

"Put him down on the couch carefully." Mom instructed as she started for the bar at the kitchen. She tossed the clump of keys in the bowl next to her ornaments on the bar and grabbed herself some orange juice from the fridge.

I got to ease Yixing away from my shoulders and onto the couch after Jongin and I had to carry him in from the car.

"Can you get a bowl of water and a dry towel? Perhaps a bucket too in case he throws up?" Jongin told me as he positioned Yixing on the couch comfortably.

I nodded, massaging my shoulders in an attempt to relieve some tension from my body. I headed for the kitchen and grabbed the things he had asked from me and went in the bathroom to empty a small bucket. I set the towel and bowl on the center table in front of the couch and set aside the bucket so it wouldn’t be in the way.

Jongin started wiping Yixing with the wet towel he had submerged in the cold water I had prepared. A faint blush grew on my cheeks when I noticed him undoing Yixing's buttons. And I had excused my sorry self upstairs in an attempt to hide my embarrassment. Jongin didn't say much when the words lousily stammered out from my mouth, so I just assumed he hadn't caught on that what he was doing was too hard for my eyes.

Upstairs, I scrambled inside my room, heart beating so fast and my breath a tad shaky and exhausted. I locked my door, and as soon as I was sure no one would be able to get in, my knees buckled as if on cue. I let myself slid down to the floor, and like in one of those dramas, I had screamed my lungs out in a harsh whisper and told myself I was just this way because I was so tired by the day's tasks put upon me. Perhaps my mentality had finally given in, that even that little meaningless act of washing Yixing had affected me.

I crawled towards my bed, plopped down on the feather soft mattress and closed my eyes.

You'd think it was so easy to fetch a drunk friend from the police station, but not really, especially if your mom is a clumsy hysteric at the mention of police, fight, thugs, station, prison. Bla bla bla.

I heard a handful of nagging before she even agreed. Took me thirty minutes just to convince her and ask her to drive us all to the station. And while in the car, let's just say she just couldn't stop and all I could do was fight the urge to do an eye roll because she was basically killing me with her glare in the rear view mirror. Oh God.

"That's what I keep telling you! You almost gave me a heart attack. Oh Lord. I hope next time you wouldn't be the one I'll be fetching in the police station."

You might find me in one if you don't stop mom, I thought in spite. But instead, I said, "let's not make this complicated mom. Yixing is in there so let's focus on him."

"Oh right!" She exclaimed as if she really forgot what this was all about. "That boy. It has been so long since the last time I saw him. I didn't think the next time I'll meet him it'll be in a police station. How did he even end up there? He used to be a very nice kid..."

"I don't know mom." I lied, resting my head on the window since it was like it weighed tons at that moment after all the things I had been thinking about.

I had dodged all her other questions after that, but it was amazing how unfazed she was by my inattention. Jongin wasn't any help either, he was silent the whole ride. But I couldn't blame him after remembering our argument before the call came. He must have been still thinking about it.

Then when we arrived at the police station, mom looked like she was already ready to battle and rattled the officers to let Yixing go. Mr. Go, the officer I had talked to over the phone, was almost stunned when mom began her attack, saying crude words at them; not forgetting to mention their—and I quote—rude behavior and improper treatment of juvenile kids under their care—unquote.

"Mrs. Han, if you would just sign here—"

"I'm not done here! How could you interrupt a good citizen who pays her taxes in time like this? You don't even have manners! If the president is here to witness all this, he's going to regret ever hiring you lots to protect us. You don't even know how to treat us right..." Her complaints stretched to a meaningful length that made Officer Go look so sour that he just tapped the tip of his pen on the document mom needed to sign on just to keep his temper hidden.

"Mom!" I called.

"What?!" she shouted, looking so irritated when she got startled at the volume of my voice. "You're shouting at your mother again! Oh my!"

I sighed, tired of her goddamn drama. "I just want to say, the officer simply wants you to sign the papers so they can already release Yixing."

And as if she just realized that now, she gaped in surprise. "Oh. Is that so?"

She was back to looking so dignified and proud when she realized how much shame she'd caused in the office and snatched the pen away from Officer Go. Gingerly, she signed the papers after thoroughly reading each page and commenting on how kind they were to give an old lady like her an easy job like this.

I saw the flicker of murderous intent in Officer Go's eyes as he stared at mom with dagger glares; yet I couldn't blame him if he wanted to throttle her right then and there.

"There. I'm done. Now, can we get the kid?" Mom said with a tilt of her head, as if challenging the armed man.

Officer Go's eyebrow twitched, like a hefty cord in him just snapped and his urge to kill mom became more prominent. He struggled to prevent himself from doing so as he pulled his radio and asked someone to release the kid from one of their cells.

About a few moments later, Yixing was already approaching us, with an officer supporting his dead weight in taking strides. His hands were all over the poor officer's face and hair, messing with the stoic man's temper and composure. He would have thrown him back in a cell if only Yixing hadn't spotted me and threw himself in my arms.

I groaned when he let me carry all his weight as he hugged me. "Soori. Soori. Soori. I've been looking all over for you." He sang like a tone-deaf drunkard.

Patting his back, I said, "You're going home now, okay?"

He groaned in protest as he snuggled closer, his arms squeezing the hell out of me. "No. I don't want to go home. Just...just...let me sleep on your bed." I couldn't help but sport a blush at his bold words that were said in front of my own mother. Oh God. Don’t kill me please.

"I—well, you can't—"

He almost whined like a child upon hearing me disapprove his request. I was about to make amends to please him and get it over and done with, but Jongin pried Yixing away from me almost forcefully and took it upon himself the task of carrying him to the car—which became a very tedious task since Yixing kept escaping his grip, complaining how he wasn't me and that he only wanted me to help him.

Jongin had the same face as Officer Go from a while ago when he finally put Yixing down at the back seat. He straightened up, and as if his exasperation already extended to me, he scowled, ducked down again and shoved Yixing further into the car without bothering about whether the said boy was comfortable.

Then he sat next to him as soon as I offered to sit beside Yixing so he wouldn't have to mind if the boy actually did something stupid. It surprised me, but though I was wondering why he chose the uncomfortable spot next to our drunk friend I didn't dare ask him why he did it anyway.

The whole ride, the three of us—mom, Jongin and I—were in pure silence while Yixing intermittently drifted off to sleep or started grabbing at me. At this, Jongin would pull his hands down before he could even make a grab for me, while muttering spiteful words and looking at me probingly—although I could tell he was just worried.

There was this distant humming; soft, rhythmic, slow, sweet. It started lulling me to sleep one moment. I shifted on my side, half-lidded eyes staring at the faint glow of moonlight that escaped into my room; a flicker of light in the darkness. The soft humming continued, but I knew I was just imagining it in my head because it was just impossible to hear it in this silence. I was alone and I thought my dreamy state was fooling me.

What a joke, I thought.

A small smile eased on my lips the longer the humming continued. This time, I recognized it was a male's voice. Deep, but gentle. And it was like it was caressing me through the loneliness of the night.

I closed my eyes, thinking that the voice would go away if I did. But then, it didn't. Instead, it became louder and louder in my ears.

Opening my eyes with almost a startle, I heard how fast my heart raced and how the humming abruptly stopped. I bolted up, roaming my eyes around the dark room. I let out shallow and fast breaths as I frantically strained to hear the sound again. But it was really gone now.

"What was that?" I looked down on my lap, eyes trembling, and still bewildered and panicked.

I rubbed my hand on my neck, feeling the trickle of sweat that had formed on my skin. Did I pass out and dream again? Was it just another dream? I gazed at the wall clock across from me and read 4:00 AM. I did go to sleep.

So, was it really just another dream?, I kept asking myself in my wake, my heart still thudding painfully in my chest as I raked my brain for answers. Why couldn’t I just be sure? Why do I even have to experience all these things? I sighed, feeling helplessness overwhelm me.

I slowly stood up, deciding to dismiss the dream, made my way out of the room and stealthily climbed down the stairs. It seemed I needed some water more than I already had as I felt my throat itch in thirst. Passing by the living room, I noticed the blankets they must have prepared for Yixing strewn carelessly on the floor. And the occupant was missing.

Worrying that he might have sleep-walked or went out of the house in his state, I rushed towards the door, unlocked the bolts and peeked on my tiptoes by the foyer for any signs of an escape. But the street was empty. Only the song of crickets and bats could be heard in the silence. I sighed, glad that he might have just been somewhere in the house sprawled on the floor. Quickly, I did the door locks again and searched the house.

It would have been hard in the dark to search for the boy, and I might have stepped on him if and only if, but I noticed the light in the bathroom , spilling through the hallway. Relieved, I approached the area and couldn't help but snicker when I saw him lifelessly leaning on the tiled wall. His face was blanched, lips parted to allow air to come in and out of his lungs easily. I could immediately tell what had happened while all of us were out sleeping, because the toilet was filled with his un-flushed dinner (perhaps) and the air had the stale smell of vomit. Aye, he must have drunk a lot.

Silently, I went in and organized the bathroom. I flushed the toilet, aware of his slight movement from the corner of my eye. The smell was much stronger now, that I scrunched up my nose, and this time though most of the alcohol in his system must have already been flushed away, he still reeked of vomit and something else.

He emitted a groan as he adjusted himself on the floor. A flicker of recognition sparked in his eyes when he looked up at me, and with a grunt he said in almost a murmur, "Why are you awake in such an unholy hour?"

Resting my hand on his arm to haul him up, I said, "I happened to wake up and found your smelly self in the bathroom. Now tell me, how bad is the hangover?"

"Oh God," He shook his head, smiling absently, "it's not even settling all in yet. But my head...I feel like someone's drilling a hole in my skull. Am I in your house?"

I nodded. "But are you any sober yet?" He leaned on the wall as I slowly helped him lift himself. "Can you walk out of the room? Or maybe you want a shower?"

"I smell bad, yeah?" He chuckled wryly, closing his eyes. "Well," he inhaled a breath. "I still feel dazed and perhaps if you could help me wash my hair maybe it'll help my head clear up?" He motioned at his nest of a hair.

I chuckled, seeing how influenced he still was. Seeing this side of him was a first that I couldn't help but call him 'adorable' out loud. He had whined of protest, but because he was still drunk, he couldn't do anything about it. And I was happy for a while because I won an argument against him again.

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