The first thing that dragged me back to reality was a blinding ray of sunlight stabbing directly into my eyes through the tin-ily massive punctures in the curtains.
I groaned, shifting my weight. The surface beneath me was soft. Too soft. I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and stared at the peeling ceiling of my bedroom. Wait, how the hell did I get in here? The memories of last night hit me like a truck—the convenience store, the extra-spicy wasabi assault, the freezing park bench, and her dumbass passing out right into my arms. I must've dragged her dead weight all the way back here. Thank god I didn't drink Mama's pure fresh milk coffee...Uh, wait...DID I?????
I fumbled for my Scamsung on the nightstand and clicked the screen.
9:41 AM.
Wait a fucking minute.
I sat up, the gears in my head finally turning. Remila's morning shift at the café starts at 10:00.
I kicked off the carpet-turned-blanket and looked up on the bed. Sure enough, there she was. Sprawled out across the bed like a discarded garbage bag, limbs twisted at weird angles, completely dead to the world. All that mesmerizing pink moonlight bullshit from last night was entirely gone. Right now, she just looked like a clowny-hobo.
"Oii," I muttered, poking her cheek. No response.
I got up and nudged her shoulder. "HEY!! Remi, wake the fuck up!, you're gonna be late."
She just grunted, swatting blindly at the air before rolling over and snoring like piglet screaming for it's life.
Absolutely useless.
I stood there for a second, staring at her, before a genuinely diabolical idea steadily cooked in my head. If words weren't going to work, physical trauma mustn't miss.
Perfetto~
But before I fetched the main artillery, I needed to set the booby trap. I quietly slipped into the bathroom. She always washed her face and legs at the lower bucket tap after doing the business. I reached down, cranked the water heater setting off, and twisted the main diverter valve so the second she turned that lower tap, bwahahahah, things will get interesting.
I crept back into the kitchen and yanked open our rusted, struggling fridge who wanted to retire since 2025. The freezer compartment was a disaster, completely frosted over like a damn glacier. I scraped a solid chunk of ice off the walls, shoved it into a plastic grocery bag, and walked back into the living room.
She was lying on her stomach now, her oversized t-shirt riding up slightly. Without a second of hesitation, I pulled the collar of her shirt and slid the freezing bag of ice right down her spine, like a trained cashier loading groceries into the bag.
She tried to grasp the bag, her back arching violently as the ice made contact. But before she could even scream, her half-opened eyes darted to the wall clock.
9:45.
There was a nano-pause. A split second where her brain completely bypassed the freezing ice and processed the absolute horror of capitalism. She was late.
She bolted upright, scrambled on all fours, and rushed straight to the bathroom to freshen up without saying a single word.
I stood in the living room, waiting.
Three... two... one...
"HIIIIIEEEEEK!"
The sound of splashing water was instantly followed by a shriek that could wake the dead. Stun-gunned by the freezing blast I set up, the bathroom door violently swung open a second later.
"WOOOHOOO!! HAHAHAH GOTCHA, YOU HAG!!" -famous last words of Heisen
She stood there, dripping wet, her hair plastered to her face, shivering and radiating pure hostility. Then, at a slow, steady pace. She marched right up to me.
THWACK!!
A solid, completely unhesitant punch right into my gut.
"Guh—" The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. I doubled over, clutching my stomach in genuine, blinding pain.
"My fucking shift!, You idiot!" she panicked, her voice trembling from the cold water and the adrenaline, completely ignoring the fact that she just rearranged my internal organs. She spun around, freaked out, and ran straight back into the bathroom to take a proper shower.
I wheezed, massaging my stomach as I straightened up. I shrugged it off. Honestly? I deserved it, but atleast it was worth it the efforts.
Leaving her to her panic attack, I dragged my feet over to my work cubicle in the corner of the room. Two beaten-up monitors, a mechanical keyboard, and empty Kirley's coffee cans, noodle splatters and hardened chocolate remains since Heian era scattered everywhere, but tbh, it was a nightmare fuel for municipal corporation. I wiggled the mouse to wake up the screen. I had left a heavy cracking software running overnight on a newly released game, "The Knight's fight in the night".
My eyes zeroed in on the progress bar.
89%.
Are you shitting me!!?
The bathroom door opened, and Remila stumbled out, panting, her hair a messy, half-towel-dried clown. She was furiously buttoning up her work shirt.
"Breakfast??," she demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.
I didn't even look away from the monitor. I just shrugged. "I'm tired. Have it outside."
She froze. From my peripheral vision, I could see her glaring at me in sheer disbelief, probably calculating whether or not she had the time to unalive me and hide the body before her shift.
"I'll be back," she sneered, grabbing her bag.
"Have a great day!" I shouted, with the enthusiasm that'd make a corpse's heart flutter.
SLAM.
The door rattled on its hinges. I let out a heavy sigh, staring at the screen. 89%. Not moving.
My stomach gave a hollow growl, like a dog would do for it's meal. Right. Food!.
I walked into the kitchen, which was emptier than an abandoned, post-apocalyptic warehouse. I bypassed the empty shelves and reached into the absolute darkest corner of the bottom cabinet. Tucked away like contraband, I pulled out a packet of instant spicy noodles I had specifically hidden from her. Then, I dug into the deepest corner of the fridge, right behind a container of questionable leftovers, and retrieved my last bottle of soda. Classic 3rd grader broke survival instincts.
I heated the water, prepped the sad meal, and walked back to my desk, shoving a forkful of noodles into my mouth.
I glanced at the screen.
89%.
I closed my eyes. Maybe if I stopped looking at it, the damn thing would finish. I chewed slowly, swallowed, and opened my eyes.
89%.
"FUCK!" I spat.
Frustrated, I minimized the cracking software and pulled up my browser. I missed yesterday night's episode of my absolute fucking favorite anime "Get-a-Girlfriend", an absolute masterpiece of masochistism, because of her little convenience, the store side-quest. Huh what a pain the ahh. I hit play, leaning back and sipping my cold soda, letting the Maso-MC distract me from my miserable reality.
Twenty minutes later, the ending credits rolled. I cracked my knuckles, ready to finally see my masterpiece completed.
I opened the software tab.
89%.
I raised my fist and slammed it down onto the desk—but stopped mid-air and let it hit the wood lightly. I couldn't risk breaking this desk. It was Remila's , and if anything happens to it, I'd be playing harmonica on the streets.
I rubbed my face in pure frustration, pushed the chair back, and threw myself onto the bed. I stared up at the ceiling, my mind wandering back to last night. The neon lights, her dragging me down the street, her stupid grin when she tossed me my favorite coffee.
But as I lay there, listening to the quiet hum of my PC fans, I couldn't help but sigh.
I rolled my head to the side, glaring at the monitor one last time.
Still 89%.
Yeah, yeah. Calm down, take a deep breath in through the nose...out through the mouth.
shanti...shanti...shanti
"Hooooof" I exhale with the utmost calmness.
"FOR THE FUCKING LOVE OF LORD, JUST FINISH ALREADY YOU RAGE-BAITING BASTARD!!!!!"