Ren just went ahead to eat, wash up and the next thing he knew, he was fast asleep.
Buzz…
Buzz…
The room was dark when Ren's phone started buzzing again.
He groaned, turning over, his face half-buried in his pillow as the vibration rattled on the nightstand.
The first buzz stopped, only to be replaced seconds later by another one, and then the familiar jingle of a call. His phone was ringing.
He squinted through sleep-blurred eyes at the screen lighting up the dim space.
Lauren.
He blinked in disbelief. 'What the hell was she calling for at this hour?'
Ren swiped to answer, voice raspy. "Hello?"
The line clicked off before he could say more. He sighed, letting the phone fall onto his chest. Great. Just great. She'd called, woken him up, and then hung up.
He rubbed his eyes and sat up, the cool air of the room hitting his bare arms. Maybe she'd texted something. He'd read those before calling back. His thumb hovered over the screen just as it lit again — another incoming call.
He accepted it before the second ring.
"Finally!" Lauren's voice slurred through the speaker, sharp yet unmistakably tipsy. "You sure love ignoring people, don't you?"
Ren leaned back against the headboard, suppressing a sigh. "It's one in the morning, Lauren. I was asleep."
"So you say," she muttered, the background noise of music and chatter leaking through the call. "I texted you. Like, five times. You just… what? Decided I wasn't worth answering?"
He rubbed at his temple. "I didn't see them. You literally just woke me up with your call."
Lauren made a dismissive sound, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "Always excuses. Do you treat everyone this way, or am I just special?"
"You're drunk," Ren said flatly.
"So what? I'm allowed to have fun." Her tone dipped suddenly, half serious, half playful. "Unless you're jealous?"
He was too tired for this. "What do you want, Lauren?"
There was a pause. He could hear her exhale into the phone, followed by a faint hiccup. Then her voice returned, clearer this time, tinged with amusement.
"I need a favor," she said.
Ren's jaw tightened. "In the middle of the night?"
"Yes," she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I ordered something earlier, and the delivery guy just called. They won't release it unless someone signs for it. I can't leave but I'm at the club."
Ren shut his eyes. "You want me to pick it up?"
"You're such a smart boy."
He laughed once, humorless. "You've got to be kidding."
"I'm not."
For a moment, neither spoke. The faint pulse of bass in the background, people laughing, and Lauren's unsteady breathing filled the silence.
Ren considered hanging up. He should hang up. But then a small thought slipped in — if he did this for her, she'd owe him. For once, she'd be the one in debt, even if just a little.
"Fine," he said finally. "Text me the address and the name."
Lauren's laugh was bright and smug. "Knew you'd come around. Make it quick, okay?"
The call ended, leaving Ren staring at his reflection in the dark phone screen.
Fifteen minutes later, he was outside. The night air was cool and crisp, brushing against his skin as he zipped up his hoodie. The streets were quieter now, though occasional cars cut through the stillness with brief streaks of light.
The address Lauren sent led him across a few blocks to a small distribution office near the main road. The kind of place that stayed open too long for its own good.
He stepped into the pool of pale light spilling from a flickering lamp above the service counter. Behind it stood a man in his late forties, wearing a company jacket and the kind of expression that said he was seconds away from snapping.
"Let me guess," the man grumbled. "You're here for pickup?"
Ren nodded, showing him the message. "Yeah, for a certain Lauren. She said—"
"I know who," the man interrupted, already turning toward the back. "You're the third person today picking up her nonsense orders. You people think we don't have closing hours or what?"
Ren blinked. "It's still open, isn't it?"
"Barely." The man's muttering grew louder as he disappeared through a side door. "Five minutes later, and I'd be locking that gate. Kids these days…"
Ren sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. The place smelled faintly of cardboard and detergent. A clock ticked somewhere behind the counter. His phone buzzed in his pocket again — another message from Lauren, no doubt — but he ignored it.
He was too tired to entertain her right now.
The delivery man returned holding a small box wrapped in dull brown tape. He set it on the counter with a thud and handed Ren a clipboard.
"Sign here."
Ren glanced at the package. It looked ordinary enough, but when he picked it up, he realized it was heavier than it appeared. Not unmanageable — just dense.
Whatever was inside wasn't fragile.
He scribbled his name on the sheet and handed the clipboard back. The man stared at him, clearly expecting something.
Ren hesitated, then sighed and reached for his wallet. "Sorry about the delay," he said, pulling out a few bills. "You probably wanted to be home already."
The man's expression softened slightly as he accepted the tip. "At least someone gets it," he muttered. "Tell your friend to pick up her own junk next time."
Ren nodded. "Trust me, I'd love that too."
He tucked the package under his arm and stepped back into the quiet street. The light from the delivery office stretched long shadows across the pavement, and for a moment, the world felt unusually still.
His phone buzzed again in his pocket.
He didn't check it right away. Instead, he walked, his footsteps echoing faintly in the cool air.
The box was warm now — probably from being inside the office, he reasoned — but still, it felt different. As if the longer he held it, the more aware he became of its weight, its presence.
He shook his head, brushing the thought away. He was tired. That was all.
At the intersection, a streetlight flickered overhead, bathing him in brief flashes of yellow and shadow. He tightened his grip on the package and kept walking.
By the time he reached the end of the block, the delivery office lights had gone out behind him.
He glanced at his phone one more time. No new messages — just the faint glow of a notification from that same unfamiliar app.
He ignored it and turned toward home, the sound of his own footsteps following him through the quiet night.