The next day came a Sunday morning, the sunrise streaming through the small window and across the bed. Ryan turned onto his other side to avoid it. His head ached badly and all he wanted was more sleep.
His eyes fluttered open lazily as his eyes caught sight of something that looked like a head. Startled, he snapped fully awake to the view of Ethan standing at his bedside, leaning forward. His forearms were folded on the mattress with his head resting on them and his bright eyes fixed intensely on Ryan. The kind of look that screamed way too much curiosity with a mix of anticipation and excitement.
"What are you doing?" Ryan mumbled, voice low and thick as he rubbed at his eyes.
"Nothing," Ethan replied with a wry smile and not looking away. "Don't worry about me. You can go on with your sleep." A pause. "Or do you want breakfast-in-bed first?"
Ryan pushed himself up slowly, squinting at him, trying to figure out why Ethan was acting… off, like way out of his usual self.
"Oh," Ethan added casually, looking over the table clock to check the time. "It's one p.m., so I guess that makes it lunch-in-bed then."
Ryan frowned. "Ethan," he said slowly, eyes half-lidded as he moved to a sitting position, "what's wrong with you? Why're you acting like you want to pull off something weird?" He rubbed his forehead, the ache hitting harder now. "By the way… how did I get back last night?"
Ethan tilted his head. "You don't remember anything?"
Ryan's brows furrowed, a hint of worry settling in. "Nah. Everything kinda stops at talking to some dude at the party and..."
Ethan cut in sharply. "Was it Adrian?"
"Adrian?" Ryan repeated in surprise, searching Ethan's face for a joke that wasn't there. He scoffed. "Why would Adrian be comfortably sitting at a bar with me just to ramble some words about himself?" He shook his head. "The day that happens, I'll buy you a PS5 controller."
"Are you for real?"
"I mean, when it happens," Ryan added. "But it won't, right? Not with the Adrian I know," he sighed.
Ethan stared at him. "Not with the Adrian you know?" A pause. "Then why did I have to pick you up from Adrian's apartment?"
Ryan froze at the spot.
"You picked me up from Adrian's apartment?" he shouted, eyes widening in total shock and disbelief.
"Yeah," he said, nodding. "Not really inside his apartment precisely, but at an outside bench with some older dude." He rolled his eyes, clicking his teeth. "Too bad it wasn't Adrian, though. But it's still Adrian's apartment, so what were you doing there? How did you get there? What the heck happened?" He paused, "And why are you suddenly going silent when I'm here dying of curiosity and suspense?"
Ryan's eyes hovered on Ethan's face as though he could recall anything from it, while silently hoping Ethan would shout that it was all a prank. He hated this turmoil.
"See, I had a blackout, okay? Really, you shouldn't expect that I remember everything that happened," he pursed his lips, trying to sound convincing.
"Nah, I'm not buying that," Ethan persisted, refusing to give up, and leaned in closer. " There should be something at least, even if it's just a flicker."
"There's really nothing, okay?" Ryan adjusted himself on the bed, gesturing with his hands. "Besides, we can just see it this way: I went to the party partly because of Adrian, right? I wouldn't even have been there if Adrian had accepted my proposal in the first place. Then there's you leaving me all alone, so I drank myself to stupor." His voice picked up pace, words tumbling over each other. "How I ended up at Adrian's place could just be because of the drinks. Yeah, that's it. And because Adrian was on my mind the whole time, I must've entered a taxi and given him the address of the person on my mind, which must be Adrian's." He jabbed a finger at Ethan, snapping it for emphasis, slapping his lap. "That should be what played out."
Still not entirely convinced, Ethan squinted, pursing his lips. "Fine, let's assume that's what took place. But how come you even have Adrian's address in your head at that point, huh? It would've been believable if you were a fanboy like me…"
"Hey, come on," Ryan nudged him, letting out a small, awkward laugh. "This is someone I've been trying to get as a tutor. Obviously, I'd do a little research on my own, you know, just to get him to agree." He shrugged, hoping Ethan would buy it.
It was a lie, though.
There was no way he was telling Ethan the real reason he knew Adrian's address. No way Ethan would ever know about that other night.
A short silence hung between them. Ethan peered at Ryan like he was trying to dig a hole straight into his soul, like that'd help uncover the secrets. Well, Ryan stayed composed throughout it all. Cause if anything, he was really good at lying.
"Well," Ethan finally said, breaking the tension, his voice softer now. "That one's plausible." He leaned back, moving away from the bed.
Ryan let out a long sigh, relief flooding him, thinking he'd won this round... until Ethan's gaze caught something. "What's that on your neck?"
"What's what?!" Ryan groaned, exhausted from Ethan's persistence.
"There's a purple mark on your neck," he said, pointing it out with his own neck.
"Huh?…" A confused look crossed his face as he made to grab the nearest mirror from the small shelf attached to the wall. "What's this?" His brows narrowed, studying the dark purple mark, "This has never happened before. Could it be a skin reaction or something?" He pulled at the collar of his tight shirt, discovering three other deep marks scattered across his neck.
"Maybe you should check it at a pharmacy later," Ethan suggested.
"I think it's just a skin reaction. It can't be anything that serious," Ryan said, pushing it aside. "Besides, I don't have that much money to spend on it, so it'll disappear on its own."
They both sounded completely oblivious... and almost innocent.
"Well, whatever you're okay with… So, um, how did the party go before you blacked out? Were you able to talk to anyone? Oh, you mentioned the guy who sat at the bar with you…"
Their little banter finally eased into a relaxed rhythm. With Ryan talking about how the man had rambled endlessly about himself, and Ethan giving vivid details about the pretty girls he had danced with and noticed at the party. The talk drifted into a playful back and forth, dissolving the earlier tension like it never happened
_____________________
By the time evening came, just before the sun would set into darkness, Ryan climbed down from the bunk bed. Their chattering had ended a while ago, but he had to stay back in bed cause the throbbing in his head wouldn't stop, and he needed more rest, as well, after all the conversation.
But now the pain had subsided just a little after he took a painkiller. He shuffled to the kitchenette to make himself a hangover porridge, swearing he'd never drink like that again. He had only been that drunk once before, years ago in high school, claiming it wasn't willingly but a result of peer pressure. He had blacked out then too, but the aftereffects were not as brutal as now. And since that day, he'd been trying to limit himself to just two glasses at most for strong alcoholic drinks.
A quiet relief washed over him, grateful that the party had been on a Saturday night. At least his hangover wasn't hitting him on a weekday, when he usually worked. And Sundays were his rest days, so lying in agony didn't bother him that much, except for the pain it brought.
He poured oats and milk into a pot, letting them simmer for a few minutes, and in less than fifteen minutes, the porridge was ready. He sat at the counter, slowly devouring the warm meal, feeling the relief creep in bit by bit.
When he finished, he went to take his first bath of the day, and that's when he realized he hadn't changed out of the clothes he wore to the party. He knew they felt really uncomfortable, so how had he managed to sleep in them, and even leaving them on this long?
He stepped into the bathroom, turning the lights on. The steamed air brushed his skin as he tugged off the clothes, setting them aside. Before turning to the shower, he paused in front of the mirror, his hands resting on the edge of the sink. His eyes widened in shock at the sight of his reflection.
"What the fuck did I take to cause this?" he muttered, turning and surveying his body. The mark he had seen on his neck earlier wasn't even close to the full extent of the ones spread across him. They were scattered everywhere, his chest, his arms, even on his nips.
"I really should ask Ethan for the location of that pharmacy," he muttered, seriously inspecting the marks and trying to figure out how they'd come about.
He wasn't the type to get sick often, so why an allergy now?
"Was it the drink?" he wondered, then pushed the thought aside, stepping into the shower. He decided to visit the pharmacy as soon as he's done showering, before nightfall.
And not only were the marks there, they ached too, especially the ones on his chest. The tight shirt he'd been wearing had compressed him and hid the soreness at first, but now every scrub sent sharp stings through his skin. He moved carefully, stretching the shower longer than usual, and cursing under his breath at each painful scrub.
By the time he was done, all his strength was completely drained away. He climbed onto the bed, postponing the pharmacy trip until the next day. Ethan was already fast asleep on the lower bunk, so Ryan would have to wait to make his inquiry.
He hated hospitals and pharmacies, especially the way it smelled of medicine and how it made him want to vomit. He hated how those long checkups were, and having to explain his issues to someone. He hated spending money on something, whether cheap or expensive, and how it might or might not even work. So he grabbed his phone and typed, "cheapest ointment for skin allergy reaction" on the search browser. After scrolling for a few minutes, he found something cheap but effective enough. Satisfied, he tucked his phone under his pillow, carefully lying down and trying to avoid any movement that might trigger the pain the marks caused.
For someone who had slept through half the day, he still drifted off the moment his eyes closed, as though his body were far more exhausted than it should have been.
Deep into that sleep, his phone buzzed. A message dropped in, cutting through the quiet of the room.