—

  —

  The elevator door swung open, and I staggered out, fearing that my legs might buckle under me. Today had been gruelling, and every muscle in my body ached. When I eventually made it to my room, I searched through my pockets for the key, but it was nowhere to be found.

  I frantically searched all five of my jeans' pockets, but I came up empty-handed, my frustration bubbling up.

  “God damn it,” I muttered, hazily recalling that Quentin had earlier requested my key. I was sure he’d given me a reason, but I couldn’t recall it now. I was completely exhausted by the notion of trekking to the Yellow Dorm Tower, where his room was located.

  “Hey, you good?” A voice cut through my fog of frustration. I glanced up to see my next-door neighbour, standing there looking worried. I let out a deep, exasperated sigh, not in the mood to deal with him.

  “It’s nothing. You can leave now,” I stated firmly, using a harsher tone than intended. He looked at me seriously for a moment, then turned to unlock his door.

  “If you say so, I’ll leave you to it,” he said before vanishing into his room and shutting the door. He could have offered help, but I didn’t want it, especially not from him. My animosity towards him was inexplicable—perhaps it stemmed from the unusual way he had entered the school or the way he had effortlessly outperformed everyone, including me. Regardless of the cause, I wasn't prepared to face that.

  Sick from standing, I let out a deep breath and sank to the ground. The cold night air seeped into my bones, and I knew that staying out here would be unbearable. I needed to figure something out before hypothermia set in.

  “Come in.” My train of thought was interrupted by a familiar voice. When my gaze lifted, I saw my neighbour standing by his open door, gesturing for me to enter.

  “What did you say?” I asked, surprised and needing confirmation.

  “I said you can come in,” he reiterated. I let out a small, incredulous chuckle.

  “I didn’t ask, nor do I need your help,” I replied, still clung obstinately to my pride.

  “I doubt that’s the case,” he responded in a calm voice. “Unless you’re ready to get hypothermia, I suggest you come in.” He disappeared back into his room, leaving the door open as a gesture of welcome.

  With clenched teeth, I felt the cold already piercing my flesh. With a resigned sigh, I forced myself to get up and grudgingly entered his room, shutting the door behind me. He was in the kitchen, busy preparing something.

  “Make yourself at home,” he said without looking up, his hands deftly moving. I stood awkwardly by the entrance, not knowing just what to do.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, feeling a mix of gratitude and irritation.

  “You can sit anywhere. I'll be with you in a minute,” he added and turned back to his task. I nodded, moved to the desk chair, and attempted to unwind by sitting down and crossing my arms. My gaze wandered around his room, taking in the neatly organised shelves and minimalistic setup. Eventually, I closed my eyes, trying to gather my thoughts.

  “Here you go,” he said and I opened my eyes to find him holding out a steaming cup. “It’s hot tea. It should help you feel warm. Hope you like it.” He smiled at me as I accepted the cup and tried to figure out what kind of tea it was. Being picky, I usually avoided unfamiliar flavours, but given the circumstances, I decided to give it a try.

  “Thanks,” I said, and he returned to his bed, sitting down and taking a sip from his own cup.

  “You’re a strange one,” I said and observed a subtle shift in his expression.

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  “How so?” he questioned, with an eyebrow raised.

  “You have no obligation to help me,” I pointed out.

  “You’re my Senpai. You think I’ll just leave you out in the cold like that? That would make me a bad kouhai and neighbour,” he said, taking another sip. A weird silence settled over us. I swirled the tea in my cup, occasionally glancing at him. He seemed at ease, not minding my presence.

  Finally, I decided to try the tea. I recoiled a little as the strong flavour of sugar struck my tongue. I rested the cup on the desk, needing a moment to recover.

  “Not to your liking?” he asked, noticing my reaction.

  “It’s too sweet,” I admitted.

  “Oh?” He apologised by lowering his head. “Sorry about that. I thought I added just a little.”

  “No big deal,” I said, waving it off. We were engulfed in silence again, and I leaned back on the chair and closed my eyes.

  “You can sleep on the bed,” he offered, surprising me.

  “What?” I questioned, opening my eyes to look at him.

  “I’m offering up my bed for you to use,” he emphasised.

  “I know that. I’m wondering why,” I said, still perplexed.

  “Well, I can always change out the bed sheets,” he replied. Just as I was going to ask him what he meant, he continued quickly.

  “Don’t misinterpret. I know you’ve been drinking, so you’re tipsy. I’m not sure how much, but if you do vomit when you get hungover, I was already planning on washing my bedsheet.”

  I was surprised by his nonchalant generosity as I just stared at him. This boy. The fact that he was willing to do all this for me was surprising. There was nothing else I could do if I wanted to turn down the offer. If it was obvious to him that I had been drinking, then the hostel master would be able to notice it as well.

  “What more can I do? It's not like I am in a position to refuse,” I uttered, accepting my fate. I stood up from the chair and walked towards the bed.

  “Uh. Well, I set up the sleeping mat for myself,” he said, glancing to the corner of the room, where he had placed a plain mat and a pillow. He dropped his now-empty cup on his desk, the sound of it hitting the surface breaking the brief silence that had settled between us.

  I saw him stoop to straighten the mat, using his hands to smooth out any creases. His movements were precise, almost ritualistic, as if he had done this many times before.

  “Are you sure about this?” I questioned, feeling a pang of guilt for taking his bed. “I can sleep on the mat if you want.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You need the bed more than I do right now. Just get some rest.” He said with a smile on his face.

  I lay back on the bed, pulling the blanket over myself. The warmth and comfort of the bed were a stark contrast to the cold hallway I had been resigned to just moments ago. I closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion take over.

  —

  —

  My eyes opened and I was soon hit by a massive wave of nausea and headache.

  “Fuck,” I moaned, struggling in bed and holding my head in my hands.

  “You’re finally awake,” a recognisable voice said. I turned my head slightly to see my neighbour seated at his desk, his phone and a laptop in front of him.

  I could do nothing except wallow in the agony of my hangover as the memories from last night gradually returned to me. I tried to soothe the pounding headache by massaging my temples.

  “How long have I been out?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

  “Well, it’s around 1 PM now,” he said, returning his attention to his laptop. “Plus, you got multiple calls. Don’t worry, I didn’t answer or look to see who it was.”

  “Thanks,” I said in a low tone, feeling grateful for his consideration of my personal space.

  “No problem. I thought you were going to chew me out for not waking you up when they called,” he said, chuckling.

  “I would have done that if you did wake me,” I shot back, forcing a weak smile.

  His chuckle was a light, effortless sound that took some of the edge off the situation. I forced myself to sit up, every movement sending waves of discomfort through my body. Upon retrieving my phone from the bedside table, I saw several missed calls and messages, dialling one of the numbers.

  “Dude, where have you been? We've been trying to reach you,” the voice on the other end of the line said, sounding relieved.

  “I’m good. Hurry up and bring my key over to Marcus’s room,” I said, trying not to stutter.

  “Marcus?” The person on the phone questioned, sounding confused.

  “Just come over to the room on the right side of mine,” I explained, closing my eyes to combat the lightheadedness.

  “Alright man, I'll be there in a sec.” He said and hung up. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and dropped the phone onto the bed, trying to focus through the fog in my mind.

  Marcus watched me for a moment, then turned back to his work, giving me space to recover. The faint clicks on his keyboard and the calm hum of his laptop were the only sounds that were being made.

  “Marcus, do you want to join us next time?” I questioned, breaking the silence and he looked over at me, arching an eyebrow.

  “Hmm, you guys would be drinking alcohol, right?” He asked.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “Then no, I can’t,” he answered and shook his head. “But if it was something sweet...” he trailed off, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

  “You got a deal; by the way, call me by my first name. It is Chikao.” I said, laughing. The movement made my head throb, but it felt good to laugh.