North sat at the dimly lit table, the air thick with the tang of alcohol and the
buzz of chaotic conversation around him. The night sky loomed overhead,
heavy with the promise of rain. He was here for a distraction, to find some
fleeting joy, but the bitter burn of the liquor in his glass barely dulled the
ache inside him.
He drained the glass in one swift motion, the heat rushing from his throat to
his stomach, and poured himself another. Across from him, Chai watched
with a mix of amusement and exasperation.
"North, you're drinking too fast," Chai chided, his brows furrowing. "I can't
keep up with you!"
"Then don't," North replied bluntly, reaching for the bottle.
But before he could grasp it, Duen Nao, ever the cautious one, snatched it
away. "You're reckless," Duen Nao muttered, shaking his head. "Take this
instead." He shoved another glass toward North, though his concern was
clear.
North downed it without hesitation. "I'm not stubborn," he said, the words
slurring slightly as he reached over to ruffle Duen Nao's hair. "I'm just... not
strong enough to handle this."
"Not strong enough?" Chai chuckled. "Your throat's stronger than your
heart, my friend."
North laughed, though it rang hollow. His friends were right—he wasn't
drinking to celebrate. Winning the lottery might have been a cause for joy,
but his heart felt as though it had been left in pieces.
His thoughts drifted to Ja Jan, his ex-girlfriend, the one who had chosen
stability over him. Her words echoed in his mind: "I want someone with a
future. We're not kids anymore." She had left him for Dr. Temp, a name that
made North's stomach churn.
Chai's voice broke through his thoughts. "North, are you even listening?"
"Yeah," North muttered, though his focus remained elsewhere.
The conversation meandered, the group joking and reminiscing about their
time in engineering school. But the carefree banter was cut short when Chai
suddenly pointed toward a nearby table.
"North... is that Temp?"
North's gaze followed the direction of Chai's hand, and his blood ran cold.
It was him—Dr. Temp, sitting comfortably, his arm around another woman.
Without thinking, North shoved his chair back and staggered toward Temp's
table, ignoring the protests of his friends.
"What the hell are you doing?!" North's voice thundered, drawing the
attention of everyone nearby.
Temp's expression flickered with surprise before settling into a smug smile.
"North," he said, rising to his feet.
But North wasn't interested in pleasantries. His fist connected with Temp's
face, sending the man stumbling backward as gasps and murmurs rippled
through the crowd.
"How dare you betray her like that!" North shouted, his voice hoarse with
anger and alcohol.
Temp wiped the blood from his lip, still smirking. "You're one to talk," he
said coldly.
North lunged again, but this time his friends intervened, dragging him away
as the commotion escalated. In the chaos, punches were thrown, accusations
hurled, and the tension in the small bar boiled over.
The last thing North remembered was the taste of blood in his mouth and
the distant sound of his friends calling his name before darkness overtook
him.
~~~~
When North awoke, pain throbbed through his body, and the faint scent of
cologne filled his senses. His head swam, his memories of the fight blurry.
"Who gave you so much to drink?" a deep, unfamiliar voice asked.
North groaned, unable to form a coherent response. As he shifted, nausea
overtook him, and he barely managed to lean forward before retching
violently.
"Watch it!" the voice exclaimed, followed by a muttered curse. Through the
haze of his pounding head and the embarrassment of the moment, North
tried to make sense of where he was—and who had saved him.