As Yating took the beer from Ma Dong, his hand trembled. The club, the crowd, the people, the music - everything had turned eerily silent as he stepped back to those high school times.
'Yating, save me! Please hold my hand! I-I am going to fall!'
Ma Dong had pleaded from the third floor's window as he had looked at Yating with desperation and horror, who held his arm and tried to pull him up.
But Yating couldn't save him. The hand slipped and so did Ma Dong, who crashed on the ground.
*CRASH*
The sound of glass breaking sharply tore through the air, snapping Yating's daze. He looked down and saw the glass shattered into pieces. The beer spilled on the floor. He stared at the cracked glass, its image overlapping with Ma Dong who had fell on the ground just like the glass.
"Oh God Yating, are you okay?"
Yating slowly glanced at his side. He recognized Chyou's voice, but her face looked blurry to him. He felt her concern and worry but couldn't see the tense brows pressing together.
She took a look at his hands and sighed in relief. "Thankfully, you aren't hurt. Yating…?"
His eyes seemed lost and unfocused. Chyou failed to understand what went wrong.
He was fine a minute ago…
She looked up at the waiter and apologized for the accident. "We are sorry for the glass. We will pay for it…"
But even his expression was that of discomfort and a palpable tension. She alternated her gaze between them and frowned.
Why are they looking like this?
Yating breathed hard and suddenly stood on his feet. He felt the whole space going wobbly and he hoarsely said, "I-I will be back…"
"Yating, wait…!"
But he was already gone. The director and other staff members were puzzled too.
"What happened to Sir Gu suddenly?"
"He looked so pale. Don't tell me the hotpot didn't suit him?"
Ma Dong stepped aside to bring a broom and collect the broken glass shards. He then wiped the spilled beer and smiled. "It's all clean."
Chyou said, "Thank you so much. I apologize again for the bother."
"No, no please don't apologize, Mam. It's my job, after all."
As he left, Chyou worriedly glanced in the direction of the washroom.
Are you okay, Yating…?
—
Yating wasn't okay. He was leaning against the wash basin, breathing hard. He would take a deep, uneasy breath and exhale it, yet that failed to stop the sweat trickling down his forehead.
'Dong was supposed to head to California this year…'
'What if…what if he has to live a crippled life forever?'
'Gu Yating is responsible for this. He clearly feels guilty and ashamed! The damage that he has caused, you will have to bear the compensation for it or we will go to the police!'
He stared at the tap water running without blinking. He clutched his head, a dull ache grasping it.
Dong…Dong…
What is he doing here? He works at this club?
He switched off the tap and closed his eyes. It was after years that he reunited with his good friend, but there wasn't an ounce of thrill in the meeting. Instead, it only evoked the past nightmare and guilt. He tried to calm his racing heart and normalize his breaths.
*BANG*
Yating jolted with the sudden loud bang on one of the doors of a washroom stall. It felt like an angry man taking out his frustrations on the door.
"Fuck, fuck!"
Yating was going to ignore the rant of this stranger when he heard him curse. Yating's eyes widened and he slowly walked forward. He stood in front of the stall. A voice from inside angrily came out once again.
"What the hell? Go to some other stall! Aren't there so many unoccupied outside? Why are you lining up here?"
Yating realized that he must have seen his shoes from the gap below the below.
"...Cheng Yin?"
A sharp silence descended.
"You okay, Cheng Yin? You sound…pissed."
He didn't respond, but Yating could hear sounds of some panicked fumbling from inside. He faintly heard a sound of plastic crumbling and ragged, hoarse breaths.
He knocked on the door. "Cheng Yin, are you okay? I am getting worried…Should I call Chyou?"
"No!" He exclaimed without hesitation. "I am fine!"
Why is he so agitated? Yating was taken aback with his tone.
There was an urgent banging of the trash bin cover and a moment later, Yin stepped out. He showed a smile or at least tried to. "Hey."
"Hey back. Why did you bang the door so loudly? You sounded really pissed."
Yin laughed. "Pissed? Why would I be pissed? Oh don't worry about that noise. It's embarassing. There was wetness on the floor so I almost slipped and my foot hit the door."
But you also cursed 'Fuck, fuck' quite angrily, Yating thought as he stared at him. Should I mention that?
Yating slightly frowned looking at his face.
His eyes look…dizzy?
Yin cleared his throat. "I will go back. Chyou must be missing me already haha."
He didn't meet Yating's eyes anymore and quickly left the washroom. Something still unsettled Yating's heart as if he knew that wasn't the complete story he said.
What was that plastic crushing sound?
Yating pushed the door open and looked down at the floor. He blinked.
There wasn't any trace of wetness on the floor or any sign that Yin had slipped. There wasn't a speck of disturbance or any graze of friction from his shoes against the floor. The floor was spot clean and dry.
He lied. He really did kick the door on purpose. But why was he so angry?
His gaze fell to the trash can, and he paused. He surmised that Yin threw something in the trash.
He hesitated.
He felt he was poking his nose into matters where it didn't belong, but seeing his violent outburst for no good reason didn't settle well with him.
Yating pressed his foot on the trash can's peddle and peered inside as the cover lifted up. He immediately found a small empty and crushed plastic packet sitting on the top. He tore a piece of some toilet roll paper and using, it he grabbed the packet.
Yating stared at its front and back, confused.
What is this?
The plastic was empty but he could see a thin coating of something powdery along the packet's walls. Yating took a very light whiff from a distance and he coughed hard, widening his eyes.
He stared at the packet, flabbergasted. He thought back to Yin's eyes which looked woozy and lost.
What the hell…He was taking drugs?
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