The Hangover Chapter 3

To be honest, I wasn’t too surprised that Pokerface knew my address. With his abilities, I reckon he could get the address of the American president if he wanted to, let alone that tiny house of mine. What I was surprised about was that I somehow had gotten stuck to him like a piece of caramel candy ever since Fats started to go berserk, and the fact that he hadn’t flipped the table and called it quits. He actually stayed until the end of the party and even got in the car with me.   While I was focused on this feeling of surprise, the cab driver slammed on the gas and started racing down the street, fearless because there was no compet.i.tion on the streets this late at night. He practically drifted as he turned each corner, making me bounce in between the car window and Pokerface. I was petrified! What if we got into an accident?!   Pokerface paid for the cab and got off when we finally made it home. The moment he stepped out, he turned around to grab me by the shoulder and I got yanked out by his incredibly powerful grasp. Just as I hit the ground, I took a few steps forward to catch my balance and my head started spinning again. I could barely stand so I quickly crouched down.   I heard the revving of an engine behind me and the cab left. I was balled up like a mushroom on the side of the road with my knees tucked tightly in. I was trying to wait for all my brain functions to recalibrate before standing up again.   I heard footsteps pa.s.sing by me and stopping in front. A sense of pressure loomed down from above. It appeared that the person had crouched down as well and put a hand on my back.   Pokerface? He hasn’t left yet?   I peeked out between my arms to see a pair of semi-worn Camper shoes. It was his all right. I wanted to look up but my head felt so heavy so I kept rubbing my forehead to alleviate the aching. However, at that moment, my stomach churned, causing me much discomfort.   I was half-joking when I had said I’d never been drunk since university. I had been drunk all right, but not once had I been as drunk as this time. At least I had been able to walk by myself. Normally, the one pa.s.sed out on the ground wasn’t me and I often had to take care of the ones who were. Thus, I completely understood how annoying and disgusting it was to take care of a drunken b.a.s.t.a.r.d, yet I was that b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I was conscious but my limp hands and feet just wouldn’t listen to me.   Pokerface didn’t rush me or push me but rather stroked my back with unbelievable patience. I couldn’t help thinking that he must have had previous experience taking care of drunk people.   Who was fortunate enough to have him do that?   Fortunate. Hah, that was actually what I thought.   “Keys,” he said while tapping me after what seemed like a minute. Or maybe it was an hour.   “Huh?” I looked up.   Keys? Oh right, keys. That’s how you get the door open.   Without much more thinking, I started rifling through my pant pocket with the astonishment of Columbus when he discovered the New World.   Keys, keys, keys. Where are you? I hear you tinkling so why can’t I pull you out?!   He probably didn’t want to wait until the sun rose for me to find my keys so he let out a quiettsk and reached into my pocket. In less than no time, he fished a string of keys out.   Once he got the keys, he got up and went to the door. I was still where I had been, listening to him inserting the keys with precision and getting the outer door and the inner door unlocked. The pair of Campers came back and then I was lifted up under my arms and dragged towards the house.   Throughout the process, all I saw was the asphalt road, the doorstep, the doormat, and then the wooden floor, and when this thing that was called a sofa came into sight, my vision experienced a blackout. By the time I realised, I was already lying flat on the sofa.   The metal door closed with a bang. The pitter-patter of Pokerface’s footsteps resonated in the house. I thought he would just leave after tossing me into my house. After all, his mission was complete. But it turned out that Pokerface was a good person and it seemed he was determined to see the whole thing through. His shadowy figure moved away and then approached. I felt my limp self being pushed upright off of the sofa. I squinted at his face but it was blurry.   “Water.” Something cold and hard was placed against my lips along with his simple utterance.   I moved my gaze down. He had pa.s.sed a gla.s.s of water to me. I didn’t think too much since he was the one who gave it to me and tilted my head back with the edge of the gla.s.s against my lips.   Once again, it turned out that it was hard being a good person.   The thought hadn’t even occurred to me when I was gulping down the water, what devastating results would ensue drinking more liquids when your stomach is already filled to the brim. By the time I realised this, the water had already slid down my throat, and when I opened my mouth to say ‘No!’ I ended up making an ‘urgh’ sound which was followed by a cascade of vomit.   Pokerface was quick to shrink back after grabbing the gla.s.s, but not quickly enough: nearly half of the barf sprayed onto him. Even though I did my best to cover my mouth, needless to say, the rest welled out of my mouth and dripped onto my body.   d.a.m.n, I just changed the sofa cover last week! I cried in my mind.   However, that wasn’t the most urgent thing at hand. Getting my own clothes dirty was fine—it was my own d.a.m.n fault—but Pokerface…he…   Honestly, my head cleared up quite a bit after puking and I recognized what a stupid thing I had done. I lowered my head while covering my mouth and stayed there in fear of the aura of death that stood before me.   But I couldn’t just keep it lowered. I mean, he brought me back home, paid for the cab, poured water for me and even had such an atrocious thing done to him. I had to apologize for my actions, right?   Tentatively, I glanced up. Pokerface was standing upright, and surely, his white s.h.i.+rt had become dark yellow. I was too afraid to look into his eyes because I was afraid daggers would come flying out at me. First, I rehea.r.s.ed my emotions and when I lifted my face, I had a lost-puppy look on it. “Xiaoge, I-I’m so sorry.”   Only the night light was on in the living room. In the dark, I saw his tightly balled up fist by his leg. I felt grateful all of a sudden—all the incense I had burned for those bodhisattvas were worth it—because he probably would have cut me in half if he had his black iron sword.   However, that hand disappeared from sight with a zoom and the next second it grabbed me by the collar and I was dragged up from the sofa.   Pokerface pulled me close to him. “Where is the bathroom?”   His voice was one octave lower than usual which made me shudder. I pointed my shaky hands towards the second floor. “In my room…there’s one.”   The moment I finished enunciating ‘one,’ I felt this menacing force coming for me and I closed my eyes instinctively as I thought it was a punch. However, my body suddenly spun around and my feet left the ground. Accompanying the overwhelming shock was the realisation that I was being carried horizontally!   Wh-wh-wh-what the h.e.l.l?!   Pokerface just carried me like he would a baby chick. He peered towards the second floor and his feet quickly followed. My arms swung and dangled in the air.   I was scared stiff, literally, and felt utterly embarra.s.sed. He was taller than me but if I took a picture with him, I would definitely take up more of it! It wasn’t like I wanted a large frame. However, this contrast didn’t seem to bother him. He practically fled up the stairs.   There was only one room on the second floor. When we arrived at the door, it was half-open but Pokerface kicked it open with a bang so loud that I thought my door was probably broken. But rather than worrying about the door, it was a better idea to worry about my fate.   He scanned the room. The door to the bathroom was to the left hand side and he found it very quickly. He first took a few steps in, stood me upright on the floor and opened the bathroom door, shoving me in with a swipe of his arm. This shove knocked me straight into the bathroom, making me trip over my own feet. The bathtub suddenly enlarged before my eyes. My knees buckled and my body limped over. I collapsed over the edge of the tub.   Sprawled out on the tub, my mind was still a mess and was not going to settle down any time soon. As I was using my remaining bits of logic to determine what to do next, the door behind me clicked open after being closed for less than a minute.   Almost instinctively, I turned to look. I could make out Pokerface coming towards me through my blurry vision. He was almost nude, the only article of clothing left being a pair of square-cut briefs.   He drew closer and closer. My mind had cleared up quite a bit but I still wasn’t sure how angry he was. Erring on the safe side, I slumped back onto the edge of the tub, letting my arms go limp and closing my eyes to pretend to be a man on his deathbed.   He wouldn’t beat up an unconscious guy even if he was furious, would he? I kept wis.h.i.+ng in my head. Even though he usually looked very cold, I wanted to believe that he had a compa.s.sionate heart.   He stopped beside me. I wondered what he had thought after seeing a full-grown adult playing dead by a bathtub. However, he didn’t say much as he lifted me up by the arm and turned me to face him.   I shut my eyelids but my eyeb.a.l.l.s wouldn’t stop pulsing. I hoped he didn’t notice.    Compared to the menacing air from earlier, the Pokerface in front of me seemed to be gentler—although I had my eyes shut and couldn’t see a thing. He let me lean on his shoulder while he pushed my arms up high and then he reached for the bottom of my V-neck s.h.i.+rt, pulling the garment all the way up.   I think it was tossed away after the sleeves left my arms since I heard the shuffle of cloth against the ground. I took this as the absence of danger so I opened my eyes a crack. He was very close to me so I couldn’t tell if he was mad.   Then I felt his icy cold fingers sliding down along my abdomen and unbuckling my belt.