WMMAP - [S2] Shelter You

40: The Other Side Of Me

The humidity of the glass-framed store did so little to help with the weather outside. With his hand right below his chin, Ezekiel pondered as he breathed out an inhale through his nose while standing in front of specific shelves that contained countless choices of liquor.

"Thirty-five... forty... fifty-five..."

He murmured the numbers of the alcohol content on the bottle. His golden eyes lit up when he found a higher number.

Deciding what to buy, he reached for a rectified spirit bottle.

"Ah! Eighty percent. This would be perfect."

"Perfect for your funeral? Yeah, probably."

Ezekiel frowned at the remark as he heard the voice. However, the white-haired man withdrew his arm to his side before turning to his friend, who slowly walked toward him, not much in a hurry.

Lucas stopped in front of Ezekiel. His eyes averted and he scanned for the shelves next to them, then picked up one of the cotton boxes, checked the label, grabbed hold of the chocolate cereal box, and pretended to read the mutational facts at the back.

"As much as I don't like you, I don't want you to die," said Lucas. "So don't even try to touch it."

"Oh, I am not just touching it. I am purchasing it."

"Be the bigger person you are and listen to me, Whitey. It's weird enough that I'm here to put you back in line."

"I never needed to put it back in the first place."

"Well, your fiance out there said otherwise."

With his brows tied together, the white-haired man found himself reaching for the liquor again.

"I thought fancy and rich people like you only dined and drank wine of the highest quality. Not that garbage."

Once again, he hesitated after he heard what his friend said.

"I just... need a drink."

"I have the whisky in the car, remember? It may not be the most expensive, but it's... good, I think? Newly bought if you excluded Athy, who had two sips. We can all share if you want to drink."

"It is fine. I am taking the yield of this for myself."

"If you drink that, you would be out for forty-two days, not four. Or worse, your liver will fail you before you can even marry your fiance out there. Choose wisely, Whitey."

"You are lecturing me about internal organ health as if you haven't been abusing your liver with alcohol."

"It's not an abusion if I only drank when needed." Lucas shrugged carelessly. "It helped me get through the nights, so why not?"

"You were drinking on the job during the excursion, Lucas. Our points were gravely deducted."

He snorted, "Those rats sold us out. Had they shut the fuck up, we would—"

"All you needed to do was join us by the fire."

"If it were just you and Cabel, I wouldn't have to drink it. I don't like being put in a group of strangers."

Lucas groaned as he combed his hair backward. A habit of his whenever he felt annoyed. "Enough about this shit. Put that wine down and try to find your five percent whisky, and let's go."

Ezekiel's expression dimmed as if he were offended. He grabbed the bottle of liquor without a word, and Lucas warned.

"Whitey. Put that shit away."

Ezekiel stayed silent as he marched on, bumping Lucas on the shoulder along the way, which made Lucas widen his eyes a little because he was sure that there was enough space to move. More importantly, Ezekiel would not act so impudently and out of impulse like this.