Resignation of Bien

Just Another Day

The ceiling was different, the walls were different, and the bed was too good. Bien slowly sat up, holding his head as a pang of pain spiked through it. Everything was black and white, modernized, and far too expensive to be his apartment. As he felt the cold brushing his shoulders, he realized he was only in his underwear.

"Shit!" he hissed, quickly looking for the rest of his clothes, which were scattered around the bed. After he dressed, he checked his pockets—phone and wallet were missing.

"Was I robbed?" he muttered, spinning around as he tried to recall the previous night. "What happened? Where am I? I was at the KTV, went to the restroom, came back... what happened next?" A few more turns and he found his phone and wallet on the bedside table, connected to a charger. He opened his wallet—everything was intact.

Bien tiptoed towards the door and pressed his ear against it. It was quiet. Maybe the door was too thick, or there wasn't anyone beyond it. He opened it slowly, trying not to make any noise.

From the doorway, he saw a black sofa in front of a huge television. The living room, probably. Adjacent to it was a black marble countertop, beyond which was out of his sight. Straight ahead looked like the main door—his way out. Bien tiptoed towards it. In his peripheral view, he saw a tall figure standing behind the countertop, which appeared to be the kitchen.

"You're becoming an expert at leaving without a word," Christian voiced.

Christian?! Bien slowly turned his head and confirmed it was Christian, half-nakedly holding a mug of coffee. His shoulders were broad, his collarbone defined, and his abs looked like he had just finished a workout.

Bien quickly turned away. "Why are you topless? Have you no manners?"

Christian scoffed, and Bien felt him stride towards him.

"What are you doing?" Bien asked, his throat suddenly dry.

From behind Bien, Christian's arm reached for his top on the sofa. "Getting my manners," Christian whispered in his ear. Christian put on his shirt and whispered again, "Breakfast is on the table."

Bien started walking. "I'm not hungry, thanks." But Christian held his hand and pulled him toward the dining area.

"I canceled morning meetings so I could cook you breakfast. The least you could do is eat it."

Bien sat down. In front of him was a typical breakfast: hotdogs, scrambled eggs—he preferred them more than sunny side up—fried rice with peas and carrots, and toast.

"I told you, I'm not hungry," said Bien. Then his stomach rumbled.

Christian tsked. "Don't you know it's bad to lie?"

Bien rolled his eyes. "Fine! I'll eat." After a few spoonfuls, Bien asked reluctantly, "What happened last night?"

"What happened is that a stupid person drank even though he knew he couldn't hold his liquor. Since nobody knew where he lived, I had to take him here."

"Axel knows where I live," said Bien. "He was supposed to pick me up when we went to Perez Park. Anna has my files; she knows where I live too."

Christian stared blankly into the air. "Damn you, Axel!"

"You know where I live; you've been there. Why take me here? What did you do to me?"

"I was drunk. Driving that far wouldn't be safe," Christian quickly replied. "And I did nothing to you, excuse me."

"Then why was I naked..." Bien paused, "when I woke up?"

"How should I know? I slept on the sofa and gave you the bed."