“What a sight.”
In Haimar’s eyes, it was truly a spectacle.
Alcohol bottles were strewn about messily on the floor, and the table was a feast of glasses in all sorts of colors—blue, green, pink, and so on.
Furthermore, the attire of Ben and Xenon tangled up on the sofa was completely different from what he remembered them wearing today, and the gathering, which was labeled a drinking party, was closer to a mess.
“The start time wasn’t six o’clock, was it?”
“Such amateur talk. When it comes to drinking, the earlier, the better.”
Even while exchanging words with Ellyn, Haimar’s eyes were fixed on Ben.
Ben saw Haimar, too, but perhaps because he had consumed a lot of alcohol, the fact that Haimar was here didn’t quite register.
Was it because the atmosphere was too alien?
Even though Haimar was within arm’s reach, Ben felt like he was watching him through a glass screen, like on a smartphone.
Ben took an Absinthe glass, the first thing he saw, as if he were watching a video, and gently pulled Xenon’s limp arm off him.
“How much did you drink?”
Ah, it really is Haimar.
He felt a bit more grounded in reality from the cool body temperature transmitted through the hand that softly grasped his wrist.
He felt like the first few drinks were strong, but there were so many types that he was confused.
Still, he was within the acceptable limit.
His self-control was loose, but he hadn’t lost it.
“I… I don’t know.”
“He was taking the drinks so cutely that I got caught up in giving them to him. He’s a little drunk.”
“Huh…? I’m not drunk…”
It is rare for a person who is drunk to admit they are drunk.
Seeing that Ben’s eyes, ears, neck, visible between the ribbon, and even his legs were flushed red with alcohol, he was indeed drunk.
Ben, following the typical repertoire of a drunken person, grumbled in disbelief at the words no one would believe.
“You’re drunk. Let’s go home.”
“…I’m truly not drunk! Let go of me.”
It’s unfair.
His pronunciation was clear, and his mind was lucid, so how was this considered drunk?
There was still a mountain of untouched alcohol, and today was a day when the drinks went down unusually well, making his morning resolution to drink moderately meaningless.
Honestly, if he were to meticulously assign blame, his morning resolution crumbled because Haimar Eilec didn’t come sooner.
Of course, if they went over the details, Haimar had arrived on time, and Ben had arrived too early while trying to avoid him, but his mind, which had begun to engage in greatly leaps-and-bounds thinking due to the alcohol, made him abruptly pour out his pettiness toward the innocent Haimar.
He didn’t show up when I was looking for him.
And I even showed him my embarrassing outfit.
Why should I have to meekly follow him, as if he’s better than me?
Completely forgetting his longing from before, the tipsy Ben fully demonstrated his drunken behavior and stubbornly tried to pull his wrist free from the grip.
“I’m not going home. I’m going to sleep here… I’m going to sleep.”
“Oh, really? You’re going to sleep?”
“Yes.”
Recalling the headband, the ribbon, and his utterly insane outfit, he couldn’t even imagine how ridiculous he looked.
He knew it was embarrassing, so he wished Haimar wouldn’t look.
The thought quickly translated into action, and Ben tried to shake his arm off more fiercely, but Haimar’s hand wouldn’t let go, like a shackle.
On the contrary, he almost got pulled along by the soft yet strong tug, and Ben barely managed to maintain his sitting posture, clinging to the sofa.
“Ooh, then it’s two birds with one stone! I like it. Ben, do you want to sleep over?”
“Yes… I’m going to sleep over.”
“…S-sleep together…?”
Ellyn, who had gone behind the sofa, put an arm around Xenon and Ben, using them as shields, and laughed audaciously.
Ben pouted angrily, his lips protruding a foot out, and he turned his head away.
This was enough to thoroughly twist Haimar’s mood, and Ellyn gave him a sidelong glance, looking smug.
[Why are you so annoyed, unlike yourself? If the Esper is guided, the Guide should be allowed to do whatever they want. It’s not like there’s a shortage right now.]
Hmph, Guide.
Haimar, dumbfounded, let out a sigh instead of a reply.
It was the same question again, like a da capo sign.
When did the established relationship of Esper and Guide start feeling so unclear, leaving a sense of emptiness, as if something was missing?
Ellyn’s words, which were theoretically faultless, and the sight of Ben, in a completely unfamiliar outfit, held in someone else’s arms, both annoyed and bothered him.
There was absolutely no reason to tolerate it.
[By the way, what do you think of Ben? Isn’t he so cute? I really want to pinch him, along with our Xenon.]
“How about being grateful that your mouth is still attached?”
[Geez, you’re so scary, my pants are getting wet.]
He had tried to shut her up so she wouldn’t ramble, but Ellyn persistently rattled him with her thoughts.
The sudden silence and the fact that no one was talking made Ben feel something was odd, and he opened his mouth, tilting his head.
“Did you stop everyone from talking right now…? Don’t do that—”
“Ben Plaskun, come here. Before I have to pick you up and carry you out.”
He only said “come here,” but his arm had been held since before.
The fact that he hadn’t forcibly carried him away, even though he could, was the bare minimum of consideration.
However, Haimar’s grumpy attitude made Ben grumpy in return.
“No… I’m not going.”
“What is your complaint that makes you act like such a prick. If you want, I can act like your little bitch, at your beck and call.”
Haimar, who buried his lips into the palm of Ben’s hand that he was holding, growled softly.
Perhaps he had held back a lot; the sound, scraped out from his lowered throat, sent a chill down the spines of those nearby.
The timid Xenon and the chattering twins froze instantly, and even Ellyn, who was inherently brave and wore her guts on her sleeve, felt a chill down her spine for the first time in a long while.
But Ben didn’t feel a sense of crisis in that moment—he felt hurt.
He was angry.
Ben knew he was clearly angry.
But there was no need to get that angry, was there?
When there’s no need for guiding, he should be allowed to do what he wants sometimes.
He’s not my boyfriend.
Though it started with embarrassment and pettiness, his thoughts continued to chase each other due to the wicked influence of the alcohol.
This was all a problem because he liked Haimar.
If he didn’t, he wouldn’t constantly have his heart pounding self-consciously and his face flushing, nor would he try to avoid Haimar.
If it weren’t for him, this relationship would have had no issues, just as Hoaphilen had said.
But why was he so dissatisfied with the present that he kept getting greedy and ruining his inner peace?
He thought it would be easier to just blurt out a confession without thinking, but then the worry that he might ruin everything as she predicted and be harshly rejected took precedence.
The thought of being rejected made his heart ache.
The fantasy of Haimar accepting him didn’t even cross his mind.
At times like this, Ben wished he could read Haimar’s mind clearly.
What did Haimar think of him?
Was it really only because he was a necessary Guide?
With all these thoughts, he suddenly felt intensely aggrieved.
“Why, why are you angry…?”
Everything felt like his own fault.
Hurt, pettiness, aggrievement, and anger—all the emotions currently flowing out were muddied by the alcohol, unable to find their bearings and swaying back and forth.
Ben, who was naturally mild-mannered and could only manage a few small, sulky remarks that barely qualified as defiance, instinctively clutched the hem of Haimar’s coat.
“I’m not angry, not at you. I’m annoyed.”
“…Annoyed?”
Did he mean he was bothersome and annoying in every way?
With his positive thinking dried up, Ben’s mind could only conjure up negative thoughts.
It sounded to him only like Haimar thought, ‘I need to take care of him because he’s necessary, but he’s so high-maintenance that it’s irritating.’
He felt that it made sense, as the noisy atmosphere combined with his unsightly appearance and his own behavior had neatly assembled the trifecta of things Haimar disliked.
‘You’re subtracting points diligently instead of earning them, Ben Plaskun.’
“You s-son of a… then just leave me!”
“What?”
“If I’m bothersome and annoying, you can just leave… I’ll go back on my own, so you go first.”
Ben bit his lip and spoke firmly. He couldn’t meet Haimar’s eyes, but his words were quite resolute.
He wanted to try and hide his drastically worsened mood this way.
His feelings were a mess. Everything was mixed up and elusive.
While his words were harsh, he secretly resented himself for wishing Haimar wouldn’t leave, and a corner of his heart struggled between a fragment of resolve to give up since he had been rejected, and the hope that Haimar wouldn’t dislike him.
‘But it’s probably too late. Ah, I don’t know. Let fate take its course now.’
His words had an effect similar to a bullet fired point-blank.
Ben felt that if the current atmosphere had a physical form, it would feel like being pricked all over with needles.
On top of that, Haimar’s savagely flickering aura added an immediate stillness, like a balloon about to pop from being constantly inflated with air.
Ben, who had thrown out the words on the borrowed courage of the alcohol, desperately grabbed the Absinthe glass, which was dangerously full in one hand, and impulsively tossed it back to overcome the stinging silence.
‘Ugh.’
It was good that he threw it back in one gulp to wash away the stuffiness. It was good, but—
“Cough! Ugh, cough!”
It was bitter.
Too bitter.
His throat was burning!
Had he mistakenly tossed back a pure Absinthe without sugar in his daze?
He could vividly feel the liquid going down, leaving a hot, searing sensation from his esophagus to his stomach.
Since he had swallowed it immediately upon putting it in his mouth, he couldn’t spit it out.
Startled by the sting that hit his uvula, Ben choked, and the tip of his nose turned bright red.
