A splendor morning came; and the golden sun shone throughout the clear blue sky.

Oliver gradually opened his eyes and stared at the plain ceiling after a moment. He was in a daze. The lingering feelings and tremendous event last night was refreshed and replayed in his mind. He could even vaguely sniff the sweet scent of lovemaking that night.

He was not happy. Not regretting and forgetting it either.

Who said he would forget what he did when the morning comes?

Who said he would regret it when the drug dissipated?

How naive!

In truth, he couldn't find the words to explain his own emotions. It was genuine but complicated— hatred, longing, and satisfaction, surged wave after wave like flood.

He loathed such feelings.

He didn't want to feel the need and satisfaction of the taste of touching her, but sadly, his heart and mind's mutual opposition went in vain. Such aftermath was something he couldn't control within the grasp of his palms.

Oliver put on a mocking smile on his handsome face as he reprimanded himself inwardly: Oliver oh Oliver, you really don't learn your lesson. Now that you found her, why didn't you just kill her? You actually… had a… Humph, she deserved to be tortured by me last night. In fact, last night was not enough. I could bully her as much as I want in bed and kill her afterwards. Isn't she used to serving men like that? Otherwise, I'm letting her off easily by just killing her without having fun.

With that wick idea in mind, Oliver turned over and harshly reached out for the body next to him. At that exact moment, the other man had just woken up. His body was so weak and couldn't fight back when he was abruptly pulled over.

Timmy shivered as if he was suffering a cold and his body subconsciously curled into a ball as he hugged himself while remained naked. 

"Enough! Let me off." Tears rolled down silently from Timmy's pair of beautiful clear eyes as he begged with a shaky voice. "I can't take it anymore."

"Stop playing delicately! Do you think you can fool me again and again?" A heinous grin plastered on Oliver's face as he boldly faced Timmy. However, when he had a clear vision of a person lying next to him, his dagger gaze shook and his entire body froze and trembled shortly after. "Why… Why is it you? You— how could you suddenly be her?"

Timmy did not say another thing further. He only looked at Oliver's deep and dark eyes who were panicking without blinking yet had some vigilance flashed in it. If someone put on Oliver's shoes, he would be shaken to the core because of guilt upon looking at Timmy's pathetic recent look and empty gaze.

"No! No! This is not true! This is not true!" Oliver grasped his hair sternly like he wanted to pull it off.  No matter how he thought of it, he couldn't believe he had touched a man. Not only was he a man. He was his beloved childhood friend who was the only one who treated him with utmost sincerity ever since they knew each other.

How could he do that to Timmy?

How could he torture and humiliate his best friend as detestable as like he did?

Can he still call himself a human?

He was clearly a demon!

Worstly, he didn't suspect a thing about the other party's gender. From last night, he believed he was a she. He didn't even suspect that Timmy, who was lying on bed like a dead fish ready to be slaughtered, was a man from his voice. 

Timmy's voice was somewhat similar to women. So Oliver almost jumped away in horror when he found out about it later.

"This can't be true!" Oliver shook his head repeatedly like crazy. As he did that, he scooted over and over violently until he reached the edge of the bed and eventually fell butt first. 

The loud thud was painful enough in the ears to hear, but he just completely ignored the physical pain caused by it. He instantly picked himself up in a muddle-headed state and stormed to the door, wobbling with unsteady mental disposition. He kept on rumbling the same thing. "This can't be true!" 

At last, Oliver stripped at the nook of the maroon couch.

He propped his arms up and punched his right fist on the floor. He self-ridiculed and self-condemned himself as he cursed, "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! You fuck! Despicable! Despicable! You deserve to die!"

Oliver was caught in laughter and tears of mockery towards himself.

Oliver got mentally and physically exhausted from his own endless rant. His arms swayed down and he fell with his cheek on the floor, spiritless. His current position was like a frog that was squeezed to death and he laid unconscious on the floor on all fours— cheek and head were glued to the floor; tears slipped down in silence  like streams.

Oliver remained still in such a state until his line of sight caught with something under the couch. There were several printed papers scattered on the floor. This was not the reason why he was interested to pick it up, but there was something that aroused his curiosity. Although he was not sure as he couldn't see it clearly, his sixth sense was telling him it was something worth knowing.

He decisively followed his instincts. He crawled over  and reached for it, only to be stunned by what he discovered.

The papers that scattered under the couch were printed with not just a simple advertisement or some business propaganda but a portrait of someone whose main involvement was himself.

His old self.

His innocence and easygoing self.

Oliver gulped. He was confused to see a bunch of photos of himself with some highlighted typed words telling people he was missing.

Oliver crawled off from under the table with the papers in his hands. With knees on the floor, his fingers crumpled on the edge of the paper as he googled on it.

His eyes subsequently turned sharp and his entire countenance changed within a millisecond. "Why did he have these things? Has he kept looking for me for all these years?... But… Why?"

Oliver shot another glance at the door with even more complicated emotions. His heart was in turmoil and was eaten with guilt and shame, but also full with confusion and uneasiness. For the time being, he couldn't just point out directly where these feelings actually were based. It surfaced the moment he saw the printed notice of his disappearance. 

Was he thinking too much?

What did he actually bother with?

Was searching for him as his important childhood friend really suspicious?

Oliver felt he was a mess. His thinking was even messier since he had done something despicable towards his childhood friend.

Would Timmy forgive him when he found out that the man who tortured and destroyed his chastity was him?

Oliver was in a dilemma. 

How could he fix what he did to his childhood friend?

"Is this fixable?" Oliver mumbled to himself. "It's too late. This can't be undone."

Oliver closed his eyes emotionally. Like, if he did so, he could redeem his mistake and soothe his heart.

Timmy was right. He regretted it now. 

If only he knew that the person he slept with last night was him, however the drug tortured him, he swore he would never do such a despicable thing.

But, what could his regret do? Could it undone the thing that was already done?

Oliver let go of the notice papers, propped his arms on his sides, and slowly went up on his feet. Without any more delay, he escaped from the house and ran as fast as he could. As if that if he stayed a bit longer, Satan would condemn him to Hell.

He ran and ran in the alley; no clear destination; no proper mindset. He was like a walking zombie, looking for food based on his rotten instinct. In the end, his legs brought him inside the bar.

The bar was quiet. Only several people that could be counted with one hand were around the place. They were staff of the bar who were cleaning the mess of the area and setting up the tables properly in place all over again for tonight.

Oliver just barged in with a dishevelled look. His hair was messy like it had been ruined by the storm. His baby blue shirt buttons were buttoned in inappropriate places. His elegant and rich boy look was nowhere to be seen in him. Only despair.

Oliver was their frequent guest in the bar, so they could recognise him even if his body turned into ashes. Seeing him in such a degraded state, they thought something big misfortune happened to him again. Their inquisitive stares fixed on him the moment he entered.

"Mr. Villaruel, are you okay? What just happened?" The bartender of the bar approached him immediately the moment he saw him coming in. He was also the right hand of the Big Boss of the bar. Simply put, he was the manager when Big Boss was not around. He was aware of Oliver's identity, so he was kind and respectful to the latter.

Oliver didn't answer him. Originally, he was like a chatterbox. He couldn't sit still without talking and laughing nonstop. But since his family's demise, he entirely changed into a different person. He would talk normally on fine days, but he would shut himself to the outside world when he was in a bad mess.

He simply waved his hand to the bartender, slightly staggered towards the counter and sat as he asked coldly, "Give me a bottle of whiskey."

Anthon shot him a look worriedly, but he eventually moved to serve Oliver with his desired drink. Before he could hand it to him, he spoke softly, "Get some problem with that gay guy?"

Oliver chugged the whiskey at an unrestrained pace. Since he behaved like that, he instantly emptied the whole bottle after a few mouthfuls. He slammed the bottle down and ordered again. "One more!"

"Seems like it's true." Anthon opened another bottle of whiskey and handed it to Oliver. The latter quickly picked the bottle and poured the content carelessly inside his mouth. "Want to silent him?"

Oliver lazily wiped his wet mouth with the back of his hand. Hearing Anthon's words, he threw him a sideways glance and shook his head expressionlessly. "Don't bother. Not yet his time."

Anthon nodded. "By the way, tonight is Lady Boss's birthday. Will you be here tonight? She is expecting to celebrate with you."

"No mood." Oliver sighed bitterly. "See it for yourself. Can I still do that?"

"Looks like I'm unlucky this year again." A flirtatious sweet voice suddenly interjected from the small passage coming from behind the counter station. Apart from Anthon, Oliver didn't pay the woman any heed or even spare a quick glance. He kept on ordering a bottle of whiskey and chugged it like water. "I'm not even worth a single second more than the liquor, right my Little Buddy, Oliver?"

The woman sat next to Oliver and ran her finger on the latter's thigh seductively.

Oliver neither reacted with sexual response nor removed it. He just slightly caught a glimpse on his thigh and ordered another bottle of whiskey. "Another one!"

The woman leaned over and rested her chin on her palm, facing him. "That gay guy, we heard he offended you. What did he do? Tell me and we will avenge you."

"Don't put your nose in my business, Jane." Oliver spoke, seemingly uninterested with everything. "I have my own plans."

Jane raised her hands. "Alright, I won't. But…" She looked at him up and down with lust and passion. Her fingers creeped on his arm. "Just tell me when you need me. My time is yours."

Oliver turned a deaf ear towards her words and resumed chugging the whiskey, letting the woman shut up in disappointment.