The night was still roaring, bright and luminescent lights decorated the streets from the nearby bars, which was practically everywhere. The apartment was somewhat cheap, but it had its downsides – which, to Wilfred's unfortunate luck, happened to be the various number of bars. It was a small part of town, but happened to be the centre, which made it a hotspot in the local area.
Wilfred irritably got up off the ground after he almost collapsed in a failed attempt to wrap his arm around Sarah, who happened to be snorting with laughter, her hollow eyes wide with amusement and her animated-like curls bouncing around.
Grumbling, he rolled his eyes at her snorting whilst she stuck her tongue out in a feasible attempt at retorting back.
He was muttering what he recalled of his meeting with the… impressionable psychic to the ghost who hovered beside him. They remained situated near the bar Sarah was waiting for him at in a somewhat state of awe and pondering on the topic at hand. He was undeniably eager to go home, and yank open the pages of the pocketbook that lay safely in his blazer for the sake of his love of old books. They contain memories, thoughts and ideas that actually came from someone's foreign mind. This gave Wilfred a warm and fuzzy feeling, growing inside his tired heart.
The other reason he was so eager was to finally change out of his uniform from work that still stank of Axe body spray – his short showers combined with continuous sweating needed to be drowned out by a more… prominent scent that didn't make people completely recoil.
At worst, he smelt like an impressionable middle-schooler with a girlfriend that 'you don't know because she goes to another school'.
Talking to Sarah out loud wasn't as odd since people were drunk out of their mind – talking to air wasn't the oddest thing they'd seen.
He shot a small glance at Sarah who was looking intently behind her, her grin faltering with her eyebrows woven together in a form of concern. He raised his eyebrows at the fact that she took something seriously and was curious to know what.
"What's wrong?" Wilfred muttered, barely audible to the wild cheers from the bars around him – possibly a football game tonight, no wonder they all huddled together to cheer their team on. Wilfred never understood any sport, the rules always slipped his mind – was it called soccer or football again? All he knew was that it was just a bunch of men running back and forth for far too long in a fake field with a bunch of sweaty, adamant people cheering them on. He had nothing against it, he just never understood.
"That girl..." She replied, trailing off while stepping closer to the bar they were directly beside and peering into the bar through the entrance. It was dark, with occasional streams from the spotlights streaming in. Wilfred whistled lowly – this bar really went all-out on this. Wilfred rarely went to a bar, only ever for social events, but he scarcely ever drank. He never liked the way alcohol tasted, or how it burnt down his throat, only ever drinking on celebrations or sorrowful events.
Sure, it was a pain-reliever, but only ever temporarily. He could stomach his alcohol, though. His father was an evidently heavy drinker, but thankfully never abusive. He was a happy drunk, often dropping his farce of 'stoic business-man' to a sobbing mess, spending hours upon hours singing karaoke or forcing a teenage Wilfred out of his room to join him. Wilfred's lips tugged into a grin as he dozed away in his thoughts, up until he realized Sarah didn't finish her sentence.
"Which girl?" He questioned.
She motioned in the dark room, her luminescent grey hand standing out which inevitably assisted Wilfred in locating her.
"The red haired one." She stated again to help him.
He squinted his eyes beneath the rims of his glasses, spotting the girl's prominent dyed hair through the masses of blurry images. Sarah pointed to a table further up in the bar, in which the lady's figure was slumped beneath the blinding lights, her head resting in an uncomfortable position on the desk.
Wilfred's eyes widened in panic – is she dead?
"What happened to her?"
Wilfred knew his panic was random since she was probably knocked out due to overconsumption of alcohol – why did that warrant Sarah pointing her out?
"She drank too much earlier, got knocked out and her friends left." Sarah paused for a moment to purse her lips shut. Wilfred felt a pang in his heart, somewhat pitying this girl since getting ditched was saddening.
"Should I wake her up?"
"Mn."
So, he walked in, shoving past the bodies that were melding together as the music blared unnaturally loud for a bar. He held onto the handle of his glasses and kept another hand in the pocket where his precious handed-down notebook resided. He felt strange, his heart pounding in his chest rather loudly due to the music playing a part in this situation. He hated bars on a Friday night.
The familiar whiff of alcohol made it to his nose, causing him to groan.
He hated it.
Why was he doing this again?
Right, the girl.
He finally made it to the back of the room, right beside the bar counter, where the girl had her face onto the counter with many empty glasses surrounding her. He knew she probably had more that the bartender picked up.
"Woah, is she okay?"
Wilfred almost jumped, startled by Sarah's loud voice right beside him. He glared at her, proceeding to motion to the girl who had her face buried in her arms, practically snoozing away (which Wilfred found peculiar due to the blaring sounds around her).
"Could you please shut up for a minute while I check?" Wilfred exclaimed, throwing his hands out in emphasis of his point whilst shooting her a death-defying glare which was far too ironic. She stuck her tongue out and grinned, not taking it personally since that was the type of relationship they had.
Wilfred was immensely grateful for the loud sounds around him which made it impossible for anyone to hear him yell at practically nothing.
He then tapped the girl lightly on the shoulder, causing her to drowsily turn to the right, still laying her head on the table. Wilfred could scarcely fathom words, slightly making out the glint of recognition in her emerald eyes. He was entranced momentarily before Sarah coughed on the side, raising her eyebrows while grinning mischievously.
"She looks familiar." Wilfred murmured softly, to which Sarah replied with a rather loud enquiry since she could scarcely hear him over the blaring sounds.
"Who cares? Just check on her, you might've seen her passing by or something."
Wilfred nodded.
"You okay?" He moved a little closer to her, resting his elbows on the bar counter and seating himself directly beside her, inching closer so that she could hear him from beyond the chatter and music that was yet to cease.
"What 'ime is it?" She mumbled, the whiff of alcohol escaping her thin, heart shaped lips. Wilfred's face contorted before he slipped on a false grin to comfort her.
He recognised her.
Smiling lightly, he glanced at the clock just beyond the counter, adjusting his glasses that slipped down to his nose and squinting his eyes.
"Just a little bit after twelve, Reese." His smile then slipped into a frown, intently gazing upon her with an emotionless expression that caused her to lazily lift her head up and keep it upright by propping her elbow on the counter with her fist resting gently on her cheek. Her makeup was slightly smudged, lipstick fading and her straight, reddish hair slightly tousled and dishevelled.
"Reese?" Sarah pondered aloud, tapping her chin, "Is that her name?"
Wilfred nodded.
"Wil-Wilfred!" She exclaimed, lurching forward to examine him slowly, "I 'aven't seen you in ages!"
Laughing lightly yet thoroughly uncomfortable by the lack of personal space given by the lady.
"You have a ride?" Wilfred enquires, snapping her out of a trance that she held, in which she was scanning Wilfred up and down as a form of identifying how he had changed over the 'ages' they haven't seen each other.
"Ah-yes! Yeah, I-" She hiccupped, "I have a ride."
She then turned around, examining the room of adults and underage teenagers communicating with loud chatter, screeching obvious things over the music and attempting to socialize. She then turned to Wilfred with slanted eyes and a lopsided grin.
"The-they fuckin' ditched me." She stumbled out, the grin not escaping her lips, "But they're as shitfaced as I am, so it's a win-win."
Wilfred had wide eyes, watching as she stumbled to her feet.
"I have to say, I admire her attitude to it." Sarah piped up, hovering slightly to examine the girl.
"Oh, be quiet, kid." Wilfred replied.
The girl had a curious expression etched on her face.
"Who you talkin' to?" She mumbled out, peering over Wilfred's shoulder to spot anyone but only found posters and pictures of celebrities from the 60's, ones that Wilfred scarcely recognised.
"Ah, no one." Wilfred dismissed quickly, waving a hand in front of his face as a form of indicating a topic change, "Do you have a way to get home?"
"M-me?" She stumbled with her words, almost sounding like it was incoherent babbling, causing Wilfred to grin slightly. He nodded, adjusting his glasses.
"I can walk home! I-" She hiccupped again; "-I know the way!"
Narrowing his eyes at her, a playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but nonetheless standing up. He offered her a hand, which she denied immediately but almost collapsed as soon as she stood up. Wilfred was quick to catch her, wrapping her arm around him so he could balance her properly, helping her through the crowded mess in front of him.
Wilfred was immensely grateful for the wave of fresh hair hitting his nose as soon as he stepped out, the breeze solemnly promising him to wipe away the stench of alcohol from his lungs. As soon as he got out, the girl immediately untangled herself from Wilfred, reaching for balance by leaning against the brick wall. Sarah scrunched up her nose.
"I don't think she can walk home by herself." Sarah pointed out, "Didn't you say you know her? Don't you know the way to her home?"
"I went to university with her." Wilfred heaved a long sigh, "I don't remember where she lived, but maybe she can direct me."
"Is she going to barf?" Sarah questioned, tilting her head and watching as the girl took slow and measured breaths, almost retching every two seconds. Wilfred's face didn't falter or seem disgusted the slightest bit, peering over and inching closer to her.
"Should I walk you home?" Wilfred offered, a small grin on his tired face. The girl just frantically waved her hand in denial and bent over again, possibly another attempt to get the night's drink out, causing the contents of her pocket to spill out. Wilfred sighed and bent over to pick up her wallet, clutching it in his hand until she was done.
"Oh, maybe you could find her address on it!" Sarah exclaimed, a grin tugging onto her lips while peering over Wilfred's shoulder, "I'm sure she won't mind, she's shitfaced!"
Wilfred sent her an offended look.
"Don't say that!" He harshly scolded in a whisper as to not gain attention again from the girl or random onlookers. Sarah pouted.
"She said it!"
"Yeah, well, I'm looking after you kid, so I'm in charge."
"Gee, okay dad."
Wilfred suppressed a chuckle at the sight of her narrowed, hollow eyes and crossed arms in a huff. Is this was being a father was like? If so, it was very amusing. Obviously, he didn't think of Sarah as his daughter, he just had developed a feeling of looking after her and being responsible over her. That wasn't fatherly, merely nice.
Watching Reese retch, he realized that getting fathomable directions to her house was practically impossible, so he opened the wallet. Spare notes stuck out of the main compartment, a small picture on the side as well as her ID, yet no address, so he closed it and handed it back to her hunched figure. She took a deep breath and attempted to stand up straight, feeling a tinge of nausea but nonetheless, she was upright. She slipped the wallet back into her pocket and sent Wilfred a grateful grin.
"Okay, if you're sure you can walk home on your own..." Wilfred hesitantly suggested, shoving his hands back into his pockets in an exhausted attempt to remain stoic and nonchalant. Sarah scoffed loudly.
"You can't leave her like this!" She exclaimed as Wilfred watched her stumble away in the opposite direction of him. Wilfred remained rooted to his spot, watching her from his position to ensure that she might be stable enough to do so on her own.
"Reese is an independent girl who got herself into this mess." Wilfred sighed, "She always got agitated if I got involved in her business, so I'm leaving," he rubbed his temples, "I'm tired. I'll just call her tomorrow to make sure she got home."
Turning on his heel, he slowly began strolling away, but Sarah remained in position, watching the girl.
"Oh, Wilfred, there's a dude walking up to her." She alerted, watching as Wilfred paused his walk, yet not turning on his heel. He took his glasses off to wipe the fog build-up from the cold breeze on his cotton shirt and placing it back on.
"None of my business, c'mon kid." He stated to her, convincing himself not to turn around.
"Wilfred, he's grabbing her-" She paused and then exclaimed, "Wilfred!"
Wilfred then let out a loud groan and muttered, 'I'm never catching a break.'
Whirling around, he began to jog down the street to where the girl stood with her arm indeed held in a tight grasp by a man around ten years older than Wilfred, clearly drunk out of his mind. The ruckus around them prevented anyone else to care, which Wilfred found annoying. How does nobody else notice this? No wonder crime rates are so high, people just never regard someone else.
"Let go!" The girl shrieked, attempting to yank her hand back. The older man just smirked mischievously, leaning in closer to her and muttering drunken slurs at her that Wilfred couldn't hear.
Frustration clawed up Wilfred's skin.
"Hey, buddy!" Wilfred yelled, speeding up until he was directly beside the girl, "Leave her alone, she clearly doe-"
BAM!
The man had leaned over and punched Wilfred square across the face.
Recoiling in pain but nonetheless had a stoic expression, his eyes narrowed as if his glasses weren't shattered. Sarah gasped from the side, watching as he calmly folded his glasses up, with one shattered lens, his right eye swelling up and visibly red.
'Well this escalated quickly.' He thought.
Wilfred let out a sigh before dragging his fist back and punching the man again, but this time he did it with a tremendous amount of force, sending this man stumbling backwards and recoiling. The man then spat out blood, glaring harshly at Wilfred who had a small grin playing on his lips as he wrapped the girl's arm around his shoulder, so she was properly upright.
"You bastard!" That man spat but didn't inch forward to retort with another punch. Wilfred replied by sticking his middle finger up, immediately turning to Sarah with wide eyes dancing with fear and amazement.
"Sarah! Did you see that?" He excitedly murmured, with a shocked expression that mirrored Sarah's.
"Wilfred, yo-your eye! Your glasses!" She worriedly stated, scanning Wilfred's face.
"I'm fine, but did you see that punch?"
Sarah rolled her eyes.
"I genuinely thought you were going to cry, man, I did not expect that from you."
"Neither did I! Oh my god, I punched someone! High school totally paid off." He had an obvious grin on his face, yet his right eye was slowly covered with blotches of red and purple, and once he watched Sarah's face contort with sadness, he waved his hand frantically in front of her, "Don't worry, I have a first aid kit at home, were you worried?"
Sarah narrowed her eyes while pouting.
"Of course, dumbass."
"Hey, don't swear."
"But you stuck your middle finger up!"
"Yeah, I can, I'm old enough to do that!"
"Fine, but what are you going to do with her? She's asleep?"
Wilfred then glanced to his side, somewhat narrowing his eyes so he could try focus through the blurry lenses of his own eyes and spotted that she was indeed fast asleep. He then used a free hand to try tap her, but she simply leaned her head on Wilfred and let out a snore. Wilfred sighed lightly, patting her softly on the head.
"We can't leave her here." Sarah continued as a way of rousing Wilfred out of his trance of examining the girl's snoring figure.
"I don't know where she lives." Wilfred replied in a hushed voice.
"Maybe take her back to your place?" Sarah suggested, causing Wilfred's eyes to widen and face to be filled with scattered red and pink, "Oh my god, get your mind out of the gutter, just until she wakes up and can contact someone."
Frantically, he nodded.