Chapter 18
"Ding Dong Ditch My Sleep"
Ding dong.....
The bell kept ringing, shredding through the silence and through Richard's brain. He'd barely closed his eyes. Like, his eyelids had just kissed.
"Who is it? Of all the times, why now, when I want to sleep?"
Richard lamented, dragging himself toward the door with his eyes half-closed, feet shuffling like a zombie with a hangover.
Richard's place was a small rented apartment – tiny bathroom, tiny bedroom, with a slightly bigger parlor and kitchen. Humble, but his.
He squinted through the peephole and immediately groaned. Of course. It was Willson.
He yanked the door open.
"Why are you here? It's so early,"
Richard mumbled, already turning away. He didn't wait for an answer. He beelined for the sofa and collapsed onto it, face-first, eyes shut. Do not disturb. Or else.
Willson strolled in like he paid rent. Nonchalant. Familiar.
"What's with you? You look like someone who hasn't slept in years," he said, plopping down on the sofa like it was his throne.
Richard didn't answer. He was so quiet you'd think he'd glitched out. Actually asleep.
When Willson got no response, he sighed – loud, dramatic. Aish.
He got up, walked to the kitchen, yanked open the fridge, and grabbed two energy drinks. One for him, one for the human corpse on his couch. He closed the fridge with his hip and strolled back.
He nudged the sofa Richard was lying on. "Here, have it. You'll feel a little better." He held out the can.
Richard? Still quiet. Still not moving. Still cosplaying as a dead NPC.
"Come on, get up already. I'm pretty sure you didn't get enough sleep,"
Willson said, trying to haul him up by the shoulder. But Richard went full deadweight. Nope. That's when Willson realized: Richard was ignoring him. On purpose.
"If you don't take this energy drink from me now, I will open it and pour it on your face. I'm very sure a little will definitely enter your mouth. Do you want to try?" Willson asked, popping the tab with a ksssh.
Richard's eye twitched. But he still refused to open his eyes.
Willson noticed the twitch and grinned. Gotcha. He thought to himself,
"Let's see how long you'll ignore me," smirking like a villain.
The sound of the can opening was loud in the quiet room. Richard's ear twitched next. He screamed in his mind,
"Ahhhh, can he just let me sleep? All I want is to sleep!"
He cracked one eye open to peep. The can was hovering right above his head, tilted.
Richard shot up like he'd been electrocuted, scrambling off the sofa and putting distance between him and Willson.
"Are you insane?!"
Willson burst out laughing. "Why didn't you stay like that for a little while longer, huh? What a pity."
His face was this weird mix of regret and amusement. The audacity.
Richard shot him a scornful look, chest heaving.
"Why can't you leave me alone so I can sleep, huh? Do you know I've had night shifts for the past few days now? It has not been easy for me."
His voice was rough, tired, edged with frustration. Dark circles under his eyes told the whole story.
"Why would you do that? Why did I make you the manager of SON's Club then, huh? You're not a regular staff, bro, you're a manager. Why are you doing all of this? It doesn't make sense,"
Willson asked, sipping his drink and getting comfortable on the same sofa Richard just vacated. No personal space detected.
"You won't understand," Richard said, rubbing his face, trying to explain but too exhausted to form the words.
"Yes, yes, I really don't understand the life of you poor middle-class people because I'm not a poor middle-class person,"
Willson said with a smug smile, leaning back like he was stating the weather.
Richard's mouth twitched. This guy.
"If you said this outside among many people, you would've been beaten up black and blue. Your family, me, and all your friends wouldn't even be able to recognize you," Richard shot back, giving him a disdainful look.
"Did I say anything wrong? I'm only stating a fact here. I just said I can't understand what goes on in the head of you poor people because if it were me with that position, I would not harm myself like you're doing currently," Willson said, completely unapologetic.
At the exact same time, Richard muttered, "You would've probably run that place bankrupt by now."
When Willson heard that, he went quiet for a second. Then said,
"That's true too. The place would've gone under by now," he said, laughing. No shame. Zero.
"Are you proud of yourself? You can even confidently say it?" Richard shook his head and sighed.
"The life of the rich is differently different."
"Yes, I can say it confidently. Why? Because I was never born to be a manager, but a CEO, got it? If I'm a manager, it will definitely go under because that job is not for me," he said, laughing harder.
Richard looked at him like he was looking at a crazy person. Full you-need-help stare.
"What kind of stupid logic is that? Tell me, what's the difference between a manager and a CEO, huh? To me, they're both the same."
"No, no, no, no, no. You got it wrong and right," Willson said, holding up a finger like a professor.
"Let me ask you, Who does the manager work for?"
"The owner of the place he works in," Richard replied, already tired of this TED Talk.
"Exactly. The owner. And what is the owner called?" He asked again, leaning forward.
Richard saw where this was going and refused to play. He just stared at him, arms crossed. I'm not your student.
"Huh?" Willson prodded.
When he realized Richard wouldn't answer, he answered for him.
"The CEO, of course. The CEO!" he said, pointing at Richard and grinning like he'd just solved world peace.
Richard just exhaled through his nose. This man is so delulu, it's not even funny.