Oregairu: Reappearance

Chapter 26: Saturday Night

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A good cup of tea could never disappoint, especially if your sister made it for you. Never got sick of it. I mean, hell, you could never go wrong with a good book in hand too. It was like retirement but without wrinkles.

But when my phone rang and I picked it up, I knew tonight wasn't gonna feel like that anymore. I pressed answer and:

[It took me a while, couldn't send it earlier.]

I was right.

I went to my desk. I opened my laptop and went straight to my emails. But before anything else, I went and locked the door.

[The place was a mess.] He sighed with the melancholy of a griever.

When I finally sat down, I clicked on the attachment and soon enough a picture popped up.

[Apparently, his hands had epoxy in them. You'll get it.]

It was him, just leaning back in his chair.

The first thing that caught my eye was the can of beer lodged in his mouth. There was a wine bottle in each hand, with his arms spreading wide. Just dangling and unmoving.

[His throat was stretched to the fucking limit.] His raspy throat had me thinking he was probably holding something back in his throat.

His desk was splattered all over with something red. And his office looked like an earthquake aftermath. Papers, books, broken glass, his medals, and whatnot. Ruined and all over the floor. The window behind him was shattered with a few red smearings on its center.

One thing to note was that his stomach was a little more bloated than I remembered. You'd think a balloon was in there.

[They said he was awake at the time.] His voice was graveling up.

Another thing that made me squint was his neck. It looked absolutely mangled. Dislocated to the absolute and stretched like dough.

It showed that it was a three-set. I clicked on the second. It was just him naked, lying flat on a metal table. Everything else was just white walls and shelves and cabinets. Livor mortis spread like the plague from his back to his legs. His face didn't look peaceful. At all.

I took in a deep breath.

Finally, I clicked on the third. It looked to be a close-up of-Jesus fucking Christ, a disgusting mess. It was a picture, but it felt like the blood was actively leaking out of his stomach, and I had the light-headed idea that his guts were beginning to as well.

In the middle of all that, there was a single bottle, just there. Like it was shoved in.

[All the brandy and whiskey on his shelves were drained. Every fucking drop.]

[He really does-did live up to his namesake.] It sounded like a grunt, but it was meant to be a quip. Definitely. That's why he went silent after that. Before muttering: [I'm sorry...]

[Sometimes I wonder if I've seen enough.] He muttered. Then, he sighed, with his tone getting brighter until he took a deep breath and said: