TWO.

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 "Why did you come?" Julian asked once they were in the car. "I called Blaise."

"I know, but Blaise is in Turin," Presnel reminded him.

"Oh no, he left us," Julian crossed his arms sadly, and Presnel almost wanted to laugh.

"Ju, he left a while ago, remember?"

The German player did not answer, too busy looking through the window.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"At my place. We'll be there in three, you'll be okay? Do you wanna vomit?"

"What is 'vomit?" he frowned, and Presnel smiled. Julian was so good in French that sometimes, Presnel forgot that it was not his mother tongue.

"Mmh, vomit? You know, it's 'vomit' in English?"

"Oh, 'vomit'!" he said with a better accent than Presnel. "No, no. But why are we going at your place?"

"Because you're too drunk to stay alone at yours."

"I feel amazing."

"Yeah. For now," Presnel mumbled, and they stayed quiet until Presnel parked the car in front of his house.

"I love your house! It's a paper house," Julian said, and he burst out laughing. Presnel raised an eyebrow, trying his best not to laugh. His goal was to put Julian in bed as soon as possible, so if he started to laugh at everything he was saying, they'll still be up in two hours.

"Come in and take your shoes off," Presnel asked him--or more like, demanded him--and Julian nodded.

"Should I also get undressed?" He asked very seriously, and Presnel sighed.

"Yeah, I'll give you one of my sweatpants," Presnel nodded when he realized that Julian was wearing jeans. "We're going upstairs."

Julian didn't say anything and followed him up the stairs. Presnel lead him in one of his spare rooms before sighing.

"I'll be right back, you stay here, alright?"

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