William had fallen asleep after squeezing himself from the stranger; heavy heat filled the whole room. He crawled up and stared at the window; just a little of his eyes was seen. Everywhere seemed good, but no single sound of Vincent was heard.
What if he had been killed?
Is he dead?
Those words kept flying around his mind as he slapped his face hard enough to stop those thoughts. He crawled back to his bed and dialed Vincent's number, but it rang twice with no response. He moved to the door, slid it open, and spied outside. The hallway was silent and filled with no presence.
William walked out of the room, tiptoeing as he knew best. His eyes lingered around every corner, just then, someone ran faster toward him. He rushed back to the room and slammed the door firmly.
His breath was shallow and pounding; he held his chest, gasping for more air. The footsteps of the men grew hollow and closer to the door. Just then, the footsteps walked faster toward the room and stopped. William crawled toward the cupboard, tugged his gun and gunned it, eyes rolling to the door.
"Mr. William…" the person kept on calling. William swallowed the hard lump down his throat. Hands sweaty, he wiped them off on his shirt and got back in position.
"He is not here." The person, in his mid-20s based on his voice said. William's eyebrows widened at how they were two men.
"Let's inform Vincent about it." The two men nodded as they turned to leave. William ran faster and opened the door after hearing Vincent's name being called.
"Who are you?" His hands lifted up as he pointed the gun at them. They panicked and moved back while pleading with their hands raised up, in a defeated position.
"I'm Vincent's son, and he sent us to call you," the youngest explained, still with hands up. William scanned the young boy, wondering how his friend had such a grown-up old boy. Likely 17 years, those thoughts of him growing old, and not a single wife had been on his list.
"Alright, I'm coming." They boys nodded; William took one glance at the room, and closed the door firmly before walking through the hallway with the kids. They arrived downstairs, and then night had already fallen.
Everywhere seemed pretty dark; only streetlights could be seen. William wondered how time had flown, or if he had been dozing off his life away. The boys left him and went out, while he stood there, paused, no blood flowing; only his eyes could have access to his blood circulation. He stood there lingering around Vincent's presence, and then Vincent walked majestically towards him.
"My man." Vincent said, hugging him, even though William's hands weren't detached from the hug but he squeezed the bones he had only, leaving it with a scream that escaped from his lips.
"Who were they?" he immediately asked, lowering his voice so low that Vincent had a hard time understanding. "You mean those men?" Vincent questioned, raising his eyebrows, with a smirk stuck at the edge of his lips.
"Yes, Man, who were they?" William hissed, getting tired of his friend's jokes all the time. He wondered when he would ever grow up.
"Oh, they were looking for a man named Yux Gab, a notorious thief around here, but I told them I haven't seen him today." He cleared his throat.
"Wait, hold on. What's going on with you, lingering your eyes around and trying to fetch a presence?" Vincent asked.
"Oh, can I have a seat? Maybe a little drink might pull the story off." William scoffed.
"Oh, come on, man, you shouldn't be wasted like that." Vincent flipped his hands as they both smiled.
"Alright, I won't explain then." William folded his lips as a baby, and his hands folded.
"Okay, fine, just a bottle and you might head back to bed." Vincent gave in, walked to the counter and grabbed two beers in green bottles. William curled a smile; immediately he glanced at the bottle of beer. Before Vincent could pull the bottle over to him, William had tugged it faster and downed it down his throat before letting out a gasp.
"I needed this." He pointed at the empty bottle, cleared his throat, and tapped the empty bottle on the table, gently. "Now, split it out." Vincent ordered, just like a command but in a friendly way.
"Alright, fine, it's all begun…" William narrated, with Vincent resting his hands on his cheeks as he balanced them on the table, gently staring at his friend. I wouldn't say he was in love with him, but they do have that deep bond. During their free days, way before he got married, they once kissed on a drunken night, claiming it happened before prom.
It remained the last paragraph of the story, before William's phone buzzed. Vincent, beside him, hissed in frustration over not hearing the last story.
"I'm sorry, excuse me," William said, stood up, and answered the call from near the stairs of the restaurant. Vincent watched his friend yell at the caller, eyes darkening, face tightening, and jaw swallowing. He had never seen William in such a mood, and that proved something wasn't right.
Immediately, he hung up the call. He walked back to his seat, head low and mumbling words only he understood. Vincent wanted to ask, but each moment he tried, his lips snapped shut, and he stayed calm.
"Are you alright?" Vincent finally spoke up as William lifted up his head and glanced at his worried face. There were unshed tears that filled William's eyes; only a close one could detect that.
"Yes, I'm fine." He took a deep breath. "I'm out." He said, grabbed his phone, and walked toward the door. Vincent knew asking too many questions wouldn't lead to an answer.
William shoved his hands inside his pocket and exhaled deeply, walked toward his car, and hopped inside. The atmosphere felt like a heavy weight on him; it wasn't about the night, but the cold night that followed pulled some signs to him.
After almost twenty minutes of driving, he paused and parked his car. Eyes perched at him, and faces lightened. He glanced at the old-fashioned store in front of him; just another call of murder had happened there.