Back in high school, everyone thought Agnes was Ryder's girl.
During that time, his buddies would always bring her up in conversation.
It seemed like they were hell-bent on playing matchmaker, pairing them up at every turn.
Looking back, Ryder recalls that period as sweet, yet tumultuous.
It felt like a fleeting happiness that he couldn't quite grasp.
Ryder always felt that his joy, both then and now, was borrowed - stolen, even.
He opened the door to his apartment, not leading Agnes to the bedroom, but instead tidying up the couch to lay her down.
"Water..." Agnes mumbled incoherently.
Ryder rushed to get her some water, helping her sit up to take a sip. But as she drank, she vomited, right there on the living room carpet.
Regret surged through Ryder's heart. He knew she couldn't handle her liquor, yet he had watched her drink one too many.
The reason Ryder hadn't stopped her was simple - he had missed her too much. But in her sober moments, they couldn't be as they were now, even briefly.
And now, seeing Agnes in discomfort, he regretted it deeply.
Ryder made hangover tea, and fed it to Agnes before starting to clean.
He scrubbed the carpet in the bathroom until it was spotless and took care of the mess on the floor. By the time he finished, an hour had passed.
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