I dragged him out of the hotel, and the driver drove the car over. After we hopped on, he leaned on my shoulder, breathing softly.
It wasn't like him to be this quiet.
Halfway through the journey, he suddenly hollered, "Stop!"
The driver was confused but still pulled over. Hendrix got off the car and started throwing up.
I got off the car to buy some water for him. When I came back, I saw him leaning against the car, resting with his eyes closed.
"Rinse your mouth," I said, handing him the bottle of water.
He opened his eyes slightly and rinsed his mouth.
The driver restarted the car, and Hendrix laid in the car seat with his eyes shut.
Half an hour later, the car stopped outside the villa. I asked the driver to help get him into the bedroom while I went to the kitchen to get him a glass of water with honey.
But before I entered the kitchen, I heard someone vomiting upstairs. Hendrix threw up again before he could make it to the bedroom. He left a mess in
his wake.
The driver patted his back. I looked at Hendrix and didn't know what to say.
I helped him back to his bedroom and laid him on the bed. Seeing that it was getting late, I asked the driver to go home.
After cleaning up, I found Hendrix lying motionlessly on the bed.
I said, "Hendrix!"
"Yes," he replied.
"You need to wash up before going to bed," I said, then walked over to him and unbuttoned his jacket. His well-ironed clothes were wrinkled.
Fortunately, although he was drunk, he heard me. I took off my coat and said, "Take a shower."
He nodded, got up and went into the bathroom, his legs wobbled beneath him as he walked. I found some pajamas and a bath towel, and followed him in.
After all, he was drunk. He stood under the shower and started washing himself with his clothes still on.
Putting the clothes in my hand aside, I turned the shower off and reached for the buttons on his shirt. "Hendrix, take off your clothes before taking a bath."
He nodded and he slurred, "Okay!"
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