Devin was home. His apartment was high-end, but not penthouse-level. Modern glass, polished steel. Quiet. Clean. Cold. He collapsed on the couch. He had not taken a bath in days.
He stood from the large couch and went to his room, painted in black and illuminated by neon lights. He took off his clothes and then went into the shower. He washed off the grime and sweat from his body, carefully not to miss any spot.
He exited the shower and took a look at his body in the mirror. He wasn't muscular in the slightest; he was lean due to his smoking habits. His skin was somewhat spotless as he had high-quality skincare, but he hadn't used them in three days, nor had he taken a shower.
He looked at himself more and noticed something very strange on his face. His lips were slightly curled upwards. It was very strange and odd. It was a smile. He quickly wiped off the smile along with the wetness of his face with his towel.
Why am I smiling? Everything's pointless anyway. I'm back in this plain world.
Devin's mind rambled. He exited his bathroom and went to his mini-room-sized closet, looking through the clothes he had. Most of them were dark-colored, a few of them were ash grey, and a handful of actual colored clothes.
He put on a black shirt, black office pants with a black suit atop. He was in an all-black fit, and he needed to add some color to it as advised by his therapist. He looked through a number of pocket cloths for his suit and settled on a pink one.
The moment he put it in his suit's breast pocket, he realized something: it was close to Aquafinn's hair color. He shook his head, wore his corporate shoes, and picked up his phone from the bed in his room.
He opened his phone and noticed a lot of messages, missed calls, and whatnot. But the sheer number of them wasn't what surprised him the most. It was the date. According to his simple math, he'd been gone for three days. Having disappeared on a Friday, he expected it to be Monday.
It was Monday, all right, but of the following week, like he had been gone ten days. He didn't understand the math as it simply wasn't mathing anymore. He came to the conclusion that the pillar had some time dilation, causing him to arrive a week after his departure.
That was the only logical explanation he had: to blame it on the pillar. The one that she paid for. He shook his head slightly and ordered an Uber to take him to work. After a few minutes of waiting, the Uber arrived.
"Devin?" the driver asked after rolling down the window. Devin simply nodded and went inside the vehicle.
Devin sat in the car, watching how cars, buildings, and people blurred by. In a way, it reminded him of his philosophy. Everything's pointless once it passes by. Nothing truly mattered.
"I have a radio podcast I listen to. Mind if I tune in?" the driver asked, but Devin was so lost in his mind he didn't hear, so the driver switched his car radio on.
«If we consider the economical and political state of the#####» The driver switched the station.
«Mr. Raphael White declares that the missing people inci#####» He switched it once more.
«The swimming national team, Aqua##### Finn is not going to run for the presidential election next year.» Devin's ear caught the Aqua and the Finn, and he jolted out of his trance immediately.
"Turn the radio off," Devin ordered, but not in an aggressive way. It was more of a frustrated way.
"You don't like politics?" The driver sounded a little disappointed as he couldn't listen to his political radio podcast. He switched the radio off.
"Yeah. It's just that I... You can turn it on again." Devin smiled falsely, trying not to be a burden to the driver. The driver didn't even wait for clarification as he quickly turned on the radio again.
The podcast ended up being mumbles to Devin's ears as he zoned out. He was feeling numb, bored, and detached from everything. His fingers scratched his thumb as he had reached his limit without taking drugs. His highest number of days without drugs or weed was one.
The car stopped in front of a large building. It was easily one of the largest in the city block. He exited the cab and walked into the building. He brought out a card for verification at the entrance and scanned it at a guarding block so he could pass through.
He noticed people's occasional glances at him. He wasn't concerned, as it was to be expected. To them, they saw the drug-addicted son of the CEO who had been absent from work for a week and a half.
The fact he was drug-addicted came to the public a few months ago. He never declared having an addiction, nor were his therapy sessions ever made public. He was being trailed by a paparazzo for a month, and the fancy stalker took pictures of him taking drugs to upload to the internet and get famous.
Ever since, people began treating him differently but not as you'd expect. They began looking for signs of him being high so as to caution their behaviors, they pitied him whenever he was hungover, and they usually spread rumors about him. He wasn't concerned, though; he only responds with "I'm not addicted" if he's ever confronted about it.
He entered the elevator and pushed the button for the third floor. Before the elevator door closed, a person quickly stretched their hand to halt the closing door. The woman entered the elevator and watched the door close.
The soft elevator music began playing as the elevator ascended. Devin stood awkwardly beside the ginger-haired woman who had just entered. She looked like a model for their company or something close. He didn't dare ask any questions as he wasn't interested in the affairs of the company. He was only working there because his mother didn't want him to be unemployed.
The ginger woman, on the other hand, kept looking at him occasionally. Devin sighed internally, feeling that she probably recognized him from the famous blog about him being an addict. The woman kept looking at him as if she had seen a ghost, and her gaze felt unsettling to him, so he faced her.
He noticed her green eyes upon looking at her, and he got reminded of her eyes. He immediately looked away from the woman's eyes, then said, "Can I help you?"
She was a bit startled, but she quickly composed herself and responded, "I'm sorry. It's just that you look kind of familiar. What's your name, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Are you hitting on me right now? I'm flattered, but I don't date married women." Devin smiled softly.
"No, no. I'm not married; this is just for show." She waved off his taunt awkwardly.
"I'm Devin. Devin Cardenas." He stretched his hand towards the woman, and he couldn't have predicted her reaction in a million years of analysis.
The ginger-haired woman began to cry. No, that was an understatement. It was a full-on wailing. Devin was shocked at her reaction. Was his name that bad, or was she crying tears of joy?
Her tears streamed down her face, touching her blue dress. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out, so she kept crying. For some reason, Devin was compelled to hug her. He pulled her in closely and gently patted her back after hugging her.
"I thought you died." She sobbed on him, burying her head in his black suit and expensive lavender perfume. Devin blinked multiple times. "I'm glad you're alive."
Why is she concerned about me? Do I know her? Wait, who else would know about me being in danger?
Devin's mind rambled, then he settled on a name. He quickly searched through his mind, remembering the people he met when arriving at the other world. The bearded man, Sandra... Aquafinn, and the couple. Wait. Could she be the woman he met back then?
"Dennice?" Devin tried his best to recall her name.
"It's Debbie." She tried reducing her tears, but it was only half-working. Half.
"Wait. You're alive? That's awesome! How did you escape?" Devin asked with his eyebrows raised in both surprise and shock. He knew there was a way out of the other world, but he didn't think they'd find it alone.
"We were..." Debbie tried to explain but she stopped. "I'm sorry. I'm not allowed to say anything about that day, but thank you for saving us."
"I didn't do anything. Really." Devin scratched the back of his head slightly.
"You stayed back. You helped us." She repeated.
"I swear I didn't do anything. I couldn't even save her." Devin's tone dropped.
"Oh." Debbie sniffled, finally getting out of his arms. "I almost didn't recognize you, though, with the gel, laid-back hair, and the suit. You seem like a different person."
"I could say the same for you." Devin chuckled. "I couldn't see you clearly back then when I was high, so I didn't recognize you. You look great."
"Yeah. That day did change my life. In more ways than I'd like to admit." She smiled softly, wiping off her tears.
"Yeah. How's Lark, by the way?"
"It's Mark."
"Oh. My bad, I was probably high when he told me his name. How's he?"
"He's doing better than you'd expect, but he and I broke up."
"No way! You two were all over each other. What happened?" Devin found himself genuinely concerned about other people, which was strange.
"That day also changed him, but not in the way I expected. Money does change people—or bring out their true nature, at least." She looked away.
"Oh. Ok. Uhm. See you after work?" Devin tried ending the conversation as the elevator had almost reached the third floor.
"I'm just here for some photoshoots for a new ad. I won't stay long." She handed him a magazine.
The elevator door opened. It was his stop, not hers.
He looked at the magazine while going to his office. She was on the cover, and it was labeled 'Denton City's Debbie McGregor: Rising Star.'
He dropped the magazine on his table as he wasn't interested in stuff like that. He sat down on his office chair, opened the drawer, and looked for a vial and a syringe. He found it, then brought it out, sucking in the vial's content into the syringe.
His hands were shaky as he brought it close to his left arm. He rolled up his sleeve so he could inject it into his bloodstream freely. He knew where the right vein was instinctively, as he was used to it to the point of mastery.
He hesitated for a moment.
I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be using drugs to cover my true feelings. No. I should be doing it. I need it
He injected himself with it, pushing down the content of the vial into his bloodstream. It burned as it flowed through, but it began to cool down after a while. He felt a chilling feeling all over his body, to the point he got goosebumps. His head felt lighter.
He needed it. Or so he thought. He had gone so long without taking drugs that he had begun to feel emotional attachment to people, which would never have happened if he had taken it regularly. He couldn't afford to get emotions; he deemed them unnecessary and pointless.
He was only attracted to thrills and nothing more. He just needed the drug to remind himself of that.