Overheating (II)

His eyes sparkled red for a while. It became clear that he was no longer the same Drake. The black marks snaked along his arms, under his sleeves. He went into the building's main hall and ran to press the elevator's button. It was occupied, so he didn't hesitate and without wasting a second, he climbed on to the stairs, towards the third floor of the building.

His eyes sparked once again and this time the glow lasted longer than the before, as he approached ahead of Mr. Kengil's office, his gaze settled over the nameplate.

"Excuse me, sir, do you have an appointment?" a young woman's voice came from behind.

Drake nodded without reasoning, but soon he realised his act." No, I need to return something to him " , he said without turning his face towards the lady in a cold manner.

"May I ask your name?" The girl asked.

He turned slowly, locking his eyes with the girl and gazed at her weirdly, a cold, calculating and almost devilish gaze and grinned, unnaturally.

" Drake— that's it", he replied.

The girl hesitated, visibly uneasy.

"Alright...",she gestured for a way to go inside the office, her discomfort palpable.

Drake stepped aside, his gaze strong and unblinked. His weird smile settled into a hard and furious expression, as the girl left.

" Mr. Drake, you can go in" . The young lady allowed him to go inside office, on Mr.

Kengil's permission.

A middle-aged man wearing a navy blue suit was sitting on his chair. His face was lined with age , black hair and a total Asian look.

" I didn't expect you'd come here" , he said with a smile.

" Come, sit", he pressed on.

Drake unmoved from his place, constantly looking at him in a cold manner, silently. "Come on" , Mr. Kengil gestured towards the chair.

Finally, Drake stepped forward towards the chair, but inside of sitting, he pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and threw it onto the desk.

He walked closer the desk near Mr. Kengil's chair, who was still looking at him in confusion.

Drake preached himself on its edge. Mr. Kengil's smile dropped and he stood up, furiously "How dare you sit on my table?"

Drake shoved him down back on his chair recklessly, the force sending the chair crashing against the wall. He glared down at Mr. Kangil, leaning in close forward until their faces were just inches apart. Mr. Kangil was trembling and he turned pale, completely. Drake raised his hand towards the man's neck but stopped his hand ahead of the man's face with a sinister smile and patted over Mr. Kangil's head, mockingly.

Drake looked at the pen in Mr. Kengil's pocket and his eyes glowed red hot once again.

Without a word, he snatched his pen out of his pocket, with a grin on his face and slipped it in his own pocket. He looked into Mr. Kengil's eyes once again, as if he wanted to warn him for some reason. And, turned to leave the room.

With trembling hands, Mr. Kangil tried to pick up the telephone, to call someone. Drake was recognizing each and every sharp and soft movement of the man, even though he wasn't looking at him.

Drake, faster than a heartbeat, took out the pen and launched it towards the man's hand.

The pen flashed and pierced out through the cuff of man's hand and embedded it into the wall.

He walked back over, forced the pen out of the wall, but now, it was broken. "Now you can keep it inside your pocket. It will suit you", Drake put the pen back into the man's pocket and after that he left the room, leaving Mr. Kengil, shivering on his seat

Ms. Maggie stepped out of bed and headed upstairs to Drake's room. She knocked softly before opening the door, immediately noticing a sudden change in temperature. The air inside felt much hotter than the rest of the house, and even the door handle had been warm to the touch. Her eyes scanned the room, but Drake wasn't there. She didn't venture further in; instead, she left the door slightly ajar and went back to the kitchen.

Drake opened his eyes, squinting as sunlight pierced through, flooding the rooftop where he lay. He sat up, groggy and disoriented, struggling to recall anything from the previous day. *How did I get up here?* he wondered, scratching his head as he descended the stairs. His head felt heavy, and each step seemed to weigh him down further.

His footsteps echoed through the quiet house, catching Ms. Maggie's attention. She emerged from the kitchen, concern etched across her face.

"Where have you been, honey? You weren't in your room. I checked," she asked, her voice tinged with worry.

"Ma, I'm so tired. Can I just have a cup of tea?" Drake mumbled, avoiding her gaze. Ms. Maggie kept staring, waiting for an answer.

"Please," Drake added with an annoyed look.

Ms. Maggie sighed and returned to the kitchen. Drake sat down on the stairs, resting where he stood. As he sat, a brief flash of memory darted through his mind—someone pulling an envelope from a cupboard. *What was the gift I saw?* The memories from yesterday started to come back in fragments, and his face turned cold, as if frozen in time. His body stiffened.

Without wasting a minute, he bolted from the house.

"Drake, your coffee! ", Ms. Maggie rushed out of the kitchen, seeing her son leave the house, in concern.

Drake didn't answer in hurry.

"Drake put on the jacket first—it's really freezing outside", her voice descended in dismay.

Drake splashed at Alan's door, panting. Somewhere due to running so fast and somewhere due to ennui, 'cause now he was just fed up with it.

He rang the doorbell, once, twice, thrice and then kept on pressing it, madly, vexation etched on his face clearly.

In fury he was about to kick the door, when suddenly Alan opened the door.

Alan glared at Drake for a while and without saying anything again closed it.

"No, no, no— please I need your help!", Drake begged, as he forced the door in the opposite direction.

Alan stood silent and opened the door again. He looked down in frustration,

" I'm sorry, I-I can't help you—just go away from here, please", he slammed the door with these words, but it felt like he was sobbing within, his voice full of cracks. He walked back inside the house, completely broken.

While Drake was crying and beating the door. He sat down on the doorsteps,

"Please, I need your help", he was crying, like a lost deer. He sat there for almost three hours, with a hope that his friend would open it for him, for sure. But he didn't.

People passing by were looking at him, with different reactions.

After an extensive weeping, he got up and headed to leave the place, with a broken heart.

He walked a few steps, when he heard an unknown voice of a boy,

"I heard you need help, and I can help you".