Early 20s Crisis

"There he is, the man, the myth, the legend!" Beaver proclaimed with infectious exuberance, his voice resonating loudly as he offered a hearty high-five to Issac. Chuckles of amusement escaped both of them, their friendship effortlessly rekindled. Issac reciprocated the gesture with a playful grin, delighted to be in the company of his boisterous friend. "What's up, man!"

"The prodigal son returns," Enrique proclaimed, his arms open wide as he embraced Issac in a hug. "Hope you're staying the whole night."

A smile graced Issac's face as he reciprocated the hug. "Of course I am," he replied, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "It's a night out, for Christ's sake! How can I not stay the whole night?!"

The energy of the moment was contagious, and Beaver couldn't contain his excitement. He swiftly produced a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "Give me one," Issac said calmly, his intent evident as he extended his hand. Issac's unexpected request hung in the air, prompting both Beaver and Enrique to exchange surprised glances.

"But I thought you didn't smoke," Beaver questioned, his confusion apparent.

"I didn't," Issac confirmed, determination glimmering in his eyes, "But I now want to."

Without wavering, Issac signaled again, silently conveying his desire for a cigarette. Beaver and Enrique shared a momentary glance before Beaver decided to comply, offering him a cigarette along with a lighter.

Issac accepted the cigarette, placing it between his lips. The flame danced briefly upon the tip as he lit it, and as he took that first inhalation, a contented sigh escaped his lips, releasing a plume of smoke into the air.

With his cigarette now in hand, Issac tapped it gently, allowing the ash to gracefully descend.

"Alright, let's go in," Issac announced, his voice steady, signaling his readiness to face whatever awaited them inside the club. Without hesitation, he turned and led the way towards the club's interior, and his companions, Enrique and Beaver, followed suit.

-----------------------

Amidst the drowsy haze of morning, Issac emitted a groan laden with weariness, as the incessant ringing of his phone's alarm pierced through the veil of slumber. With an almost reluctant effort, he reached out to silence the persistent sound, his hand moving slowly as if reluctant to leave the warmth and comfort of his bed. Groggily, he rubbed his eyes, trying to dispel the remnants of sleep that clung to him, and then, with a languid motion, he gradually hoisted himself up from his cocoon of blankets.

Shielding his eyes from the intrusive rays of sunlight that had crept into the room, he let out a wide yawn that seemed to stretch the exhaustion from his very core. The weight of the morning pressed upon him, and he could sense the hours that had passed, slipping away into the ethereal realm of the past. Time had moved relentlessly forward, and it was now the next day—morning had arrived without mercy.

"It's already morning, huh," he murmured, his words soft and introspective, spoken more to himself than to anyone else. The haze of recollection swirled within him, for the events of the previous night felt like fragments scattered in the recesses of his memory. The party, the revelry, and the copious drinks imbibed had taken their toll, rendering certain moments of the night a foggy and elusive blur.

Despite the disarray within his memory, the awareness that he had indulged to a point of partial amnesia lingered, and he couldn't help but wonder what had truly transpired in the club. The night had been a whirlwind of merriment, but the details were now enigmatic shadows dancing just beyond his grasp.

Issac navigated himself through the transition from sleep to wakefulness, and he felt a sense of bewilderment that was mingled with a tinge of regret. The evening of celebration had come at a cost—the forfeiture of coherent memories. The transient joys of the night now felt somewhat ephemeral, leaving him with a mixture of pleasure and uncertainty.

After rousing from his slumber, Issac indulged in a languid stretch, his limbs reaching out in search of renewed vitality, savoring those precious moments of leisurely awakening. With a renewed sense of consciousness, he felt the beckoning call of the morning routine, and he sauntered into the welcoming embrace of the bathroom to commence his daily rituals.

As the cool water splashed upon his face, Issac's senses were awakened, and he felt the invigorating tingle of refreshment coursing through him. His teeth, meticulously attended to with the gentle strokes of his toothbrush, enjoyed the tender care they deserved, ensuring his day would commence with impeccable oral hygiene.

A sigh that seemed to be filled with contemplation escaped Issac's lips as he studied his reflection in the mirror, his gaze introspective as if seeking deeper insights within himself. For a full minute, Issac stared into the eyes that stared back at him, a fleeting moment of self-reflection he was hoping for.

With a sudden burst of energy and determination, Issac emerged from the bathroom, his hand gripping the door firmly. In an assertive motion, he flung the door open.

WHAM!

Issac continued walking, and he directed his steps toward the kitchen, his gaze fixed upon the refrigerator that was placed right next to the sink. As he opened the door, rows of beer bottles alongside an array of canned and frozen food were revealed.

With a dissatisfied click of his tongue, Issac couldn't help but express his displeasure at the state of his refrigerator, and he swiftly took charge of the situation by seizing a plastic bag and efficiently clearing out all the beer bottles, canned goods, and frozen edibles that cluttered the once-organized shelves.

Next, he grabbed another bag and went to the living room, and he meticulously collected every unwanted and opened delivery box, any stray papers, and even a few items of old clothing that had long outlived their usefulness. Each discarded item found its way into the bag.

With the clutter vanquished from the living room, Issac proceeded to the final frontier—the entrance of his apartment. Without a moment's hesitation, he repeated the process once again, repeating the process once more and ensuring that not a single trace of chaos remained.

Meanwhile, back in Regalia University, both Beaver and Enrique were talking with each other, asking questions about the whereabouts of Issac.

"It's just so weird," Beaver exclaimed with a furrowed brow, his worry and anxiety etched across his face like a map of concern. "I mean, he seemed totally fine after the way he was partying last night!"

"Yeah, me too!" nodded in agreement, his support evident as he chimed in. "But then again, I was pretty much drunk as a skunk, and most of what happened is just a blurry mess in my memory.…"

"Oh my god…" Beaver's eyes widened in mild exasperation at Enrique's confession, but he maintained his composure, sighing softly. He pondered the situation for a brief moment, the gears of his mind turning, as he reached for his phone, determined to take action. "You know what," he said decisively, "I'll try calling Issac again. Maybe he just overslept or something..."

Ring! Ring!

Clad in a mask and protective gear, Issac was engaged in a diligent cleaning spree within the confines of his apartment when, amidst the whirl of the vacuum cleaner's motor, he noticed his phone ringing, and, balancing the vacuum cleaner with one hand, he deftly answered the call. "Hey, what's up?"

Upon hearing Issac's voice, Beaver's palpable sense of relief came through as he exclaimed, "Issac! Thank god you picked up! Where are you, man? Why aren't you on campus?"

"I'm cleaning!" Issac, amidst the deafening noise of the vacuum cleaner, shouted loudly into the phone. The sound of the vacuum's motor drowned out his words, leaving Beaver and Enrique momentarily perplexed as they shared a quick glance of confusion. Beaver, seeking clarity, posed the question, "Cleaning? What do you mean by that, Issac?"

Undeterred by the noise, Issac reiterated, "I'm cleaning my apartment."

The incredulity in Beaver's response was palpable as he screamed into the phone, "You're cleaning your apartment?!" Enrique's puzzled expression mirrored Beaver's confusion as he scratched his head, seeking to understand the reason for starting a cleaning session right now. "Ask him why he's cleaning his apartment now? Couldn't he have done it later, like after classes?" Enrique suggested.

Voicing the question on behalf of his befuddled companion, Beaver asked, "Why the heck are you cleaning your apartment now, bruv? Couldn't you have done it after classes ended?"

Issac's nonchalant response came with a shrug, as if the rationale was entirely self-evident to him. "I wanted to do it now, so I'm doing it now," he declared.

Once again, Beaver and Enrique exchanged glances, their confusion mounting. "Is he having a midlife crisis?" Enrique pondered aloud, a hint of jest in his voice. Beaver relayed the question to Issac, "Are you having a midlife crisis, my dude?"

Issac's response carried a hint of amusement, "I'm in my early 20s, Beaver..." He seemed unfazed by the inquiry, his focus firmly on his cleaning endeavors.

An exasperated groan escaped Beaver's lips as he retorted through the phone, "Well, it's definitely some kind of crisis. Get back to campus now, would you?"

Yet, before Beaver could receive a definitive reply, Issac chose to conclude the conversation, stating, "I'll be there after I finish cleaning," and promptly hung up the call.

"Hah…" Issac found himself taking a moment to catch his breath. Looking around at his now spotless and organized apartment, he couldn't help but let out a contemplative sigh. "Fuck…"