Chapter 5: Rain March
It was dark outside, even amidst the company of the street lamps - the air possessed the silhouetting power of heavy rain. Shattering cold winds created a wave of precipitate every now and then, bringing with it shivers that seeped down soaked clothing.
Rayner slowly trudged his way along a puddled sidewalk adjacent to the University's fenced boundaries with a bear-faced smug stretching cheek to cheek. He swung from side to side like a shoddily balanced pendulum, bearing weight with movement. Every step from his Chuck Taylor sneakers landed uneasily along the cobbled walkway while his shadow danced counter-clockwise with the passing of each vehicle along the road beside him.
The young man's wet cloth-enveloped body arched while he lurched slowly but surely. Piggy-backed behind him, the limp stranger, face buried into Rayner's broad back, wearing the black Adidas windbreaker, edges mapping her white, slender legs glossed by the night rain supported by Rayner's arms. That jacket would have protected Rayner from the cold rain, but he figured, she may need it more, given that she was wearing nothing more than those sleek black skin suits that may have well been designed for Olympian-level swimming.
So the mouth-to-mouth didn't work as well as he had hoped. It was embarrassing even to think about it. What in the world was he thinking, thought Rayner. The girl was still unconscious and she couldn't possibly be left behind at the cafe. The next best thing? Take her somewhere she would at least be remotely safe.
His house, perhaps?
Rayner thought about what he had done a few minutes earlier. Despite her unconsciousness, her lips were warm and supple - nobody ever mentioned that in mouth-to-mouth resuscitation training. For a moment, his wet cheeks flushed with heat from within. He swallowed hard, kept any other ideas from coming into his head ,and trudged on.
Then he thought of him carrying her to his house. The young man shook his head, now's not the time for after thoughts. For Rayner that night, there was no other option.
His walk was very slow, making the short distance from the internet cafe to his apartment seem to be the span of a marathon, or maybe even a monsoon Collin Mcrae rally, without the cars and with more mud.
And with the rain, came the realisation of consequence. He had just attacked an innocent girl and had caused her to suffer concussion. His heart beat wildly along with his aching lungs as he exerted even more effort to carry her farther. To top that off, he had landed his lips on her - on a very philanthropical nature of course but it hardly mattered at that moment. How he would explain himself and what had happened to her was something beyond him.
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After what seemed to be a hundred years of walking, Rayner finally got to the stairs leading to his second floor single-room cubist apartment situated in a bourgeoisie patch of neighborhood lorded over by the monolithic central administration building of the university a good block away. It wasn't exactly the perfect place to stay but it was roomy enough to house two people - and it was dry inside.
Each step climbing the stairs enervating and calculated, but it was the final mile so Rayner hardly even noticed it. Rayner bit the chain of the keys hanging by his neck and dexterously inserted it to the doorknob. A short tug from the chain and a nudge from his knee opened the door.
With seemingly one last exertion of effort, he half-threw the girl into the faux-leather sofa, soft wet body bouncing into the cushion with almost a splash, He then got towels from the rack beside the singles bathroom at the far right of the darkened room, and wrapped them into his unexpected visitor.
"Now to get myself dry," the young man muttered to himself. He took one step away from the sofa but was no longer able to continue. His vision blurred and fever came down faster than any event that night. A few seconds later, his knees weakened bucked from exhaustion.
"Not good," Rayner said as he collapsed to the tiled floor helplessly.