I was woken by the sound of a door slamming and a bottle rolling across the floor, followed by a sharp, “Damn it.”

I did not open my eyes. My head was splitting. I could not tell whether it was the usual pain or the drink from the night before.

“Bloody hell, I nearly killed myself on your bottles,” Michael’s voice came again.

I forced my eyes open a fraction. The room was dark.

“What on earth are you doing here? To annoy me with noise? Get out. I have no wish to see you.”

“Why am I here? I would never, under any circumstances, step into this foul, filthy, alcohol-soaked den of a drunk,” he said, with a feigned note of indignation in his voice. “What, you think I came here of my own accord?”

A brief pause.

“Of course, I’m here because your mother wouldn’t stop ringing me. She even managed to get to mine, insisting we find her dear son.”

He clicked his tongue softly.

“And what is her dear son doing? Drinking himself into oblivion… A truly splendid sight.”

I heard footsteps, then another crash, and the roll of a bottle across the floor.

“Is there a single spot here where I can step without having an injury? This is an obstacle course, not a flat. Just say you want to test me and see how well I manage. I think I’ll get very good at it,” Michael said with a laugh.

There followed the sound of curtains being dragged aside. The fabric rustled, and the room filled with light.

The sudden brightness made the pain in my head throb harder. I shut my eyes and pressed a hand over them.

“For fuck’s sake, what are you doing?” I rasped.

“It’s unbearably dark in here.”

The window creaked open.

“And it’s stifling.” He took a deep breath. “This place needs airing.”

A cold breeze swept in. I fumbled about for something to pull over myself.

“Close the window,” I snapped.

“Not a chance. This lair needs it. That matters more than your precious gloom.”

He didn’t stop making noise, shifting things about, clinking bottles, rustling through something. I could not bear it any longer and forced myself upright. My head spun for a moment.

“Get out, Mike. I’m in no state for you.”

“Mike?” he echoed, lowering himself into the chair opposite me. “I don’t recall you ever calling me that. I quite like it. Makes us sound closer.”

He made a theatrical gesture with his hands. He was clearly enjoying himself.

“Well then,” he went on, picking up one bottle, then another, inspecting the labels. “Since the day we decided to throw together that urgent rescue, you disappeared. Honestly, I had to put in a fair bit of effort to find this place. So what have you been doing here? Getting drunk. And why? What happened?”

“Nothing. I want to be left alone.”

“Left alone… with all this to drink, I suppose?” He turned the last bottle in his hand. “Looks like I won’t be able to find any tea here.”

He set it back down.

“Have you got any food in here? Or have you been sitting here all these days trying to live off the calories in alcohol?”

I said nothing.

He kept quiet for a while, then sighed.

“Edward, Edward… What did your father say to you back then that turned you into… this?”

I looked at him, exhaled, and dropped my face into my hands. I had no wish to tell him anything. It was none of his business. Still, I spoke.

“He’s sending me abroad. To run the company he’s at now.”

“That’s it?” Michael let out a short laugh. “Sounds like a good thing. That company’s much bigger than the one here, as far as I know. The place is warm, sunny, with palm trees and all that. Doesn’t sound bad at all. Could have a proper rest, have some fun with the local girls. So why are you so depressed? Did the offer wake up some hidden alcoholism?”

I shot him a dark look.

“You should leave.”

“Oh, you’re as hospitable as ever,” Michael said. “Fine. If you don’t want to go and would rather sink into this miserable state, then don’t go.”

“Seriously? Do you really think I can say no to him? If I refuse, he will have me sent there in a sack.”

“Well… Mr Moncler is… persuasive, I would say.”

Persuasive… Yes, he was.

He had always been like that. Ready to use any tactic, any force, so long as things went according to his plan. It had never been any different. And now I sat here, surrounded by all this mess, still could not bring myself to tell him no.

“Do you think I am a coward?” I muttered, not looking up at Michael.

He said nothing for a while, and that felt like an answer.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said at last, in the same slightly cheerful tone. “If I were you, I would probably do exactly as he says. What’s the point of putting up a fight? I’m not fond of bruises, you know.”

“That’s not an answer,” I said, lifting my eyes to him. “You think I am a coward…”

It was not a question, more an acceptance of a fact. Nevertheless, Michael shrugged.

“Why are you even asking?” he asked. “What difference does it make whether someone thinks you’re a coward or not?”

I stayed silent. Michael was right. What was the point of thinking about it now? What did I expect?