Midnight chaos

Kelvin was jolted awake by loud yelling outside his room. He lazily sat up, rubbing his eyes, his body stiff from exhaustion. He had barely closed his eyes after an eventful, chaotic first day at campus, and now this?

He stretched, cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders. His clothes were still slightly dusty from earlier, and his hair was a mess. He yawned loudly, smacking his lips before dragging himself off the bed.

The shouting outside got louder. For a moment, he debated whether to ignore it and go back to sleep. But curiosity got the best of him. With a sigh, he stepped carefully through the room, dodging empty beer bottles. He winced as a bottle rolled under his foot.

Outside the hallway, the energy was wild. Students were rushing towards the balconies, some shirtless, others in just their boxers. One guy had a towel draped over his shoulder, as if he had been interrupted mid-shower.

Kelvin squeezed his way through the half-naked crowd, emerging at the railing of the third-floor balcony. Below, in the dimly lit hostel compound, a full-blown fight was unfolding.

Three guys. Two against one.

The lone fighter, clearly drunk, was dressed in sagging jeans, an oversized hoodie, and a bandana tied around his forehead. He swayed slightly, struggling to maintain his balance. Despite his clear disadvantage, he threw wild punches, missing most of them but still standing his ground.

The other two were outsiders,muscular guys in tight T-shirts and ripped jeans. One of them shouted, "Rudisha simu yetu, buda! (Return our phone, man!)"

Kelvin winced as a punch connected with the drunk guy's jaw, sending him stumbling back. He wiped his mouth, smirked, and spat. "Mnajua mimi ni nani? (Do you know who I am?)" He swung again, this time hitting one of the guys square in the nose.

The crowd above erupted.

"Oiiii! Champe!" someone shouted, cheering for the lone fighter.("Oiii! Champion")

The other outsider tackled him, sending them both crashing onto the pavement. The drunk guy groaned, but still, he tried to crawl back up, mumbling incoherent insults.

One of the outsiders kicked him in the ribs. The students booed. Some even threw empty soda bottles down.

Eventually, after a brutal few minutes, the campus boys at the balconies got fed up. A group rushed downstairs, chasing the two outsiders away. They fled, cursing and threatening to come back.

The drunk guy lay sprawled on the ground, chuckling to himself like he had just won a championship fight.

The two outsiders disappeared into the night, their angry curses fading into the distance. But instead of gratitude, the drunk guy, still sprawled on the ground, let out a loud laugh.

"Heh! Hao wajinga walifikiria wamenimaliza? (Those fools thought they finished me?)" he slurred, waving an unsteady hand. 

"Mimi ni champe! Ninge… ningewafunza adabu kama si nyinyi kuspoil fun! (I'm a champion! I would have taught them a lesson if you hadn't spoiled my fun!)"

The students on the balconies groaned.

"Eish, buda, tulikusaidia na bado unaringa?" someone shouted.(We helped you but still your proud)

"Huyo ni fala!" another voice added. "Tumebaki kwa baridi tukikuokoa alafu bado unatutusi?" (We stood here in the cold saving you, and you're still insulting us?)

The drunk guy waved them off, trying to stand. His legs wobbled like a newborn calf.

"Si mnishike tuone nani atakaa chini! (Come fight me if you dare!)" he challenged, throwing a sloppy punch at the air. 

"Ninge… ningewavunja vibaya sana!" (I would have broken them badly!)

From the third floor, someone shouted, "Acha kelele ama nishuke nikupige mpaka uamke sober!" (Shut up, or I'll come down and beat you until you become sober!)

Laughter erupted across the balconies.

"Ngoja kwanza amalize kupigana na gravity," another voice mocked.(Wait first until he stops fighting gravity)

Just as the students were enjoying the show, the drunk guy took a step forward, missed his footing, and stumbled.

He caught himself, straightened up, and tried to walk again,only to be tripped by a small stone.

"Ai, huyu jamaa ni comedy!" someone yelled, laughing.(This person is a comedian)

The guy shook his head, took another determined step,this time, right into a clothesline post. His forehead smacked against the metal pole with a dull thud!

"Aaaaaai! Champe amepigwa na post!"(Champe has been hit by a post)

The guy swayed for a second, his hands weakly reaching out for balance. Then, as if someone had unplugged his energy, he collapsed onto the ground, completely knocked out.

The students groaned in disappointment.

"Boring!"

"Si angepigwa vizuri hata tucheke?"(he would have been hit well so that we can laugh)

One by one, the students turned back towards their rooms, some still laughing, others shaking their heads. Kelvin leaned on the balcony railing, watching the scene unfold. When most of the crowd had dispersed, he noticed two familiar figures still standing nearby;Jim and Brian.

Jim sighed, staring down at the unconscious guy. "So… do we help him or what?"

Brian scoffed, crossing his arms. "Help who? That fool? Let him sleep there! We didn't even drink with him, but here he is causing problems."

Jim rubbed the back of his head. "But, man, he's completely knocked out."

Brian rolled his eyes. "He had money, but did he call us to go drinking? No. Sasa si akufe na pombe yake? (Now he can die with his alcohol.)"

Kelvin watched the two in silence, slightly amused but also slightly concerned. He opened his mouth to ask something when Jim shouted at the unconscious guy.

"Paul… Paul, unaskia?" No response.(Paul..Can you here me?)

Jim frowned, then tried again. "Kimani?"

Kelvin stiffened. His roommate's name was Paul Kimani.

His eyes darted to the unconscious guy, then back at Jim. "Wait… Paul Kimani? This guy?"

Jim stood up, dusting off his hands. "Yeah, Paul Kimani. You know him?"

Kelvin blinked, stunned. "Uh… I—"

Before he could finish, Brian cut him off. "Weh, kama unataka kumsaidia, mbebe kwa room 205. Otherwise, achana na yeye!" (If you want to help him, carry him to room 205. Otherwise, leave him!)

Jim let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "You heard him. Room 205." He gave Kelvin a pat on the back before heading inside.

Brian followed, yawning loudly. "Sijawai ona fala kama huyo. (I've never seen a fool like that.)" He disappeared into the hostel.

Kelvin stared at the unconscious guy,his roommate.

"Great," he muttered. "Just great."

The stairs creaked under Kelvin's weight as he carefully stepped down, trying not to slip on the smooth floor. Each step felt like a small victory, his feet gripping the edges of the stone steps. 

The automatic sensor lights seemed to have a mind of their own, turning on and off like they were playing tricks on him.

The place was cold, but the chaotic night had fallen silent . It wasn't just the usual quiet at night. No, it was the kind of silence that felt... judgmental, as if the night itself was watching and judging him, keeping quiet about his every move. 

Kelvin shivered, feeling like the walls were closing in on him, as though they knew what he was about to do. The stillness seemed to wrap around him like a heavy blanket, suffocating.

When he stepped outside, the cold night air hit him, but it didn't bring any comfort. The wind howled in the distance, its whispers carrying through the courtyard, as if the trees and shadows were in on some secret. The moon hung in the sky, barely visible through the clouds, watching as Kelvin walked towards Paul's crumpled body.

Paul Kimani was lying on the ground, snoring loudly, with saliva running down his chin like a slow, sticky stream. His chest rose and fell with every deep breath, completely unaware of the mess around him.

 The sight of him lying there, like some forgotten ragdoll, made Kelvin shake his head in disbelief.

"Man, you are a disaster..." Kelvin muttered to himself as he bent down to lift Paul.

He grabbed Paul's arm, trying to pull him up, but the second his hand touched Paul's backside, an awful stench hit him,a horrible, rotten smell that made his stomach twist.

Kelvin's eyes widened in shock. His nose crinkled, and a mix of disgust and disbelief washed over him. 

"No... No way!" he gasped. "You've got to be kidding me."

Paul had shitted himself. A gross, yellow-brown mess was seeping through his jeans, spreading onto the pavement beneath him. 

Kelvin stepped back, holding his breath, trying not to vomit. 

"What did you eat, man?" he muttered, his voice full of frustration. "This is disgusting!"

He began dragging Paul by the legs, pulling him across the concrete like he was carrying a bag of potatoes. The trail of yellow poop followed them, and Kelvin's stomach twisted as he tried not to look at the mess.

"God, I swear I'm going to puke," he groaned, but nothing came out. 

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep moving. Each step felt like a struggle as the stench followed him, filling his lungs with every breath.

By the time he reached the hostel door which was still wide open, Kelvin's arms were sore, and his patience had run out. 

"No way I'm dragging you upstairs, dude. No way," he said aloud, talking to the unconscious Paul as if he could hear him.

But there was no choice. Kelvin thought about what he had to do, and after a quick decision, he pulled off his vest and tied it around his nose. It didn't do much to block the smell, but it was something.

With a deep breath, he bent down, scooped Paul into his arms, and lifted him like he was a superhero carrying a victim. 

Kelvin wasn't used to this, but lifting heavy things was something he had done a lot back home on the farm. He'd lifted sacks of potatoes, bananas, and firewood, so this wasn't new to him.

Still, this felt worse. This was a drunk guy, completely out of it.His roommate.And even though Kelvin wanted to just leave him there, he couldn't.

He carried Paul up the stairs, step by painful step. His arms burned, and he couldn't ignore the yellow streak dripping down his arms. Every time he stopped to catch his breath, the stench hit him again, making him want to vomit.

Nothing coming up. Nothing.

His mind tried to escape, thinking about something, anything other than this. But it didn't work. Every step was a brought him back to the mess Paul had made.

At some point, Paul's head, which had been hanging loosely in Kelvin's arms, slammed against the stair rails with a loud thud. Kelvin cursed under his breath. "Damn, man, you've got a hard head. How many times have you hit it today?"

But there was no time to think about that. Kelvin had to get Paul inside.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Kelvin made it to the third floor. The door to room 205 was slightly open, and he was thankful for that. Without hesitation, he kicked the door fully open with his foot and stumbled inside, still holding Paul in his arms.

Without wasting another second, he threw Paul onto the messy bed. Paul didn't even stir, still snoring like nothing had happened.

Kelvin stood for a moment, catching his breath, before rushing to the sink near the bathroom. He turned on the tap and started scrubbing his arms with soap, trying to get rid of the mess. But no matter how much soap he used, the smell wouldn't go away. It stuck to him, no matter what.

"Damn it!" Kelvin hissed, getting more frustrated. He couldn't even smell the soap anymore. All he could smell was that poop.

Minutes passed,or maybe it was hours,he didn't know. He just wanted to wash it all.He finally gave up, wiped his hands on a towel, and walked back to his bed. But the smell was still there, hanging in the air like a bad joke.

Kelvin threw himself on the bed, pulling the blanket over his face, hoping it would block out the smell. But it didn't. Nothing helped.

With a deep sigh, he let the blanket fall and lay there, staring at the ceiling.

 "I swear, this is the worst day ever," he muttered under his breath.