《Memento Mori》 Chapter 1: The Offer I raised my knee to get over the ledge. I stood on it, putting my arms up in the air to balance myself until I¡¯m upright, then I looked twenty-stories down where the dusty, grey car I always passed by every morning was parked for, maybe, over a decade. I wanted to die. And I wanted it to happen here, on the rooftop of some unnamed, but ridiculously high apartment complex. I only called it the Corner because it stood at the corner of the street I used to take to get to work. It¡¯s been here since we moved, my mother and I. And it¡¯s gonna be here ¡®till the day I die, too. I felt the wind and the silence and the buzz of the night when no one cared if some nameless, twenty-something girl is about to die. Because that¡¯s always going to be it¡ªno one gives a flyingfuck. I wish I did. But I really, really just wanted it all to be done. ¡°So, am I supposed to hug you from behind and act like we¡¯re at the edge of the Titanic?¡± I would¡¯ve jumped, but the silence and the wind and the buzz were all gone when a voice came from behind me. Come on. Can¡¯t one just let a girl die in peace? On her own terms¡ªquiet, wind on my hair, late night buzz¡ªat least? Pissed with a jaw clenched, I looked behind me. ¡°Go away,¡± I told the tall, lanky guy doused in darkness a few feet away from me. Only that he was now crossing the little distance we had from each other that¡¯s keeping me from yanking him out for ruining my suicide. I¡¯ve lived a shitty life. Wouldn¡¯t want the end to be shitty, too, would I? ¡°Sorry to ruin your moment. Just couldn¡¯t help it when you¡¯re¡ª¡° he raised his arms the way I did, only that he made a face with it as if he was imitating some big dumb bird. ¡°You know.¡± No, Idon¡¯tknow. What I do know though is that you¡¯re ruining my suicide. ¡°Oh. Sorry. Were you about to¡ª?¡± he now motioned to jump off the ledge, only that he did it with his arms first as if he was going diving. I closed my eyes and threw my arms in the air. I looked up as if to ask, ¡®really, God?¡¯ ¡°This is going to be really awkward if you keep doing that and you end up-¡° he clicked his tongue while slicing his neck with his hand, ¡°-dead. People would think you committed suicide. Or I pushed you over the ledge. Either way, it¡¯s not a good look on either of us.¡± I gave him an incredulous look. ¡°Iamtrying to die.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± ¡°Yeah, so, again, go thefuckaway.¡± I knew I just said no one gave a flying fuck, but on the day I decided to kill myself, I met someone who gave too much fuck, it did not only fly but also leaned on the wall and walked and peeled oranges in front of me. I scrunched my nose in irritation and closed my eyes. I always heard that I have anger issues, and I¡¯m starting to think they¡¯re right because I¡¯m so irritated when this guy¡¯s only peeling oranges. I let out a sigh before folding my knees and grabbing the ledge. I turned my body carefully until I jumped off onto the rooftop floor once again. No wind in my hair. No silence. No death. No suicide. ¡°Thanks for ruining my suicide.¡± I snapped at him, rolling my eyes. He did not say anything. Instead, he peeled the white off of the orange slice he got without taking his gaze off of me. ¡°What?¡± I asked, irritated. ¡°I was just peeling off the whites for you.¡± He handed me a slice of orange. ¡°Here.¡± I stared at his pinched fingers with a slice of orange in it. It was so orange, though. He did a good job peeling off the whites. I hated the whites on oranges. I always wanted them off because they¡¯re bitter and icky and they felt like strings in my mouth. But my mom would never bother to peel them off. That is if she even cared to peel oranges for me, or any fruit for that matter. I took a shallow breath before taking a step and plucking the slice from him. ¡°It¡¯s sweet,¡± I told him, chewing. ¡°It faintly tastes like iron though.¡± ¡°That¡¯s cause I peeled it with my hands. I kind of, um, held a rusty metal before I got here.¡± ¡°Sure.¡± Silence. No one spoke for a minute. He just continued peeling oranges and swallowing them while looking at the floor. Or he didn¡¯t look at anything in particular. His gaze just roamed around, wishing they had a mouth and a tongue instead because they seemed to want to say something but couldn¡¯t. ¡°Sorry I didn¡¯t go away,¡± he spoke. My gaze met his hazel one. ¡°I just got here, so.¡± ¡°Yeah. Don¡¯t try to come up here tomorrow at the same time because I¡¯ll do it again. Please don¡¯t interrupt me the second time.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a bummer,¡± he said. ¡°I got here at this time, in this rooftop, because I also wanted to die. And I kind of planned to do it again tomorrow, too.¡± Oh. I didn¡¯t know what to say because 1) I also interrupted his suicide, which I gave him hell for, and 2) it¡¯s kind of getting awkward because we realized we had to compromise on whose suicide is going to happen tomorrow. ¡°Well, I said it first, so you change your time,¡± I argued. ¡°You can¡¯t have two suicides on one place in a day. They¡¯d wrap the place around after the first one and the second one would not be able to do it anymore.¡± ¡°Then, you find another rooftop. I got here first.¡± ¡°Technically,¡± he raised his index finger while the rest of his fingers on that hand crumpled the orange skin. ¡°I got here first because I actually live here.¡± Of course, he¡¯s living here. The only rooftop I deemed good enough to die on had to be someone else¡¯s good suicide spot. I rolled my eyes in annoyance. ¡°Forfuck¡¯ssake, I just wanted to die.¡± I kicked the air as I puffed out an exhale. I looked up to the waning moon and the scattered stars on the dark night sky. The air grazed my cheeks and tickled my eyes as they started to water. In a snap, my chest felt so heavy that gravity was put to shame. The clouds seemed to swirl over me, and I felt the tears threaten to fall down. I closed my eyes and quickly wiped them with my arm. ¡°I just¡­¡± I murmured under my breath. Wanted it all to end, I wanted to say, but I¡¯m suddenly out of air. It¡¯s just all so fucking unfair. I wanted to thrash and kick and punch and destroy but at the same time, my limbs were weak, and I couldn¡¯t stand. I hate feeling like this. Like an empty void was inside me and I couldn¡¯t help but get sucked in. I wanted to cry but my tears were crystals that only leave me bleeding. I just wanted to end it all but I¡¯m apparently the butt of the universe¡¯s joke. ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡± When I looked at him, his figure was a few steps closer. I wasn¡¯t able to see it before, but he had a big frame. He towered over me, and his hazel eyes were mesmerizing. The right corner of his lips twitched when he said, ¡°I¡¯ll let you jump here instead. I¡¯ll make way for you.¡± I blinked away the pool of tears at the corners of my eyes. I looked at him under my weighed-down, wet lashes. I bet my eyes were bloodshot and looked funny, but he didn¡¯t comment on it. I let him finish because he looked like he needed to get it out or else he won¡¯t say it. ¡°I¡¯ll give you this, but you have to do me a favor for a month.¡± ¡°A month?!¡± I interjected, borderline hysterical. ¡°Dude, I can¡¯t wait one more month. I want to dienow.¡± ¡°I understand that, but how about you tell me your problems and I¡¯ll solve them for just the month you¡¯d spend with me. Whatever it is¡ªrent, shelter, food, job¡ªI¡¯ll solve them all. And in turn¡ª¡° he fished a white bottle from his pocket, ¡°¡ªyou have to feed me this every day without fail for a month.¡± I crossed my arms over my chest as I chewed on the inside of my mouth¡ªa habit I unconsciously developed during college whenever I argued for a promissory note because of my overdue payments. And that time I looked at my landlord¡¯s eyes when I told him I¡¯d pay tomorrow. Or that time when I read my mother¡¯s message asking for money after not getting in touch for three months. I realized I did it to distract myself from the pain weighing in my chest, and to make myself bleed just to see if I¡¯m really still alive. ¡°You can¡¯t solve my problems.¡± I begged myself to choke out those words, so they might¡¯ve came out a little weak and rough on the edges. ¡°I¡¯d let you move in. I¡¯d give you money. I¡¯d feed and clothe you.¡± He took a few steps towards me until I found myself craning my neck just to meet his gaze. ¡°I¡¯d give you everything you ever wanted for a month.¡± He didn¡¯t stop walking, so I had to walk backwards. ¡°Then, I¡¯d let you do the only thing you¡¯ve wanted the most.¡± I felt the ledge of the rooftop hit my back. I had nowhere else to go. His shoulders towered over me, leaving me trapped. He stopped talking in clipped sentences as if he had rehearsed it numerous of times already. ¡°Or I will push you down here myself. You¡¯d die on this rooftop, on this day.¡± His gaze remained unwavering and bleak, as if he didn¡¯t just offer to kill me. I found myself intimidated from his bleak stare. ¡°Either way, you¡¯ll die. Isn¡¯t that what you wanted?¡± A stream of tears fell down my cheeks as the cold breeze brushed my face. I looked at him straight in the eye. I tasted blood in my mouth. I hadn¡¯t stopped chewing. He stretched his hand with the white bottle between us. ¡°Turn around if you want to die tonight,¡± he told me. ¡°Grab this bottle and leave without looking back if you¡¯d stay with me for a month.¡± We stared into each other¡¯s eyes and gazed at one another¡¯s soul for a full minute, not a word spoken. Until I looked down at the bottle on his palm and wordlessly grabbed it. When I walked past him, clutching his little white bottle, I swear I heard him chuckle. But I couldn¡¯t verify because he told me to leave without looking back. Chapter 2: Lip Mark It was 9:05 when the old man from across the street ran past me for his second lap of morning jogging. It was rumored that he served in the military while he was at his prime, but he was cheated on by his wife, so he came back to kill her. He got his long scar on his left arm from their altercation. His friends from the government covered it up, so he¡¯s just a diabetic oldie now who runs around the neighborhood in the morning. When he¡¯s out of earshot, he¡¯s called the Diabetic Murderer by his neighbors. It was absurd if it turned out to be false. Who would in their right mind think of such detailed and gruesome rumor about an old diabetic? What would they gain from it? My father would say it might be the satisfaction one gets from projecting their desires onto others. My mother would tell me to fuck off. That¡¯s why I think it would be better if it were true. If a murderer was in the loose in my neighborhood and he was diabetic, maybe I could wave a candy to his face to infuriate him enough to kill me. I¡¯d prefer if he would use his old gun from the military and shoot me right on the forehead. That way, I wouldn¡¯t feel a thing. Until then, he¡¯s just this sweaty, scarred old man running around the neighborhood with oversized boxers and a red headband. ¡°Good morning, young lady.¡± I looked up from the bottom of Corner apartment¡¯s staircase upon hearing a man¡¯s voice. ¡°I¡¯m the security guard in this apartment. I¡¯ve noticed you¡¯ve been waiting here for a while now. If you tell me the surname of the resident you¡¯re waiting for, I¡¯ll let them know you¡¯re here.¡± I stood up and looked at his bloodshot eyes. He had bags under his eyes and looked restless. ¡°I appreciate it, sir. But I don¡¯t have a clue who I¡¯m supposed to wait for.¡± His sparse eyebrows furrowed. ¡°You don¡¯t know the name of the person you¡¯ve been waiting for two hours?¡± I gave him a small smile while scratching my head. ¡°You see, we kind of just met last night.¡± He looked at the red bag I had with me. Then, he gazed back at me. This time, he had judgment in his sleep-deprived eyes. ¡°You young people shouldn¡¯t think lightly of love. One night of passion doesn¡¯t necessarily have to mean you¡¯re in love with each other. Take it from this old man, young lady.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t know what gave me away,¡± I told him, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. ¡°But he told me we¡¯d live together. Doesn¡¯t that basically count as a marriage proposal?¡± His eyes went wide as he took a step back as if he was so shocked that it physically pushed him back. ¡°That¡¯s not it at all! And you mentioned you only met last night?!¡± I nodded. He facepalmed and twisted his body away from me while muttering. It was quite entertaining to see him freak out for me, so I just watched him. ¡°Young lady¡ª¡° ¡°Oh, you¡¯re already here!¡± We both looked at the guy who had half of his body out of the gate. He stopped midway once he saw me. ¡°Hey, what took you so long?¡± I told him before carrying my bag and going to his side. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you¡¯d show up,¡± he told me as he let me inside. ¡°Good morning, chief.¡± He bowed slightly to the bodyguard, which made me bow to him, too. ¡°Penthouse, was it?¡± he called the orange-peeler guy. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± The guard squinted at him before pulling me away and whispering to my ear, ¡°When he does something funny, press the red button by the door. I will come for you.¡± I laughed at how serious he sounded, totally unknowing of how I¡¯m just fucking with him. But I appreciate the gesture, so I thanked him and bowed again. ¡°What was that?¡± he asked me once we¡¯re in the elevator. ¡°Nothing. He just thought you¡¯re a predator who¡¯s luring young women to your apartment several hours after meeting them.¡± I shrugged. ¡°What?! What did you say to him?!¡± I shook my head. ¡°Nothing. He figured it all out on his own!¡± I grinned and he sighed. He seemed resigned already, so I reminded him that no-takebacks allowed. ¡°Why did he call you penthouse though?¡± ¡°Because I live on the floor before the top floor,¡± he answered casually, putting one of his hands in his pocket while the other held my luggage. ¡°Then, it¡¯s not a penthouse.¡± He shrugged and looked at me. ¡°Don¡¯t ask me. He also figured it all out on his own.¡± I laughed at his comment before the elevator doors opened. I expected it to be a long hallway of rooms after rooms but it was only one door. There were no hallways. It¡¯s just a door after a few steps from the elevator. He wheeled my luggage and fished out his keys. He opened the door all the way and made way for me. ¡°Make yourself at home.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t even have to tell me once!¡± I couldn¡¯t help but gush after I was welcomed with polished tiles and a big chandelier. I walked through the narrow hallway from the door to end up in what looked like a living room big enough to be a studio room. His TV was propped to the wall but he had mahogany shelves below it. His coffee table was wooden, too and it¡¯s shaped like a hand with its palm up. His couch was brown and he had a couple of plants in the corner. ¡°You like nature or something?¡± I asked him, and he peeked from one of the rooms to answer me. ¡°I guess you can say that.¡± I looked at where he was. It was a room beyond the living room. I went to him and he had the room lit. My luggage was also at the foot of the queen size bed. ¡°Is this mine?¡± I put my hand to my mouth because holy shit my room has a freaking chandelier! ¡°For the month, yes.¡± He answered. ¡°That makes it sound like this ain¡¯t your first rodeo,¡± I commented, scrutinizing the wooden bedside drawer. ¡°How many young women have you lured in here?¡± He chuckled. ¡°Unfortunately, this is my first crime.¡± I gasped, ¡°I¡¯m going to take your virginity for murder?¡± He clamped his lips together and put his hands on his waist. ¡°Seems like it. Be gentle with me, please. Not handy with knives yet.¡± I turned my back away from him and ogled the expensive night lamp on the drawer next. ¡°I¡¯ll thrash for show and make sure you hit all the vital organs.¡± ¡°That¡¯s my girl,¡± he told me before suddenly ruffling my hair. I didn¡¯t even hear him approach, and the sudden touch made me frown at him. ¡°Sorry, this is also my first time being lured and murdered. What is that supposed to mean?¡± He retrieved his hands and looked away as if he was suddenly embarrassed. I let him be because that was shameful behavior for an aspiring serial killer indeed. ¡°How about some breakfast first?¡± ¡°Now, you¡¯re making sense!¡± I walked past him and patted him on his shoulder. ¡°Fatten the victim before harvesting their organs¡ªthat¡¯s rule number one!¡± ¡°Before we go any further, I want to make it clear that you¡¯re single.¡± I put the spoon and forks down and wiped my mouth with the napkin he brought me. ¡°I am,¡± he answered immediately. I leaned forward and rested my elbows on the table while I put my chin on my clasped hands. ¡°And why is that?¡± I asked, squinting. ¡°Because.¡± ¡°I think you didn¡¯t finish your sentence.¡± He chuckled and put the utensils down, too. He looked at me across the table with a playful smirk on his face. ¡°I did.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t. It didn¡¯t answer my question.¡± ¡°I doubt it.¡± He continued eating. ¡°Are you gay?¡± He coughed miserably as his face turned red. A lump of steak he just put in his mouth probably choked him. I gave him my glass of water because his was empty. When he was done, he was glaring at me. I shrugged at his menacing gaze and continued slicing my medium rare steak with gentle precision. I acted like I had this every night like him even though this was my first time having this. I just couldn¡¯t let him know that. It somehow hurts my pride. ¡°What?!¡± he yelped once he¡¯d recovered. ¡°I was asking if you¡¯re gay.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not¡ª¡° ¡°So you¡¯re sad?¡± We looked into each other for a good minute in silence, but it was getting too awkward for me, so I looked away first. ¡°¡­am I supposed to laugh now?¡± he asked afterward. ¡°The moment¡¯s gone and the damage has been done so no.¡± I put the last piece of one-by-one inch (I made sure) steak on my plate then wiped my mouth again. ¡°You know, that napkin¡¯s for the table, right? I use it to wipe the table clean?¡± I quickly threw the napkin away as I glared at him. I felt my mouth itch from disgust. I wiped it clumsily and harshly with my wrists. ¡°What is wrong with you?!¡± In disbelief, I threw one of the carrots from my plate but he dodged it. I threw him beans next but he was surprisingly good at dodging fucking vegetables. I ran out of leftovers to throw at him, so I just seethed while glaring at his ridiculously symmetrical face. I¡¯m so gonna get him back for that. I heard him chuckle quietly. I can¡¯t tell if he sees me amusing like how he sees a puppy running amusing or how he sees a monkey juggle three bananas amusing. It doesn¡¯t make me feel very good that he¡¯s happy and I¡¯m not, so I decided to cut his reverie short and get down to business. I fished the white bottle from my pocket and placed it on the table. I made sure to put it down loud enough for him to be startled. ¡°Jesus!¡± He jumped on his seat. He looked pathetic, and that made me quite satisfied. ¡°Steak for breakfast should be enough to get this down.¡± He looked at it and his expression became unreadable. ¡°Now, choo choo this bitch down your throat.¡± He furrowed, but there was a smile on his lips. ¡°Do you understand what you¡¯re saying?¡± ¡°Half the time,¡± I answered. ¡°You know, I opened that last night and it was the weirdest thing I¡¯ve ever seen. What are they? Are you even sure they¡¯re safe to be ingested?¡± He looked at me after drinking the rest of the water from my glass. ¡°All I know is I want to drink it.¡± ¡°Without knowing what it is?! For all we know, it might be a piece of charcoal! Have you even seen it?¡± He didn¡¯t answer, so I opened the bottle and pulled one pill from it. ¡°It¡¯s pitch black, you. Pitch black. No good pill is this color.¡± ¡°I know, but it¡¯s maintenance. I have to take it every day without fail for thirty days to get the intended effects.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve been scammed,¡± I told him seriously. ¡°No medicine is ever like that.¡± ¡°How would you know?¡± ¡°Because,¡± I answered him smugly. He grinned. ¡±That did not answer my question.¡± ¡°Now you know how it feels.¡± I put the pill back in the bottle and pushed it to his side of the table. I also stood up to reach for the pitcher of water and refilled his glass. ¡°Regardless of whether you¡¯re done eating or not, you have to drink this now because I¡¯m done and it¡¯s time for my lazy lunch nap.¡± ¡°I¡¯m done eating, too.¡± He pushed his plate away from him. ¡°Go ahead and feed me one of the pills now.¡± I raised a brow at him. ¡°You¡¯re a grown-ass man. Take a pill and drink.¡± ¡°I thought I clearly told you to feed me.¡± ¡°You¡¯re fucking with me, right?¡± I looked at him incredulously, and he had the audacity to just smile at me like a golden retriever. ¡°So I have to directly put the pill on your mouth every single time?¡± ¡°Yes, that¡¯s what my statement implied.¡± ¡°Do I also have to chew it for you, your highness?¡± I snapped at him, begrudgingly opening the white bottle again. He laughed at me again. ¡°No, you don¡¯t have to go that far.¡± ¡°Thank you for the consideration,¡± I commented sarcastically. I took one black pill again and stood up from my seat with a sigh. Because the table is square and awfully wide, I have to walk all the way to his side to be able to reach his mouth. ¡°Open up.¡± I told him when I got to his side. ¡°I don¡¯t have water yet.¡± I pointed at his glass that I just refilled. ¡°Then, what do you call that?¡± ¡°That¡¯s not yours.¡± I furrowed. What is he even saying? ¡°Yes, because that¡¯s yours. That¡¯s your water. Keep up.¡± He shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t want that. I want to drink from your glass.¡± ¡°It was funny before, but your creepy serial killer role play is now just uncomfortable.¡± He, again, without any regard for my remarks, beamed at me like I just patted his head and gave him a belly rub. I sighed defeatedly and took the pitcher of water again to refill my glass. Then, I put it in front of him. ¡°Anything else?¡± ¡°Drink it.¡± ¡°If it wasn¡¯t clear, I was being sarcastic.¡± I looked at him dead in the eyes, but his was still as bright as ever. ¡°Oh my fucking god, you.¡± ¡°Just a sip is fine,¡± he told me as if that helped. I rolled my eyes at him, obviously annoyed, before taking my glass of water and drinking from it. I intentionally gulped down almost all of it so he¡¯d have a hard time swallowing that hard black pill of death. It was petty but he was asking for it. I slammed the glass down after and wiped my mouth with my wrist. ¡°Now, drink the fucking pill.¡± I glared at him. ¡°Good girl,¡± he told me casually before opening his mouth. I dropped the black pill in it and he grabbed my glass of water. But before he drank from it, he raised it to the light and turned it around as if he was searching for something. After a few turns, he drank from only a certain part of the glass¡ªthe part where I drank. He searched for my lip mark on the glass to drink from it. It didn¡¯t matter if he didn¡¯t have enough water left to gulp the pill down as long as he drank from where my lips had been. ¡°Did you just do that?¡± I asked him, my body frozen on the spot. ¡°Yes,¡± he answered with his awfully perfect handsome smile. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Because.¡± He shrugged. I cringed. All over my body. The hair on the back of my neck erected as if I had been electrified. I didn¡¯t know what I was feeling, but it left a bitter taste in my mouth. ¡°You¡¯re officially one of the craziest assholes I have ever met.¡± I grabbed the white bottle and turned around in a huff. ¡°I really hope these pills kill you!¡± I shouted before I slammed my door shut. Chapter 3: Problem Solving Nighttime came and the Psychopath I apparently live with now came knocking on my door. "Dinner''s ready." He didn''t sound embarrassed or ashamed at what he did at all, which made me embarrassed for the both of us. After repeating the mantra, ''I did this to myself. I did this to myself,'' I got up in a huff and opened the door forcefully. It bounced back and slammed itself to my shoulder after it hit the wall but I played it cool. "Do you have anything to say to me?" I asked him, making him look back to me and stop retracing his steps back to wherever he came from. "I just said it." He had a confused furrow on his pretty face. "Did you whisper, ''I''m sorry about what I did earlier. I''m totally resentful''? ''Cause I didn''t hear it." He turned his body fully back to face me. "What could I have done earlier that begs for an apology?" I raised my brow at him and crossed my arms. "Aside from talking like you came from the Regency era, I was referring to your drinking habit." He seemed to have an AHA moment, his eyes lighting up. "Oh! Sorry, have you seen my stash of ''79 wines? I only open one bottle when something good happens, trust me." It was my turn to furrow because what if this man saying?! "No, not that! Though I''m regretful I haven''t seen that stash. Might''ve helped me forget what you did." "Then, by all means, help yourself!" He pointed to the hallway past my room. "The last door is the basement. That''s where I keep the wines." I looked at where he pointed, but I caught on to his effort on changing the topic, so I went to look back at him. This sly, pretty fox! Why do I keep thinking he''s pretty?! I squinted at him. "Didn''t you notice that I didn''t come down when you called me for lunch?" "I did. I just thought you were asleep." "Bitch, why would I sleep on roasted salmon with caviar?!" He chuckled. "I did say the menu the second time I called you to make you come down, but you didn''t so I thought you were asleep." I let out a frustrated grunt. "Oh my god, you''re annoying," I couldn''t help but mutter while I massaged my overheating temples. "I am?" he asked after hearing me, his voice suddenly a pitch high and sounding like he was on the verge of tears. I looked up and his brows were high while he pouted. His eyes seemed glossy in the lighting. His expression akin to a wet, lost puppy suddenly made me want to punch myself for saying something. Why does he look so innocent when he did something so outrageously psychotic?! "Stop that." I pointed at his pouty lips and desperate eyes before I walked past him. "And take out the salmon and the caviar. I''m so pissed that I want to eat two meals." He kept up with me. "Are you pissed at me?" "Yes." He fell silent, so I looked at him. He was walking with me but he had his whining face on and slumped shoulders. "Are you being serious right now?" I stopped right before we reached the kitchen to face him. "I have always been serious with you," he said with a furrow as if it was the truest thing in his life. My breath hitched and I had to look to my side to not be carried away. Look, he has sad, sorry hazel eyes with sharp angles for a face and the right amount of bulging muscles for a body. Plus, he has effortless chestnut brown curls that cover half of his ears but do not reach past his nape. He''s wearing a white shirt that''s stretched out to the nines and he''s pouting because I said I was upset with him. He only drank from where I did then he says things like that. How could a girl just casually recover from that?! "I''m being honest!" He moved to where I was facing so I''d look at him. "I swear!" I turned around to continue walking to the dining room. He had the plates, flatware, and drinking glasses set up like how we did at breakfast. The same pitcher of water was also there. He cooked a whole turkey with some mushroom soup on the side. There was also a bowl of garlic bread. "Dude, you don''t even know me," I said as I walked to my chair. "I''m not falling for it. And tell me where you''re hiding your butler and your maids-in-waiting because we''re eating like an emperor here." He sits on his chair and looks up at me with the same raised brows and glossy eyes. This time though, he had his lips open slightly as if he wanted to say something but was still cautious of how I''d react if he did. Look at him, he''s walking on eggshells around me! Because I said he upset me! When one gets such a reaction from a pretty boy, one would want to fuck with him more. I''m one. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. "And just so you know, I''m still mad at you." His wide shoulders slumped more as he looked down looking so dejected. I almost laughed out loud, but I luckily stopped myself. "And where''s the salmon with the caviar?" He immediately stood up and went to the microwave. He took a just-reheated salmon from it and grabbed the small saucer of caviar on the countertop. "I reheated it before I called you just in case you wanted it." He put the salmon and the caviar next to my plate and sat back down on his chair like an obedient dog. He drooped again and deflated like a balloon. And I lost it. I guffawed so loud that it filled the room. "You look so ridiculous, I can''t even hold it in anymore!" I continued to laugh, and he watched me. When I was done, I was clutching my stomach and wiping my tears. I''m not proud that the loudest I ever laughed in my life was when I bullied a lost puppy personified, but who wouldn''t?! I just saw the chance and took it! I started taking rice from the bowl because now that I''ve laughed my frustration off, I''m feeling the hunger seep in. "I''ve never seen you laugh like that," he started to say. "I liked it." "Liked what? Seeing my nostrils flare up as I HA-HA-HA in capslock?" He chuckled but shook his head. "No, just the whole scenery of you laughing and happy. I''m glad I looked ridiculous enough to deserve such an overwhelming and delicate response from you." He smiled at me, the same one that made his eyes disappear. "Okay, enough Shakespear-ing around, you. I think I''m really hungry now because I just felt something giddy backflip in my stomach." I gave him the spoon for the rice. He gladly took it. Our thumbs touched for a moment, and I didn''t know why I had to take note of that. I cut the chicken and put the leg part on my plate. "But I''m serious. You don''t know me, and I don''t know you. Why do you act like this?" He stared at me like I don''t know what I''m talking about. I rolled my eyes at him with an exasperated sigh. "Like drinking from my glass and whatnot. You let me in your home so casually, too! Are you not afraid of me? After all, I''m just some suicidal stranger you met yesterday." "That''s not true. You''re no stranger," he answered me. "And I let you in because you held your part of the deal. I''m just doing mine." "You let your guard down too much," I told him with a raised brow and a judgmental stare. "Only ''cause it''s you." I didn''t reply. I had no words for that at this point; just feelings. "Doesn''t matter. You still have to not be so...accepting all the time. Establish your boundaries, even with me. I know I would do the same with you, so." I took a bite of the chicken. It was heaven. "Oh my god, I know I was joking earlier but did you really have a butler? Or a chef? ''Cause this is good!" He smiled. "No, I don''t. I cooked everything myself." Of course he does! "And I don''t think I will have any boundaries with you." "That''s either psychotic or romantic." I pointed my fork at him. "Just choose one." "I prefer romantic, then." He grinned. "You''re boring." "Doubtful." He shrugged and cut a part of the chicken for himself. "What are your boundaries with me?" "Hmm," I looked up as I chewed. I know I told him I have boundaries with him, but I really haven''t given it much thought. It''s just my default whenever I meet someone new¡ªestablish boundaries and draw a line they cannot cross. I''ve just found it easier that way. But if there''s one thing I''ve felt uncomfortable with so far... "I don''t like you drinking from where I drank." His head drooped slightly as if he was disappointed. "Do you mean drinking from the same glass?" "Normally, I''m okay with those things but looking for my lip mark just to drink from it is too much of a step further." His face brightened up. "So drinking from the same glass is okay, but drinking from the same part of the same glass is not?" I squinted at him, weighing the pros and cons in my head. Now that I''ve thought about it, I personally didn''t mind that he drank from where my lips had been in the glass. It''s the importance that he put into drinking where I drank that irked me. He specifically looked for it, and we just met. I think those two facts alone validate what I felt when he did it so brazenly in front of me. "Yes, that''s where I draw the line," I concluded. "Am I right by thinking that you felt uncomfortable with me doing it because we just met?" I nodded. "Yeah, sort of." "Then, if we spent more time together and knew each other more, it''d be okay?" I put my flatware down and squinted at him. "Are you trying to find a loophole in my logic? You''re quite the problem solver, huh?" He chuckled softly. "You got me. But technically, I was right." I rolled my eyes as I laughed, finding him outright ridiculous. "Whatever floats your boat, you." I heard him giggle and we fell silent for a while. We both ate to our heart''s content because the man can cook. At this point, I wouldn''t be surprised if he can also play guitar and piano, has a black belt in taekwondo, and has two PhD''s or graduated Harvard at fifteen. I realized that God marks his favorite people with good biceps and strong jawline, so this guy''s probably one of them. "By the way," he gulped the rest of the food before he continued. "Remember my promise of solving all your problems in a month?" "How could I forget?" I sipped some soup from my bowl. "What about it?" "I just thought now that since you''re already feeding me the pills, I''m going to start keeping my promise as well. I''ve already taken care of your rent earlier. I paid a year worth of it. Now, I need to know what else you need or want, so I can have them done fo¡ª" I raised my hand to his face to stop him from talking. "Hold up," I put my hand down, "you paid a year''s worth of rent? How did you even do that?" "I went to your landlord¡ª" "You what?!" He looked startled at my reaction. "Did I do something wrong?" "I mean, how did you even know who my landlord was? Do you even know where I lived?" He was silent for a moment as if he was choosing his words wisely so as to not upset me. "Should I have not?" "That''s not the point! You going to my landlord and paying my dues meant that you know where I lived before I came here and, I don''t know, it''s creepy?! It makes me feel like you''ve been stalking me or something!" I drew a line at center of the table with my fingers. "Again, boundaries! I''m not comfortable with you knowing more than I know about you!" His eyes became glossy again and he dropped his utensils. He retracted his hands on his lap as he looked down at them. "I''m sorry. I just figured that you would like it if everything was done for you before you knew it, so I did my research after I''ve let you in my apartment to take care of your rent. I didn''t mean to cross your boundaries. I¡ª" he looked at me in the eye, "I just... want to make you happy..." I exhaled and closed my eyes. My head was starting to hurt. I know he just wanted to be helpful, but I don''t like being oblivious of things. I didn''t like that he also researched about me behind my back. It makes me feel like I''m being investigated and invalidated. He looked genuinely hurt and genuine for his intentions, but I still couldn''t help but feel upset about his actions. Maybe it was about my own issues that I have not resolved yet, but either way, I think what he did was wrong. "Look." I faced his sullen face again and put my elbows on the table. "I appreciate your intentions, but I do not like that you went behind my back to know more about me. I was literally in the same place as you; you could''ve just asked me. If you want this to work, you have to ask me about these things, especially if they involve me and my problems. As you said, they''re yours to solve but before that, they were mine. And they were personal." He averted his gaze from me and wiped a tear from his left eye. He made it seem like he didn''t, but I caught it. Did he really just cry? "Just..." I breathed sharply, "if you want to know something about me, just ask me. Okay?" He nodded without looking at me. I sighed, somehow feeling guilty. I wanted to tease him to the point of tears but not this way. All I did was say my piece. Was he really already hurt by that? Did I mean that much to him, or was he just too softhearted? He was still looking down, but he was no longer wiping tears. Somehow, I felt like I was in the wrong, so I had the urge to comfort him. Well, maybe I really came on too strong to him. I mean, this was a guy who peeled oranges for a stranger on the first day they met for Christ''s sake. I really should''ve known better. To make up for it, I reached for his empty glass to pour him water. But I saw that it had a chip on it, so I just refilled mine and put it in front of him. "Here, drink." I offered him. He looked up and saw my glass in front of him. He looked at me first as if asking for permission, so I just nodded. "Thank you," he muttered before he took my glass of water and drank from it. Chapter 4: An Idea "Hey, you." I nudged his knee to get his attention. I put down the book I was pretending to read and watched him raise his brows and close his book around his thumb to know which page he was already on. "Yeah?" He looked at me with a smile. It was a charming smile. He always smiles charmingly, what am I even saying? Again, God''s favorite. But even that smile can''t cheer me up right now. I thought when I volunteered to sit with him in the living room on his super fluffy sofa while he read, my boredom would be out of my system, but no. It stayed and set up a camp. In my defense, an Italian cookbook doesn''t really have a nice plot. "I''m bored," I told him with a pout. He looked at my book. "You told me you''d enjoy that because it has a lot of pictures." "Well, pizza doesn''t look good in every angle." I shrugged. He chuckled and leaned in to his palm coffee table to reach for his bookmark which was a laminated baby''s-breath. He put it in where his thumbs were and finally put the book down on the table. Once unoccupied, he faced me and rested his hands on his lap, suddenly attentive. "What do you want to do?" he asked me with extreme interest. "I don''t know. What can I do in your humble abode?" I fling my hands in the air to emphasize my sarcasm on humble because owning an entire floor in an apartment complex that has a working thermostat is not humble at all. "Do you have playstation or something?" "I don''t, I''m sorry. I don''t play video games." He gave me an apologetic smile. "Wow, you''re really the ideal type of ideal women!" He furrowed. "What''s that supposed to mean?" "You''re God''s favorite," I told him point-blank. He laughed. "I assure you, I am not." "Whatever. I''m entitled to my opinion." I stood up and repeatedly tap the sides of my legs as I looked around his living room. "Come on, let''s do something!" I whined to him as I jumped on my place like a seven year old who can''t get a Play Doh. "Well, what haven''t you tried to do? We can start from that, like a bucket list!" I sat on the carpet and rested my chin on the palm table. "I haven''t done everything! What do people even do for fun these days?" He shrugged. "I don''t know, drugs?" "Oh, tried that. What else?" "Um, drinking? Clubbing?" "I was asking about what other people do for fun, not your college bucket list, you. I was thinking more of like... car theft, property break-in, petty robbery. Those kinds of fun." He didn''t respond, which made me think that he was already contemplating on calling the cops on me. I chuckled. "Well, if it wasn''t obvious, I was kidding¡ª" "Really? ''Cause I''ve already thought of whose property to trespass." He answered, his eyes bright with a tinge of disappointment. "So you were quiet because you were running a demonstration in your head just now?" "I wouldn''t call it a demonstration; it''s more like a plan," he corrected me. "I was thinking of the ex-military in the Maple Street a couple of blocks away." My jaw fell as my eyeballs slipped out of their sockets. Is he insane?! "Have you gone mad?! You''re making me trespass an ex-military''s house for my first break-in?! That''s like giving a kindergartener a physics problem!" "He may not be an ex-military, for all I know," he casually said. "Ha! How are you so cool about this?! He might have a gun, you!" I made a gun with my fingers and shot it at him. "He can do that!" "I mean, I''m not entirely sure if he was a retired military. I just told people he might be because I saw a dog tag on his neck when he moved in. You know how people overreact and twist things." He shrugged, leaning on the back of the sofa as if he didn''t just drop a bomb on me. "Wait, you told people that?! How about the rumor that he killed his wife who had an affair?! He was called Diabetic Murderer for Christ''s sake!" "All I said was he believed he would kill his spouse if he ever caught her cheating. People must''ve misunderstood," he shrugged. "But the diabetes was true! I saw that he had an insulin pen on his pocket once." He pointed at her in passion of what he was saying before he put his hands back on his chest "It couldn''t have been his! Or it might just be a regular pen. Why do you even think you know what an insulin pen looks like?! You''re sure of nothing about the man, yet you had already told the whole neighborhood that he was a diabetic and a killer!" I explained to him, my voice rising in panic. "Hey, it''s not my fault people twist my assumptions!" He sulked. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. "Where did you even get these "assumptions" of yours?" I air-quoted. "From him. He frequents my restaurant." Again, jaw on the floor; eyeballs out of their holes. Did he just say my restaurant?! "I¡ª" I blinked a couple of times in disbelief. "Y-You have your own restaurant?!" He nodded. "Yes. They''re in the outskirts of town." "I¡ª!" I facepalmed then moved my hand on my agape mouth. "That Michelin star restaurant is yours?!" His face brightened up suddenly. "Yes! You know of it?!" "Bitch, everyone knows about Fate''s!" I rolled my eyes at him. "Why didn''t you say anything to me?!" He shrugged. "I didn''t think it was of any importance." "Had you said that, I would''ve even slept with you on the night we met! Like, no questions asked!" I blabbered with my hands. "Really? Then, I''m the owner and the chef of Fate''s," he quickly jumped the gun. His seriousness in saying it made me chuckle. "Well, you didn''t start with that, so offer''s no longer valid." I dismissed him with my hand. He drooped like a slime as soon as I said no. "I have an idea: let''s visit your restaurant! To be honest, since it''s so high-end and expensive, I haven''t even dared cross the sidewalk in front of it. I always take a detour because I was afraid I''d be charged for just looking at the logo." I laughed, but the bitter memories resurfaced in my head. Yeah, those were rough times. "That''s why I hadn''t seen you pass by!" he pointed out as if everything just made sense. "Just to inform you, had you entered Fate''s, everything on the menu is free." I scowled. "You''re like the worst entrepreneur, then." I scoffed, standing up. "It''s only free for you though?" He also stood up and we''re now at eye level. "How would you even know it was me? You didn''t know me before." He only smiled charmingly as an answer.
There was a bell at Fate''s when a person enters through the door. By the entrance, there was a service staff in neat, black uniform who welcomed us warmly. She first saw me enter and asked if I had a reservation. When the Apparently-Insanely-Rich guy entered behind me, recognition hit her which prompted her to bow and greet him. "Good afternoon, sir," she respectfully spoke with grace. "Good afternoon, too." Mister Charming smiled again. "I''m here with her. Get us a private room." "No!" I tugged on the sleeve of his black shirt. "I want to sit where the regular rich people sit!" He looked down to me with an even charming smile. This reached his eyes. I''m certain it was because he found me adorable like how a puppy would whine to play catch in the park was adorable. "Sit us in table six, then. Second floor," he relayed to the staff while I waited beside him with a large grin. I knew rich people would see me so I wore my hole-less lavender fitted top and secondhand Brandy Melville jeans. It was rather tight on the crotch when I sit but it''s the only branded jeans I have. I like to save this pain and suffering on special occasions. The lady staff looked through her reservation book. "Sorry, sir. That table''s reserved for two people at 3 PM." "Cancel it." My neck snapped to look at him as if he just grew a third ear. He said it with his charming business smile, too! His face was pleasant but his voice quivered knees. Is he power playing right now? The lady was speechless, unsure of what to say. I caught her look at me for help. I nodded at her, feeling like a prince helping out a damsel in distress. "Hey, now that I think about it, I kinda wanna go to a private room instead." I told him while tugging his sleeve again to get his attention. "But it''s closed off. There are no windows or sceneries. And that doesn''t really serve the vibe of the restaurant," he told me, suddenly droopy. "You also said you wanted regular tables! Table six has the best view of the city. I know you love sceneries." I chuckled to play it off because he''s talking as if I''m his girlfriend. The staff might get the wrong idea. "That''s okay, friend! Ha-ha! Even a place without a view is fine!" I turned to the lady staff after a very awkward laugh. "Is there any regular table open?" "I''m afraid we''re fully booked today, ma''am." Her gaze turned to the man beside me cautiously. "Even the private rooms..." Even without looking at him, I knew he was giving her a deathly glare because she started to fumble. I could feel her fear emanating from every pore of her skin. "Then, maybe we can just come back another ti¡ª" A noisy couple emerged from the doors and interrupted me. We, three, followed them with our eyes because they took all the hearing space in the room with their high-pitch giggles. Luckily, they didn''t linger around too much and just headed for the exit behind us. "Give us their table," he instructed the lady, pertaining to the loud couple who just left. "Uh¡ªy-yes, sir." The lady frantically went inside under the glare of Mister Bossy beside me. I elbowed him softly. "Don''t glare at her. You''re putting her in a difficult position, you know. For your information, the restaurant doesn''t cancel a reservation; the customers do. And I also heard that you should reserve a table here six months in advance to be seated! Surely, the customer would give your employees hell!" He blinked innocently at me. "I wasn''t glaring at her." "You were! Did you see how she quivered in fear?!" "I''m sure I didn''t," he insisted. "I don''t glare when I''m with you." He giggled as if he just said the most romantic thing on earth. "The table''s r-ready, s-sir!" The lady staff appeared suddenly, cutting our conversation short. She was sweating and out of breath. If I had money with me, I would tip her right then and there. "Thank you," he smiled at her again and she bowed in response. Before I went in, I gave her a smile and a thumbs up. "Good afternoon, sir¡ª" we were greeted by a familiar, old man in a black suit. He saw me and cut himself short. "Sir. Let me lead you to your table." Just like the lady staff, he bowed at him only that his was more refined and robotic-like. And it was a perfect 90-degree one. I''m not a protractor but his sharp angles couldn''t deny it. "Good afternoon, David," he greeted back. And when that man rose we met eye-to-eye and it instantly clicked for me. "Diabetic Murderer!" I peeped while I pointed at him. When I realized people were staring, I instantly put down my hand and covered my mouth. What is he doing here?! And how does he know Apparently-A-Big-time guy?! Seeing how he talked to him, does Diabetic Murderer work for him?! I looked at the guy beside me for answers. "Oh, this is David, my secretary," he casually said. "Or yeah, you better know him as the diabetic who killed his wife."