1
I walk down the dark street. My hoodie is already soaked with rain, and the cold drops run down my spine. I pull the hood further over my head and put my hands back into my pockets. I glance up as I turn into the next street before looking down at my shoes again.
I’m nearly alone. In this weather, every normal person stays at home with a warm cup of tea and watches some TV show.
The sun hasn’t shown itself in three days. The thick, gray clouds loom over the sky, barely letting any light through. The streetlights glow throughout the day, shedding light on the passersby.
I stop in a building entrance and shake off the water. I tap my wet shoes on the mat and ring the bell for apartment 7.
No one answers, but the lock clicks open, and I push the door open.
With my head bowed, I take the staircase with quiet steps. Still, I have the feeling that I’m waking up the whole building.
I arrive at the door and knock softly.
Minjoon opens the door with a cold expression. He looks behind me before letting me in.
When the door closes, he turns to me and smiles lecherously. His hands move up and pull me against him. He starts to pull up the fabric.
I smile uncomfortably. My skin is cold, and Minjoon’s hands make me feel even colder.
“Hey... can we maybe just talk first?”
He keeps running his hands over my body, his mouth brushing against my neck.
“I missed you...” He kisses my sensitive skin. “I want you.”
His hand slides down under my pants, and I go stiff at his touch. I grit my teeth but let him continue. Even though my heart contracts with discomfort, I don’t want to call him out on it either. I hate that I feel like this. But I want him to like me.
"I missed you too..."
Minjoon pulls the hoodie over my head together with my shirt. Already freezing the air makes my skin crawl.
He doesn't seem to notice.
"Go to the bedroom." His voice is dark with desire.
I nod and slowly walk through the small hallway to the all too familiar bedroom. Like usual I crawl to the middle of the black sheets. I can hear Minjoons belt open. I turn the head and see how he removes the leather from the loops.
I swallow dry. As his eyes dart over my half nacked body , I hesitantly open the zipper and take of my pants.
Minjoon smirks and gets over me.
With one move he turns me around, pressing me against the bed.
I gasp weakly, sounds muffeld by the pillow.
His finger trace over my cold spine and finds it's way to my butt.
I clenche my hands as he pushes in his fingers without warning. The dry, forcefull move makes tears form in my eyes.
He pulls out. I look over my shoulder.
"Don't turn around...!" Minjoon presses my head back down.
I close my eyes, I know how he is when it comes to sex. Actually, I know exactly how he is with me. Sometimes I'm not even sure if he really likes me but there must be something on me otherwise he wouldn't spent time with me. Maybe it's just the fact he can do everything he wants to me and I would never do anything against it. He knows how lucky I am to have him.
I wimper as he presses his hardness into me. Immediatly he starts with hard, merciles thrusts, moaning each time he hits me deep inside.
While I try to stay as calm as possible, his finger scratch over my back. He pulls me up on all four, holds my thighs with hard grib while his hips push against me.
A helpless groan escapes my throat.
My feelings shut down. It's like I left my body and notice it out of second hand. I don't get any pleassure from his movements but thats how it is. I know, once this is over, he'll relaxe and be nice again.
Minjoon moans darkly. I can scent his climax even before he cums. He doesn't bother pulling out, just let me fall down when he's finished.
I stay there for a moment, feeling his release dropping out, sticking to my thighs, before turning around and excusing me to the bathroom with lowered eyes.
After I cleaned myself up, I take two deep breaths and walk back out.
Minjoon is sitting on the couch, wrapped in his silk blue robe, legs spread wide. He swirls freshly poured wine in his glass, watching the liquid move in small waves along the rim.
I walk up to him with small steps and sit down with some distance between us. My hands nervously fidget in my lap.
“I’ll be out of town next week,” Minjoon says emotionlessly, as if he’s talking about the weather.
“Is it... for work?” I ask quietly. Even though I didn’t expect grand speeches or displays of affection from him, his blunt, calculated switch between sleeping with me and letting me down right afterward hurts me.
He nods slightly.
“A new murder case just got assigned to my team.”
His flat tone makes me wonder once again whether his work has made him empty inside or if this is just who he’s always been.
“Will you be in danger?” I’m not sure if I really care, but as something like his boyfriend, I should be worried.
“I could kill this motherfucker way faster than he could even aim.”
I glance at him. He doesn’t look at me. His eyes are fixed on the window while he takes casual sips of red wine. The bottle stands right there on the table. No glass for me.
He stands up, looking down at me.
“I have to leave early tomorrow. You can walk home on your own, right?” It’s not a question, just a statement worded to make him seem caring.
I nod silently and get up. My lower back hurts with every movement.
“Can’t I stay over for the night?” I ask quietly. I feel pathetic, pleading for every little kindness.
“You know I don’t like it when someone’s here while I sleep.”
I nod again and grab my hoodie. It’s still wet, but I put it on anyway. It’s not like he would offer me one of his.
“Thanks for understanding, babe.” Minjoon kisses my cheek, but the gesture feels distant.
“No problem. I know how stressful your work can be...”
He nods and disappears into the kitchen. I watch him go before turning toward the door. I hesitate to leave, but when Minjoon doesn’t come back after a few seconds, I open the door.
“Bye...” I say, more to myself than to him, and step out into the hallway. When the door falls shut behind me, I flinch. The sound echoes through the staircase.
I slowly walk down, careful with each step. My legs feel sore and weak. The dull, persistent pain makes my throat tighten.
I make it to the next corner before the tears begin to fall silently down my face. I don’t even feel sad exactly, just empty, and it scares me. I wrap my arms around myself and walk faster.
The rain has stopped, but the streets are still covered in a layer of water, soaking my shoes as I hurry through the gray city. It seems like the buildings have taken on the color of the sky, and I fit right in with my gray top and dark pants.
With soft steps, I walk up the outdoor stairs to my apartment. The old wooden steps creak whenever I put too much pressure on them, and I want to avoid anyone hearing me.
It’s already an unsafe area. No need to wake up sleeping wolves.
I take off my soaking shoes before going inside. The first thing I do is lock the door. Only then do I put down my shoes and turn on the dim light.
I live in a one-room apartment. The door opens directly into the living room. My bed stands in the corner, and on the opposite side are the small kitchen and the only other door, which leads to the bathroom.
I think about taking a shower, but at this hour, there won’t be any hot water.
I hang up my clothes, put on some dry ones, and lie down on the bed. The old ceiling is covered in peeling paint, but at least it keeps out the rain and provides a little insulation.
My eyes close on their own, and as the rain starts pattering against the window again, I drift into a light sleep.
