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—“

“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—that’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—“

“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—the 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.