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 text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"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—establish 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—"

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—"

"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—" 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.