Quiet Hate

Lover

König invites me over to his place for dinner that night. I've never been there before, so I don't know what to expect, but I pack an overnight bag and try to pick out an outfit.

It's obviously not like we're going to a fancy restaurant, so I don't want to overdo it, but I want to at least look nicer than normal.

I settle on a low cut, square neck black shirt that shows the perfect amount of skin to be sexy, and, since it's warm enough, a pair of black denim shorts.

I braid my hair, letting it hang down my back, and stare at myself in the mirror for a few seconds.

It's been a fairly long time since I was involved with someone, but it never felt like this. König and I are equals.

I pick up my bag and head out the door, heading to where König said his house is. All of his windows are covered with curtains, probably to keep the outsiders from seeing his face.

He greets me with his hood on, and pulls me inside by my waist. After the door closes, he takes his hood off and my bag from me, and picks me up for a kiss.

"Meine Liebe," he says. "Wie geht's?"

I laugh as he kisses my cheek. "I'm good, it's not been that long since I saw you last."

He sits me down, and I finally get to look around.

It's sparse, but very clean. It screams König. Pretty much everything is either white or gray.

"I like it in here," I say, walking around. I turn to look at him from his living room, and see that he has finally seen what I'm wearing.

"Me too," he says, it being obvious he isn't talking about his living room.

I swat at him as he comes closer. "Nice try," I say. "I came over for dinner, and I expect to be fed."

"I'll feed you something," he says, and I laugh as he turns back to the kitchen.

He's made chicken parmesan, a variety of sides, and for dessert, apple pie. With ice cream, he tells me.

I clap my hands excitedly. "Wow, König, I didn't know you would put in so much effort."

"Why wouldn't I?" he asks, brow furrowed and clearly puzzled.

I smile, leaning up as he bends down to kiss his cheek, and we make our plates. We sit across from each other at the table, and I prop my feet up on his knees underneath of us. His legs are so long it takes no reaching at all.

We fill each other in on what we've missed, and his face darkens when I mention how I've been spending a lot of time with Simon.

"It really isn't anything," I say, trying to reassure him. "I mean, neither are we, really..." I trail off, suddenly regretting how stupidly soon I suggested the what are we conversation.

"I don't like seeing you so enraptured with him," König says, like he hasn't heard the second part.

"He's my friend," I say, adamant. "I won't lose that."

König softens, reaching across and taking my hand in his. His thumb presses into my palm. "I'm not asking you to, I never would," he says. "I just want you to myself."

I smile, scooting my dessert plate to the side.

"As for what we are..." König says, his tone changing. "I'm going to marry you."

I look up at him in shock, mouth hanging agape as he continues.

"I will be your husband, and we will be a great team, inside and outside of work. I want and need you in my life."