Climax King

•0.3•

I down a shot of hard bourbon and allow the brown liquid to scorch my throat. It was early afternoon, the perfect time to drink the rest of your day away.

It wasn't until the sound of shattering glass brought me to my own conscience. The excess liquid slides down the white walls while the broken glass lands just below it.

I had no intentions of cleaning it up. There was no point. Marina would handle it tomorrow morning when she stops by. She was used to the rage, the other side of me that took control of my entire existence when I least expected.

I cross the tiled floor to the open kitchen where my uneaten breakfast lay across the marbled island. I always hated the look of marble, or I just hated the look of all things modern. It was sickening that we were forgetting our ways of traditional style, but I had no say in my place of living.

After dumping the food into the garbage bin, I stalk across my floor to the stairwell. It always felt like the thin glass steps would shatter at my feet just like the rest of my fucked up world. But I was yet to see the day.

By the time I reached the top of the stairs, my entire body was still fuming with resentment. Resentment for Jason, Naomi, Georgie.. Mena.

She doesn't know the half of it, she'll never know the half of it as a matter of fact. She deserves more than what I could offer, let alone what I don't have. But how could she think so low of me? I guess I brought that title onto myself a long time ago when I decided to fuck around emotionlessly. It was my own sanity at risk and it always will be with the shit that's happened over the span of 18 years.

The scolding hot water that cascades from my back drifts me away from the depressing tale of a fostered kid forced into adoption for their own wealthy raise.

After not seeing her for three weeks, holding her for two, it was hard not to think of her eyes. Her grey orbs that tauntingly drew you in. I never intended for feelings to develop. Her request for help had stunned me. I knew who she was, everyone did. But the fact that she'd ask me over her own boyfriend for something I doubted I could succeed, it just seemed all too unrealistic. But when our meetings got more intimate, more touchy, I realized that I always cane back to her. I could convince myself it was for the money. Most people think I'm flat broke but my bank account said otherwise. But Mena took the rumors to heart the entire experience and that was admirable. Too admirable. She'd stood her ground from the beginning, but slowly lost herself the same time I did.

I don't want to think about her constantly, to dream about her naked body almost every night, but it's nearly impossible. I'd do anything to see her again.

My phone buzzes on my dresser as I fiddle through clothes. My previous attire reeked of desperation and alcohol. Not exactly the scent I bargained for on the daily.

I answer by the third ring since I had set my tone for an annoying high pitch that could cause migraines if played too long.

"Talk to me," I say in the phone as I did the slipping towel. Not that it'd matter all that much.

"Hey, man. Rosalind's is getting packed with the River Carnival coming up. Think you can come in today?"

I had nothing better to do other than sulk, so I agree and hang up. A few moments later and I was riding my bike down the bay just edging closer and closer to the real place that brought me home. The smell of freshly baked food, laughter, family, Rosalind's almost had it all. It just missed one thing..

•———•

It'd been a while since the party last week. Zach had texted me with old memes that were on the brink of death but it was a conversation starter. It was insane that just a few months ago we were about to fuck, and now I feel more comfortable than ever with him. He had that kind of attitude despite his West Side attributes.