I love/kill you

6

6

Why would one need a change so suddenly? Of course, one couldn't be in one's old clothes. And the reason may be the bloodstains on them.

I know it sounds silly, but I just couldn't stop thinking about it. I also know the idea is absurd, but the curiosity in me was irresistible. As my hands flipped his shirt back and forth, my eyes scrutinized along the seams and the cloth, as if I was looking for evidence that would lead me to something. I didn't even know what I expected to see—blood stains, the traces of a fight like tears and such? I didn't know what I did that for either. If I had found any of those, would it provide me with a sense of relief? Between the suspicion that your boyfriend committed something and the certainty that he killed somebody, which would you choose? Although unsolved suspicion comes with possibilities, the worst of your expectation is prolonged suspicion. But in case you are able to verify that your boyfriend really killed somebody, let me ask you this: what can you do about it? You will be left with only two choices, either to inform the police or to help him cover it up.

The shower stream was still audible, so was Phu's hum. Warm water still gave him pleasure and also gave me time to find the answer to my suspicion. As my head contemplated, my hands flipped the shirt, and my eyes scrutinized. Although I couldn't rationalize why I did what I did, I believed it's better than not taking any actions. Between learning about the bad news and not knowing anything, I chose the former.

All right. Inspect the shirt. Clean, no stains. Pants? Of course, as clean as the shirt. Move on to undies. I knew by logic, when one needs to buy clothes for an emergency change, one will buy only a shirt and a pair of pants but never a pair of underwear. If I couldn't find any traces on the shirt or the pants, then there might be something on the underwear. Vacillating between brave and fear, I picked them up and examined them closely.

Nothing. I couldn't even tell whether they were new. Though their cleanliness qualified as new, there was no odor—I didn't sniff them, by the way—or the price tag on them.

So nothing confirms my suspicion. Does this mean I should be relieved? I wondered. After all, there was nothing pointing toward him killing somebody. But while one half of my brain seemed to experience a sense of relief, the other immediately argued. Wait, why did he rush to you? Why wouldn't he return to his place, take a shower and then meet you? He could have just told you to meet him there. That would be more convenient, right? Why does he need to be here? Why did he come to your house? There's no reason he can't return to his place, is there?

And the other half that soothed me with relief had no answers for that. I mean, I couldn't come up with any valid answers for all those questions. I needed to admit that things were unreasonable. Him rushing over to meet me, as he had said, because he missed me just doesn't hold water.

I put down his shirt and grabbed my phone to search for the news I heard this evening. There it was, the link for updates.

/The gay ex's killer hasn't been caught. The police investigated a condo in a luxurious neighborhood. No trace of the suspect. More searches follow. Stay tuned for more updates./

What's the reason he changed his clothes in a hurry? He can't wear the old ones.

What's the reason he couldn't be in the old ones? They're stained—with blood.

What's the reason he couldn't go back to his place? The police are there.

Is there any other reason to explain all this? There is. He is that ex's killer.

Holy f... Is that true? Phu killed a man? Krit, you need to calm down. you shouldn't jump to conclusions like this. That's too outrageous. You're not using my thoughts anymore. You're having a delusion, a super far-fetched one.