Who's Laughing Now

Chapter Eight: Affluent People's Superhero

"No."

"I need to pee, cupcake. And looks like you're going to have to keep me company." He stood up, forcibly dragging me to the bathroom with him.

"You're a monster, a sickening monster with no sense of chivalry." I spat venomously.

"Would you rather have me soak the bed and drench both of us in urine?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"If you don't mind, please turn around. I'm not comfortable with showing my hotdog and buns with you just yet." He broke in. I flustered and turned away. We spent the next few seconds in silence. When we got out of the bathroom, he whipped around and broke the tension that was starting to rise between us.

"Let's discuss the sleeping arrangements."

"Dibs on the bed!" I raised my hand.

"I think it's apt for me to take the bed, after all I own this place." He shook his head in disagreement.

"But I'm the guest." I whined. "Come on, Ash! Please? Be a gentleman."

"I'm sorry. I really don't think it's a good idea for us to sleep together."

"That's not what I meant!" I cut him off.

"That's rather awkward." He raised an eyebrow, smiling.

"As I was saying, I think I should sleep on the bed and you can sleep on the floor beside the bed." I muttered. My voice shrank as I went on. He definitely wouldn't be glad to hear my proposal.

"What's in it for me? Why do I have to be the one sleeping on the floor? Perhaps you've forgotten who owns the bed." He said monotonously. There wasn't a hint of anger in his voice.

"Pretty pretty please," I pleaded.

"Fine, you get the bed." He forced out a smile as he ruffled my hair. I tilted my head to look at him. His deep blue eyes twinkled making my heart melt a little bit.

"For real? Why? I didn't think it'll be that easy to convince you." I gave him a questioning look.

"Stop asking me, unless you want me to take back what I said." He frowned but he was still smiling. "Come on, let's go to bed. It's getting late."

He piled up some clothes on the spot that he was supposed to sleep while I watched him patiently. There was something about him that made me feel safe and secure. Ironically, all he ever did was kidnap and drug me. But at the same time, I couldn't help but feel like he was acting for me. Deep down inside I felt like he cares for my well-being. Why else would he sacrifice his comfort for me? I just wished that he would remove that damn ski mask veiling his face.

"Have you been thinking about me? You look like you're in deep thoughts." I snapped out of my thoughts and scowled at him.

"Yes, I was contemplating on how I'm going to murder you once you go to sleep." He rolled his eyes at my answer.

"By the way, Ash, have you ever thought of finding yourself a decent job instead of robbing banks?" I asked after we lay down. "I mean it might not pay as much but at least you'll feel good about yourself."

"I have a decent job. Robbery is sort of a sideline. It's like a hobby." I heard him laugh.

"I'm serious! What if you get caught one day? You don't even have a real gun, how on earth are you going to defend yourself?"

"I do have a real gun. I have three guns. One of them is real."

"Is that your job then, forging guns?" I frowned.

"No, that's just another hobby." He laughed affectionately. "I work at a security company. I make intricate alarm systems and locks to assure people that no burglars will disrupt their peaceful life. In a way, I'm affluent people's superhero."

"Sure. Then, you spend the rest of your time breaking into banks and tampering with their alarm system. That makes so much sense." I scorned sarcastically.

"Ask me something else. I don't like talking about my job." Ash glowered and turned away from me. He didn't want to talk about it any further so I dropped the topic.

"Why did you let me take the bed, Ash?"

"I wanted you to know that chivalrous men still exist." He snickered.

"Spill it, I want the truth." I nudged him.

"I promised you before that I will always be there for you and I will do everything I can to make you happy. I've already broken half of my promise. But I intend to keep the other half. So as long as I live, not a tear will roll down your cheeks." He turned around to face me. His grin was the most disarming I have ever encountered. He caught me completely off guard. I gaped at him in astonishment.

"Forget what I just said. I was kidding. It's your turn to answer my question." He cleared his thought. "Have you ever liked a guy?"

"Why would you ask that?" I bit my lips. Please ask something else.

"Come on! Answer me, you're not playing fair."

"Okay okay! But you probably don't even know this guy. It was a long time ago when I was in high school." I paused hesitantly and looked at him. He signaled me to continue.

"I fell in love with a guy named Brandon. He was the only guy I've ever fallen in love with." I lied.

A flash of grief crossed his face which was quickly replaced by indifference. I sighed in relief. The truth is Brandon wasn't the only guy I've fallen in love with, there was this other guy who I still have feelings for until now. Lying about it eases the pain and helps in convincing myself that I'm over him. He left me. I should have known it was an unrequited love from the start. I mistook his pity for love. But the reason that it hurt so bad was because I thought we were best friends.

"I hate that pigeon-faced shit." He grumbled with spite.

"What did you say?" I snapped. There was only one person who called Brandon that. I impulsively reached down and tried pulling his mask over his face. He swatted my hand and tried pushing me away from him. In the end, his aggressiveness yielded to my agility. I was able to get rid of his mask. But by that time, I was on the edge of my bed and one tug from him sent me rolling down the bed, collapsing onto him.

I buried my face on his chest. I couldn't bear stealing another glance at him.

"It's you." I muttered bitterly still refusing to face him. "You never told me why."

"I'm sorry." He hugged me tightly. The apology was overdue. He should have said it five years ago. I might have forgiven him then.