Even When I Hate You

Even When I Hate Myself

Content Warning: Contains [Violence, blood, toxic relationship dynamics, emotional manipulation, trauma, smoking, dark themes, profanity]. Read with care.

Everything I touch turns to gold, but it's still not enough. It never is. Because if it's something with real value to me, it turns to ash.

I let out a heavy sigh. Can't stand that thought right now, so I focus on what's beneath me.

Berlin stretches out endlessly below, a city that never fucking stops. And neither do I.

I'm already awake, cigarette in hand, the smoke drifting through the open window. Early, as always. I don't miss a beat. I watch as the smoke rises lazily into the air, disappearing in slow spirals until it finally vanishes into nothingness. The cool morning air cuts through the lingering scent of last night—sex, sweat, and her fading perfume. Behind me, the sheets rustle, but I don't turn around. Just some blonde I didn't bother learning the name of. It doesn't matter. She's already nothing to me—just another body to fill the time. Romantic shit? Never been my thing.

It never lasts, never goes the way people want it to. Love's nothing more than a leash, and I've never been the kind of guy who lets someone hold one on me. I've seen it break people—make them weak, make them desperate. I've got no time for that. Not in my life. Not with the demons I've got to keep down.

I take a drag, letting the smoke burn through my lungs, eyes scanning the city below. The view from up here is the same as always—stunning, detached, far away. Potsdamer Platz stretches beneath me, the tower I built five years ago rising above the chaos like a monument to everything I've earned. Every inch of it, from the penthouse at the top to the studios and offices below, down to the private underground parking where my car fleet sits in pristine rows, is mine. The cars, like everything else, are just another extension of the empire I built, each one carefully selected, each one there because I wanted it.

I don't need to leave if I don't want to. My world exists within these walls—my empire built brick by brick, every detail as I envisioned it. I've got the penthouse, the money, the fame, the connections. And it's a long way from where I started. People look at me and think I've got everything. They don't know I started with nothing. But the truth? It doesn't fill the fucking hole inside me. The one that's been gnawing at me for years.

I play the game well. I know when to move, when to wait, when to pull the strings without anyone noticing. But I don't control everything—not yet at least. There are people higher up, people who think they hold the cards. Let them. I'm patient. I've been building my own power, piece by piece, and when the time's right, I'll make my move.

But right now? It all feels... numb. The success, the women, the endless nights—they don't fix what's broken inside. Nothing does. The demons are always there, waiting to swallow me whole.

The blonde shifts again, murmuring something in her sleep. I glance at her, barely registering her presence. She'll be gone soon—whether I tell her to go or she figures it out. It's all the same to me.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, cutting through the silence. Business. Always fucking business. I don't rush to grab it. I play by my own rules. However it is, he can wait.

Another drag of the cigarette, and I let my gaze drift back to the skyline. Berlin, with all its power, its chaos—it should feel like enough. But it never is.

I flick the cigarette out the window, watching the embers fall. The day's just starting, but I already know how it'll end. Same shit, different night.

I let the curtains fall shut again and head to the walk-in closet, a space larger than most apartments. With slow, ritualistic movements, I pull open the drawers and reach for my usual uniform. The black leather jacket—always perfectly fitted, slightly open. Underneath, a tight shirt that stretches over my chest like a second skin, emphasizing my frame. Dark jeans that fit like a glove, tough yet elegant.