When Love & Hate Collide [Completed]

Chapter 11 - What the f...k?

Noberto sat fucked up in his bed. He was sweating like a pig and to his horror he had had a nightfall in his sweatpants. "Is this fucking serious?" he roared to an empty room.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" He cursed himself miserably.

Getting out of his bed, he vigorously shook his hands to get rid of the cum spread all over him. "Fuck! This is insane," he bellowed again and went to the bathroom. Standing under a cold shower, he pulled himself out of his messed up pants. This was utterly unbelievable for him. He couldn't remember the last time when he did something like this was. And the answer was never. Not even when he was a young boy cause he had learnt his lesson quite early on. But the frustration was too much for him to continue.

Once thoroughly cleaned and cooled, he stepped out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around his hips, he came to his room and stood in front of his mirror. The time in the wall clock was four thirty in the morning but he knew he couldn't go back to sleep now. The minute he had come back to his room. His body started feeling the heat all over again.

Throwing off the towel on the bed, he put on a fresh pair of track suit from the cupboard. Combing his still wet hairs all backwards, he decided to hit the gym.

He usually didn't work out in the morning. He would do it in the night after spending the day standing in front of his stand. But today was different. He was disturbed. Flustered. Something he hadn't experienced in ages.

He remembered getting upset when his parents would leave him at home with the nanny and be away for weeks on international vacations. They were not for young kids, they would tell him or mostly to his nanny who would in turn tell him. Breaking a young heart very early on and subsequently hardening him against all things emotional. He knew he didn't need any such emotions in his life if it meant being dependent on others. Waiting for them to notice you, to acknowledge you, to praise you. Something that was hard to come by for people like his parents who were always busy in their own lives.

He used to cry for hours in the hidden corners of his large house. Away from the eyes of the nanny and other servants. But with time, he had learned to hide his tears and then quickly he had taught himself not to cry at all. Not to shed his tears or waste his emotions for people who didn't value him or his feelings. And before he knew, he grew into a young man, devoid of any emotional connect or baggage.

When his parents had died on one such foreign trip and news had reached him, he had not experienced any deep pain. He had lost them many years back. He had lost them to money, to class, to society, to everything that represented position and power in the world.

And for long he had resented it all. He had went into a spin of hating everything in his life and was hell bent on destroying it all including himself. He didn't care for anything. Life was only a collection of nothings for him, moving from one party to another, from one woman to another, from one circle to another. Squandering the wealth his parents and their parents had amassed over the years which had eventually led them away from him. He wanted it all to end.