Loving Him...

...Had Consequences

The young man groaned at the sound of his alarm. He didn't want to wake up. Or open his eyes. Or even get up. Or even live at all.

Not anymore.

'Fucking. Stupid. Life.'

The pale hand grabbed the alarm, turned it off and threw it, smashing it to pieces against his concrete bedroom walls.

As he laid on his bed, black orbs glued on his star decorated ceiling, he wondered back to his beautiful past.

"I love you...
...and I will never love someone else again.
...I promise."

The pale and smooth fingers wiped the tears that fell from his eyes. He's tired of crying yet he couldn't stop himself.

'So this is what loving you gave me. A terrible heartache.'

At times he would clutch on his chest from too much pain he felt inside it. Maybe if he grasped on it enough, the pain on his skin would drown the pain he feels inside.

But it never did.

"Asshole. Never love someone else, my ass."

The young man sniffled as he slowly got off the bed. He headed to his bathroom to take another cold shower.

It's always the same everyday.

Get up.

Take a shower.

Eat breakfast.

Go to work.

Work.

Go home.

Take a bath.

Go to bed.

Repeat.

He threw the shampoo bottle across the wide and modern bathroom. He wishes that his routine could change to get him out of his misery.

But he's never fond of changes. Changes bring chaos. Insanity. Imbalance. Pain. Just like what he is having now.

Ever since his heart was shattered, his life became a broken tape. It began to play the same tune. Over and over again.

Now it's just plain...old and...boring.

He finished his shower and headed to his kitchen with only a robe covering his body.

Living alone in a penthouse is one of the things he wished was changed. In a good way.

He didn't want to live in it alone. He wanted a warm body to share it with. To wake up with in the morning. To make silly jokes with over boyslove series he watches from time to time. To make messy meals with on the huge kitchen. To cuddle with on movie nights.

Ding Dong

He was broken out of his sad reverie by the sound on his doorbell. He doesn't get visitors. He's never invited anyone over before. He isn't expecting a delivery of any sort either.

With knotted brows, the young homeowner walked towards the door and peeked through the hole.

A delivery man is on the other side. The young man slowly opened his door.

"A package for Mr. Baramee Vongviphan." The man in his midtwenties said.

"Um... I didn't order anything." Beam tells the delivery guy.

The tanned man smiled at Beam. "Maybe...But it says right here, Baramee Vongviphan. That's you, right? Sign here, please."

He handed a clipboard to get Beam's signature. The young man unwillingly signed on his name and took the box. It was a little heavy.