Drip.

Drip.

He stands facing an obnoxious red door with his arms hanging limp on either side. The rain water droplets disconnect themselves from his disheveled bangs and fall to the hardwood floor. They congregate, forming a minisual pond in front of his shiny black shoes. Although his eyes are firmly fixed on the puddle at his feet, his thoughts are solely reserved for the rise and fall of his abdomen. Each breath he intakes is a step closer to untangling the strands of wandering thoughts and taming the mind. In his meditative state, the chills from his soaked clothes vanishes, the numerous questions and concerns are slowly lured back into hibernation. For the moment, he is at peace with himself.

But that peace... cannot last indefinitely. After all, he is human and alive. Without a doubt, those are his biggest flaws.

He understands and accepts. The sight of those deceitful eyes. The complexity behind her laughter. He ultimately shatters from the slightest taste of her sin. His concentration breaks. He blinks once, twice, and realizes where he stands.

It is home. A place to unwind and relax after a long day of work. True for most but not for him. His home is a war zone.

He enters the code with the elbow of his index finger. 3-0-6. The mechanism in the lock clicks. One foot in. Only one foot and the delicate hairs on his body react to the electric air. Just like the inside of an emergency room, it is clean. Clean to the point where it becomes disgustingly sick. White and steel and the blinding florescent lights. He hears water running in the bathroom. If she is home, then that means...

His hand comes across a familiar coolness of marble. He grabs the sphinx's head and begins to rotate it counter clockwise out of habit. He stops abruptly and glances down. His heart skips a beat. It did not need turning. She did not move it. Of all days, why must it be today?

• • • • • • •

"How do you like the place?" He stood behind her with a hair tie clenched between his teeth. His fingers were busy combing through her soft dark locks. There had been a long strand out of place and it bothered him. So, he decided to redo her hair.

She didn't seem to mind as she glanced around the room. "This place is just too..."

He took the hair tie out of his mouth. "Clean?"

"Orderly."

He tied her hair up in a ponytail. "I like order."

"Yes... I suppose you do but I also live here now. A little chaos is needed to think outside the box." She turned the marble sphinx clockwise so it faced northeast instead of north.

"You know I'll just turn it right back-"

"Then I'll just keep moving it." She pulled out the hair tie and destroyed his handiwork with a twist of her head. "Let's see who holds out till the end."

• • • • • • •

He grins inside. So he wins... but the victory is empty just like the vase sitting on the white coffee table. No red-eyed flowers staring back at him. Not even a single petal laying at the base of the vase. Where are those blood poppies she adores? As much as she loves chaos, everyday, she must cut her poppies and arrange them in that vase. Just because they are pretty. Just because she wants to watch them die. Where are they now? Did her habit stop? But habits such as those do not simply stop. Do they?

Even if this is their private place, she is being too careless. Does she want the world to know?

• • • • • • •

She flicked open her white lighter and seared the bottom of the stems with all of a mother's love and care before arranging them in the white vase. Her red poppies. Her beautiful red poppies. She smiled at them sweetly knowing very well she had bought them some time. Eventually they will die like everything else. There was no escaping the inevitable death. Despite the gloomy impression, she liked staring at their red faces and black eyes. They were beautiful... in a world of white and steel. He had asked her once... so many other flowers... why poppies when they last only hours after being cut? And she answered: they don't wither like the others... their untouched petals just fall and they stay beautiful even in death.

She found herself lost in them. All the physical pain melted away with their fiery glare.

He walked in on her and noticed the red raw marks on her fingers. His eyes momentarily shifted to the white lighter. He stride over and snatched her up by the wrist.

"Baby, you burned your fingers again. Doesn't it hurt?"

"No." There was a heavy curtain over her eyes. "It only hurts when you kiss me softly."

He dragged her to the sink and ran her fingers under cold tap water. "I'll only kiss you roughly, baby. If that's what you want, I'll make sure it hurts so much that you don't feel a thing."

The heavy curtain fell from her eyes and she grinned. "Kiss me, Jae." She grabbed his hair with her free hand and yanked his head down. His lips crashed into hers and they both dropped down into a passionate kiss. Blood trickled down the side of her chin. They stared intensely into each other's eyes while christening the kitchen for the hundredth time.

• • • • • • •

He knows she is telling him something. He knows there is more than just an attachment now. She is giving him one last chance before she leaves to do something he will regret. Or... did she already...

He removes his shiny black shoes and glides to the kitchen like a phantom. His hand finds the drawer handle and he gives it a little tug. The drawer slides out almost enthusiastically, revealing its sharpened treasures. He picks out the paring knife and raises it into the light. The sharp tip winks at him, begging him to follow through this time. He shakes his head and places the disappointed knife back into the drawer and closes it.

"I will do it, dear knife... but I will do it... my way."

He turns and follows the sound of running water. It gets louder and louder until he is at the bathroom door. Just thinking about what is on the other side... he is overcome with nauseousness and places his head against the door frame. The ground beneath him seems to rock back and forth like a pendulum. His stomach is turning. He can't go in now.

"Jae? Is that you?"

Too late. He pushes the door open and walks in, leaning against the wall for support.

She stands there , black hair and fair skin like a porcelain goddess. She beckons him to come join her. "Come in, baby. You'll catch a cold out there in those wet clothes."

He follows the sound of her voice like a docile puppy and steps into the shower fully clothed. She laughs at him. Her laughter tells him she is amused, a little outraged, excited, and maybe happy. "Aren't you gonna take off your clothes first?" She gazes up at his face.

He shakes his head.

"Here, let me help you." She begins ing his shirt. He grabbed her hand roughly and swings her around so they are not facing each other. He embraces her from behind and rests his cheek against the top of her head.

"You can be so stubborn sometimes." She lifts a foot and lets it trail up his leg. Her shoulder blades rubbed hard against his chest. "What is that hard thing... in your pocket?"

He looks down and remembers the pencil she gave him. The girly one with the cushion.

"Use it, baby. Use it and get me there. For real this time. For real." She closes her eyes and lets him feel the whole weight of her body. She knows... and she wants him to know that she knows.

• • • • • • •

"Jae... what do you want? Soap bar or gel?" She worked the shampoo into his hair while he held firmly to her thighs for support.

"I want you to have all my babies." He kissed the valley of her s.

She smiled down at his white foamy hair. "Then put it inside me already."

Her nails dug deep into the ink on his back. Her teeth found the tender spot between his neck and shoulder as he rammed into her.

"Faster, Jae, faster!"

He chuckled. "My breath is being out of me."

"I don't care, Jae. Faster! If I have to die, please let it be with you."

It was like they were in his car, being chased by a nightmare with no escape route. The darkness behind them was gaining ground as she screamed.

"Faster, Jae, faster!" With a surge of urgency in her voice. "Get me there, Jae. Get me there!"

"I'll get you there... even if it kills me." He promised her.

"I love you, Jae." But to him, it sounded more like "I trust you."

• • • • • • •

"Get me there, baby." She whispers, letting it drown in the sound of running water.

He kisses the top of her left ear, acknowledging her wish, and plunges the pencil deep into her side.