BACKPREVIOUS10:30 pm. The door of the dark apartment edged open with a soft creak. Sounds of water dripping on the plush Wutaian carpet, soaking it as the owner walk on, not giving a care that it was worth more than a month's salary. He dragged himself in, half-heartedly walking towards the sliding door that separated the room from the balcony, without bothering to switch on the lights, or to lock the door for that matter. He was drenched from head to toe. Long black hair matted to his face, black soil marred his otherwise perfectly handome face, as well as his black suit. His eyes were puffy from crying too long and his lips were ruby red from him biting at it. Dry blood caked his hands, blood from pounding his hands too hard on the rough ground, and from digging his nails too deep in the flesh. He was like in a trance, oblivious to everything around him. It's amazing that he got home in one piece.
A cool draft rushed in as he slid the balcony door open, making him shiver. It was still pouring outside. All around was quite, save for the soft pitter-patter of rain and the flapping of the white translucent curtains. The view from the immaculate penthouse that he lived in was normally very beautiful where lights from the houses and buildings illuminated the whole place, like millions of fireflies. But not tonight. The rain was too heavy to make anything visible. It was as if the whole world turned off their lights, in mourning for that lost soul. How ironic. Nevertheless, he didn't move away from the window. He stood there, inviting the cool wind, embracing it, as he became numb towards it. Numb towards all feelings.
It was only after a very long period of time did he budge, stepping away from the balcony and headed inside, leaving the window still wide open. Blindly, he made his way to the bathroom, clicking on the fluorescent light on before going in. The bright light stung his eyes and he squinted, trying to get used to it. Then, he took a long hard look at the stranger looking back at him on the full length mirror. The weary and haggard face that starred back looked nothing like his normal self. Not to mention that he was soaking wet and was as filthy as hell with dirt here and dry blood there. In short, he looked like shit. He definitely could use a long hot bath.
Half-heartedly, he approached the bathtub and turned the taps on, letting the water run. Lackadaisically, he removed his clothes, shedding them off as they stick to him like second skin. He didn't bother to deposit his soiled clothes in the laundry basket and went straight to the awaiting bath. The taps were turned off, and he tested the water. Hot but not scalding, just the way she likes it to be.
Slowly, he lowered himself into the tub, steam rising from it. It was a bit too hot at first but gradually, he got used to it. He washed himself , gently scrubbing here, lathering there. After all that was done, he tilted his head and stared at the fluorescent light ahead, and relaxed. Thoughts raced in his head, events about the day flashed. Then it was the day before, the week before, the month and the year. But they always come back to the memory of her. How they had met, the things that they did, the arguments that they had…and the passion that they shared.
He closed his eyes and sighed. No, he wasn't going to cry again. Even if he wanted to, there was no more tears left to shed. After a few moments of silence, just listening to the water softly lapping at his body and his own shallow breathing, he opened his eyes and pulled himself out of the bath. He grabbed the towel hanging nearby and dried himself, then wrapping it over his lower body. A gust of wind blew in from the balcony window that was still open, making him shiver just slightly. But he made no attempt to close it. Instead, he changed into his silk pyjamas and went by the railing. A few moments longer and he headed to bed, shutting the window behind him.
The silky sheets rustled as he pulled down the baby-blue comforter of his king-sized bed and climbed in.
He twisted and turned, trying to find a comfortable position. Finally he opted for sleeping on his side,
with him facing his right. He stared long and hard at the white pillow beside him. The image of her
sleeping peacefully flickered then fade away, and all he saw was an empty space. Then did the reality of
it hit him. She was never ever coming back. He'll never be able to touch her, hear her laugh…and most
of all, he'll never be able to tell her how much he loves her, ever again. It was only then did he
understand the true meaning of being lonely. It was only then did the loss of her hit him, hard.