Here’s chapter 12 of the new book, “Dangerous Roommate.” Enjoy reading. Let me know your thoughts about this chapter in the comment section below.
“I used to be normal,” Frank whispered, watching his reflection. Feeling the world was against him, he watched himself with makeup on. He whimpered as tears streamed down his cheeks. The menacing expression he saw that came off him was like a gun pointed at his chest. As tears welled around his eyes, he felt a profound sense of discontent, but he hadn’t found enough strength from within to do something. Although his mind knew what to do, he couldn’t find the drive to fuel his creative engine.
His eyes caught his hands. He opened both shaky hands and then closed them again as though he was examining them. It was a sad sight to see, to say the least. On the surface, his hands looked fine and fragile. These hands were blessed to create something magical, something beautiful from nothingness. On the surface, he knew he had succeeded once, and with some divine grace, he was blessed with more.
In his conscious mind, he was certain. He was well aware of how hard he worked, those sleepless nights he had spent on his work, and the enthusiasm he once had back then. He wanted to believe—maybe needed to believe—he could bring them all back. Yet, he hated to admit the fact that he had found himself here. After trying so hard to fit in, he got divorced. As a successful person that he was, he was homeless.
Despite the wanting, the missing of the past and the memories he held on to, all these things seemed to have faded in a blink of an eye. Because no matter how hard he tried or how much effort he exerted, in the end, none of them mattered. He had none.
Compared to what you’ve done before, you’re losing your Medusa’s touch.
You’re right. You’re a senseless, ignorant fool.
Although he couldn’t understand what Stefan had told him at first and wanted to disagree with what he said, defending himself was too much of an effort for him. He wasn’t the same Frank as he once knew. He could have pushed sooner, could have demanded, or could have done something. But he didn’t, so there was no way he could disagree with being a senseless, ignorant fool.
Disgusted, he removed the makeup with both hands. When it didn’t work, he went to the toilet and washed himself with soap and water. He looked at his reflection in the mirror—his face smudged with red lipstick and his eyes with black mascara.
“Stefan was right. I’m losing it.” He paused, feeling his throat swell, and then swallowed. He planted both hands on the sink, bracing himself. “I’m losing myself,” he whispered, lowering his head, and shut his eyes, allowing them to shed more tears than he wanted.
Because he thought it had been too much lately. And he feared he would go crazy if this went on. He hadn’t reached thirty, but he felt like retiring. If so, for how long could he endure living a life this way? Would there be some sort of hope to save himself from this chaos? He wanted to get out of this bubble, but he had no idea how. He didn’t even know when it sprouted or remember how and why. All he knew was he couldn’t even see his future, let alone expect any glint of hope for today. Even if he did, he needed someone to lean on and was too weak to do this alone.
If so, would there be someone willing to stand by him, provide him with enough care he needed, listen to all his bullshit without feeling judged, or perhaps help him move on?
Wow. These sounded too good to be true. He doubted the possibility of such a person. No way this kind of person could exist.
“Would there be someone….” Frank asked without finishing the sentence, startled when he heard loud knocks on the door. He cursed at them. Once the cursing was done, he grunted a series of words—his little ritual incantation, swirling a brush of water again. Fearing it would disturb the neighbors, he dashed to the door, almost losing his balance.
When he opened it, his eyes widened when he saw Stefan standing outside. His face reminded him of how he’d felt when he left the cabin. The creases on his forehead deepened like valleys the longer he’d kept his eyes on him. Thanks to the lock system, the chains helped him block the door, he thought. He stood there, trying to hide his face in fear Stefan would see how messy he looked.
“What are you doing here?” Frank stuttered with his eyebrows furrowed. “How did you find me?”
Stefan pressed his hand against the door frame, struggling to catch his breath. He groaned in cranky protest. “Let’s talk.”
“What for?” he asked, feeling startled when Stefan tried to push the door harder, only to stop when he realized the lock was still in place.
“Are you crazy or just stupid?”
Frank scoffed in answer and fell silent for a minute, thinking it was a question with a hard answer because it went beyond self-doubt. He knew what his weaknesses were, and he wasn’t proud of them. Not even cover of darkness—or the fact he was the man, an artist, lucky enough to have experienced and enjoyed the prestige of his artistic journey—made it easy to confess.
When he refused to say a word, Stefan looked at him as though he was pleading with him. He hadn’t realized watching how his eyes begged him to return made him feel oddly proud. Sensing his desperation, along with his annoying persistence, he felt uncomfortable, knowing he’d found himself associated with this type of man—possibly an unstable man. More unstable than him.
To his surprise, Stefan continued to look at him in such a pathetic way. “Please,” he said in his low voice, looking away. For a brief moment, he felt like winning, and he liked it. The hardening of his voice was subtle, but he caught it.
Then, Stefan went on clearing his throat while eyeing him. “Please, Frank. Let’s talk.” His voice grew more intimate, anticipating his reply.
But the problem was Frank didn’t know what to say. He was clearly hurt, struggling to hold his emotions and forget what had happened. Even though Stefan’s voice was unusual as it sounded, that wasn’t enough for Frank. “Go, fuck yourself,” he said, slamming the door shut.
Only when he’d said what he wanted to say did he realize how what he’d done. Feeling a deep sense of shame, he buried his face with both hands, breathing hard until he had regained a bit of control. Then, he raised his head enough, revealing worries that bled through the harsh lines of his face, to speak clearly—softly but with clarity. “I’m sorry. I got carried away,” he muttered, and let his voice hang in the silence for a minute, then dropped, leaving nothing but the sounds of the aircon unit to fill the void.
Little did he know Stefan wasn’t planning to stop and was getting more and more frustrated with his silent treatment. So, after the meeting, Stefan thought of wanting a private moment with him. He waited, and to his surprise, he was getting more and more patient with it. When everybody left, he closed the door, blocking Frank from leaving the room. He made sure he had locked it.
“What are you doing?” Frank asked, eyeing the door. But before he could act on impulse, Stefan’s voice filled his ear.
“I don’t like what you’re doing to me.”
Frank swiveled his head, attempting to avoid the man’s intense stare. He thought it wasn’t just because of the stare. It was his tone. Low, soft, and brash as it brushed his ears. He felt as though he were being stroked on the inside of his skin. His heart skipped a beat and then slowed. “What did I do to you?” His voice turned an octave higher as a chill shot through him, sucking out the warmth in his body.
He eyed the door for the one-millionth time this time as Stefan went on, boring him with his menacing stares. Even though it hadn’t been too long since he’d failed from his great escape, he felt like forever, a lifetime ago. Of course, he thought of escaping even if he had to put a chair through a window. But knowing this type of man, no. He wouldn’t even dare.
But what if he would? What would happen?
“If this is being fair to you, it’s not fair to me,” Stefan paused and was content with his scoff as an answer. He went on with one severely arched eyebrow, revealing a grim that darkened the look on his face. “When you said I didn’t value you as a person, that I didn’t care about you, you hurt me. Because I took you in without questions asked. Though I don’t know you personally, I still offered you a place when you didn’t have anywhere else to go. Who else could do that except me?”
Feeling more fidgety as the dense silence thickened the air, he let out a scoff, thinking it was enough to tell Stefan he needed to get out. However, he didn’t budge. Forced, he had to suck in enough strength for the sake of this conversation. “Why do you sound desperate?”
“I’m not desperate. I just don’t want someone turning down my kindness,” Stefan said grimly.
Frank briefly shut his eyes as though he was carefully choosing his words while pinching a part of his nose. “Great. I’m a record breaker,” he said, then let out a short rueful laugh. When Stefan remained silent, that shut him up, he thought, without knowing it was a short-lived victory. “What now?” His voice was louder, more demanding as impatience slowly blanketed him.
However, Stefan still remained silent and hadn’t moved an inch, still staring at him like he would lay him tonight. Feeling queasy, he expelled a silent but deep sigh to ease himself. He clucked and forced a smile. “So? Problem solved. You’re finally alone with your place without someone messing around, fussing around you. Now, get out of my way.”
But then, Stefan grabbed his arm when he attempted to flee. “No. Stay.” He tightened his grip as his eyes flashed a piercing stare. His nostrils flared, glowering at him.
Frank didn’t back down, though he remained still, feeling the bile rise to his throat, his gut shrank in fear. Wanting to run away, he stared back, flashing a tight and frightened expression on his face. He shrugged, feigning his indifference. “What do you want from me?”
“You.”
His throat closed up around a sound as paranoia increased in his system. He yanked his arm, attempting to free himself again and again. When he failed for one last time, he loosened his arm, giving up his plan. He expelled a loud exasperated sigh of defeat. “Why?”
“You need me more than I need you.”
Frank scoffed and let out a soft laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m not that desperate. I could find another sponsor whenever. It isn’t like the end of the world if I don’t have you. And please, if you leave and return to where you came from, kindly send my regards to them,” he said cockily, shifting the look in his eyes.
Unbeknownst to Frank, those words were painful as shit. Though he was soft-spoken, his choice of words was powerful enough to stab Stefan’s heart. It was painful enough to leave him sighing as he looked away, but then his hand went on to have a life on its own—tightening his grip instead of letting him go.
Stefan wanted to make a point before, but he wasn’t just enough of a bastard to carry it to the extreme. Whatever being extreme meant to him. The worst thing was his mind was uncooperative. He couldn’t think of anything to say. He didn’t understand what went on in his being. All he knew was that he couldn’t let go of this man. It felt like he needed him more than just being on a mission. He needed the warmth he felt whenever he was with him. Though it didn’t make sense, he kind of need of that more.
“Please…” Stefan’s voice was low, surprisingly sincere.
Frank looked at him and immediately felt his heart clenched. “Fine. I’ll go back.”
It only took a second before Stefan’s face shifted from gloom to glow. His eyes were lit with devotion, though he tried to keep his unbothered face.
“But on one condition. I’ll live for free. No thirty-day deadline anymore until I get a place of my own.”
“Aren’t you too opportunistic?” Stefan snorted and laughed in disbelief. He planted both hands on his waist, enjoying the look of determination on Frank’s face. He clucked and dipped his hands in his pockets, searching for something. Then, when he found a coin, he smirked. “How about we play? Heads or tail?”
“Tail,” Frank said nonchalantly. Almost instinctive. He watched Stefan toss the coin. And when it landed on his arm again, his eyes widened. His face glowed. “Yes,” he screamed, curling his fists as his chest swelled with joy. “For free!” He laughed.
Feeling disappointed, Stefan scoffed. He cursed as he walked out of the room, leaving Frank in his blissful dreamland.
Author’s Note:
Thank you so much for spending time reading this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did when I wrote this part months ago. This chapter, in particular, reminded me of those times when I sat before my desk, seemingly prepared to type in words, but I struggled to keep it up.
It took an external motivation to get it through, and, at that time, the NaNoWriMo event was upcoming. At that time, I thought, “This could be a great opportunity to try and give this a shot one more time. You’d done an excellent job with ‘The Rival,’ so you could do it, Mecyll.”
You know, it’s easier said than done because writing a chapter with a clear intent to finish it requires more than just a skill. Since I started writing fiction, I realized how much this work demands my ability to be naked and the guarantees to answer whether I was mentally, emotionally, and spiritually prepared to face my fears, conscious or unconscious.
So, being able to write this down meant I managed despite the countless times dancing around with depression and enjoying the roller coaster rides my anxiety provided me.
This is why I don’t know how to thank you for your support, regardless of the scale or contribution size, from sharing my work with others or buying my books. It doesn’t matter because, for me, every small act you show is appreciated.
Again, thank you, and have a great day!
If you like to support my writing life, here’s what you can do:
- Get a copy of “The Rival” Uncensored Gay Romance Novel.
- Read “Dr. Clay” (Cult of Eros #1)
- Check out my latest book, “Non-Native Speakers Only.”
- Find more writing tips on my website (i.e., content writing, freelance writing, copywriting, self-publishing, novel writing, and many more!)
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