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⇒ The View Apartments- Penthouse
11:10pm

Her presence was frustrating. And to add to the utmost irritation of her very being, the female was being clingy. Her hands, smoother than the sheer coarseness of her personality, teasingly traced the outline of her fiance's abs and arms, keeping up with their persistence despite the huffs and shifts of disapproval performed by the older male.

Her breath, warm and discomforting, tickled the other's nape, whilst her lower half, quite moist on its more downward parts, ground upwards to meet the curve of his bottom.

"Channie," she whispered, needy, the grinding of her hips becoming more desperate as her face lifted to lick and nip at his earlobe. "Channie let's try again..."

"Amy fuck off." Chan groaned tiredly, trying his best to scoot as close to the edge of the bed as possible without falling over. "I'm not in the mood."

"But why? Stop thinking about yourself. Think about me- think about your mother." She whined, the slightly plump carving of her lips curving downwards, and her upper body lifting to lean her back against the headboard so irksomely. "You-"

"Amy I said fuck off, please. Why the hell are you so banked on having a child anyway? We aren't even married yet, and it's been barely three months since we moved to Korea. Take your damn time." Chan sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes and sighing before mentally settling on the decision to move to the couch for the weakest imitation of a peaceful rest. "Not even my mother is that desperate for a grandchild, and I'm in this damn relationship for her." He mumbled the last part, scoffing as he strolled farther and farther away from the bed with a comfy blanket in hand.

"Chan, why are you acting like this?" Amy whined foolishly, cheeks puffing out before exhaling deeply and disrupting a few of the long, brunette strands that tickled her face. "You're not even communicating with me. Did you even go to the clinic today like you said you would?"

And at that, Chan halted his steps, fingernails replacing their fleshy bottoms in a grip on the blanket in his hold so unreasonably hard and, head tilting a little to the side to provide little to no view of his back- the dramatic appearance of his stance paving the perfect way for the equally theatrical content of his confession.

"Uhm," he started, retracting his steps to claim a rather uncomfortable seat at the edge of the bed. "I- I did visit... but you came back from work late, so I didn't want to overwhelm you..."

"Overwhelm...? What do you mean overwhelm me? Is something really wrong?" She questioned cautiously, knees taking her closer to the male's back to prep both hands against his bare shoulders. "Is it- is something wrong with me... Channie? Is that why you don't want to touch me...?"

"N- no," Chan gulped thickly, taking one hand from his shoulder to pet and stroke with his before lifting it to his lips for a soft kiss, hoping that the mimicked, emotionless gesture would somehow calm her nerves in preparation for what he was about to say. "I- I'm the one with the problem..."

"What...?"

"That's- that's why I was being so distant tonight, I'm sorry for making you feel bad... but I just- I feel hopeless, you know?" He teared up, reluctantly letting out a sniffle when the woman's lips met his cheek so gently; completely contradictory to the accustomed selfishness of her actions."I'm- I'm infertile, Amy..."

"W-what?"

"I can't have kids... The doctor said some shit about secondary infertility... I can't-" Chan sobbed harder, hand supposedly releasing his lover's to meet its partner over his face but, head to full and overwhelmed to realize that he really wasn't the one who broke the contact of their palms, but rather the unwanted agreement of a fiancé who instinctively snatched it away as if- as if he wasn't deserving of her comfort. "But we could-"

"You cannot have children, Chan? So why the fuck would your mother pair us together if she knew that you couldn't have fucking children?" Amy almost growled with her words, the narrowness of her eyes as she glared at the man's back making it seem as if it was nobody before her and, though ignorant of such expression, Chan could only be thankful, subconsciously, that they weren't sitting face to face.

"Amy... what? That doesn't make any sense. Secondary infertility means that I could have kids before, but I can't anymore. And besides, how would my mother know?" He sniffled, finally shifting a little bit sideways to view the female properly and, lips increasing the detail of their frown at the sight of the almost unreadable look resting on her face.

Her eyes, stuck in a stare forward, couldn't even manage to boast the chocolate color of their irises that'd always highlight the milky shade of her skin. And her eyebrows, well-shaped and featured a decent height above her short lashes, were practically knotted together, enticing another slide of tears down the male's dimpled cheeks. "Amy-"

"Chan... When did you plan on telling me this...?"

"When I felt comfortable with myself..." Chan sniffled, one hand drawing up to wipe both his cheeks. "It's hard for me too, you know. It's hard knowing that there's little to no chance of me ever having kids of my own. And I don't know the cause but, the doctor thinks that it might be something about emotional distress..."

"What?"

"For fuck's sake, Amy. That's all you keep saying! What? I'm telling you what? I'm telling you all that I know. And you're looking at me as if I did something wrong." Chan coughed with his words, red eyes observing his fiancé's every move and, head shaking when the slim frame of her body found the edge of the bed before standing, and when one of her arms stretched sideways to unplug her phone from its charging port on the nightstand. "Where are you going?"

"To call my father."

"What?"

"To call my father, Christopher. I can't marry someone who can't have children-"

"Amy fuck you, what the fuck? So after all the times you've told me that you love me, you want to leave me because of something that isn't even my fault?" Chan too, stood up, matching the patterned steps of the female to the bathroom within the vicinity of their bedroom but, frowning even lower when a slammed door was what greeted his tear-stained face.

Humble. That was the only thing that Chan could be in that moment, silencing his tears behind the locked bathroom door whilst his fiancé sat so teasingly on the other side. "Amy!" He called loudly, again, chest hurting at the very thought of the desperate speeches that he was about to utter just in attempt to prevent her inconsiderate addition of such private information to his public reputation. "Amy, baby... think about what we have..."

They had nothing.

"Think about all the times we made love and shared our three words..."

Sex fueled by lust, and those three, special words uttered only to impress the public eye.

"We could adopt... baby. We could work our way around this, but you don't have to tell your father. You don't. You don't have to tell anybody." He sobbed as he spoke, hoping that such cries would draw up some form of empathy in her heart, and somehow fool her into thinking that he really did love her deliberately nonchalant attitudes, and would urge her to pity his situation and not leave.

Because if she left, people would know- if she told her father, people would know. And Chan did not want that. He did not want his proud status to be blemished with the stain of inconceivability. So he had to keep her, no matter how low his pride had to go in the privacy of their penthouse.

"Is it because I was mean to you tonight? I'm sorry! I accept my wrong, but this is bad enough for me, Amy. You don't have to leave me for this... We moved here together, to start a life together... Don't leave, please."

"I never said that I was leaving, Chan." She shouted, feeling so accomplished, ignorantly.  "I'm just calling my father."

"But why? What can you discuss with him that we can't talk about? It's late-"

"Chan, leave me alone."

"Fuck you. It's all your fucking fault anyway. You're the one stressing me out most of the time." Giving up, he huffed before leaning away, trodding out of that tense bedroom and all the way to the bar for a drink to ease his head but, shivering in his steps when a loud and petty, "Fuck you too," sounded from the back of the door at which he leaned just a few seconds before.

But he didn't respond. Chan could not find the strength within himself to respond to the "female dog" that his mind had always titled her to be. So instead of his original intention of wine, he gulped down a small portion of whiskey, directly from the bottle, ignoring the lingering agitation that it brew in his throat.

Then he slammed his hand downwards, not minding the loud sound that it made when the bottom of the bottle, too fancy for its contents of that liquid drug, met the granite surface of the counter. Sighing and lifting one hand to rub over his mouth, he looked up, raising the top of the still-full bottle to his lips for the claim of another few gulps, and closing his eyes to better endure the unpleasant feeling in his throat. But then Chan was forced to stop when a hand met and gripped his active one; the hindrance fueling the clenching of his jaw and making him reluctant to even face the woman, similar in height, next to him.

"Why the hell are you drinking so much?" She spoke lowly- pointedly, snatching the half-full bottle from his hold before screwing on the cover. "You know better than this, Chan! Since when do you drink so much?"

"Because I'm frustrated, Amy. I'm fucking frustrated. And you're only making things worse. You always make things worse." He looked down at her slimmer, feminine frame, eyelids staying close together in an attempt to amplify his glare. "Why do you care?"

"Because I wanted to apologize..."

"Huh?"

"My father didn't pick up, but I thought about my reaction, and I'm sorry."

"I feel like I'm hearing things because I'm almost drunk." He looked down, retracting his arm from the other's uncomfortable hold, and marching past her body to retrace both their steps into the open bedroom. Laying down, he looked forward, scoffing at the recognition of her pouting face, and simply choosing to fluff his pillow instead of giving any verbal confirmation that she could continue with her parody of an apology.

"Sorry, Chan. I know that this is hard on you, so I'm sorry... And I'm not leaving you..." She spoke cautiously, her soft tone imbuing a sense of remorse- or maybe, maybe that was just the excuse of Chan's drunken mind to have an opportunity to fulfill the sudden heat tightening his shorts. Then with a small smirk snaking up one side of her face, Amy neared Chan's side of the bed so slowly and, lifted one hand to trace over the outline of his torso so knowingly. "I'm sorry for making you feel less of the man that you are..."

Already tipsy from the unhealthy amount of rum that he had chugged down, Chan eyed his fiancé so sensually, teeth drawing over the moist state of his lower lip and, palms caressing the flesh underneath her silk nightgown as she had already made her way to straddle his clothed thighs, carnally. And then she leaned down to kiss him, ignoring the threat of her throat to gag at the upsetting taste and scent of alcohol as she slipped her tongue in to make it heated.

And Chan's, mind, fogged with the drug mimicking the matter of a beverage, could in no way dwell on his sensible resistance to the advances barely thirty minutes before and, it really could not decipher the real intention behind the woman's forward action.

Because Amy knew what she was doing. As, despite the fact that a man who could not conceive seemed to be no man in her eyes, Chan had money. Chan had status. Chan had the looks. And she could not lose that. For a return to the life of poverty seemed too unrealistic and unimaginable in her cunning eyes, as well as the selfish ones of her single parent.

So manipulative, she was. So sly and deadly and, toxic, Amy was.