Bitter Aftertaste

Warning: includes mental health issues, sexual content, etc.

"Well, I don't suppose you have anything urgent to take care of?" The girl next to him mutters.

'Just my luck,' Axel thought, not surprised by the turn of events in his day.

His day started like any other.

He woke up.

Had disturbing thoughts about life.

Questioned why he was alive and thought about getting more sleep as he stayed up late last night, forgetting about the fact that he needed to wake up early.

Got out of bed to get ready for work due to the societal expectation of being a law-abiding adult and needing to work to be respected in life.

Started preparing his totally nutritious and low-fat breakfast (it was just a bowl of cereal; who wouldn't have a bowl of cereal for breakfast?).

This is where things started to get out of hand. Just as he was about to start eating his (rather unhealthy, but he gives a shit?) food to get his day going, a bird crashed into his window and startled the fuck out of him; he promptly spilt his breakfast all over himself.

Having to get changed again threw Axel off his routine, causing him to be late to work. This was already enough to ruin his morning, and so it seems it ruined his boss's morning as well. His boss is a no-nonsense stickler for rules and madly in love with the 3 P's.

Punctuation. Punctuality. And punctiliousness (for us normal folk who have absolutely zero idea what that means, it is the act of being extremely attentive to etiquette and details).

Being late left him on her shit list for the rest of the day. I guess being the CEO and managing director of the country's biggest bank may have left her with a few loose screws.

For the rest of the day, she was up his ass, asking him to rebuild her schedule for the month, including board meetings, investor calls and personal crap without her once telling him what she wants. She then made him put together a full board of investor packs, crunched numbers he should definitely not be touching, and then stood in front of her desk later in the day while she picked it apart as if he'd personally offended her. She asked him to coordinate her family's personal matters, which was outside his role as an executive assistant.

Later, his rough workday behind him, Axel finally returned to his apartment complex, convinced the day couldn't get worse. Deciding that he'd earned a break, he opted for the elevator.

Usually, he would drag himself up the stairs and call it his exercise for the day. But after a day like this? Forget it. He took the elevator. He deserved it.

Then, as if the universe had it out for him, the elevator had broken down while he was inside it. Now he was stuck in here with a stranger. 'Figures, he thought.

"Helloooo? Are you going to answer back?" The girl on the opposite side of the elevator questioned.

"No," he said sharply.

Her face turned sour. Her eyebrow twitched ever so slightly, as if she were trying to hide her obviously disgruntled look from him. A few mere minutes of blissful silence occurred before the girl decided to open her mouth once more.

"I see you're not in a good mood," she stated rather bluntly.

"What's it to you? Can't go a second without getting into other people's business, can you?" He questioned in an accusatory tone.

"What is your problem? Got a stick up your ass?"

"My problem is that I'm stuck in this elevator with a nosy Elle Fanning wannabe."

That description fit her perfectly. She had straight platinum blonde hair, clearly dyed, with brown roots showing. Her pale blue eyes stood out, and her high-boned cheeks and plump lips were rosy. Her clear skin and sharp eyebrows made her look exactly like Elle Fanning. Well, except she didn't have any freckles, and her face shape was all wrong.

It seemed as though she took that comment personally, as the next thing she said was, "I'll have you know that Elle Fanning is honestly a goddess and an inspiration to how I present myself; there's nothing wrong with aspiring to look like her." She was now gazing into his eyes with her mesmerising pale-blue gaze.

For a moment, time seemed to stop. And in that moment, all he could think of was 'maybe today isn't completely bad.'

She clearly had a sense of humour and looked stunning, her hair falling perfectly as a model's would. She was exactly his type, and it almost felt like the universe was giving him a break. He shook himself out of his thoughts. He couldn't let himself think this was about someone he had just met. Stuff like this only happens in stories, and even then, never to him.

He has never in his life experienced love. He has never in his life felt what it is like to love someone romantically, and vice versa. He always thought that people could never even be interested in someone like him, but here she is going out of her way to talk to him while he's being a jerk.

He has the sudden urge to apologise (it has nothing to do with the fact that he might be developing a tiny crush on the woman he just met).

For a few minutes, no further words were exchanged. That was until he had the guts to open his mouth again.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier; I've just had a really shitty day."

"You don't say," she replies rather bluntly. "Well, come on and dump all your sorrows on me about your shitty day; it seems as if you need an emergency therapy session."

"I do not need an emergency therapy session; who do you take me for?"

She shot him a credulous look, raising an eyebrow to question what the hell he was talking about.

"I mean, I could take an educated guess and say it had something to do with work with the way you're dressed. So come on, out with it. Was it a tough coworker, a rival company or just a naggy boss?"

'Wow, she's good,' he thought, his eyebrows raised slightly at her accurate guess. Part of him wonders if he's really that transparent or if she's just that perceptive. He feels a bit exposed, surprised at how easily she read him.

Sigh, he might as well trauma-dump on her; it's not like anything else is happening.

"Fine, my day was first upended by this rabid and rather ugly-looking bird crashing into my window..."

He explained his terrible day as if it were a drama to be showcased to the world. He told her about the incident with that bird, how it made him extremely late to work, and how his boss had a conniption at the mere thought of his being late. He expressed his hatred for her and shared everything she made him do that day, pushing him to the extreme.

He finished his conversation with her by saying, "My very bad day just had to get worse by getting stuck in an elevator of all things; it's as if someone has cursed me."

"Yeah, no shit." She stated bluntly, "I'd totally believe it if you were cursed right now, cursed with good luck."

"What?" He said, confused by what she was saying.

She played with her fingers, rubbing them together as if it were a nervous habit. She played with her hair, twirling it and tucking it behind her right ear. Then, as if gathering all the confidence that she could muster, she said, "Cursed with good luck because you met me," in a meek but slightly suggestive tone.

He went rigid, trying to process what was being said to him.

Out of everything that could have happened today, this was not something he had anticipated.

Cautiously, he replied, "Are you flirting with me?

"What if I am?" she responded. "Is it working?"

His first thought was to say. 'NO WAY!!' and shut it down immediately. This kind of thing never happened to him. He was always overlooked. He wasn't ugly, just rather plain-looking with chubby cheeks and messy black hair. These features, paired with his dull brown eyes and a dad bod to boot, made him the kind of guy no lady even wants to be seen with.

People have never even looked his way and thought, 'wow, who is he?'

But she did; she looked at him, and despite the forced meeting that brought them together, she chose to engage with him, to talk to him... And to flirt with him.

Her flirting completely threw him off. His heart raced, and his face turned bright pink, probably because he was as pale as a ghost.

Eventually, he spoke in a whispered tone, "...Maybe".

Her lips curved upwards, as if she had won the lottery. For some unknown reason, it didn't feel unsettling, not even a little bit. It felt.... quite nice actually.

She stepped closer and looked up, her eyes piercing through her long lashes and flickering across his face, as if taking something in. She would not fake something like this. Right?

He'd spent years thinking he just wasn't meant to be a bachelor of any kind. never falling in love, never being loved back. But as of right now, in a broken elevator of all places, he may be having second thoughts.

Maybe he can find love in this life. For once, he let himself believe it was real, because what else could be happening? Before he could start overthinking and talk himself out of it like he always did, he closed the distance between them and kissed her.

She didn't break away, not at first anyway. She melted into his arms and relaxed into the kiss, deepening it with every second. After a few moments of passionate kissing, they broke off panting. They stared into each other's eyes, and he couldn't help but think, 'please don't stop.'

As if his prayers were heard, she lunged right at him, pushed him against the closed elevator door and started eating away at his neck. Wanting to do the same, he pushed himself off the door and pressed her back against it. She wrapped her legs around his waist and exposed her neck for him to enjoy.

So immersed in their make-out session, they hadn't realised the elevator had started working again until they heard a 'ding' and promptly fell headfirst into a random apartment level.

THUD

They both fell hard to the floor, being tangled in a mess of arms and legs. He tried to scramble his way out of this predicament but promptly fell right back on his ass, now gaining a different kind of bruise, just on his bum cheek.

For a few moments, everything was silent, then laughter burst open from both their mouths as if in sync. She had such a nice laugh, the kind that was a full-belly laugh, paired with stray tears bursting from her eyes.

"At least we're finally out," she spoke up.

"Yeah..." he replied, not really wanting this moment to end.

As if sensing his longing, she replied. "The floor we're in is mine...do you want to continue what we were doing before?"

Without hesitation, he said, "Fuck yes."

.

.

.

.

The best thing Axel knew was waking up in an unfamiliar bed to light piercing his sensitive eyes.

Why was he in these soft sheets, this warm bed, looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling? Eventually, he remembered.

"Oh...shit."

His face cracked slowly into a grin as flashes of the night before returned. The elevator. Her, and with that look in her eyes when she looked at him, like he mattered. Chuckling softly, he dragged one hand lazily down his face.

Maybe he'd been wrong. About everything. About himself.

He propped himself up, grimacing a bit, and looked around the small room. Now he knew for sure this was not his room; it was way too nice.

He slowly pushed the covers off his body and swept his eyes around the room for a hint of where his clothes might be.

He paused and saw that they were neatly folded over a nearby chair. Standing up, he dressed quickly, raking his fingers through his tousled hair before wandering into the living room, hoping that she was still here.

The smell hit him first. The aroma of coffee was coming from the kitchen. He sped up his walk and turned into the kitchen area, and the first thing he saw was her body facing away from him. The sun was spilling onto her, giving her an almost... unreal glow as if she were a model striking a pose.

"Morning," she said, without even turning around. "Coffee?"

"Yes," he answered, voice still thick with sleep. "That sounds amazing."

He sat down in front of her, his gaze lingering on her for a second too long before he pulled away to look at the cup of coffee she set down in front of him.

From then on, they just talked. They talked about little things, stupid things. The type of conversations that mean nothing yet mean everything. And through it all, he kept getting this deep feeling in his chest. Maybe this is how it's supposed to feel. No forced talking, no awkward moments, just having a chat like it's any other day.

He took a sip of his coffee. It tasted just like any other, if only slightly better.

He took another sip, and that's when something felt off. not wrong; just strange. His limbs felt heavy all of a sudden. Maybe, with the excitement gone, he was feeling a bit drowsy (he ignored how he felt when he woke up this morning, feeling like a brand-new person).

"Did you sleep all right?" she asked, leaning against the counter, watching him.

"Yes, I slept great. You?"

He finished his coffee, and the drowsiness intensified.

"I slept wonderfully," she replied with ease.

For a while now, she had just been staring at him with no warmth or softness at all. Just staring. His throat felt parched, like he needed to swallow heaps of water to get rid of it, but his throat was so tight that it made him feel almost constricted.

He took another breath, this one shorter than the last.

"Hey!" He laughed softly as he spoke, "I don't feel very-"

Something was blocking his voice; no matter how many times he tried, he didn't have the strength to say them.

The mug slipped from his grip onto the countertop, and everything around suddenly began to blur.

What was going on!?

Across the table from him, she just sat there, staring, not even attempting to move towards him to help. All she did was pull out her phone to call someone.

Axel couldn't hear everything she was saying because the pounding in his ears was so intense, but he heard enough to piece together what was happening.

"Yeah," she said in a cool tone, "mission accomplished."

His heart felt like it was going to break in a million pieces when she continued. "The target is down." She hesitated for a moment and added. "Well, not really, but soon he will be."

The room visibly shook. There is no way this was real; it couldn't be, not after everything that happened.

"Yeah, the elevator worked like a charm."

The elevator....

His mind raced in circles, attempting to make sense of what seemed not to want to make sense. As he looked up at her, his head resting softly on the table, he saw a flicker in her eyes... it was something almost human being conveyed from her.

Maybe.

Then again, he may really want to believe that.

She comes closer to him. He wanted to move as far away as possible from her, but his body would not follow his command. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't do anything.

Now she was standing in front of him directly, holding a gun in her delicate fingers. They should not belong there.

She finally spoke to him directly, but all she said was, "I'm sorry."

For just a fraction of a second, he believed her. At least this moment was real.

And when she fired the bullet, he realised he never even got her name.