Autopsy of a Mind

It felt like a lifetime and seconds at the same time. My eyes remained shut, comfortable, and imagining his face as he kissed me. If I opened my eyes, it would be too awkward. So I clung to him, lacing my hand around his neck and pulling myself up on my tiptoes to kiss me deeply.

I was the one who pulled away, breathless, and in awe of his lung capacity. I felt the butterfly kisses of his lashes on my cheeks as his lips pressed against the corner of mine and then my chin. Though his hands were on either side of my head, I could feel that he was keeping his body at a distance. I smiled and pressed my forehead to his, reveling at the moment. 

From behind Sebastian, I heard someone clear their throat and was startled away from him. I pushed him away quickly, making him stumble and double over a foot away from me. Sebastian glanced towards the elderly woman who was giving us a judgmental look and smiled politely. 

"Have you been well?" he asked the woman, who had obviously stopped to stare at us. The lady looked over at me and shook her head in disappointment. This woman only came out to buy a bag of groceries every week and a packet of cigarettes. I had heard that she thought herself a psychic. 

Which was all good. 

"I knew this would happen." I snickered as she fiddled in the pocket of her jacket. The keys jingled in her jacket as she struggled. I moved forward, taking the bag from her. She gave me a withering look but took my help nonetheless. She pressed her key into the slot and turned the knob.

"Knew what would happen?" Sebastian asked, his voice amused. 

"You two make googly eyes at one another. It was a matter of time. But her face tells me she'll have a hard life ahead of her." She glared at Sebastian. "What about you? Ready to share it or will you be running out?"

Sebastian's smile fell. One look at me and anyone would know she wasn't a very happy and innocent person. I didn't believe in fortune-telling and those that pretended to be psychic. I did believe in their power to squeeze out the wishes and fears of people and use the knowledge against them. A very narcissistic trait, but people only heard what they wanted to and blindly believed these comments. I was sure Sebastian thought the same way.

"I run really fast, but I know my goals. I won't be running away, I'll be running towards her." He gave the woman a look of warning and touched the small of my back to guide me away. He was quick to hand the older woman the groceries back and usher me into the apartment.

He closed the door before I could say anything and peered through the peephole. "She ruined the moment," he grumbled, making me chuckle. 

"Well, you didn't need to be so hard on the conservative old lady," I claimed softly. I plopped down on the sofa and took in a shuddering breath. 

"I'm already trying hard to show you that the thoughts that scare you are a trick of your head, but this lady comes along spouting her supernatural mumbo-jumbo." He shook his head. "We should have made sure the neighbors weren't idiots before renting the place."

"I rented the place," I interjected. "I know everyone that lives around me. The psychic lady. The webnovelist who never comes out of her apartment. And the man with dementia next door."

"What is this? A ghost floor? Why is everyone here so strange?" he sighed. "When did you even meet these people?" He sat down beside me and patted on his lap. I stared at the gesture, confused. "Place your head. You look like you have a headache from the burden of your conflicting thoughts," he teased. 

Indeed, I did have a bad headache. I wordlessly slid down and placed my head on his lap. His cool fingers touched my temple, the pressure was just right. His fingers made their way to my scalp and I had to wonder where he learned this. 

"I had terrible headaches as a child, so I learned to take care of them myself. I don't get them anymore. Never found out what caused them, though." He shrugged. 

I was scared I would fall asleep, so I patted his arm. He stopped and when I opened my eyes, I saw his face peering down at me, a look of pure adoration in them.

"I met Psychic Grandma because people drop my mail in her postbox. The webnovelist was out of coffee and wandered down the hallway to find me because I wouldn't ask too many questions. I sent her back home with a box of pomegranate tea, which she loved. She slipped a note under my door gushing about it." I rolled my eyes. "And the grandpa with dementia... well, he came out of the apartment one evening while I was talking to Psychic Grandma. Apparently, they had a fling years ago." 

"Well, I was expecting cryptic stories, but it seems everyone here is wholesome." He sounded like he wanted to object. 

"What? You've finally pushed out of her accursed will, so you will rush to move me into your apartment?" I joked. He looked at me very seriously. I stopped in my tracks. "No, seriously."

"Sheng Sheng is practically living here. We are mostly at the university and I come back home, eat, and then go to sleep. I have three sets of clothes here, Evie. Have mercy on me." He was pleading. How long he had put up with it, I didn't know, but he looked aggrieved. 

I had been thoughtless. 

"You can move back home," I said softly. "I need to start spending time away from you too." That had been the routine. 

"Oh, don't lie to me. Sleep therapy usually needs three months to have an effect. You only feel better because you are finally catching up to all the sleep you lost over the years. This isn't even the start." He gritted his teeth. "I am not doing this because I want to sleep beside you or be intimate with you, but if you pull away from me because you are scared of my feelings and how fast our relationship is evolving, I will try my best to put some sense into you."

"Okay, I give you leave to put some sense into me. Give me some good points as to why I shouldn't kick you out of the apartment."

He thought about it for a moment. "It takes five minutes for me to walk to and from your apartment and mine, a period of time that is minuscule for others but someone in our profession... it can lead to life and death. Second, you get a second pair of hands to clean and cook."

Because cooking for two people wasn't a hard job. 

"Don't look at me like that. Neither of us eats much, so the effort of added labor isn't too much. You put in the same amount of work as you would cook your own food. Our diets are identical and the cost of grocery can be evenly split. Moreover, if I don't spend more than an hour at my home every day, what is the use of paying a steep rent? Why are both of us spending money when we could be economical and save a lot of money on simply rent!"

I glared at him. 

"Yes! Your rent. We could live in my apartment. You would have a separate room for yourself for when you can sleep alone and office space. The view is spectacular and security is tighter around that area. All your clothes will fit into the wardrobe without a hitch and you don't have enough furniture to warrant a lot of moving." He looked around. "Your furniture is rented. Only the throw pillows, covers, and the like are your own investment."

"What about how awkward it will be to live with you?" I asked. Logically, his offer made sense, but I needed my own space. 

"Will it?" he said, scrunching his nose in confusion.

"I enjoy having my own space. I specifically took this apartment because there are no corners to hide and I have a clear view of all the rooms from where I sit. I enjoy having a space of my own where I know I am safe. Going to a new space when I am just learning to trust myself and trying to sleep. I don't think it would bode well for my mental health."

He thought about it for a long time. "A part of you also thinks that we will never work out so you are letting me down easy." It was not a question. The reaction had been subconscious, but he pinned it down without a clue from me. 

"Yes, which is why I need you to assure me that you like me." I smiled, remembering his explosion. "But I also need a space of my own that I don't share with anyone. You may stay with me, but because I pay rent and I willingly chose this apartment, I feel like it belongs to me."

"Space and identity correlation," he commented, understanding what I was saying. 

"Yes."

He touched my cheek, his palm pressing against my heated skin. "Evie, you have all the time in the world. If there are a hundred steps between us, you just need to take one step towards me and I will take the ninety-nine that is left." I stared at him in utter shock. "So, come slowly."

"Did you have a hidden talent for smooth-talking?" I asked, my voice quite a few octaves higher. He gave me a sly smile. 

"I have overcome my aversion for romance novels. I found great joy in them now that I know exactly what the characters are experiencing. Academic articles and research papers can't grasp the exact feeling... they feel insufficient even though they are true."

"What a nerd."