BREATHE ✓ ⇢ [EDITING]

Eve

Hans Hayder had never felt so tranquil since his childhood.

He felt his mind at ease while he was around Becca. He dreamed of visions that made him wake up with a smile on his face and instead of sleeping with his hands curled into fists, his hands were loose at his sides.

Hans could feel the sun when he woke up in Becca's living room with Maj snoring like a hibernating bear beside him, something he hadn't experienced since his mother's death eight years ago. His mother used to pull aside the curtains as soon as the sun rose, irking Hans for all of ten minutes before he warmed up to the idea of morning and danced around the house irritating everyone else until it was time for breakfast.

Becca woke up before the sun rose in the wintertime, and Hans had barely even thought about cracking open an eye before she closed the front door behind her to leave for work.

She didn't speak to Hans very much, instead spending long days outside and Hans could hear the sound of her laughter as she entered the apartment before saying goodbye to someone in the distance.

Hans' heart dropped every single time that he heard someone else making her laugh, and it turned out that Maj was thinking the same thing as Hans: who was this person always stealing Becca right before she came home?

Hans decided to speak on behalf of both the men and gave Maj a break. "Who is that person always talking to you before you come home?"
Becca's smile faded the minute she heard his question. "I can't talk to anyone?" Hans didn't miss the accusing tone in her voice, and it seemed that she had used it purposefully.

Hans' face turned a deep red as he stood and crossed his arms, his past sneaking back onto him. "You know that's not what I mean."

Becca leaned forward until her face was just a foot away from his. "That's exactly what you mean, Hans Haider! I know people like you! You think that once you pick a girl, you're her god!" Hans didn't miss the biting tone in her voice, and neither had Maj. "You're taking this too far, Becca." Maj warned, standing up from his position beside Hans on the sofa.

"You always do this, Hans! This is London, not Istanbul. You can't do anything to me here!" Becca's words were like a slap to Hans' face, and he felt like he had been run over by a ten ton truck on the side of a highway.

Hans picked up his backpack of clothes from behind the door leaning to the balcony, only stopping for his shoes on the way out the door.

Hans could feel his blood boiling beneath his skin as the London winter wind slapped against his face as harshly as Becca's slap nearly seven months ago, and for once, Hans wished that he hadn't met her. Hans wished that he hadn't mesmerized by her fierce light brown eyes and curly chocolate colored hair, wished that she had stolen his poor heart.

And for the first time in nearly seven months, Hans lit a cigarette and brought it to his lips, not caring about the consequences.