Disclaimer: Standard

AN: Thanks for all the reviews! Actually this story is more like one of those "no obvious plot" stories. Just something I made from the idea that kept on bugging me in my head… You should pay attention to the chapter title too :D Sorry if anyone's disappointed tho :P Keep reading and reviewing!

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STRANGERS

Chapter 2: February 28th

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He looked at the sleeping stranger, curled up in his arms. Her pale skin was soft but hot, and he could see trails of his passionate caresses all over her body. Her jet black strands were loose and messy, but it only made her look more beautiful. She was a perfect contrast of black and white, like an ink painting.

He closed his eyes.

He remembered two weeks ago, he bought a set of traditional Japanese ink paintings for his living room. Until now, he still didn't hang them on the wall. He didn't even know why he bought them in the first place. He wasn't too fond of paintings, and it was not like he would have guests coming over to admire his little living room. He himself was barely at home. He was always at his office, and then at the bar, and then later at night he would find himself wide awake in a hotel room, watching his naked random stranger sleeping peacefully, before finally putting his pants back on and went back to the bar to get some more drinks. A vicious cycle that would kill him one day.

For some reason, the girl reminded him of those paintings he left in the storage room.

He looked at the black haired girl. She looked deep asleep so he decided to slip off the bed and went to the bathroom to take a long shower. He took his time, rethinking about whatever happened earlier that night, and sighed. He was satisfied in a way, but he didn't feel happy at all. In fact, he felt like something had been taken away from him.

He came out of the bathroom and slowly got dressed before he felt a movement behind him. He turned around and saw a pair of sapphire eyes looking at him.

"You're leaving already?" She asked. He smiled faintly and nodded.

"I'm going home."

"Now? In the middle of the night?"

"Yes."

She looked at him with a knowing face. She didn't smile, but her eyes were soft and understanding. It was his first time meeting her, but her glowing gaze felt somewhat familiar. He didn't really take much from it. All women were the same to him. Their names, their curves, their hair, they were the same. They all wanted something that he couldn't give. But now, he couldn't careless about that.

The girl sighed and stood up. She took a pink post-it and a pen from her bag, and wrote something down. Then, she slipped the folded pink post-it paper into his hand.

"Call me sometimes when you're not busy." She said. He stared at the folded pink paper, and put it in his pocket.

Without saying anything anymore, he gave her one last kiss before she turned around and disappeared into the bathroom.

He took all of his belongings, and as he stepped out of the door, he already forgotten about the pink paper that silently curled up inside his pocket.