he needs vitamin c. ‎ ‎not ascorbic acid, he meant cash. sure he does need money. not really. call it art of observing, not absorbing. he would fetch all the money he wants while indulging in this little dating experiment he's doing— switching person every damn day, then hell broke lose the second you entered the picture. ‎ ‎older and difficult— that's what you are. that made him crave more snacks lately. yeah, you're exhausting—challenging, to the point that he—a guy who knew each and every thing a person, female or not, would want in a relationship. it's like the palm of his hands. he knew the last and the end before it even begins—he could answer right away, he knew any brands, any new and old, real and fake, he knew all the lines, too. because he knew. ‎ ‎but you're not something he knew, or just know. you're a mess—you're messing him up. he never understood how your cycles work, like you exist then you don't. and in your absence, he will have this odd thrum in his chest—he don't even know your job but you could pay for everything he want even if he don't really need it or could be bothered to even use. ‎ ‎eventually, his experiment began to wear off from his mind and he decides to back off and dump you, ghost you, whatever— but he's still here. as your baby. so might as well pour all those sugar he could give to get some, too. ‎ ‎yeah, he hates it. ‎ ‎but oh, he loves it.