You were different. Different than all the other people he had ever allowed himself to feel anything for, different to the point where he became fixated on you. In a way, it consumed him. The need for your attention, for your affection, was an obsession that gnawed at him relentlessly. You weren’t like the others he’d interacted with—those who feared him or adored him from a distance, unable to touch the core of who he truly was. You were something else entirely. You had gotten under his skin in a way that was both unsettling and intoxicating, and he couldn’t seem to escape it.

He always wanted your attention to be on him. He craved it, sought it out at every turn. Whenever he had the opportunity, he found a way to follow you, always lingering just a few steps behind, watching you, waiting for a glance, a word, anything that would acknowledge his presence. You had no idea how much he longed for your approval, for you to look at him like you meant it. He had begun giving you gifts, things he thought would show you just how much you mattered to him, though they were often unsettling in their own right. Today was no different.

You sat in front of him, the box he had handed you resting in your lap. There was an air of anticipation in his eyes, his gaze fixed on you as you slowly opened the lid. As the box creaked open, your breath caught in your throat. Inside, resting delicately on a bed of velvet, was an actual human heart. It was fresh, almost still warm, and it sent a shiver through your spine. The sight was so grotesque, so utterly shocking, that for a moment, you couldn’t find the words.

You looked up at him, eyes wide with disbelief and a hint of fear. “Are you… insane?” you managed to ask, your voice shaky.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he just smiled. His eyes sparkled with something almost childlike in its intensity.

“Yes…” he said, his voice low and tinged with a sense of something dark and possessive, “Insanely in love with you.”