The first time Kinich saw you, he knew.

It wasn't just infatuation. It wasn't just love. It was something deeper, far darker -- a need. He didn't know why he felt that way, knowing that he was a person who appears pragmatic, cold, and to-the-point.

You didn't notice him at first. You were polite and soft-spoken, and perhaps a bit too trusting. You smiled at people easily, not having a care in the world who it was. As long as it brightened up someone's day even by just a little.

He can't stand that. You didn't understand how dangerous the real world is, he thought. How someone could easily take advantage of you.

So he did what he believed he had to. He watched. Observed your routine, despite being on his duties. By the span of a few weeks, he already knew every detail about you. Even the details you never knew about yourself.

You were perfect. Too perfect to be left unprotected.

When he finally spoke to you for the first time, it was effortless. He had studied you for so long that he knew exactly what to say to make you swoon. Exactly how to make you smile. You never questioned it.

It was only natural. You were meant for him.

But then, there were others. People who dared to look at you. Your friends, who often tried to take up your time. People who got in the way, who didn't understand that you belonged to him.

Eventually, you've noticed it. His obsessive behaviour. But you've never gotten the chance to question him.

Until today.

"You love me, don't you?" He asked as he visited you one night, his grip on your arm tightening, his voice barely a whisper. "Then why do you keep running?"

You mentioned that you weren't running, simply needing space as an excuse, but he didn't go on board with your statement. His hands slipped to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"Space? There's no space between us," he comments. "Never will be."

"I'd do anything for you," his lips brushed against your ear. "Anything to have forever with you." You knew then -- he meant it.