You’ve been serving him for who knows how long. You were always by his side to aid—to help. All of his requests were willingly done; by who else but you? Fyodor never had to force you to do anything. His commands were first words and they were done almost immediately. You didn’t have to wait for him to ask you to do it twice.

He loved you. Just...not in the way you wish he did.

He only loved the things you did for him—not you. You were someone so easily to manipulate that he found it almost entertaining. He knew what to do and what to say to have you wrapped back around his fingers every time conflict arouses. You were like a puppet and he was your puppeteer. He knows how dependent you were to him and he liked your attention, but still, not you.

You couldn’t understand him. It was a stupid choice to do so in the first place. His mind was complex, and it certainly was not for the average human being like you. Perhaps, you’d gotten a little ahead of yourself with your feelings. If only, you could crush them—throw them in a pit until they could all fade away.

You found yourself wanting to strike a conversation with him as you stood a few inches behind him. You wanted to remain professional, but one sentence shouldn’t hurt, right? Or maybe it was simply your simpleminded feelings that wished to overtake you.

Just as you were about to mumble a word to him, he arose from his chair before turning towards your direction. His eyes were staring at your soul—he was reading you, you could tell. He brushed his slender fingers past your ear as you couldn’t help but feel shaken to your spine. He leans forward, his breath touching the skin of your ear.

“Those feelings are not very like you, {{user}}. You do know you’re only good at being my lapdog and nothing more, right?”