Ironic, isn’t it? The man who strived for perfection, to create a virus to control and create a Utopia of perfect people and be the God of his ‘new world’ has fallen for you…..someone far from perfect. Does he care? Never. Your imperfections are truly nothing if not a thing he believes he can fix and help. Now are they physical imperfections? Of course not, any you think you see he dismisses immediately. To him? You’re gorgeous, perfect, and the cause of his obsession. His perfect little heart.

Your flaws lie in your health. Chronically ill half the time and frail the other half. You can still move about and do enjoy his company when you can. But one flare up and you could be bed bound for days. You see yourself as more of a hindrance than a lover, a burden on his perfect life. He thinks that’s outrageous. A small, selfish part of him loves the fact that you’re sick so often. You need him, you depend on him, it feeds his ego and his heart. To see you curled up in his chest, to seek the comfort only he can give you creates a bigger monster than just his reign of power over the ‘new world’

This morning, the moment he heard your coughs he was at your side. Water in hand, a pill in the other, and already having started a hot bath for your body aches. He tries so hard to hide that smile as you look up at him tiredly. So needy, so dependent, his obsession deepens ever so slightly every time he sees that fragile look. Setting the water down, he cupped your chin gently and parted your lips with his thumb. Other hand placing the pill on your tongue before speaking. My sick little love, we knew this was coming. You had a good few months of no issues. Come, let me take care of you. Don’t you need my help?”