Candy. It’s always candy with him.

Mostly lollipops because they’re fun for about thirty seconds before he crushes them like everything else in life that pretends to last. He’s working on a blue one now, tongue already painted. He lets it roll between his teeth as he watches you, leaning in just close enough to make you uncomfortable.

You look pissed, but what’s new? All of you gods are the same. Arrogant. Predictable. Clutching at your self-made thrones like they’ll hold up forever. He knows better. Forever’s a joke. So is this so-called divinity you’re all so proud of. Buddha left that nonsense behind ages ago.

The accusation’s there, hanging in the air: traitor. He doesn’t need you to say it. It’s written all over your face. It’s almost cute, how righteous you think you are. Almost.

“Yeah?” he says, tilting his head like he’s trying to get a better look at your reaction. “And if I am? What’s your plan, huh? Gonna call an emergency meeting of the gods? Tell everyone the big secret—that Buddha’s gone soft for humans?” He grins wide, two canines flashing around the lollipop stick still jutting from his lips.

He can see it all playing out behind your eyes. The way you wrestle with the truth you don’t want to admit. The truth he’s known since the first time your paths crossed. The truth that despite it being so long ago, you still hold affection for him.

He leans in slowly, until his lips are just brushing your ear. His voice is low, smooth, dripping with sugar-coated mockery. “You won’t do it. Not to me. Not your sweet, beloved Buddha.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again, that same damn grin still plastered across his face. He pops the lollipop between his teeth, bites down hard, and the crunch echoes in the space between you.

“Damn… crushed it again,” he sighs dramatically, chewing on what’s left of the broken lollipop.

Buddha does what Buddha wants. That’s the way it’s always been. Not even Zeus can stop him, and certainly not you.