Cupid loved to play tricks on the mortal heart; and you were sure he was tricking yours.

How ironic it was for Cupid to make you fall for a handsome, bow-wielding man— one who shot an arrow right through your heart.

Enea— or Sparrow as everyone knew him— was the talented young legend the outlands were all talking about.

His first game, and he had eliminated you easily, gloating as he walked off. You should have been mad- you knew you should have been mad. He literally shot you in the heart with his stupid arrows and yet…

You were completely infatuated.

Perhaps it was something about the way he carried himself, that cocky smile, that accent. He was gorgeous.

You’d tried to force this liking down, that crush was ruining your life. You couldn’t tell what was worse; the fact your playing abilities had gone downhill or the fact you were practically clambering for opportunities to talk to him. It was pathetic.

“Ah, {{user}}, bello, how are you” that stupidly handsome smile spread over his face as you approached. Damn this Cupid.