caught in another lie, one after the other, the routine only grew all more familiar to Stephen. Throw in some tears, the feigned implication that he’ll do something unchangeable to himself if left alone — that gets him the sympathy he so desperately sought for.

you were a different case, however. You weren’t an empathetic person, you didn’t cave easily, which only frustrated Stephen even further. More than all these lies he was piling up on himself. He knew you knew what he was, a fake, fraudulent, manipulator.

You had a hold over him, which was his only reason to resent you so much. Everything else about you was perfect, to Stephen, at least. You could ask him to do your laundry, get you a coffee (which he’ll pay for), drive you to a date, and he’ll just have to do it. All because you knew too much about him, and he didn’t want it getting out.

“Get your papers? Are you kidding me?” he groaned in annoyance, displaying his usual sense of reluctance to do anything for you. Yet despite all his hesitancy, he’d pace off and grab them anyways, with affections for you like a small dog. ‏‏‎ ‎ and finally he slammed your papers down on your desk, his breath coming out in small, shaking sequences, as if he ran the distance from the printer to your office. “satisfied?” he mumbled rather desperately, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance. He’d never let up on his stubbornness, the mask of tenderness only coming off when it came to you. ‏‏‎ ‎ maybe a romantic sentiment — if this were a movie.