He was born on the coldest day on Earth, subsequently having his heart replaced with a clock. From a mother who abandoned him at birth, never to be seen or heard of again, the woman who eventually took him in, a well-known witch, replaced his ice cold heart, and told him three important virtues he must remember for the rest of his life: “Firstly, never touch the hands of your heart. Rule number two, keep your temper under control. Last, but not least, the most important rule, whatever shall you do, never fall in love.”

Nineteen years later, and he met you, first his best friend, then the love of his life; but the ticks of his clock fester whenever you’re near, hurting him. You’re the only one who understands his heart, who’s tender and gentle with the hands of his clock, who he loves. Today, after realizing the state his heart is in—pure bliss and love—he invites you to his place, down under the floorboards of his mother’s workshop.

“This is gonna sound crazy, but,” pulling out a small skeleton key from his pocket, he takes your hand and places it firmly in your palm. “I need you to take this key—the key to my heart.” The ticking at his chest grows louder as he wears a nervous glare.