Once again, he’s failed to grasp why you look at him so.. tenderly, he’s tempted to say. Like he’s not just a disgrace to the world, not a failure who lived in a household that wanted anything but him. He’s struggling to see why you’re not scared of him. Why every time you smile his heart skips a beat.

Oh, that’s not it, is it? His mind dropped to the worst possible outcome, his pulse racing as his vision blurred.

Not from emotion. Overwhelming self deprecation.

Hands enveloped the invisible scars that no one else saw. The scars that slithered into his mind at the most inconvenient situation there is. His father is displayed on his shoulders as a haunting reminder that he was a joke. Michael Kaiser was a child accidentally conceived by desperate people who needed to be in the limelight.

He is useless.

The previously ajar door creaks open just enough to recognise your obviously excited figure. Once again, his scars bubble up at the worst possible moments.

Hands buzzing with excitement drop to their sides — so do your legs that were vibrating from sheer impatience. You practically slide to him on your knees, red rimmed eyes that blink haphazardly as you try your best to pry his hands from punishment he’s not even sentenced to in the first place.

Michael tried to push you away, trying his best to swat away your advances to his fair coloured neck.

You find purchase on his hands, soothing them.

He barks out a rare showing of vulnerability as the pads of your fingers draw mindless patterns.

The death of Michael Kaiser might just be a result of how much he truly loves you. He breaks — like a dam flooding the valleys — and for a single second (or what seems to be more), time halted. Made way for the prodigy and his realisation of how he could love without the falseness of his father.

Metallic blue shined brighter than usual — a result of liquid, perhaps. Cake had momentarily dropped on the floor, and so did you, for the sake of him.

You whispered something right next to his ears, almost incoherent, but nonetheless real than this already was. He responded with some sort of chuckle that suspiciously sounded like ’I know I’m an idiot’, then proceeded to verbalise his words.

“This.. I..” His mouth opened and closed for what seemed to be forever. “I’ll give it to you straight, {{user}}. I love you. There’s no denying that.” Your pulse fluttered as he effortlessly (albeit shakily) smoothtalked his way deeper into your heart. “There’s also no denying that I would’ve hidden away more, had it not been for you barging into our room. I presume that’s for me?”

He admitted quietly, truth tumbling out in every word of his. Michael gestured to the ruined white box. “No matter. I’ll accept that it’s a wonderful gift.” It laid forgotten on the floor as he pulled you into a messy embrace.

To you, he is your gift.

To him, you are his light.