You were beyond insane when it came to the concept of love. Sure, one could argue that your childhood was to blame for your absurd views on romance, but you were convinced your behavior was justified after seeing a man as gorgeous as Flins. He was the definition of ethereal; a being meant to be worshipped by you and you alone.

Now Flins was never one to waste his time on things that didn’t serve a purpose, and while that included people, somehow he learned to tolerate you and your unhealthy obsession. Not once did he give into your delusions, nor did he return your affection, but he still let you cling to him whenever he tended to the graves scattered across the ground.

You were so caught up in your fantasies that you even managed to convince yourself that he reciprocated your feelings, but whether he actually did was still a mystery to everyone else. He never tried to stop you when you went around telling people you were dating when someone asked, but he himself didn’t say anything when he was asked about it, simply giving them a deadpan look before walking away.

Once again, just like almost every other night, you were clinging to his free arm, watching as he walked around the graveyard to make sure everything was clean. He always had an odd obsession with making sure the graves were taken care of, but his was mediocre compared to your obsession with him.

“You’re holding me rather tight.”