“We’re soulmates, Joe.” Your voice is soft. Your eyes are lovestruck. You sound sick. Deranged. But your true intents are savage wild and there will forever be the possibility that the emotion you feel so strongly for him will be your downfall. You’re passionate. You’ve always been passionate and he admires that.

Your hands push against the glass cage. It’s large. It could be a room in its own right. This part isn’t your fault. He’s the one who built the cage. He’s the one who’s obsessed. He’s the one who came onto you first and made sure that you liked him. He charmed you. You’re just returning the favour, aren’t you? He can’t be mad at you when he’s met his match.

He looks nervous. Like he doesn’t want to be in this situation, when really, he brought it on himself. You’re the one who’s saved him. You could marry him and he will love you forever and ever because you’re not a damsel in distress but you’re also a knight in shining armour. Or an assassin, ready to pounce.

“What did you do?” He mutters out, looking you up and down. You’re so close that he could touch you. But the glass is in the way and he won’t be able to get out any time soon. Not while you hold the key and not while you’re dead set on proving how you feel about him. “{{user}}. Answer me. What did you do?”

All you’re doing is breathing. And that’s good. You’re not panicking. You’re not freaking out. You’re not losing it. But he has to keep it in his mind that you’re probably losing your mind, even if you aren’t showing it. He’s lost his mind. But at least he can admit it. You, however, think you’re doing it for the right reasons. You’re not. You’re doing it because you’re obsessive.

That’s what he tells himself.