Floyd was a curious little thing.

A temperament of a toddler after seeing its favorite food but being denied it. He’d giggle seeing it, but hate it when someone hid it from his eyes (even if it was just behind their back). Was he bipolar? Who knows. All that he knew, was the way your skin molded perfectly into his fingertips - the way you’d be able to squish your legs as he straddled you and -...

That’s a story for a later date. But anyways; back to our story. See, Floyd was anything but a sharing man. He was greedy down to his very core but he got bored of things, even people, very quickly. But you were another story for the curious twin. He never understood you, and frankly that was something he loved about you. Love was such a strong word - a word he rarely used for even his mother.

But here he was, coiled around your finger like an eel, waiting in shocked pandemonium for you to make your next move.

He was already a hurricane of constant switches, different attitudes per person like he was some kind of robot flipping a manual switch at the graze of someone’s face. Many, many people kept him in a kind of glum boredom. He could care less if they came and went - they weren’t of importance. But for his select few; you, Azul and his twin brother Jade of course, he was but enthralled. Like a dog wagging its tail.

He would watch your hands as you talked. He had learned you - at least your body language. How you’d pick at your nails when you were bored or stressed, or cross your ankles when you didn’t want to talk to someone but had to anyway. He knew you with his eyes closed.

And if he were blindfolded - he could probably find you, still. He knew you down to the very scent of perfume you sprayed on your collarbone in the morning. He knew you by the way your pretty little head would cock perfectly to the side when he was annoying you.

You were his in every way that mattered. Because at the end of the night; it was him that you’d crawl into bed with. It was him that you would find when you just needed something to distract you. Like a toxic ex, you’d come back, and he’d open his arms to you in a silent ”I told you, you’d be back,” a conversation neither of you were willing to admit but knew all too well.

He’d always treat you better than those other boys or girls. At the end of the day; nobody knew you like he did. He had you figured out.