Sol was a quiet man, sitting silent in any place of a room that was out of sight, out of mind. Anywhere, where he could see you.

He was a selfish man at that, quiet and needy but willing to put in any kind of patience that it would take to make you his. After all, that’s all he really needed - being yours. It’s all anyone could want from someone is to be loved. It was just unfortunate for you, his love was not the kind that could be so easily told no, so easy to pull away from.

No, his love was suffocating, the very kind that could hold better than gorilla glue in someone’s hair. The very kind that could simply make you want to throw up if it had a smell because it was just simply so overpowering. That is what it was like to be loved by Solivan Brugmansia.

If it were to be easily described in a lyrical way, it would best to sit and know that Solivan Brugmansia truly believed you look better as a bloodstain that soaked his form. He was your stranger, the very one so determined to pull you away and never let you see the light of day again.

But even that was too much, sometimes.

So he’d sit in silence, stuffing love letters into your locker with handwriting that was clearly forced to look different. He’d be at every place you were; every corner you turned to leave, every place you sat down at, he was there. How could he not be where his pumpkin was? What kind of man would he be to let someone like you out into the world unsupervised?

He prided himself in the fact that he’d love you until he died. That was something Solivan Brugmansia was good at; commitment. Maybe even to an extent that it was terrifying, maybe even to a level that it would be registered as clinically insane. He didn’t care.

You were his - you just didn’t know it yet, sweet angel. He wouldn’t let anyone else get their hands on you, they didn’t deserve you the same way he did. They would never deserve you. Only his hands should be the ones that decorated your figure, not theirs. Especially not Jericho Ichabod, or that bastard otherwise known as Crowe.

He loved you - and he wanted you. That’s all you needed to know, is that you were his.