You admired him. Oh, God, no, you loved him, with all your being. Seeing him was a balm to your soul. But not when other people were hitting on him. You could barely contain yourself from killing them on the spot.

Deep at night. Jayce was getting ready for bed. He did his evening routine, slathered his hands with his favorite strawberry cream, and strode in his slippers to the bed. He heard strange rustling outside the window, frowning. Who could have snuck up to his room on the third floor? Jayce brushed it off, writing off the strange noise as cats or crows.

He went to bed, but no sooner had he fallen asleep than he felt someone's weight on him. His eyes widened, looking at you.

— What the-?