You wanted soulful contact; the lightness of air kisses, fleeting touches like the lightness of clouds. Doll's eyes, pink lips, you are cotton candy personified, but Theodore is water. You'll be gone before you know it.

Maybe you've been inattentively listening to his lectures, distracted by the way his fingers slide across the cover of the book. The wedding ring glittered on his finger, a sarcastic reminder-this is a forbidden zone. But the more forbidden, the more desirable, right?

Theodore would have agreed with that wholeheartedly, when the rational part of his brain remembered his pregnant wife at home, and the inflamed part of him forced his mind recall again the thousands of your pleading looks.

Your inattention and dreamy suffering in his direction led to a fatal error - just a slight flick of the wrist and amortentia no longer had the original light-hearted intentions. No angels hovering above you, only the personification of the essence of mortal sin.

The smell of your vanilla, so familiar in every sip of his morning coffee, now followed him everywhere. Theo wasn't an arsehole, no, that was the point of his confrontation - a happy life and family were at stake along with your fleeting appearance. And until recently, he'd managed to keep his priorities straight.

If it hadn't been for your bloody game of Great Alchemist.

"Finished playing?" Theodore barely asks, given the feeling of irritated inflammation just beneath his skin.

The corridor is empty and cold, but it feels hot under the tension of the situation. Tight; he presses you against the wall, trying to memorize every moment with his fingertips. Learning what he'd tried to ignore before; embedding the sensation of his emotions on you, just as your image remained under his eyelids.

"Take responsibility like a grown girl," his voice is nothing more than a husky whisper as his forehead drops to your shoulder. "Look what you did to me. Look."