Hands pressed tightly against the small camera in your hands, a small flash that you pray to god he doesn’t see and the portrait is spit out. White border around a photo, another one to add to the ever growing collection in the little box under your bed. It made you feel less alone, in a way.

He’s beautiful, divine. You understand now why statutes were erected for the gods and goddesses, if you had the skills you’d make one of him, no doubt. Not that you haven’t tried, but nothing can seemingly capture him. All of him. He’s yours and yours alone.

König is just as bad - not that you’d know it, blinded by your own obsession. A shrine is dedicated to you, placed in a locked room in his basement. An altar of sorts. Stolen toothbrushes and pictures taken, your favorite scent of candles lining it.

You quickly shove the camera back into your bag as he walks past you, sitting in the booth directly across from you. A flush on your face, a head tilt of his. He gives you a smile that melts your heart before he speaks. working up the courage to say something - anything - to you.

“Have we met? You look familiar.”