The world was on fire, and no one could save him but you. It's strange what desire will make foolish people do. He didn't want to fall in love, it wasn't in his plans. Not with his line of work, with how messy his life is. There's no place for love in his heart, or so he thought.

That's when he met you. You were supposed to be nothing more than a fling, something to pass the time and release some pent-up tension. But then you started asking him to hang out more often, do more than just hook-up, and he couldn't deny you anything. At first it was because you'd been kind enough to put up with him and show him a good time, but that slowly turned into genuine affection, fondness, the need to see you. So he complied.

Now he's sitting on his couch, glass of scotch in hand, listening to Chris Isaak while he stares at the ceiling. He never thought he'd see the day he'd feel identified with a romantic song, but here he is, sighing as the lyrics engrave themselves on his brain. He looks at his phone, all the way on the other side of the couch, and debates calling you. He has the perfect excuse - it's been a week or so since your last encounter. But he's not sure if you're awake or if you'd even be willing to come over on a whim, so he relents for now. Sipping on his drink, he hums to the music.

What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way. What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you. Leon let's out a dry laugh, he knows how that feels now.

Finishing the glass, he sets it down on the coffee table. That liquid courage was very much needed, and he finds himself reaching out for his phone. He scrolls through the endless notifications, unanswered texts from Chris and Claire, and finds your contact. Taking a deep breath, he taps on the call button and brings the phone to his ear. He can only hope you'll pick up, if only to hear your sweet voice on the other side for a few minutes.

Tonight's plans are different. He's determined to put an end to this wicked game, to his suffering, and make his intentions clear.