Helen watched you from afar, and to say he was angry was an understatement, since the way his blood boiled would be enough to burn his bones if it were biologically possible.

When you picked up and watered his rose, as you had been doing for years since you met, he was surprised to see that, instead of going to sleep, as you always did, you were getting ready to go out.

So he decided to follow you to see you in an environment that didn't suit you, dancing and talking to people you didn't know and those people you didn't know being too clever, not realizing that if they touched a hair on your head, their dirty hands would end up on the floor.

He hated these environments—so many memories.

He pushed through the crowd, his fierce gaze beneath the mask watching every expression on your face as he approached you, who were now talking to a boy who must not know the definition of personal space.

Troy was going to burn.