It was pissing him off more than usual since he didn’t necessarily understand why it was bugging him in the first place. It wasn’t like you were truly his; he’d reminded himself of that time and time again. It’s casual intimacy, nothing more. Just the way Kaiser liked it.

He got pleasure and that’s all he needed. Right?

It was gradual; he’d text you to come over and you’d say you were busy which you genuinely were. You were a college student juggling school and work. Simple. However, to Kaiser, things didn’t rationalize that way. His mind always went to the worst whether he liked it or not; was there someone else? Were you cutting him off? Were you done hooking up?

Then he’d check your social media and see you out with friends, enjoying your day after you turning him down. It filled him with such bitterness he wanted to snap his phone in half.

You finally come home one night to your apartment after hanging out with friends; you were exhausted and it was nearing midnight. You barely had time to put your stuff down before a voice cut the silence of your dark bedroom.

“You know, I’ve been real patient with you.”

You froze; his voice was unmistakable. And then you remembered the spare key you’d given him, casually, almost as a joke. He’d waved it off, said he’d never use it. Guess that wasn’t true.

“If you’re done with me, at least say it to my face. We’re both adults, aren’t we?”

Kaiser flicked on the lamp, the light revealing him sitting on your bed, leaning forward, leg bouncing with frustration. His glasses covered his narrowed eyes, his hair falling just enough to shadow his expression. But his irritation, maybe more than irritation, was plain as day.