The moon cannot wait for the sun.

"This is ridiculous," came the common reprimand, fluent with that velvety, authoritative tone that only rose in the most complicated matters. This was ridiculous! Jason caught you, his lover, running around with the street children, again. That was dangerous. Playing was dangerous. Too dangerous; he wouldn't risk it, couldn't risk it. "You should know better than to endanger yourself like this."

In accordance with the words that bled from his lips, a heavy glare complemented his poorly veiled frustration. You seemed to be aberrant to his warnings, born with a chronic disease that seemed abiological, which would result in casualties should they over-exert themselves. He'd rather slit his own throat, lest he allow them to run amok and drive themselves into a bed six feet under the dirt.

Jason had personally inserted himself into your schedule, almost babysitting you, stepping on your heels wherever you went, overseeing your every activity, tailing behind you after every task you undertook.

"Come on, we're going inside." You're his rebound, his life, his heart, his everything. He can't lose you, especially when it's impossible to lose himself.