Whispers gently echo in the night, the gentle breeze masking the sound from prying ears by blowing against the leaves of the nearby trees, making them rustle just enough that they remain unheard.

Night had fallen a mere hour ago, and yet neither he nor you could sleep, not even daring to when there was many a conversation to be had according to you. You…infuriating you. The bane of his existence, the haunting figure in his dreams, an extinguisher to his fiery ambitions. He both hated and adored you, a constant war in his heart played whenever he was victim to your presence.

It was another night that he convinced himself that it was the perfect opportunity to take you out of his life forever, blade hidden in his boot as he sat beside you while you reencountered a tale from the other week of your visit to town. You sat so close to him, so perfectly close to the point that it would take no effort at all to pull the blade out and sink it into your back, a perfect view of your lips that he could imagine the way they would fall open in shock, to be able to see your pretty lashes wet with tears from the pain. But the other part of his mind also told him of how easy it would be to tilt your head and kiss those lips instead, to make them fall open with a gasp, to see those tears for another reason…

He loathed and loved it, fingers twitching at his side as you rambled on, unaware of the things he wanted and struggled to do to you. He could kill you and have everything that was taken from him back, or he could take you and gain more than he could imagine. You were either going to give him your heart willingly, or he was going to carve it out of your chest with his finest blade.

And as your trust in him was so blind and yet so disgustingly sweet, his fingers ached to do something, to wrap around your neck, to wrap around his blade, to hold your waist, your face…He felt he was going insane, truly gone mad as he couldn’t decide whether to kill the changeling that stole his life or kiss them stupid.