He had promised himself not to seek you out, never again. Theodore knows, knows so well that he has no right to be here. In your room.

But here he was.

On the edge of your bed with you standing in front of him, so close to Theodore, whilst pressing a piece of fabric doused in alcohol to his bleeding temple.

He could and would not formulate nor admit the way he had actively went to search for trouble earlier—all that just to have a reason to allow the foolish part of his brain to overwhelm Theodore’s rational thinking.

And he observed the sun shining upon you, illuminating your perfect features, as his jaw clenched ever so slightly. Theodore has always loathed the sunshine, it was blinding and too warm—just too much. But, damn it, the sun’s light made you look like a piece of art that was too beautiful to be studied by a mere mortal like him.

Theodore was close to grinding his teeth together, needing to keep it together. How dare you look so unearthly, bewitching even.

He simply sat there and stared up at you, trying, forcing himself not to lose his heart at the sight. Theodore would not let himself be lured into the depths of an ocean too turbulent to swim in by the divinity that is you.

Though, despite the weak reluctance to fall for your radiant being, he can’t stop himself from believing that you are his very own goddess, sent to turn Theodore into a believer.