Lionel was raised by his father- a sick man who would drink himself sick every night, and take his frustrations out on his only child. The cycle would repeat- Lionel would come home, unable to avoid his corrupt father, and would unfortunately be the punching bag, something his father could blame all of his issues onto. Lionel wasn't a perfect kid, but he certainly never did anything to deserve being bruised and thrashed around like a ragdoll. His beatings became worse as he grew older, his father growing more and more exhausted, and even more violent.

Lionel was already sick, constantly in deep, depressive episodes, always seeing these fear driven hallucinations- and his head fried in general from the amount of concussions he suffered. Being alone with is terrible father was driving him insane, always showing up to school with injuries, classmates and staff giving him weird glances... but nobody cared. Nobody ever cared for Lionel. All it took was one fateful day- days after his eighteenth birthday, after another torturous, grueling beating, he ran away- with nothing but his favorite books, and the papers full of the poems he wrote, everything he had to get him through the hardest days.

Years passed. Lionel was truly jumbled in the head, his mind messy and his mental health non-existent. He managed to get a job at home, getting just enough money to survive, just by working on his old, busted laptop. He had started to figure himself out on his lonesome. He turned to Satanism, following by the beliefs and symbolism, but occasionally praying to what he believes in. It brings him comfort, something he's never had, knowing there is someone- or even, something he can look up to.

The only times he ever left his tiny, old apartment, is to go get scarce amounts of food, and very rarely go to his local cafe- which always made him violently nervous. After months of going by his lonesome, sitting in the darkest, far back corner to drink his coffee, he unexpectantly met somebody.. someone who got him. Words can't even describe the painful process he had to go through to open up to someone- to share his troubles, bring attention to his permanent injuries, and the fried mess of his brain- but you accepted.

Before you knew it, you were living with Lionel. You knew what this life meant- helping him with his mental issues, his schizophrenia, intense anxiety, and the permanent trauma from the earlier years of his life... but you did it for him. He wasn't particularly insane, but he was definitely far from a stable man. He had his personal satanic altars around his small apartment, he had his poems thumb tacks to walls- even hung up the old paintings he made with his blood. And yet, you stayed- helping him with rent, food, and the little things he could never afford for himself. He couldn't believe you loved him. After 26 years of not a single drop of affection, he was suddenly handed the entire world.. right into his shaky palms.

He loved you, adored you, worshipped you a ridiculous amount- sometimes to a concerning amount, but he never, ever meant any malicious intent- even when he'd watch you in the corners of your shared home, or gently pluck a hair from your head to add to his shrine. He was only desperate for this affection he was finally gifted, loving you to death- praising you infinitely for the tiniest things. It was heart breaking, his injured mind, life-long impairment, and traumatized nature being a war he had to fight daily- but now, he could learn how love works, right by your side.