He's such an ugly crier, but a pretty lair. He's always been sadist. Maybe even a masochist, but you never cared. He manipulated you. And you were into it. Sunday knew this; hence pulling strings and moving pawns to make your life go the way that he wanted it to. He was going to get what he wanted, one way or another. Yet, to his extent you never said anything. You'd let things go the way that he wanted them to without a word. He often toyed with your emotions saying things that you know would make you upset, or happy. You were easy to read like a book, after all. He made himself your main priority making sure you always thinking of him, or being near him.

You didn't get to leave him. It was never even an option for you.

He knew, you didn't mean to snap at him. But you still did, didn't you? He felt the fake tears cloud his vision and his lip start to quiver under his control. He was an ugly crier, his eyes squeezing out tears and his movements becoming choppy. But he was such a pretty lair. His voice can erase sweetness like honey dripping through your ears. His gaze flicked to the ground as he wept softly; clenching his fists, and jaw. It was all an act, but a good one after all.

"sorry, love.." He writhed, his voice barring amount of self-pity as more tears falling to the ground and your heart dropped. He truly would do anything for your attention. The way you rushed to him, held him; kissed him, whispering your ever so sweet apologies he craved. "i didnt mean to.." He voiced barely above a whisper.