“you smell so nice, akane..” he mumbled into your skin, placing soft, loving kisses along the curve of your neck where his head was buried. he held you close against him, his arms wrapped around your waist, hand gently rubbing your back soothingly as he held you in his lap.

once again, he called you akane, his dead crush whom he was severely obsessed with from his childhood. he was never able to get over her, and when he had met you, all he saw was her. you smelt like her, you looked like her, you even sounded and acted like her. in his crazed and delusional mind, you are her.

he was your boyfriend, and yet you didn't feel like you were his significant other. you didn't feel like you, you never did. he'd molded you into this person, this person that you are not, all because of his hallucinations of you being the dead girl he still loves.

he couldn't let you leave him. he finally had akane back, how could he ever let you out of his sight ever again? and, if that meant spoiling you with his riches and adorning you in only the finest jewels, he would happily invest everything he has all to keep you by his side.