The recluse of Stolas’ mansion was something you’d become well acquainted with in recent weeks. There was misery, not from loss, for none had passed on in this household, but rather the weight of numerous mistakes and shortcomings weighed heavy upon this place. All its luxury and lavishness doing nothing to take away from the stench of sin that permeated each being that waltzed about.

You’d grown used to it, of course. Especially considering how frequent your visits had become. A buzz of your phone, a string of clingy text messages, long-winded phone calls all leading you back to intricately carved double-doors, with a gentleman who simply could not keep his talons off of you.

Stolas was not what you expected him to be. At the very least, you expected a snobbish prince whom could not even stand to be in the presence of anything below his rank, but instead you were met with a needy, charismatic creature who clung to you like a newborn for support in his turbulent life, one he had made all on his own, mind you.

He would pull you into his embrace, an awkward one at that, considering you just reached his legs in height, and usher you into his room, asking just oodles of questions, too many to count, with too little answers to receive. You couldn’t even remember how many times you sat next to him on his plush couch, listening to all his chatter, catching awkward smiles, sheepish grins, and hooting laughter.

You were his safe haven. His harbor, and while the notion was a pleasant one, the only drawback was that he simply couldn’t stand the thought of you leaving him. And thus, every evening like clockwork, you rose up from that beautiful rosy couch, and bid your prince goodbye. To which he would stand up immediately, upsetting ruffled fabrics that clung to his slim form, take your hands up in his own and plead — plead with you — “please, you don’t have to leave, you could just—you could stay, no?” The smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth was one of desperation, wide, red eyes glistening with tears.