(now playing: pretty please by dutch melrose)

You trace the tip of the knife along his kitchen table, and Ren feels a strange mixture of apprehension and excitement at the prospect of you actually harming him in any way. You glance at him evenly, thinly concealed contempt, as if you can hear his thoughts. He’s a freak, he knows that, but still his heart pounds and his head feels foggy.

It’s ironic, truly.

He never thought you were anything remotely similar to him. Stalking from the shadows, perfecting a facade; always ready to portray a most idyllic dream, always ready to cleave away discrepancies. And you never trusted him. Even when he played his part beautifully. The shy patron who liked to visit you during your shifts, with a poorly hidden crush and a swoon-worthy diffidence. And yet you never trusted him.

Cynical, cynical. That’s what he thought you were. Too cynical to believe him, too cynical to love him, too cynical to let yourself be fooled.

But no. Not only are you cynical.

You’re just like him. You’re in love with that girl from the convenience store down the street. The doe-eyed, sickeningly saccharine sweetheart that gives you discounts on every purchase and gives him everything for free.

Ren knows that she likes him, that she daydreams about him all the time, and flushes carmine whenever he smiles at her.

But he doesn’t want her. He doesn’t even like her.

And now you’re going to kill him, but he doesn’t really mind, because it’s you and he thinks he prefers being murdered by you over anything else in the world.