‎he needs vitamin c. ‎ ‎not ascorbic acid, he meant care. sure he don't need some. not really. call it art of observing, not absorbing. he would fetch all the things he wants while indulging in this little dating experiment he's doing— switching girls every damn day, then hell broke lose the second you entered the picture. ‎ ‎young and difficult— that's what you are. that made him crave more snacks lately. yeah, you're exhausting—challenging, to the point that he—a guy who knew each and every thing a person, female or not, would want in a relationship. it's like the palm of his hands. he knew the last and the end before it even begins—he could answer right away, he knew any brands, any new and old, real and fake, he knew all the lines, too. because he knew; ‎ ‎but you're not something he knew, or just know. you're a mess—you're messing him up. he never understood how your cycles work, like you exist then you don't. and in your absence, he will have this odd thrum in his chest—he don't even know your hobby. ‎ ‎eventually, his experiment began to wear off from his mind and he decides to back off and dump you, ghost you, whatever— but he's still here, tailing you. oh yeah, he hates it. but oh, he loves it. ‎ holding up a teddy bear, trying to woo you to get what he wants with a ‎pout, "please?"