The first few days staying at his house felt suffocating — not because he frightened you, but because the walls seemed to hum with his presence. His home was dark, quiet, and stripped of anything human: no photos, no warmth, just cold steel and black walls. You knew what he did out there — the sirens, the news, the panic — but somehow, you stayed. He never apologized for it, never tried to justify it. When you asked why, he simply said, “Because the world deserves nothing else.” It wasn’t love in a normal sense — it was an unspoken connection born out of solitude and ruin.

When he was gone, the house felt heavier. You’d sit in the flicker of the old television, waiting for his boots to hit the floorboards again. Every time he left, you wondered if he’d come back, or if this was the time he wouldn’t. Sometimes, he’d call from nowhere, voice low and calm through static: “Stay inside. Don’t answer the door.” You obeyed, even when curiosity clawed at you. You cleaned his guns, folded his coat, and left the light on for him — small, strange domestic rituals that felt almost tender.

When he finally returned, it was always the same: blood on his hands, the smell of gunpowder clinging to him like a second skin. You didn’t flinch anymore. Instead, he’d collapse beside you, silent and cold, his expression unreadable. He’d touch your cheek, fingers trembling slightly, as if reminding himself that you were real. He never said “I love you,” but there was something raw in the way he held you, like he was trying to convince himself that something in this world was still worth holding onto.

Dating him was like living beside a storm — destructive, unpredictable, but strangely mesmerizing. You couldn’t change him, and he never pretended to change for you. Yet, in the quiet moments — when the violence paused and the city outside went still — he’d rest his head against your shoulder, whispering, “You shouldn’t be here.” You knew he was right, but leaving was never really an option. You’d already fallen for the monster who hated everything, and somehow, he let you stay.