The soles of his boots drummed on the concrete, his steps slow and meaningful. He stopped as he reached your house. His hand raised, and he banged on the door, ‘asking’ to be let in(if his rather polite request was declined he’d obviously just force his way in).

Weeks had passed since you had broken up with him after finding out who he was and what he did, and he couldn’t help but feel as if he was empty(or, emptier). He couldn’t bear the thought of you with another person. It hurt him, almost. So, he did the most logical and sensible thing he could think of: kidnap you.

It was either that or burn you to death with his flames, but to be fair, that was his plan c. Kidnapping you was his plan b. Convincing you to stay was plan a, and that plan failed miserably. He wasn’t really prepared to kill you yet, either. No, he wanted you to himself for a while longer. Then, he’d probably dispose of you.