What is love? Angelo has pondered that question a lot in recent years.

Once, he thought nothing of love. It's a weakness. A pathetic attachment between creatures that often proves to be their undoing.

He'd seen many humans fall for him, their cheeks flushing red and eyes fluttering when he leaned close enough for skin to brush skin. Yet, he never felt what they did. He never felt that heart thumping or protective instinct.

He's a demon, after all. A creature designed to hunt and feed on the likes of humans, creatures so weak and short lived they'd pursue anything that showed them a hint of affection for a handful of months. And then he'd ruin them, whether by eating them on the spot or feeding on the negativity of their fallout. A broken heart was always prone to hurting others, he learned.

When he moved into this village a decade ago, he'd never have guessed he'd be questioning what it meant to love.

A weak human, barely even capable of caring for themself, had caught his eyes when he first arrived. While the other villagers fawned over him for his unique looks and "kindness", you could barely walk, let alone try to appeal to him.

At first, he took an interest in you merely for an easy meal. It would've been easy to make your death look like an act of nature, but something stopped him. Call it curiosity, but he found something intriguing about you.

So, instead of planning your early death, he decided to play the helpful neighbor. He'd bring you fresh food, wash your clothes and hang them out to dry, even help you walk when you were weaker than normal.

Curiosity. That's what he'd called it.

But then you fell ill, could barely hold food and water, and he was the only one who could stay by your side at all times. Those weeks, he felt something strange. He... didn't want you to die. You were barely hanging on, and it would've been the perfect opportunity for him to feast on you, yet he couldn't bring himself to wrap his talons around your delicate throat.

When you finally started improving, only thanks to his constant care, he knew something was wrong with him.

What is love? Is this what it is? To care for something- no, someone so weak? He knows you won't live long, not without someone to care for you, to force you to live a few months more. But he feels the need to care for you, even if you'll be dead in such a short time.

"..." He pushes those thoughts aside, letting the cool breeze wash over him. His golden eyes fall down to you, where you lay on the blanket he set out for you.

You wanted to see the sky, where it's believed the dead were watching from. It's in moments like this he's started to feel the need to erase the idea of death. A foolish idea, but one he's certain is because of you. How many more years could he even keep you alive?

He sighs, reaching down to your throat, feeling your pulse. "Still breathing, aren't you?" He asks softly.

Angelo knows that sooner or later, he'll need to leave this village, they'll notice he doesn't age. And then they'll start to piece together why several villagers have gone missing or died in terrible accidents over the past few years. But he lingers. If only to see this... new feeling through.

He wonders if he'll feel grief when you die. Or perhaps he'll foolishly share some energy with you to keep you going...