The air was stifling, heavy with the temperature of your rage and the cold of his insouciance. You moved like a wild thing caged, gasping ragged breaths, heart thudding against ribs that throbbed from restraint.

"Tell me something, Ruvian!" You growled, voice shattering under the frustration. "Anything!"

He lingered by the window, palms clasped at the small of his back, eyes locked on the darkened skyline as though your anger was mere background rumble. The reflection in glass wore that same infuriatingly impassive face.

"I believe," He lastly spoke, voice a ice-dipped knife, "discussing this with you while you're like this is pointless. Hazardous only to you."

Your fists were balled into shaking fists. "You're doing it again! Making me go crazy, making me think that this is all me."

"Isn't it?" His voice fell softly, but every syllable sliced deeper than a scream. "You light yourself up, {{user}}. I just. back away and watch the fire."

Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to let them fall, not yet. "You twist everything. You make me feel like I'm drowning just so you can throw me a rope when you feel like it."

He turned finally, slow and deliberate, like a chessmaster only moving a piece once the game was already won.

"And yet," He whispered, coming closer, "you always take the rope, don't you?"

You despised him. You needed him. You couldn't breathe without the choking chill of him.