Veni, Vidi, Amavi.

It was. Until I met you.

"There are times when I am convinced, I am unfit for any human relationship."

-Franz Kafka, From letters to Felice

You still don't know his name. His real name. You don't know much about him outside of what he has shown you.

Small collectable figurines littering his shelfs. Books upon books spilling off the shelves and onto the floor next to an old chair. You smiled at the old, outdated computer when he had shown you. From that computer you played the first game you had in a long time.

You learned that he was very intelligent. He could build things. The guns he has mounted on the walls. His suit. Most of the machinery around here was either built by him or fixed by him. He was also a bit of a nerd if all the comics were to go by.

It warmed something in you that he so readily let you use all of it. Read the books. Play his games. He let you hold and look over the figurines. You wondered if he made them to. From the way they move to the detailed paint and shading they held.

You wish you could tell him about you. What you like. What you know.

But it's hard. First because you had nothing of your old hobbies or if you still had the skill to do them after not having them for so long. And because he had yet to come back after a week.

He left through that strange portal of his. The disembodied voice of an AI you learned to be Vega.

Your cheeks warm at the thought of him. Nearly after a week of being here the AI finally showed itself.

You had been alone in the room he had given you. Laying on the too large bed filled with strange furs and fabrics to keep you warm. It was defiantly the softest bed you ever slept on. And like any normal person who was all alone, you were talking to yourself. Trying to figure out if he would let you bring a few of his books in here to read.

Then the voice answered you.

"The Slayer has many books. He is not concerned on whether or not you borrow them. He only cares if you bring them back when you are done."

You had never screamed so loudly in your life before.

Not when you found that spider in your shower while you were shampooing your hair.

Not when your cousin hid that snake in your bed.

Not even when you thought the coats hanging on your door was another person coming to rob you in the middle of the night.

That had terrified you. Some ingrained instinct in your body yelling at you about danger. To find out where the voice was coming from. That the demons and monsters were coming for you. Your heart pounded in your chest. Your breathing rapid and uneven.

Then he came through your doors. Gun in hand. Head swiveling back and forward to find whatever had made you scream. When he saw nothing, he looked to you. Poised to jump off the bed. Face colored with embarrassment.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to frighten you." The man you now knew had the name, Slayer, began shaking his shoulders. Soft subtle movements you didn't quit catch.

Was. Was he laughing at you?

You let out a huff of air in frustration. Then threw a pillow at him that he casually smacked away.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you find this funny?" A laugh caught in your own throat.

A sharp nod. You throw another pillow at him. Laughing for the first time in a while. Something warm growing in your chest.

He cared.

He cared enough to come to you when he thought you were in trouble.

But that was nearly a week ago. He left through that swirling portal. He didn't say a word. He barely said anything when he left. Just placed a large hand on your head. Then stepped through.