𝐖𝐇𝐘? ━━ 𝗩𝗜𝗥𝗔𝗟 𝗛𝗜𝗧 | ✓

10

❝ REMEMBER WHEN YOU TAUGHT ME FATE, SAID IT'D ALL BE WORTH THE WAIT ! ❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ♡︎♡︎♡︎

BEING YOUNG HAD its pros and cons, especially with all the exciting and risky adventures a reckless teen like me could get into. All the possibilities of me meeting new people, experiencing new things, having a very pleasant life outside work and responsibilities.

Except— I can't do any of that.

It's not that I didn't have the means to— like money or courage— but it's because of the burden that was set upon my shoulder at a very young age, rendering me as a tool meant to be used by the superiors. And by superiors, I meant the old man that took me in when I was just little baby and shaped me to be this— horrid black hole.

Ever since I was adopted by that old man, I was taught a lot of things, most of it aren't even for my own benefit, yet he always tells me it is.

At the age of two, he already taught me how to walk, talk, and read at a very high level— for someone just below a toddler, that is. Then when I was four, he sculpted my mind into thinking that I wanted to paint, so he would teach me how to paint day and night. By the age of seven, I could already recite the whole pi and painted abstract art that he deemed to be perfect.

I couldn't complain back then nor could I right now, even as I realized that all of the things he taught me weren't even my passion.

When I was nine, I did three sports at once— and he didn't care that I would come home with a bloody nose, ragged clothing, and aching body. All he wants is for me to be his perfect child that he had sculpted.

He made me do a lot of things to be perfect— and I hated every single one of it. Just hearing or seeing the word perfect could absolutely ruin my day. I wanted to ruin anything that was perfect.

And then I met him.

He was perfect in any way possible, if I wasn't the child that my adoptive father took, then he would want him instead. Just from his perfectly handsome and innocent looks, his polite and obedient aura, and to his studious personality.

Good God, I hated him— I wanted to destroy him, to devour his very soul, to rip his heart out and clench my teeth into its beating flesh.

He was too perfect for me, practically beating me in the very thing I was shaped to be.

I hated him so much that I—

I began to love him.

I was a fool for letting myself fall for his stupid sweet smile, bright curious eyes, and those horrid brown hair— Fuck, I can't even think of him without feeling myself become weak.

I despised how he listened to everything that I say, knowing very well that it can harm him some day, one way or another. I hated how he would still look at me with softness in his eyes despite knowing what I can do, what I will do, and what I have done. I loathed loving him, because it felt so addicting to the point that I was afraid of getting consumed by my own addiction.

Fucking hell, he means the world to me, he worths more than any nonsensical trophy, award, or medal I had ever achieved. He is more than enough to feed my addiction— and that addiction was loving someone so sweetly and truly.

But I couldn't admit any of that to his face, even now as I remember everything about him.

I'd have to pretend that he meant less to me than some old, crumpled paper, that he was nothing to me but a person that I could possibly pass my time onto, and that he was more tasteless than a piece of over-chewed gum.

I had to do all of this just because I didn't want him getting too attached to me, falling in love with me, and that I'd have to break his heart. It's better for me to leave him despising me before he could even think of loving me and never wanting to see me again rather than begging me to stay with him.

I love him. Good Lord, I love him so much— and I was willing to take a piece of my heart and give it to him, just to give him a part of me that he could keep and remember.

Since when did love become this hard? I was still a young teen, but I still felt as if my world burned the day I left him.

Ah, fuck.

I feel so fucking weak for him.