𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

02 | Devotion

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♡

A crush can spiral into something else. Say, an obsession.

Isidor could not name the moment when his heart had started to beat faster, fuller, harder — when he thought of the (h/c)-haired male. It seemed almost inevitable to him that he would have fallen deeply in love with Y/n — it was like fate to him, kismet, the momentous collision of the stars weaving his fate. Isidor Sierra had always been orbiting around Y/n, placed within his reach like the ring that surrounded Saturn.

And oh, Y/n was so lovely. Whether it was the way his (s/c) skin looked bare when his shirt was hitched by a small bit, whether it was the way his eyelashes fluttered daintily and prettily when he closed his eyes, pulling himself into a deep sleep. There was just something so perfect about Y/n — it was not just the mannerisms he displayed that was lovely, but also the way his cheeks became pink after a slightly flirtatious remark (Now that, Isidor knew, was rare. Usually Y/n met his remarks with indifference. But it wasn't weaponised indifference, it was more of a soft indifference that told Isidor that Y/n was simply too lazy to react) or even — even the more subtle ones, like the way Y/n would rub his eyes sleepily after a nap.

Isidor had fallen head-first. Incessantly, maddeningly, obsessively. The two were childhood friends, and both had...well, sane (of course, not to dismiss the occasional bad events that happened) childhoods — yet Y/n kept him grounded, kept him being wanted by someone. Whether it was the way Y/n tugged his shirt when he looked blearily upon the world, clearly confused by the day's happenings (so adorable, really, he was like a newborn chicken who had yet to venture about the world) or when he would use his lap — his lap! — as a pillow.

The thing about Y/n was that he was so impervious to the stares he got, oblivious to the way he was watched. Now, Isidor didn't just annihilate anyone who displayed a curious interest in Y/n — he chose his prey methodically, as one would choose a meat ready for butchering. There were some good-natured people who would aid Y/n along, whose crush would fizzle and fade with passing time — now those were acceptable. But then there were the annoying pests like Jonathan who could not take a hint.

Isidor tapped his finger along the mahogany table. Across it was Annie, who happened to be his sister. Technically his sister — they had simply grown up together as children (She was the daughter of another Duchy, similar to Y/n's background. But her family was far more well known for it had lasted for generations) but their relationship differed far greater from the nature of Y/n and his relationship. Annie knew of his...less than desirable behaviour, as some would say — but she ignored it completely. As far as Isidor was concerned, the girl had far crazier thoughts in her head especially when it came to things of interest.

"Jonathan disappeared yesterday," Annie declared suddenly, absentmindedly pulling at her red hair. She tangled it; unknotted it; before she repeated the cycle. "Really makes you wonder where he went, right?"

"You know the answer." A sigh spilled from Isidor's relationship, propping his face up with his fist. There was a smug smile on his face. "Why bother asking?"

"So what was the method this time? Stabbing? Fire? Poison, for a painful, drawn death?"

"Stabbing. And a little fire as intimidation." Isidor said smoothly.

"Hm...delightful," Annie said sarcastically. "Sure. But keep on under wraps. Y/n has overprotective brothers of his own, you know. Not sure what they will feel about their little brother's pursuer being a murderer."