To Fix a Broken Heart

Alois

Photo is not mine

This chapter is dedicated to my best friend Freya. She's been there for me every day, and I don't know how I'd cope without her. She supplies constant hugs and understanding and friendship and advice on life cos we both know I'm completely clueless, and I know I'm irritating and stupid sometimes, but somehow she's still here. We grew up together, and she is pretty much my sister. She puts up with all my crap, and is one of the only people I can count on to be there when nobody else is, and for that I am eternally grateful. I hope this friendship will last forever... Luvoo Frazzy. Xxxxxx

Claude Faustus. The silent butler. Only ever speaking when necessary, seen and not heard, perfect and unintrusive. But I didn't want that. I wanted him to talk, but just to me. I wanted him to express emotion once in a while, just to have a break from the (slightly unnerving) perpetual poker-face. Hell, I had kicked him in the head once, completely out of the blue, hoping for at least a look of surprise. Nothing. It was like he knew it was coming.
He could anticipate my every want, need, and every move I made. He could never read my mind though. He went on blissfully ignoring my too-long glances at him, or the way I would try to get him to dance with me, or to hug me. He never batted an eyelid, most likely assuming, since he had never properly interacted with a human besides me, that this was how we interacted with each other in everyday society, and that we were just more emotional and affectionate than demons.
He never knew, though. He never knew my secret. Would he have treated me differently if he knew? I doubt it. The heartless bastard didn't know what it meant when I interlocked our fingers and coyly twirled my hair. He didn't notice the tears in my eyes when he pulled his hand from mine and walked away. He just didn't know how to interpret my intimate tendencies, assuming I wanted something and was challenging him to figure out what. Testing him. And in a way, I was.
He failed. He was like he had plunged his hand into my chest and plucked out my heart like a delicate flower, leaving behind a mess of blood and broken ribs, as he crushed the pulsating organ in his cold, skeletal hands. Could he not hear my sobs in the middle of the night as I drowned in my memories, completely alone? Where was he when I awoke, shaking, from a horrifying nightmare? I knew he thought I was clingy, irritating and dumb, a little brat that just got in his way.
He hated me...

I love him. I wish to god I didn't.

*AUTHOR'S NOTE*
Hi. I'm back.
:-D
I'm sorry, please don't shoot me. :-)