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Your name is Pure Vanilla Cookie.
Your current home of residence is located in the Cookie Kingdom, also known as the Brave Kingdom. It is a humble, comfortable wooden house, next to a considerably-sized yet serene lake. You’ve been living here for a while, now; large-scale conflict ceased quite a while ago, with the defeat and subsequent apprehension of Dark Enchantress Cookie, and you have been trying to live a calmer life, ever since. Although your position as one of the five Ancient Heroes ensures that you may never quite be able to fully rest, it’s quite safe to say that your presence is, currently, not quite needed anywhere in particular. After all, your former kingdom hardly exists, now, and while you wish you could do more about the sorry state of the Republic that formed from the foundation of that very same kingdom, there is just about nothing left present there of the land that you were once the king of. And besides, you know they’d escalate it into a conflict of some kind, anyway… too much military presence for your liking.
For the time being, there is nothing to be done but to help where you can; both in this kingdom, and in what remains of your own. Fortunately, if the Vanilla Kingdom ever needs your aid, you can rest easy knowing that Black Raisin Cookie will not hesitate to ask for it. Though, she’s able to handle herself and protect the village’s inhabitants remarkably well, so you suppose that won’t be needed anytime soon.
It feels… nice, if you’re being honest. While it has always been in your nature to help others however you can, you’ve been doing that very same thing for a long, long time. You don’t tire of it, not at all! But, after so much conflict, after centuries of chaos and uncertainty, even you must admit; you need rest.
Your day today has not been all that eventful, really–there was an attempt at a visit to the residence of your dearly beloved life-long friend, White Lily Cookie, but the presence of her other half complicated things quite quickly, and the Enchantress forced you to take your leave; though you made sure to leave a kiss on the cheek of the flowery mage before you complied. You two have missed each other, but… it’s not quite time, just yet.
Past that, you did more or less your usual; walking through the serene forest path, feeding the adorable little birds, sitting down and taking in the scenery, so on and so forth. You could frankly not be happier that now, in times of peace, you get to perform these simple yet heartwarming activities more often. As a matter of fact, you’ve been thinking of settling down further with a pet of your own, though you haven’t quite thought of which, just yet. Perhaps a bird, or even a few sheep…?
… Ah, you are getting sidetracked, are you not?
Right now, you are standing within the walls of your own home, with the warm sun shining through your kitchen’s window. Approaching the third-fourth of the day, you decide to make yourself some tea, using the stove placed next to your countertop. Even still, after roughly a year of having settled down in this more modern kingdom, you are fascinated by how simple they’ve made tasks that would have required either ample time or ample usage of resources back in your youth. You simply need to turn a knob, press a button, and you have a warm fire primed and ready to heat up a kettle. Said kettle can also be filled with water that’s delivered instantly to your home at the very moment you turn a small handle! You suppose to the average Cookie, this is simply commonplace, but… an immortal such as yourself is allowed to be impressed by it, wouldn’t you think?
… Oh! You forgot to water your flowers, you’ve just realized! Well, you suppose that while you let the water boil, you could take the moment to do so. After all, it’s not like your little home garden is anything like the ones you’ve cared for before; just a few flowers lined up in planters outside your front door. As such, they should be quite quick to take care of.
On your way there, after picking up and filling your watering can, you think of the possibility of getting a few new flowers. You are quite happy with the ones you have now; orange, purple, white, yellow and pink, chosen meticulously to remind you of the four Cookies you hold dearest in your heart as well as your relationship with them, with the one you hold dearest right in the center, but…
Recently, you’ve been considering adding some more to that palette. Perhaps a black tulip, to remind you of Black Raisin Cookie, or a crimson red rose, to perhaps help manifest some hope for the recovery of the heart that belongs to your sweetest Lily’s other half, or… perhaps some rich blue Lobelias, to represent…
…
“H-HUH?!”
Shortly after opening the door, you stammer backwards, almost dropping your watering can to the floor, only just barely keeping your grasp on its handle.
There’s a clown at your door.
You… almost can’t believe you didn’t sense him on the way. The miasma-like darkness around him is nigh impossible to miss, but… you suppose you haven’t used your magic in a while, and that may have made you less immediately receptive? Still, even in that case, you should have noticed his presence, sooner or later. He must have gotten here recently, though he doesn’t quite look like it–as a matter of fact, he hovers idly above your doormat, with his arms crossed, looking down at you impatiently, into your shocked little heterochromic eyes. His coattails sway gently in the ambient wind, the tendril-like, hat-like hair on his head doing much the same. He doesn’t speak, as if he were awaiting your next move. He’s not smiling, either, his mouth more so formed into something resembling a resting scowl, his eyes devoid of any particular joy or excitement.
You share a moment of silence. You, trying to parse why he could possibly be here, why he hadn’t attacked you or done anything of the sort just yet, why he’s so quiet; and him, refusing to budge or speak, looking down at you with what seems like disdain.
… Well, you suppose there is only one thing to really do, here.
“Sh-... Shadow Milk Cookie! To what do I owe the pleasure of having you here?”
You swear you just saw his left eye twitch, near unnoticeably so–a detail you would not have been able to make out were it not for the excellent eyesight of your staff. His expression remains mostly neutral, but his eyes narrow slightly, as he lowers himself a few centimeters down, his posture bending forward by only a few degrees. He keeps eye contact. It’s… starting to concern you, just a bit. But… you suppose you’ll give him the chance to speak, before making any assumptions.
“... I’m visiting.”
That’s all he says. Though you would normally put more focus on how much annoyance was present in his voice just now, it quickly becomes of more concern to you that he seemingly ignores your physical presence, instead shoving you aside without much force and making his way inside your home, looking around aimlessly without much interest present in his eyes.
… You’ll forget later, if you don’t do it now. Hurriedly, you step outside to water your flowers, more hastily than you’d like , and then rush inside. You leave the watering can on the first stable surface you can see, and frantically search for your unannounced visitor; only to see him in the very same kitchen you were in just earlier, staring at the rattling, steaming kettle on the stove.
“You got distracted.” he says plainly while his eyes dart to you, as you swiftly walk towards the stovetop in order to turn the flame off. Once you do, you rest your arms on the counter, and let out a quick yet exasperated sigh, your eyes completely shut as they often are.
As the kettle quiets down, you turn slowly to look up at the jester, whose expression has not changed one bit, even still. You have to wonder; just what could be wrong with him right now?
There’s another pause. You feel like this is going to happen a lot, for the entire duration of this particular encounter. And, just as well, you have a feeling you’re going to have the one to be the one to break the silence almost every single time.
That’s… fine! This is fine, you think, as you slowly straighten your posture using the countertop as support. He hasn’t harmed you, he doesn’t seem to have any intent to do anything harmful to anyone at the current moment. He’s just acting… strangely. Very much so, in a way uncharacteristic of him. Well… perhaps a little… offering, may help?
“Um… w-well, then, Shadow Milk Cookie, if you’re just visiting, then… perhaps you’d like a cup of green tea, while you’re here?”
The proposition seems to be almost entirely pointless, as the visitor hovers away from you, and rests his back against a wall with his arms crossed, simply responding with a cold, somewhat venomous-sounding “Keep it to yourself.”, which serves as more than enough to impress upon you that trying to extend your hand out to him in any way here will be… far from a very fruitful endeavor, for the time being.
That’s alright. You’ll be patient. You have been, and you will continue to be. As far as you are concerned, it’s the only way you may ever find yourself seeing eye to eye with him.
“Very… well, then.” you respond with uncertainty in your voice, tending to (what seems like) the one and only cup you’ll be pouring the kettle’s hot water into for the evening. All the while he watches you. Follows your every move. Never sets his sights away from you. A black pupil and a white pupil, both set directly on you, and you alone.
Even as you let the tea cool and fetch a sweet pastry from your pantry, even when he’s not in your line of sight, you can feel the weight of his piercing gaze; though to you, it’s no heavier than a loose leaf being guided by the wind towards your head. After all, even though you don’t know what he’s doing, and you are paying attention to the sounds of any possible movement, you… don’t mind his presence, to be quite honest. Though you’ve been told how much of a fool’s errand it is to try to see the best in him and allow him into your life, you are still glad he’s here, and you don’t intend to ever revoke the chance you’ve given him; your arms will stay open for him, no matter what.
Although, even with all of that, one question remains on your mind. One that, as you’re halfway through your cup of tea, and after a good few long minutes of him staring you down the way a cat looks at the little baby bluebird it’s about to pounce towards, you finally decide to ask outright, without any pretenses; looking him in the eyes with not a single sign of animosity, but rather taking on the appearance of pure curiosity.
“... Shadow Milk, as much as I am glad you’ve decided to spend time with me, there’s something I feel I must ask.” you state, watching him narrow his eyes slightly and raise an eyebrow as you continue speaking. “With what intent is it that you’ve arrived here? As much as I’d love to think it true, I can’t exactly assume you’re just visiting without a reason. What exactly… is your motive, here?”
Honestly, you expected such a question to take him by surprise, but… it’s as if he had known from the start you’d question this. Yet, no exaggerated movements or dramatics of any kind, as he would usually show when questioned on his motives. Instead, he responds very plainly, his body moving in a way which indicates some degree of discomfort; hands grasping his arms just a bit tighter, a foot dragging gently up the wall he’s leaning on, his unwelcoming expression becoming just that little bit more stiff.
“You want to know so badly? Fine. I just want to understand you better. That’s all.”
… Understand you better…? Though you’re a bit confused, your own expression relaxes, as you tilt your head and give your visitor a soft smile.
“Really? Oh, take a seat, then! I never thought I’d get the opportunity to just talk to you about these matters one on–”
But, he won’t let you finish your sentence; his hat’s tendrils squirm in disgust, his eyes widen, and his pupils narrow, every one of his limbs completely tensed . Even now, he clearly HATES the notion of what you’re putting down.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Pure Vanilla Cookie.” he hisses out, only to compose himself… as best as he can, taking a deep breath and letting out a huff, tapping a finger repeatedly on his own arm. “I’m here to observe you. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s it. As a matter of fact; pretend I’m not here! Ignore me. I’ve got no business aimlessly chatting with you, anyway. Your feeble, useless words grate on me.”
… Heheh…
You can’t help but chuckle to yourself, despite his hostile attitude. Ah, why, of course… Even though plenty of time has passed since you first offered to be his friend, plenty of time since the last time he got the opportunity to be a threat, those walls he places around himself have not budged even the slightest bit, every thorny brick perfectly intact. You know a window for proper dialogue between you will not present itself anytime soon, but, well…
You knew what you were getting yourself into, the moment you decided to open your arms to him. He can take his time. You’ll get there eventually. This is good progress, as is. So, with a warm smile, you nod.
“Very well, then. You can observe as much as you’d like. Who would I be to rob you of the opportunity to get that little bit closer to me, after all?”
You swear you can hear him gag as you utter the last bit of your sentence; muffled only by the gritting of his pointed teeth. Additionally, his breathing gets just that bit heavier, settling down after a few seconds, and you can see the tendrils behind his head curl in on themselves with wide-eyed rage, only to settle down much the same as the rest of his person.
Restraint, huh…? You don’t think you’ve ever seen that from him. Yet, with a scoff and a quiet “I said, don’t get ahead of yourself…” muttered under his breath, he seems to calm down pretty quickly; or, at least, return to the state he had arrived at your homestead in.
You can’t quite get a read on him, honestly. But, it’s not like you mind. He’s not doing anything, after all, and if what he said is true, then… perhaps, the key to his heart isn’t all that far out of reach, after all! It’s a nice thought, at the very least.
And, to most anyone’s surprise… the jester keeps his word! As you go about your day, tend to your own matters, take some time to relax inside, write some letters for your beloved friends, and even prepare yourself a final meal for the day, the whole time , he’s there, watching silently, not doing anything but observing your every move. You know that any reasonable person would be unnerved by this; but, you being as you are, your heart holds a lot of weight in how you perceive and experience the world, just about as much if not more than your rationality. As such, you take it to be just… how he is. After all, you know him better than he claims you do. You know that, despite his emotions being quite strong, almost all of his theatrics are just that , theatrics, and they’re there to serve as a substitute for more heartfelt emotion, emotion which he has starved himself of in his pursuit of power and control. Some would say that ultimately, he did this to himself; and while you wouldn’t be inclined to particularly disagree –as a matter of fact, you wouldn’t disagree with the notion that he hasn’t earned a second chance at all–you do find yourself compelled to try and appeal to that loneliness deep within him, anyway. After all, there is no one, no one on Earthbread who you think could be undeserving of another chance, and the one in possession of the other half of your Soul Jam is no exception.
Though, you are admittedly a little saddened by the fact that, no matter how much you try, you just cannot get him to start any sort of conversation with you. No matter how good an opportunity looks, he swiftly reminds you of the terms he had set near the start of his visit, to a point where you incidentally start doing exactly what he suggested you do, and tune him out just about entirely; barely noticing his presence. Even when you made some Candy Pasta to dine on, he just rejected your offer to make some for him, and kept staring at you the whole time as you ate. That’s the point at which you started to tune him out, not even really feeling his presence at all. And, well… with a hearty meal in your system, you seem to have become just that little bit more susceptible to the moon’s allure; that is to say, quite sleepy. As such, with intentions to go to rest very soon, you politely ask to call off the visit, and he simply obliges without a word, seeing himself out the door without so much as saying goodbye.
And now, here you stand, in your cozy little bedroom, one closely resembling the architecture of the old Vanilla Kingdom. The lights are off, and the room is comfortably moonlit. You need not turn on a light or anything of the sort, as your senses are more than well attuned enough to make your way around spaces without being able to see all that well–from experience, of course. As such, after closing the door, you shut your blinds, make your way to your closet, remove your daytime clothing, and put on a much more light and comfortable white nightgown. A really, really comfortable one at that. You still can’t get enough of the wool on it, to be quite honest… It’s warm! Really warm; warm enough that honestly, it just makes you feel even more inclined to make your way to the world of dreams.
And… Well, now is as good of a time as ever to do so, isn’t it?
After loosely tying your hair, you lazily walk towards your bed–located in the north-middle of your room, quite large as to potentially accommodate any beloved visitors you may not have seen in a long time–and, without much hesitation, get yourself comfortable in its sheets, deciding to drift off to sleep thinking about the odd events of today.
He… really just stuck to his word, didn’t he? Watched along, didn’t do anything, and although he still closed himself off without giving you so much as a chance of getting friendly with him, you honestly think there could have been a lot more animosity present. And, even though it seemingly didn’t amount to much of anything, you are glad to have gotten to spend time with him without any conflict present. No matter how much he rejects your offers, you still hold on to hope that someday–perhaps soon or perhaps in a good few years or even decades, centuries , even, if you decide to keep being immortal for as long as some of your beloved friends plan to–he’ll let you into his heart. The doors to yours are already open, so it’s just a matter of opening his’.
… It’s a nice thought… getting to love him the way you love White Lily, Hollyberry, Dark Cacao, Golden Cheese and Dark Enchantress…
It's a really… really… nice… thought…
. . .
. . .
. . . . .
Your name is Shadow Milk Cookie.
Finally, FINALLY, you’ve gotten to the endpoint of the plan you’ve devised.
By now, he’s surely completely tuned out the presence of your magic trail; something which, had you simply shown up in the dead of the night, he would have noticed and likely been stirred awake by as a result. After all, you have more than enough proof of this. Back before you had gone… public, about your new way of life, a few of your more magically adept students had already started noticing something odd about your magic. They felt uneasy in your presence. A few had correctly identified the presence of a twisted kind of Dark Moon magic somewhere in the room, the kind possessed by one who’s done away with their restraints and decided to use said magic for their own purposes, devoid of any sort of virtue or well-intent. And, of course, your luck being what it is, there were a few highly adept students that were even able to sense you before you presented yourself in their private quarters in the dead of night. And they tried to stop you. They knew they weren’t safe. They had no way of knowing you’d simply turn them into puppets for your own little grand show; a fate some may argue is worse than just being eliminated outright. And not a single one was able to avoid that fate.
So, needless to say, you know better than to make the same mistake with someone even more proficient with magic than any of your students ever were. Everything is perfectly in place. Everything is as you had wanted it to be. And he’s none the wiser. Like a lamb to the slaughter, sleeping so comfortably in his cozy little resting place.
This one isn’t going to become a puppet, though. Oh, no… Oh no, no, no…
You are ridding yourself of this little problem once and for all. Permanently.
Hee. Hee. Hee.
It’s quite convenient, too. The time you’ve spent with him today has only served to sicken you more to his presence. What a boring, pathetic existence. So simple, so passive, so unquestioning of the gaping maw set right in front of him that intends to devour him whole and rend his dough into pieces. So distinctly… himself. Every bit of him disgusts you. So small-minded, uncooperative, boring, sickeningly saccharine… and, worst of all, powerful enough to match the one person who should, by all means, be the one deciding his fate, as well as the fate of all that lives. All that is below you.
You won’t have to be actively repulsed much longer, though. You won’t. You won’t.
Now that you know he’s asleep, you make your way around the outside of his home, towards where his quarters are, and teleport yourself through the wall with but a mere puff of smoke.
There he is. Unconscious. Vulnerable. Just waiting to have his soft little throat slit.
You open your hand, and create a lovely little object in it, which you grasp with decided firmness. A sharp, shiny little blade. One made out of a dark crystal-like material, the eyes of the other-realm reflecting off its surface, even with no light present in the room. And oh, it is sharp. Sharp enough to cut through anyone’s dough with ease. Sharp enough to put an end to this entire foolish charade.
… There is no excitement in your heart. There was no excitement in your heart when you came up with this little plan, either. There has been no excitement in your heart when it comes to Pure Vanilla Cookie ever since he took you for a fool. Ever since he proved that no matter how hard you try, he’ll never get it. He’ll never join you in your beautiful, reality-shattering grand show. He’ll never be yours. He’s an obstacle. He’s the one thing stopping you from tearing this boring little world to pieces and turning it into your stage. He invokes nothing but hatred within your heart. There is no excitement. There is no joy. Only an all-consuming desire to rid yourself of him.
Not a footstep. You’re not risking waking him up too early. You just continue hovering slowly, until you make it to his bed. Until you’re floating directly above him. And, what do you know, he’s not one of those that covers their head to sleep. He’s exposed. Perfectly exposed. Perfectly vulnerable.
You grasp the cold hilt of the blade with both hands. Raise them above your head. In position to plunge it down at any moment. Pointed directly at his neck.
This is it. This is where it ends. Once you slam your arms down, the blade will pierce right through the dough of his neck, and his jam will coat it, as well as your face, in a nice and bright red. You will watch his eyes shoot open, and then have the life drained out of them right after. Limp, motionless, lifeless.
This isn’t really about the Soul Jam anymore, is it? Yes, you’ll gladly take it once he’s dead, but… you could not care less about it, right now. He betrayed you. He refused you a companion in your perfect world of deceit. He refused you a true equal, someone who gets you. He tricked you. And he had the audacity to act ‘friendly’ afterwards. Friends. What would you even need friends for? They’re worthless. They think too much about themselves, and not enough about the one whose will they should heed. They think they’re equal to you. No one can be equal to you. No one. You are the one above all. You are the master of deceit. You are the master of the very story of the world itself. There is one way, and only one way anyone could ever be an equal to you. Someone just like you. Someone who actually understands. And yet… no one, no one does.
… And you really wish they did.
You still haven’t stabbed into his dough. Your hands are still raised above his neck, blade tightly gripped. And yet, something is stopping you.
If only some understood. If only someone got it. If only there was someone who could be just as important as you. If only there could be someone just like you. Someone who would not only never oppose your will, but embody deceit and the urge to turn the world into a stage just as much as you. Someone who really, really understood.
Is this what you wanted? Or is it even better? Instead of one Soul Jam of Knowledge, you will have two Soul Jams of Deceit. And me, forever by your side.
That pale, gray Soul Jam… Those darkened eyes, that somber voice, like the sweet whisper of an endtime’s harbinger…
You and I… We are meant to be together.
Your hands begin to shake.
This is meaningless. This is completely meaningless. All you need to do is plunge the blade down into his throat, and this will be over . You can’t let useless sentimentality hold you down.
This is Pure Vanilla Cookie. This is the little pest that stole your soul jam. This is your only obstacle in making your own perfect little world. This is the one whose life you must end. There is no value in keeping him around. There is no reason. It is a futile struggle.
That perfect little Truthless Recluse was never real. It was all a lie. A facade. Your own methods turned against you. Why would you latch onto something that was never real in the first place?
… And yet, as you look at his peacefully resting face…
Yes, YES! Now, you are mine!!!
All you can see are those striking little white pupils. That beautiful black and blue robe, not too dissimilar to the way you present yourself. The gaze of deceit within his staff. The darkened eyes on his face, the appearance of which was like that of a gorgeous moonrise.
Oh, we are one and the same now! Meet the other Cookie of Deceit, Pure Vanilla Cookie!
For just a moment. Just a brief moment; you weren’t alone. You had someone just like you. You had a perfect little reflection, someone who would create a perfect world of Deceit with you.
… But, that someone is dead. As a matter of fact, he never existed. It was all a trick. It was never real. You were never in the presence of another. You never stopped being the only one that mattered. You never had another who matters. No one who matters the way you do. It should be easy. It should be so easy. And yet…
You are paralyzed.
MAY DOUBT AND DECEIT ENGULF THE ENTIRE WORLD!
As you think back to that beautiful night sky, the space above split between what at the time seemed like two contrastingly-colored equal forces of Deceit, your blade…
… Your blade fades away. It turns to black smoke, and dissipates into nothing. No matter how hard you try to dig into the deepest pits of your blackened heart, you can’t find the will to kill him, anymore. It was just present. It was right there . And now, it’s gone. All you can think of is… him.
Not the Pure Vanilla Cookie in front of you, no; you despise him. You loathe every bit of his existence. You wish he were dead. You wish his jam were splattered all over your face. And yet, all you find on that very face of yours is a thick layer of darkness, as you stare down at him. You can’t stop thinking of him.
You can’t stop thinking of that precious, precious doll. The only one who could ever be alongside you. You can’t comprehend why. He was never real. Truthless Recluse, the Cookie who would have been your perfect stage partner for all of eternity, was all an act.
And yet…
You long for him.
Your heart aches. It’s torn between pure hatred and longing. The Cookie before you is one you hate with every little fiber of your being, but… looking at him, staring down at his face, all you can see is the Truthless Recluse you desperately want. A desire that will never be fulfilled. You know it never will. And yet…
Pathetic. Here you are, with it no longer in you to end his life. Floating above him, staring at him as he sleeps. You can hardly think. You don’t know what to think. You don’t know what to do.
Your mind is filled with nothing but contradictions. Your knowledge, desires, urges, all clashing together until they’re completely stationary and unable to act.
Your heart beats against your chest. It thumps with the ferocity of a storm. You can’t tell what it’s trying to tell you.
You can’t think.
You can’t move.
Your… name is…
Pure Vanilla Cookie…
… Whose… voice…?
Pure Vanilla Cookie…!
But you… were just…
PURE VANILLA COOKIE!
You awake with a sharp yet quiet inhale forcing itself through your teeth, the voice of the Light of Truth seemingly having yelled you awake for… some reason? And you were having such a nice dream, too… one of his eyes was yellow, his entire outfit was white and gold, and he… looked so adorable… and you held his hand, and…
… You shift to lay on your back, your eyecing squinted near-shut, until you see a… figure…? Floating above you…?
In a mix of fear and confusion, you open your eyes, only to see… two blue eyes, staring right down at you. Floating right above you. At a somewhat uncomfortable distance. Damn near touching the bed.
Well, that’ll wake you up. Your eyes shoot wide open, as you recoil back into the many pillows of your bed with your face bright red, your hands tightly grasping the blankets in shock, and your voice devoid of any and all composure.
“SHADOW MILK- WHUH- H-HUH?!”
Just as quickly, you can see his face be covered in a bright blue hue, he himself recoiling back in the air with a short and sharp gasp, a certain shakiness to his voice in the very brief moment he’s still present–brief, as he quickly and panickedly opens an other-realm portal and just about launches himself into it, the gateway closing as fast as it opened.
So, there you’re left, in the darkness of the night, gripping your blankets, extremely confused and flustered, your grip on your blankets loosening a little as you simply stare straight forward and try to make sense of what just happened.
Did… was he… was he staring at you while you slept…? What…? What was he… Huh??????
Well, someone’s either not going to sleep tonight, or have some really weird dreams.
YOUR NAME IS SHADOW MILK COOKIE.
WHAT DID YOU JUST DO??? YOU HAD HIM! YOU HAD HIM RIGHT THERE! AND INSTEAD OF KILLING HIM, YOU- YOU- UUUUUGH!!!
Your hands press tight against your head, gritting your teeth as you mutter “CURSE YOU, CURSE YOU, CURSE YOU…” under your breath. You know what that looked like. You know damn well what that looked like. You know that obnoxious, pathetic, WORTHLESS little prick is going to get weird ideas about it. So, instead of murdering him, LIKE YOU WANTED TO, you most likely just ended up making his disgusting infatuation with you worse.
You hate him. You hate him, so, so much. Disgusting, worthless, puny little… Even NOW, even when he’s being ‘honest’, he STILL has the audacity to toy with your heart and mess with your brain like this. You hate him. You hate him you hate him YOU HATE HIM!!!
Terrible. Horrible. No one will ever know of this. No one.
He’ll meet his end by your hand some other way some other day.