Beyond crouched on one of the dining room chairs and gazed over in your general direction with dazed eyes. He had been visiting your house quite often since you met him in an alleyway on one dreary day. You had been backed against a wall by some unknown group of sexual offenders, when he suddenly appeared and saved you. You remembered the flying fists and forceful kicks as you began to place several ingredients on the caramel colored countertops of your kitchen.
"What are you doing, "_"?" he asked in his usual curious tone.
"Making a sandwich~!" you sang in particular delight, happily knowing that your stomach would soon be filled. He raised an eyebrow, got up from his seat, and strolled over to you.
"What's that?" He pointed to a blue topped, plastic jar.
You picked it up and looked at him like he was insane (let's say you don't judge by appearances). "Peanut butter, why?" You didn't know much about the man who frequented your home, but you figured as long as he treated you well - you didn't need to know anything else.
"That's disgusting," he glared at the food item. "Use jam instead." He hobbled over to the fridge and picked out a strawberry jam jar. He then shuffled back over to you, not bothering to shut the refrigerator, and handed you the jar with pale, slender fingers.
You stared at the object, wearing a displeased expression. "I bought this for you. I hate jam."
He stared at you in utter shock. "How can you hate it?! You like sweets! And jam is marvelous!"
You peered at the container, back to him, the container, and finally the window through which you threw the jar. While hearing it shatter on the concrete outside, you just continued to make your sandwich. "I'll stick with my peanut butter, thanks," you said in a rather flat tone. The man's onyx eyes were wider than you ever thought they could be, but you ignored him.
You flinched when you felt arms snake their way around your waist, and were about to ask Beyond what he was doing, when he lifted you up into the air and slung you over his hunched shoulder. Now your eyes were wide. "What do you think you're doing?!" you shouted as he marched toward the front door.
"You're buying me more jam – and then I'll teach you things you can do with jam that you could never do with peanut butter."
You blinked several times, processed what he had said, and blushed madly. "Put me down! Now!" the red tint on your cheeks had intensified.
"Not until you discover the pleasures of jam." He smirked deviously, already amused by his thoughts of the future. "I promise you'll love it once we're done."