3: Condition
Regard me with those cold grey eyes. Eyes that pierced and stabbed my heart, eyes that claim mine.
Grip me tight when tears would pool my eyes. Keep me still with your leisurely arm when my body would stagger, threatening to hit your office's teal floor.
Then please, walk away from me, ignore my shouts, my pleas, my sobs.
Reject me when I would come close. Disregard me in front of your comrades.
Never question why.
That was my only condition; and from the look on your face, you're actually pleased of it, aren't ya? Oooh, I forgot to mention another thing: Do try to prevent yourself from making some smug looks snickering smirking or that shitty grin in front of me. Best regards, XOXO yours crewmate-to-be.
How come the beginning of a heartfelt confession became a nasty request in the end?