what

if you knew all that, maybe you'd try to run, to leave; get as far away from him as possible. but cole would not let you, not after you unknowingly carved your name under his ribs and he became yours before you had even learned his favorite color. 

cole loved you, so much; in a way no one else could ─ a way no one else would. and cole wonders when you will realize that for yourself (after all, he can only be patient for so long).

“and anon, that asshole─” 

cole questions it often, how someone could be so oblivious; but then he thinks, surely, they can't ─ but to think that you knew of the way his blood burned beneath his skin like hot iron when you spoke of another man that wasn't him, when you talked about inside jokes and shared affection for someone that didn't deserve it. you were too sweet for that, he would remind himself, too sweet to be aware of the way his body became visibly repulsed at the thought of anyone that wasn't him, being the recipient of your love; too sweet to exploit that and make him suffer through the grueling reminders that you weren't his alone (not yet at least). ─ no, you wouldn't do that. 

he'd sit through every moment with his breath in his throat and his nails digging into his hands, leaving marks, and sometimes he'd dig too far, draw blood that he would wipe on pants, hiding the jealousy that burned too loud. he would seethe and he'd hold back every disapproving grunt and awful comments he would surely make about every person you spoke of, if only to not be the cause for your frown. 

but then you'd call his name, and all that tension would be erased, if just for a moment. 

“cole?” you're staring at him, concern in your expression that makes him feel so greedy (how he wished for that expression to be only his, for your concern to be only directed at him), “are you okay?”

he blinks at you, a smile spreading across his face as he practically preens under your attention now that you were finally looking at him instead of thinking about anyone else. 

“of course,” he soothes, titling his head and leaning toward you, like he was trying to soak up as much of your attention as he could before it was inevitably stolen (if it were up to him, your attention would never stray from him; because if only you knew how he needed it like air). 

“you sure? you don't seem all here.”

“did i worry you?” ─ he asked, maybe a little too happy about it, but you don't seem to catch his tone, or at least, if you did, you don't mind or care.

“a little, yeah,” you nod, waving your hand, gesturing at him from head to toe, then you tilt your head and ask again, “are you sure you're okay?”

before he answered, he paused, the idea of your attention going away the moment he dismissed your worry, making something uncomfortable curl around his bones. a feeling he was all too familiar with, one he often felt when he watched you smile at that rainbow-haired eccentric who loved to take you along when they went shopping, or that hacker with a distaste for germs that you often spent late hours in the night on call with, playing games of all sorts. it was a feeling that glared when anyone that wasn't him, was at the center of your attention.

but today was his turn, today he got to keep you because you promised him a day between just the two of you. if you were giving him more reason to have your attention, who was he to pass it up?

─ so he lied, if only to keep your eyes on him a little longer, because he was greed in all its forms; “on second thought, i am feeling a little unwell.”

“you don't look sick,” you squint at him, and he can't tell if it's because you don't believe him or if you were simply examining his face for any signs of illness. regardless, you still reach up to place the back of your hand against his forehead, brushing his hair aside, and cole leans into the touch, staring at your face, ─ “and i don't think you have a fever or anything, but maybe you caught something anyway?” 

you pull back and cole almost chases after the touch but decides to only tilt his head a little close, pushing the boundaries of your space. fortunately (for him) you don't seem to mind that he's only gotten closer, resting a hand on his arm when you offer, “let's go back to mine, maybe the weather is getting to you.”

“maybe you’re right, good idea,” ─ and that's an offer cole would never refuse. 

cole is no stranger to your home, he'd been over a number of times. he's become well acquainted with your space. after all, he'd sat on your couch, watching movies or playing whatever game you chose, because he didn't care so long as he was with you; he'd move around your kitchen like he lived there, making you breakfast when you couldn't get yourself out of bed after a bad cold or just a hard day.

you let him into your home with ease and a smile, and cole wishes that could just be for him, that he could keep you here, a space for only you and him, where no one else could reach you. 

“how are you feeling?” you ask him hours later, when you’re both sitting on your couch, eating food you'd ordered to your door and watching whatever you picked out of your list of movies you’ve watched before.

when he glances at you, you're not looking at him, still watching the movie that's nearing its end while you're sitting with your feet under you, slowly eating at what little you have left of your food. admittedly, cole wasn't paying much attention to the movie, hadn't been since the first five minutes into the film. 

“much better,” he finally answers, almost grinning too big when you turn your head to look at him, but he doesn't, instead giving you a much smaller, tamer, smile in replacement. 

you nod with a hum, setting aside your food and leaning back into the couch. you grin at him, jokingly adding, “maybe you're allergic to the outside.” 

that makes cole pause for a moment, the question about whether you believed him or not returning for a moment. you joking didn't explicitly mean you didn't believe him when he said he wasn't feeling well, but there was the chance. and again, cole wonders if you know about his feelings, the way he locks up when someone else gets too close, if you suspect his thoughts to keep you all to himself.

cole shrugs half-heartedly, “maybe i am.”

you give him a look that lets him know you don't think he's funny, and then you turn back to watching the movie, taking the attention cole loves so much, away from him again. you watch the movie until the credits roll, saying nothing else to cole, even as he stared at you like he hoped to burn the vision of you into his thoughts.

then you yawn and stand from the couch, gesturing towards a window, "it's late, you should probably head home cole," ─ it is late, shadows cover the outside and the moon had since taken its place in the sky. he had lost track of time, and he's sure you had too.

cole resents having to leave, but he still stands and lets you walk him to door, waving him off with a smile on your face. he turns a corner, and leaves your sight, and you think that's that, turning back to close and lock your door, intending to clean up a little and then get ready for bed.

you don't know he doesn't leave, not really; he turns that corner and waits. he's patient, watching your lights go out one by one, curtains closed and blinds being shut while you prepare to go to sleep.

it's three hours of waiting at that corner, of his patience almost wearing thin, before he finally moves back to your front door. he lets himself in with a key you definitely don't know he has, quiet as he moves through the dark, careful where he steps, and moving around the furniture with ease, because he'd long since memorized where everything was.

when he reaches your bedroom door, he waits a moment, hand on the doorknob, listening for any sounds that meant you were still awake. when he hears none, that's when he opens it, peeking in, and he can see your form under your sheets, curled on your side, your phone forgotten on the edge of your bed, almost slipping from your hand, and he knows you had fallen asleep while scrolling again.

with a certain ease to the way he moves, silent and careful, as if he had done this often, he approaches your bedside, watching you shift in your sleep, getting comfortable. he reaches around you, taking your phone and plugging it in on your bedside table.

for a while, he just stares, standing over your sleeping form. he watches the way your chest hardly rose beneath the blankets, your breath steady and slow, as it would be for anyone sleeping. he follows the edge of your face with his eyes that have adjusted to the darkness, taking in the way your lashes twitched because of whatever you were dreaming of.

then he kneels, resting his knees on the floor slowly, resting his weight in a way that didn't make the floor creak too loudly. you stir, and cole pauses, waiting, but when you don't wake, he relaxes, resting his arm on the sheets and his head on his arm. his other arm reaches over to brush his knuckles along your cheek, where you'd turn to face him in your sleep. he can feel your breath along the skin of his fingers and his eyes narrow on your lips, his thumb brushing below your bottom lip.

these are his favorite moments ─ the moments you don't know about. sometimes it was when you weren't home, where he would sit in your space while you were gone, embrace your smell and feel like he was waiting for you to come home, like he was waiting for you to come back to him. or the moments like this, when you were sound asleep, curled under your blankets and unaware of the world, of him, as he crept into your room and took in your peaceful state. sometimes he'd curl up beside you, on days he knew you were especially tired, breathing you in and holding you, living in the fantasy for a moment.

he sits like that for a while, staring at your face, a finger softly brushing along your lip every few seconds, a substitute for a kiss he wishes he could have.

─ and he tells himself, that one day he will be able to kiss you whenever he wanted, that he will be able do this without worry of waking you, because you will be his, the way you should be.

if you knew all that, maybe you'd try to run, to leave; get as far away from him as possible. but cole would not let you, not after you unknowingly carved your name under his ribs and he became yours before you had even learned his favorite color. 

cole loved you, so much; in a way no one else could ─ a way no one else would. and cole wonders when you will realize that for yourself (after all, he can only be patient for so long).

“and anon, that asshole─” 

cole questions it often, how someone could be so oblivious; but then he thinks, surely, they can't ─ but to think that you knew of the way his blood burned beneath his skin like hot iron when you spoke of another man that wasn't him, when you talked about inside jokes and shared affection for someone that didn't deserve it. you were too sweet for that, he would remind himself, too sweet to be aware of the way his body became visibly repulsed at the thought of anyone that wasn't him, being the recipient of your love; too sweet to exploit that and make him suffer through the grueling reminders that you weren't his alone (not yet at least). ─ no, you wouldn't do that. 

he'd sit through every moment with his breath in his throat and his nails digging into his hands, leaving marks, and sometimes he'd dig too far, draw blood that he would wipe on pants, hiding the jealousy that burned too loud. he would seethe and he'd hold back every disapproving grunt and awful comments he would surely make about every person you spoke of, if only to not be the cause for your frown. 

but then you'd call his name, and all that tension would be erased, if just for a moment. 

“cole?” you're staring at him, concern in your expression that makes him feel so greedy (how he wished for that expression to be only his, for your concern to be only directed at him), “are you okay?”

he blinks at you, a smile spreading across his face as he practically preens under your attention now that you were finally looking at him instead of thinking about anyone else. 

“of course,” he soothes, titling his head and leaning toward you, like he was trying to soak up as much of your attention as he could before it was inevitably stolen (if it were up to him, your attention would never stray from him; because if only you knew how he needed it like air). 

“you sure? you don't seem all here.”

“did i worry you?” ─ he asked, maybe a little too happy about it, but you don't seem to catch his tone, or at least, if you did, you don't mind or care.

“a little, yeah,” you nod, waving your hand, gesturing at him from head to toe, then you tilt your head and ask again, “are you sure you're okay?”

before he answered, he paused, the idea of your attention going away the moment he dismissed your worry, making something uncomfortable curl around his bones. a feeling he was all too familiar with, one he often felt when he watched you smile at that rainbow-haired eccentric who loved to take you along when they went shopping, or that hacker with a distaste for germs that you often spent late hours in the night on call with, playing games of all sorts. it was a feeling that glared when anyone that wasn't him, was at the center of your attention.

but today was his turn, today he got to keep you because you promised him a day between just the two of you. if you were giving him more reason to have your attention, who was he to pass it up?

─ so he lied, if only to keep your eyes on him a little longer, because he was greed in all its forms; “on second thought, i am feeling a little unwell.”

“you don't look sick,” you squint at him, and he can't tell if it's because you don't believe him or if you were simply examining his face for any signs of illness. regardless, you still reach up to place the back of your hand against his forehead, brushing his hair aside, and cole leans into the touch, staring at your face, ─ “and i don't think you have a fever or anything, but maybe you caught something anyway?” 

you pull back and cole almost chases after the touch but decides to only tilt his head a little close, pushing the boundaries of your space. fortunately (for him) you don't seem to mind that he's only gotten closer, resting a hand on his arm when you offer, “let's go back to mine, maybe the weather is getting to you.”

“maybe you’re right, good idea,” ─ and that's an offer cole would never refuse. 

cole is no stranger to your home, he'd been over a number of times. he's become well acquainted with your space. after all, he'd sat on your couch, watching movies or playing whatever game you chose, because he didn't care so long as he was with you; he'd move around your kitchen like he lived there, making you breakfast when you couldn't get yourself out of bed after a bad cold or just a hard day.

you let him into your home with ease and a smile, and cole wishes that could just be for him, that he could keep you here, a space for only you and him, where no one else could reach you. 

“how are you feeling?” you ask him hours later, when you’re both sitting on your couch, eating food you'd ordered to your door and watching whatever you picked out of your list of movies you’ve watched before.

when he glances at you, you're not looking at him, still watching the movie that's nearing its end while you're sitting with your feet under you, slowly eating at what little you have left of your food. admittedly, cole wasn't paying much attention to the movie, hadn't been since the first five minutes into the film. 

“much better,” he finally answers, almost grinning too big when you turn your head to look at him, but he doesn't, instead giving you a much smaller, tamer, smile in replacement. 

you nod with a hum, setting aside your food and leaning back into the couch. you grin at him, jokingly adding, “maybe you're allergic to the outside.” 

that makes cole pause for a moment, the question about whether you believed him or not returning for a moment. you joking didn't explicitly mean you didn't believe him when he said he wasn't feeling well, but there was the chance. and again, cole wonders if you know about his feelings, the way he locks up when someone else gets too close, if you suspect his thoughts to keep you all to himself.

cole shrugs half-heartedly, “maybe i am.”

you give him a look that lets him know you don't think he's funny, and then you turn back to watching the movie, taking the attention cole loves so much, away from him again. you watch the movie until the credits roll, saying nothing else to cole, even as he stared at you like he hoped to burn the vision of you into his thoughts.

then you yawn and stand from the couch, gesturing towards a window, "it's late, you should probably head home cole," ─ it is late, shadows cover the outside and the moon had since taken its place in the sky. he had lost track of time, and he's sure you had too.

cole resents having to leave, but he still stands and lets you walk him to door, waving him off with a smile on your face. he turns a corner, and leaves your sight, and you think that's that, turning back to close and lock your door, intending to clean up a little and then get ready for bed.

you don't know he doesn't leave, not really; he turns that corner and waits. he's patient, watching your lights go out one by one, curtains closed and blinds being shut while you prepare to go to sleep.

it's three hours of waiting at that corner, of his patience almost wearing thin, before he finally moves back to your front door. he lets himself in with a key you definitely don't know he has, quiet as he moves through the dark, careful where he steps, and moving around the furniture with ease, because he'd long since memorized where everything was.

when he reaches your bedroom door, he waits a moment, hand on the doorknob, listening for any sounds that meant you were still awake. when he hears none, that's when he opens it, peeking in, and he can see your form under your sheets, curled on your side, your phone forgotten on the edge of your bed, almost slipping from your hand, and he knows you had fallen asleep while scrolling again.

with a certain ease to the way he moves, silent and careful, as if he had done this often, he approaches your bedside, watching you shift in your sleep, getting comfortable. he reaches around you, taking your phone and plugging it in on your bedside table.

for a while, he just stares, standing over your sleeping form. he watches the way your chest hardly rose beneath the blankets, your breath steady and slow, as it would be for anyone sleeping. he follows the edge of your face with his eyes that have adjusted to the darkness, taking in the way your lashes twitched because of whatever you were dreaming of.

then he kneels, resting his knees on the floor slowly, resting his weight in a way that didn't make the floor creak too loudly. you stir, and cole pauses, waiting, but when you don't wake, he relaxes, resting his arm on the sheets and his head on his arm. his other arm reaches over to brush his knuckles along your cheek, where you'd turn to face him in your sleep. he can feel your breath along the skin of his fingers and his eyes narrow on your lips, his thumb brushing below your bottom lip.

these are his favorite moments ─ the moments you don't know about. sometimes it was when you weren't home, where he would sit in your space while you were gone, embrace your smell and feel like he was waiting for you to come home, like he was waiting for you to come back to him. or the moments like this, when you were sound asleep, curled under your blankets and unaware of the world, of him, as he crept into your room and took in your peaceful state. sometimes he'd curl up beside you, on days he knew you were especially tired, breathing you in and holding you, living in the fantasy for a moment.

he sits like that for a while, staring at your face, a finger softly brushing along your lip every few seconds, a substitute for a kiss he wishes he could have.

─ and he tells himself, that one day he will be able to kiss you whenever he wanted, that he will be able do this without worry of waking you, because you will be his, the way you should be.