Okay, if we go by the standard description of a tsundere, it's basically someone who acts coldly or may seem angry with the person they love; when discovered, they can have very, very exaggerated reactions.

Technically speaking, HABIT will never be the type to be sweet to you; in fact, you should be worried if he is.

𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝗛𝗔𝗕𝗜𝗧 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝘆𝗽𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼…

Vehemently denies watching you, yet some people around you still disappear, but that doesn't mean he did it for you; they were just convenient victims, rabbits who didn't know what they'd gotten themselves into.

Definitely left you offerings in your yard once or twice, and when you go to ask about them, he slams the door in your face.

He would never call you one of his favorite rabbits to your face; according to him, the nickname is only for humans worth playing with, and you're too easy to tease. However, he calls you Bun, and sometimes it slips out without him realizing it.

He's not jealous but he is possessive; they are very different things. He doesn't mind you seeing other people, but nobody can decide when to make you suffer, only he can.

He's not ashamed of the romance, since it's not even an option for him, but he does make it clear that he doesn't care about you; even if he spends a lot of time looking out your window.

Becomes noticeably less absurd around you and starts to be downright cruel. We all know HABIT's sense of humor, but with you? he probably won't even crack a laugh.

He's sent Vinny more than once to clean up the mess he made in your yard. Does he care about your flowers? He's going to try to slit Vinny's throat just for asking.

Theoretically, it was supposed to be a normal morning; you and Evan had spent the night together—one of the few times HABIT didn't take control and become insufferable, killing the mood and turning what was meant to be a steamy night between you and Evan into five hours of him monologuing.

You could still recall the night before, just before drifting off in Evan’s arms, when you’d said to him: "I wish you and HABIT could separate."

You were drowsy—naturally—and Evan had just chuckled, telling you that maybe one day it could be just the two of you.

Back to the present morning: you had barely settled into the day's rhythm when two faces entered your field of vision. There was Evan, looking confused and nauseous, and... Evan again? But this one wore an almost cruel smile—or perhaps the smile of someone finding humor in a situation that was, for anyone else, a total nightmare.

"Evan?" you asked hesitantly, referring to your boyfriend—or well, one of them, the one with slightly longer hair. This "Evan" let out a mocking laugh before saying, "Wrong, Bunny. Want to try again? Though you can say the name again; the sissy here is probably about to burst a nut." He laughed again after saying it—an uncomfortable, raspy sound.

HABIT—whom you could now recognize, your mind fully awake—slammed a hand onto Evan’s shoulder, shaking him as if they were lifelong friends, rather than the demon who basically destroyed every aspect of Evan’s life, taking his girlfriend, his baby, and all his friends along with it.

"You should’ve seen his face when he woke up. You asked for us to separate, and now we’re separated—right, Bunny? I’m an amazing boyfriend; I know, I know."

The rest of the morning was a chaotic mess that no one unfamiliar with HABIT's particular brand could possibly endure.

Evan was still stunned at first, but suddenly he threw himself on top of himself, or rather, on top of HABIT, who continued to taunt him even as Evan was hitting him hard.

You, as usual, ended up getting between them, separating a breathing-inducing Evan from a blood-covered HABIT who wrapped his arms around your waist, giving it a light squeeze. "Little Evan's upset, come on, bro, you can always fuck your little whore and have another one. I won't eat it… so soon. I mean, the first one didn't even taste that great."

And just as you had separated them, the two ended up fighting again, this time with Evan holding a machete to his neck and shouting obscenities you had no idea he was capable of.

With a weary sigh, you stood behind him and took his hand. "As much as I'd like to do it myself, you know it's pointless, Ev, just let him," you reminded him, slowly forcing him to release the machete handle.

"You should at least let me hit him, he's a bastard." Evan exclaimed, though still fuming, he backed away from HABIT, not without spitting in his face. With clear rage still coursing through his body, he grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap, resting his chin on your shoulder.

The silence was broken only by Evan's breathing and the sound of HABIT shifting on the floor, as if the entity had decided it wasn't finished yet.

"You know? He's definitely checking out your tits, angel."

Evan tried to deny it, despite his face turning red, his voice cracking into a pitiful croak, and pushing you aside to get up and argue with HABIT again.

‎ㅤㅤEvan never considered himself an angel; in fact, he knew that he had both good and bad qualities, just like anyone else.

‎The impulsiveness that sometimes characterized his actions wasn't exactly the healthiest way to live, but he knew a little about control. He was always proud of his own personality; he didn't consider himself exactly an adonis, but he wasn't ugly either.

‎Sometimes he had one or two partners, men, women, it didn't really matter.

‎Then you came into his life. When he met you, you seemed so distant from any important feelings. He wouldn't have dared to say that you were depressed or anything like that until you openly admitted to having bipolar disorder.

‎Of course, Evan didn't quite understand what that meant when you two started dating. He loved the version of you that dared to do anything, the intrepid guy who made decisions that perhaps weren't the healthiest. You were always offering to do activities and it seemed that your energy levels were in a constant cycle of running out and recharging, although sometimes that was also reflected in a constant obsession with things that had never happened.

‎Then, suddenly, there was...nothing. There were weeks when he heard nothing from you, days when he'd go to visit and you were so irritable that talking to you was like talking to a brick wall. These episodes were always characterized by such high alcohol consumption that even when he tried to take it away, you could become aggressive.

‎It was as if someone had flipped an invisible light switch.

‎The biggest fight between you two was when he found drugs among your belongings, not your medicines, heavy shit that would probably knock out an elephant.

‎You kicked him out of your house only to flood his phone with messages and calls hours later that went unanswered. Evan wasn't going to put up with that, no matter how much he adored you. Even if he didn't fully understand it, it felt like too much responsibility.

‎Of course, it wasn't until months later, when he saw you in the same seedy nightclub where you two had met before, that he realized your hectic lifestyle had only worsened. Your weight had dropped noticeably, and the dark circles under your eyes were so deep it looked like you hadn't slept more than two hours in weeks.

‎Although the club's dim lighting didn't allow him to see you very well, he already knew you weren't okay. The man beside you didn't seem to care either.

‎You were in the middle of a shot-drinking contest with some group of idiots you met there when Evan saw the bastard put a pill in your mouth. He repeated the same action once, then three more times, and you seemed happy to receive it—or probably far too gone to notice. —

‎That was enough for him to cross the room. Shouts, a few punches—you didn't even seem interested—and suddenly the alcohol and drugs seemed to hit your body hard, and you were about to pass out, foam forming at your mouth.

ㅤ‎. . .

‎The next morning was a blow to your head. You woke up in a house you knew but hadn't been to in weeks. Evan was sitting next to you, looking at his phone.

‎The movement of the sheets seemed to alert him when he looked at you. The months you hadn't seen each other had definitely taken their toll, or perhaps it was the depressive episodes you'd lost control of since treatment had become a choice rather than an obligation.

‎"Is there something on my face?" you asked, standing up. You weren't wearing yesterday's clothes anymore; instead, you seemed to be wearing Evan's pajamas, which were a little too big for you.

‎"If it weren't for me, you'd probably have an oxygen mask and wires in a hospital," Evan retorted, mimicking the sarcastic tone in your voice. You snorted. It was something you'd considered, or perhaps it hadn't even crossed your mind until now.

‎"What's it to you? it's not like you care." you muttered, not too happy about Evan's intrusion into your life after months without seeing him.

‎"And how do you know I don't care? Oh, right, I forgot. You are the one who decides what people think about you, you're a mess, at least own it." Evan shouted in your direction, not bothering to hide his annoyance. His blue eyes, which sometimes shone with emotion, seemed so cold that an uncomfortable feeling ignited in your chest.

‎The words caught in your throat, and you clenched your fists in anger.

‎You didn't want to hear it; you didn't need to. You knew you were unwell, but to what extent? You couldn't even distinguish a good day from a bad one anymore, or remember how long it had been since you'd last felt completely okay.

‎But even on those days, the feeling of being "okay" wasn't exactly constant.

‎Evan hadn't even had a chance to say anything else before you were already sitting on the edge of the bed crying. The sobs you were letting out were an ugly, pathetic sound, but he didn't waste any time and was already kneeling in front of you, running his thumbs under your eyes to wipe away the tears.

‎He was talking, but you couldn't even hear him properly. You were spiraling into a frenzy, and the ringing in your ears was becoming louder than his words.

‎So, he picked you up and sat you on his lap, holding you tightly and whispering sweet words in your ear. Evan knew, to a certain extent, that none of this was your fault. You had told him so yourself; there was something "wrong" with you, and the "real you" had vanished long ago.

‎"I'm sorry, it was a dick move on my part, I shouldn't have said that." Evan whispered when you seemed to be calming down a little—if a red, tear-streaked face could even be described as calm—and, placing a hand on your chin, guided your face so you could look him in the eyes. "I can't judge you for the things you do when you're unwell, but you're killing me right now."

‎"You were the one who dumped me." The words came from you with so much resentment and sadness that guilt instantly appeared on Evan's face, who ran a hand over his own face and let out a sigh.

‎"Yeah, I know, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you." He admitted, pressing a kiss to your temple.

‎After that, words between you were no longer necessary. You simply stayed there, listening to his heartbeat, and he held you tightly, trying to prevent whatever had driven you apart once from doing so now.

‎He would be there as much as he could, even if it meant listening to you tell him you hated him for hours, watching you drift away for days, and having to stop you from destroying yourself.

‎Evan rarely gave up on anything, and now? He definitely wouldn't give up on you, not without trying first.

ㅤㅤ"Rabbit, you're being annoying again." HABIT said, how many times had he done it already? Two? Three?

You didn't really care much; your face was hidden in the crook of his neck and your arms were around his waist—perhaps one of the perks of being a little taller than him.

He would say you were barely tall, but five centimeters is five centimeters. "I just want your attention, you can clean those knives later." You said, leaving a kiss on his shoulder.

He stiffened , visibly and the grimace on his lips appeared almost as soon as it disappeared. He was still not used to the fact that you were so clingy, always needing him, always asking for attention.

It almost made him feel sick to his stomach.

"I can beat your ass later, Pup." he answered in a sarcastic tone, he ran the white fabric along the edge of the knife, staining it with the same crimson liquid that was on his Hawaiian shirt. "What do you want? we did it last night, didn't we? Are you insatiable?"

You gave him a little push in the shoulder, barely shoving him, the palm of your hand colliding with the well-formed muscle of HABIT's body—erm, Evan.

"That's not it, dickhead, you think way too much with your dick for someone who claims being above such needs." You shot back, recalling the words he almost always repeated, before or after the act, even without any need.

Without thinking, you took away the knife that, with a few more centimeters, would have been a machete, HABIT let out a sound similar to laughter, quite slow, noticeably annoyed. "fine whatever, we can cuddle for a while." The acceptation out came reluctantly, leaving behind his knives collection and walking to the sofa with you practically hanging off his back.

He had barely managed to sit down on the sofa when you were already on top of him, your head on his chest and your legs dangling off the arm of the sofa, consuming his form completely.

HABIT tensed. he was still not used to have someone not screaming profanities or who he would torture for a minute with his eccentric sense of humor, the fact that you were with him willingly still wasn't his favorite joke, but he would never deny the fact that he liked it.

How you accepted even the worst part about him—pretty much everything— and could still smile at him with that sickly sweet smile that sometimes he wanted to erase.

It was almost morbid, not in the typical, perverse way humans knew, but the fact that someone so needy and with such a strong moral compass as yours still decided to be with a monster like him.

"You're very quiet, did the cat finally got your tongue? By this time you would already be monologuing me about how superior you are to humans" Your voice pulled him from his mind and HABIT smiled just a little, the frown he didn't even know he had lightening slightly.

not disappearing, just more relaxed. "feeling sassy today, are we?" he asked flicking your forehead with two fingers. "I was just thinking that your ass is heavy as hell." he joked and yet his eyes kept on your face before he looked the other way.

You simply looked at him silently before grabbing his chin and turning his face away. "I love you, you know?"

"Love?" He asked, almost instantly, and although something resembling a blush rose to his cheeks, it was difficult to notice because of the way the cap obscured the area around his eyes and cheekbones. "You adore me, you are as loyal to me as a subject is to his creator, don't say such nonsense."

Almost as soon as the words left the bastard's mouth, HABIT could only see your expression fall, a tired sigh escaped his lips and without hesitation he wrapped his arms around your waist.

Sometimes you really needed a reminder that he put up with you as much as possible, the constant touch and having you on top of him was annoying and even when he put up with you anyway; it never seemed to be enough.

ㅤHe really was going to regret this. "I suppose that.. I love— I can handle your neediness, pet." He muttered between clenched teeth, the way your face practically lit up again was worth it at least and how you hugged him with more force was enough for him to feel like a lucky bastard.

"Okay, okay, you're going to break my neck, let go, Bunny." He claimed and yet he didn't let you move not even a bit far from him.

ㅤHe should have shoved off, but he didnt. And he definitely was going to kill someone just to remind himself he was not a soft boyfriend, he was just your handler— just, that.