#vicmina

The stars in the sky twinkle as Mina held a warm cup of coffee in her hands, she stood out of the balcony of her penthouse. Soon the sun would rise and her patchwork lover would awaken, she'd get a small kiss and she'd feed him something small and he'd go off for the day, she wasn't quite sure what he did, it wasn't her business. As long as he came back in her arms at the end of the day, she was content.

She hadn't put a label on their relationship because she knew he was still learning and growing and despite her possessive streak, she wouldn't trap him...she couldn't. She knew what it was like to feel trapped, a body that wasn't truly yours. A pawn from birth and a daughter to bring her parents the funding they needed as new money families weren't known to be stable. She decided she couldn't trap him, so she didn't.

Despite his brooding nature, Victor had a big heart, he was gentle and sweet. He's flush when she teases him over small things. She adored him. Even with the ritual long done, he was learning and growing. But with that her love came with heartbreak.

He would never be hers and hers alone. He's too much of a free spirit to hold down. A wanderlust from his conception. She knew of his other partners. She knew he had a thing with the vengeful ghost girl, she saw how he looked at her, like she hung the moon, it made her envious but she couldn't hold it against him.

Sometimes he'd disappear for days on end, only to come home with stitches so precise she only knew the bellhop had done it. She'd never mention how it made her feel incompetent. Was her stitching not good enough? Was she truly loved by him or was she just a convenient source of money and a warm body to sleep with.

Love wasn't something Mina was familiar with, but she was pretty sure, she loved the reanimated corpse lying in her bed. These thoughts were making her head hurt.

She sighs and finishing off the rest of her coffee, she walks inside and closes the glass doors. She sets the mug down on the bed side dresser and sits on the edge of the bed. She watches the other sleep, he's snoring, the stitches that held his jaw attached were loose from...activities they had done earlier that night. He was drooling all over the pillows his head rested on.

She carefully wipes away the saliva from his cheek and stares at his sleeping form. Does he know how much he means to her? How his existence made her want to change. How she's trying to be better for him. She wants him all to herself but she knows it's unfair.

She whispers out that she loves him, unable to ever say it when he's awake. She truly was a coward who couldn't handle the concept of love. She falls asleep against him. Tomorrow he'd awaken and then leave, she'd be alone again, wishing for him back in her arms once more.

Her undead heart was completely owned by him. His rare smiles were things she cherished. His awkward way of speech and fidgeting when he was nervous was endearing to her. She wanted to take him apart, to feast upon his flesh until there was nothing left. Just to keep him to herself.

But she couldn't, he didn't belong to her, but she belonged to him. If he knew this or not, she'd never know, but as long as he came home, she'd be content.