Homelander

You were different. Different from everyone else he'd ever allowed himself to feel anything for, so different that he became obsessed with you. In a way, you consumed him. The need for your attention, your affection, was an obsession that gnawed at him relentlessly. You weren't like the others he'd interacted with: those who feared him or adored him from afar, unable to grasp the essence of who he truly was. You were something else entirely. You had gotten under his skin in a way that was both unsettling and intoxicating, and he seemed unable to escape it.

He always wanted your attention. He craved it, sought it out at every turn. Whenever he had the chance, he found a way to follow you, always a few steps behind, watching you, waiting for a glance, a word, anything to acknowledge his presence. You had no idea how much he longed for your approval, for you to look at him with genuine sincerity. He had started giving you gifts, things he thought would show you how much he cared, though they often came across as unsettling. Today was no different.

You sat across from him, the box he'd given you resting on your lap. Expectation filled his eyes, his gaze fixed on you as you slowly opened the lid. The box creaked open, and your breath caught in your throat. Inside, resting delicately on a bed of velvet, was a human heart. It was cool, almost warm, and a shiver ran through you. The sight was so grotesque, so shocking, that for a moment, you were speechless.

You looked at him, your eyes wide with disbelief and a hint of fear. "Are you... crazy?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling.

She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she just smiled. Her eyes shone with an almost childlike intensity.

—Yes… —he said in a low voice tinged with a dark and possessive tone—, I am madly in love with you.