#oc cain | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crookedkryptonitebeliever · 1 month ago

Text

Cain (p4)

Tw: Cain is really violent, like verbally violent. Tantrums, toxic relationships, isolation from friends and family, sexual content, sexual descriptions, profanity- like a LOT of them, Cain losing his shit really frequently. Gender neutral reader, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

This is part 4.

Click here for part 5

Click here for part 1

Cain tries. He really did.

The first week or so after his earth shattering confession, Cain was elusive. You hardly see him at home, not even for meals. But you know he's eating, because you would leave leftovers in the fridge and it would disappear the next day. You thought he was avoiding you, and you understood, because you practically rejected him at first.

He came back one day, seemingly waiting for you in the living room. To your surprise, instead of only acknowledging each other with a split second glance, Cain tried to make a conversation.

"How was it?" He asked.

You asked him what he meant.

"Your day." Cain continues, looking right into your eyes, which caught you off guard. Usually, eye contact means he's about to stir some trouble up, but you think this time he's actually making an attempt to communicate. "How was... your day?"

You told him that it was okay. Then you asked him about his day.

You could definitely see that he physically stopped himself from responding like he used to. Cain closed his eyes and took a deep breath before answering.

"My day is okay too."

And both of you left it at that, as you did your own thing, he did his own thing... which happened to be reading a book of sorts? Strange, he doesn't seem like the type to even be remotely near words. But you didn't want to pry and potentially get your head bitten off.

"It's cold." You turned to him and finally noticed that he's actually bundled up in a hoodie instead of his usual sleeveless shirt. That made sense, the seasons are changing, and very soon you would see frost on the sidewalk again.

Come to think of it, he has recently changed up his fashion sense to cover up a lot more, adjusting according to the weather. No more ripped jeans, instead opting to wear a pair of thick cargo pants with numerous pockets. He also got himself a new pair of shoes, trading in his tattered sneakers for a new pair of combat boots.

You asked him if it bothers him. Cain seemed to pause and think about his answer for a moment before replying.

"I always hated the fucking cold." He spoke with a sense of dread in his voice. Cain knows that he can't change the weather, and he just needs to tough it out. He has done this for years, ever since he was abandoned in that dumpster. But it doesn't make it easier, and each winter feels as intense as the last. And the worst part is, he doesn't understand why the bites of frost disturb him so much. Cain never found out how he was abandoned by his parents; he only knew that they did.

You nodded and decided to just... put aside a bit more cash for the heating bill. You cranked up the heat enough at home to make it comfortable for him. The water heater is also switched on 24/7 now, even if it does hike up your bills. Sometimes you even think the apartment was a little too warm for your liking, but seeing Cain being a lot less miserable made you suck it up and just wear lighter clothing instead.

And you didn't think much of it, until there was one night, when the wind was howling and all you could see was powdery white outside; You heard a knock on your bedroom door, and you were about to fall asleep in a pair of shorts and shirt, because the thermostat is dialed all the way up that it felt like summer. Upon opening it, you saw Cain towering over you, exuding vulnerability. He's not wearing his hoodie, but a white t-shirt, a pair of comfortable plaid shoes, and warm, fuzzy slippers. You were surprised that he showed no signs of sweating, unlike you, struggling to cope with the artificial heat, yet you do so for the sake of your troubled roommate.

You asked him if he needed anything from you. Only to be pulled into his arms for a tight hug. You were about to say something, but you felt wetness on your shoulder. Cain was crying.

"I don't... I don't know what I'm feeling..." Although muffled, you could hear how pained and conflicted he was.

You patted his back as he let it all out. You were dying to ask him questions, but knowing Cain, it wouldn't get you very far if he wasn't ready to share it in the first place.

"It feels good. I-It's warm." He spoke between sobs. "Please... let me stay."

You didn't understand what gave him the impression that you were planning to kick him out anytime soon. You told him that he's welcome here. And that was all he needed to hear tonight.

And what neither of you knows is that today was his birthday, or rather, the day those bystanders found him discarded like trash. Cain may not remember, but his body does. And it was the first time in his life that he wasn't shivering on this special day.

And Cain is afraid, utterly terrified to lose what he has now. Yet he doesn't know how to keep it. So he latches on, he does his best, he tries.

He slept in the same bed as you that night. It wasn't comfortable at all; his body ran hot. And on top of the running heaters? You felt like you were in a furnace. Cain had his arms wrapped around you at all times, constricting your movements, but he wouldn't budge, no matter how much you squirmed. His hold felt desperate; you could feel the aching yearning he held in his body for decades. Cain would bury his head at the back of your neck, making you wonder if he just liked the feeling of being suffocated by his own breath.

You woke up the next day earlier than he did. Cain was still clinging to you with dried tears on his face. But you didn't have the heart to wake him up, because he looked truly peaceful. Though you didn't have to wait long until he opened his eyes and groggily rubbed them, freeing you from his prison.

You greeted him and asked him how he slept last night.

"Good..." He yawned and stretched his arms. Well, at least one of you had a good night's sleep. Cain doesn't seem to be particularly embarrassed that he reached this level of intimacy with you; hell, he doesn't seem to see it as anything out of the ordinary at all. It's as if he were sleeping in the same bed as you for months.

He got out of bed to freshen up, leaving you to finally reclaim your space and take your turn to doze off. Luckily, today is an off day for you, or you would have gone to work in a sour mood.

"Who the fuck are you all?!" You were jolted awake by Cain's sudden outburst in the living room. You heard extra voices and assumed he had opened the door to someone.

An argument ensued, making you scramble back up on your feet to see what was going on. Upon poking your head out of the door frame, you saw Cain heavily berating someone outside your apartment.

You called him by his name, and that caught his attention. "I don't know who these assholes are, they are not coming in!" He yelled, attempting to shut the door on the visitors.

You caught a glimpse of your long-time friends' confused and horrified faces before he slammed the door loudly against them.

Oh.

You forgot that they were visiting. Shit.

You see that Cain was agitated, threatened, even. He began hurling profanities at them, wishing doom on them, so on and so forth. He was panicking; the only way he could express this was by lashing out and pulling on his already messy, short, fiery hair.

You tried calming him down, but that only made him spiral more.

"They said that they're your friends-- They're nothing! They're nothing to you, they don't fucking matter! They're scum, they're trash!" He screamed as tears streaked down his frenzied face. Cain began hyperventilating, the more you tried to get him to see reason. "I'll fucking kill them, I fucking will!"

You decided to shut up and let him burn all his fuel out. All this while, you were extremely baffled as to what suddenly set him off. You know, Cain could be somewhat decent to strangers; he doesn't go off on the delivery men that sometimes come here to give you your packages or food. He would sometimes even be the one who signed the delivery confirmation form with no issue. Not even door-to-door salesmen would make him erupt like this; at most, he would just close the door on them. Why is he suddenly so territorial?

And as predicted, his explosion ended with him curling up into a pathetic ball of misery on the floor. You think your friends decided to leave you and him alone for a while, you're definitely getting a very concerned phone call later.

So, you did. And you managed to convince that you're okay, and Cain is a good man. It was challenging, but they decided to respect your wishes. Or maybe they also didn't want to deal with that unstable landmine of a person.

You don't think he left the apartment without you during the entirety of winter. He would flare up as soon as he felt a draft, and you wonder if it's a traumatic response to something. Either way, you don't think you should pry if he's not ready to talk about it.

Cain got very comfortable with you now. The sofa bed is left empty, now he goes straight into your bedroom. It doesn't matter if you're purposely hogging the bed, he would either manhandle you as if you're his beloved stuffed teddy bear, or have the audacity to say, "Scoot your ass over."

He developed a habit of possessively wrapping his arm around your waist whenever both of you were out. Instead of waiting for you to move out of the way or barking commands to move aside, Cain would just manually move you by guiding your shoulders or sometimes, your hips.

He seemed to be starved of touches. Whenever you take an afternoon nap without him, you would wake up to find Cain holding you in his arms. And he gets annoyed at you for waking him up. When you would spend the day watching television on the sofa, Cain would either lie his head on your lap, or trap you into his- making you his personal lap table for the bowl of popcorn you two shared.

Cain needed something to occupy his hands. So he chose to massage yours instead to soothe himself. It felt nice to apply pressure to your palm and fingers, but sometimes he wasn't aware how strong he was. You would wince at the pain, which caused him to frown, and spit,

"Fucking wimp."

But then, he would bring your hands to his lips to kiss them, and adjust his strength to not hurt you anymore. He wouldn't outright apologize or thank you for most things, but he has his own way to express remorse, guilt, and gratitude.

It felt... strangely natural. He wasn't making it awkward at all when he transitioned from not touching you at all to giving you regular cuddles, kisses, and even sharing beds. Cain moved like it's always been this way, as if he had always given you a kiss on the forehead before dropping you off at your workplace, as if he had always kissed you on the back of your neck to thank you for the meal. Whenever you stood in front of him to say something, he would have his large, calloused hands gripping your arms in place as he listened. You never knew what the purpose of it was, as he doesn't seem to be aware that he's doing it.

You're not necessarily complaining that whenever the two of you waited at the bus stop, in the cold, he would bury you in his chest. It's ridiculously warm, and he would wrap his heavy coat around both of you. Cain would absentmindedly rub your back up and down, stroke your hair as he remains hypervigilant for any assailants that could attack the two of you. And you would be lying when you said that it doesn't make you feel all fluttery inside.

Cain was willing to open up even more on how he feels about various things. But it was still excruciatingly difficult.

One day, he decided to talk to you about your giving nature. It occurred when you decided to give a homeless man some spare change.

"Why did you do that?" He asked when you and he reached the comfort of your apartment. Cain didn't remove his coat just yet, while you're practically stripping everything off yourself because your heating system is too efficient.

"Why did you give that bum money? He didn't work for it." He clarified what he meant. You can see that he's asking from a place of curiosity, not hostility or judgment.

You shrugged and said that it makes the world a better place.

"How?" He furrowed his eyebrows in frustration.

He would have enough money to buy himself something hot to eat and drink.

"That's bullshit. He's going to waste it on booze and drugs."

You asked him how he would know.

"All these bastards think about is their next high." He frowned bitterly.

You said that everyone can change. You wanted to tell him off for being a hypocrite, but it probably isn't a good idea. He vehemently disagreed.

"No they fucking can't. You're being used, you're being a damn jackass! You should have kept that for yourself, these fuckers can't even give you anything of worth back but have the balls to ask for a handout!" He was getting more and more exasperated by the second.

You decided to clam up.

"They're scum, they're all fucking good for nothing pieces of shit!" He continued his angry ranting as he entered the bathroom to freshen up.

And conversations that were deeper than small talk usually go something like that. You refused to be the one who started chatting, allowing him to take the initiative. It seems like he's jealous that you're also generous to other people, as anytime he sees you doing a good deed, he would be throwing a tantrum about how you're letting others walk all over you.

You can't really do donations under his watchful eyes anymore, because he would find a way to get it back from them and return the cash into your wallet.

He's always the nicest when it's just the two of you, and the concept of the world stopped existing. The apartment is his safe haven where nothing outside matters. He is in no way romantic, but he would be much, much tender compared to when you first met him. However, it is actually agonizing to live with him hovering over you every waking minute. If the shows you watch involve the topic of child neglect or even families in general, no matter how mild, no matter how positive or negative, ten times out of ten, he would have one of his infamous, explosive meltdowns.

Oddly enough, he's mostly unaffected by documentaries, even if they potentially touch on his traumatic experiences. He tends to watch those that describe how everyday things are made, unfazed by true crime.

You avoided nature and animal documentaries because Cain would get unbelievably distressed if they involved the abandonment of their young.

Outside of that, you don't know what else to do with him. Cain seems uninterested in anything creative, but recently got obsessed with chess for some unknown reason. Regardless of your chess skills, he would beat you in almost every game, only losing to you when he first started out.

Perhaps it was boredom. Perhaps it was arousal, but you and Cain would begin to frequently have sex. And he fucks like a rabid animal, forceful, angry, desperate and primal. Cain would leave bite marks deep enough to bleed, as if he's trying to shred you into pieces. The curtains are always drawn shut because of his inclination to go down on you anywhere in the apartment. He has no problem bending you over the kitchen counter, making your legs spread on the sofa bed, pinning you against the wall, pounding you deep into your bed, letting the sound of the shower drown out your moans... The only place that's off limits is whatever table that held his valuable chessboard and pieces.

And you know that it just takes a deep kiss on the lips to initiate it, where both of your tongues must dance together. Cain would escalate quickly by rubbing his hands under your clothes. But he wouldn't press it if you decided that you're not in the mood anymore; he would just need to deal with his disappointment and sexual frustration on his own, in pure silence.

Cain doesn't say anything when fucking you. There will only be grunts and groans, but no dirty talk. Probably since he's too busy biting the hell out of your flesh.

His aftercare is a bit strange to you. It would be a strange mix of his usual harshness and an unusual dose of sentimentality:

"Get up." He would order you after a long session of post sex cuddling. Knowing him, you shouldn't oppose it.

"Go shower. I'll clean up." He began chucking the blankets, bedsheets, and pillow cases into the laundry hamper. Once he's done and sees that you're still there, he would turn to you and give you an affectionate peck on the forehead.

"You've been so good to me." He then squeezed the cheeks of your face firmly, causing you to pucker. Cain would chuckle at how silly you looked before kissing you lightly on the lips.

"I love you." He would whisper in your ear before letting you go, patting your head in praise.

However, if you just stood there and watched him ready the laundry basket, he would get annoyed.

"The fuck are you doing there, standing ass naked? Either put on some clothes or go take a damn shower." He would point in the direction of the bathroom. This would be enough to send you on your way.

Overall, you think Cain is a confusing man with moods that swing like a pendulum. You don't think he really feels shame towards you, just familiarity, trust, and comfort. And you feel honoured that you get to see his sweet side (sometimes), no one else outside of this apartment could ever hope to witness it, as he's just so spiky towards everyone. You're still so curious as to what sets you apart from all the other people who tried to help... You assume that Cain does have people who tried putting him on the right track in his life, but he pushed them away.

So one day, you mustered the courage to ask him about it. Expecting nothing more than some deranged yelling, you braced yourself:

"They shoved their help down my throat."

To your surprise, his response is as if you asked him for the time. Your speechlessness prompted him to continue.

"I fucking hated them. None of them really wanted to help me; they just wanted to feel good." He scrunched his nose as if he recalled something disgusting. "To them, I'm nothing more than a broken pet to fix. Something that should get no respect. Something practically useless in everything else, but gets them off like some street whore."

That sounds similar to what you thought of Cain. But you didn't say that out loud.

"They can take their fake sympathy and shove it so far up their asses that it kills them. Fuck them all." He snarled.

You let him release whatever steam he had for them. Well, that made sense that he gets crazily upset when you try to impose help without his request in the first place.

Once he's done, he decides to get up from his seat and pick up his now-worn duffel bag. You didn't have to ask him where he's heading out to.

"I'll be back by eight, I just need to get some stuff. Leave your bedroom door open for me." He pecked you on the cheek and smoothed your hair.

You watched him open the door and turned back to face you one more time:

"And don't fucking open the door to anyone that isn't me! You have a habit of doing stupid shit that's going to get you killed if it wasn't for me looking out for you!" He scolded before slamming the door behind him.

You wonder if Cain thinks of you as someone needing his protection, and so that's why you're not a threat to him but an object of his affection. You sat with this question, and you pondered if Cain genuinely thought of you as someone who is handicapped in some way. Made sense, your boundary-setting skills are non-existent, and you're always people pleasing, no matter how detrimental it is to your wellbeing. That's how you scored Cain.

Finally home alone after a while, you felt a little clueless as to what you should do. You know you should update your friends and family that you're doing well, and Cain is nothing they should worry about. Then again, you don't feel like talking to anyone right now.

The apartment looks pretty messy, with all the random junk Cain would bring back. God knows where he gets this merchandise, or where he got the money to buy it. You are actually in heavy denial that he's been shoplifting and wanted to believe that he's living honestly.

You thought it would be a good idea to tidy up a bit before he gets back and unloads more things from his duffel bag. It's a mystery how that bag could contain ungodly amounts of stuff.

You decided to start with the most cluttered part of your living room: the sofa bed. You know these are things that Cain would use daily, but it wouldn't hurt to organise them a bit.

The first thing that caught your eye? The book that Cain was attached to lately, and was almost obsessively reading. You wonder what was so interesting about it until you read the cover of the book.

It was a copy of "How to Be a Good Boyfriend".

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #oc cain #male yandere x reader #male yandere x you #tw toxic relationship #tw violence #tw sex #gender neutral reader

217 notes · View notes

crookedkryptonitebeliever · 1 month ago

Text

Cain (p2)

tw: violence, Cain is fluent in profanity, you're getting harassed, catcalling, Cain is mean as hell to you, he's also a pretty weird guy. Slowburn, but eventually yandere. The reader in this series will be gender neutral, but it was originally designed to be male in mind. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

This is part 2.

Click here for part 3

Click here for part 1

You beat yourself up for not having the spine to say no. You worked hard to earn enough money so you could have a place you could truly call your own, and now, by having Cain, you're back to square one. But how could you say no to someone who's been beaten up by life? You would feel bad if one day the news said that he died outside, cold and alone. And you knew, with his life like this, he would be met with similar fates as your imagination.

So you promise to show him the way back to your modest apartment. You're in a small town, so it's much easier to be a homeowner here as the prices are much lower than those of a big city.

However, you can only bring him home after work today. And you clearly expressed that. He stayed silent and wouldn't offer his thoughts on that. So you assume that he agrees.

You're already half an hour late, even if you take the next bus.

There were some more awkward moments where neither of you talked. It's hard to get a read of him; you don't know how he feels about you, the world, or himself now.

You hesitantly took some cash out of your wallet and tried giving it to him. You said that it should last him until it gets back, but your good intentions were met with scorn. His mostly neutral face contorted to that of vexation.

"Fuck you, bitch! You think I'm some good-for-nothing scum? Huh? I don't want your money!" He yells at you before hopping off the bench and storming off to nowhere in his usual fashion. You only saw him from the back, but you could tell that he was wiping something off his face.

You were left utterly speechless, with some cash in your hand. Earlier, he seemed to want to avoid the rain. But now, he has no problem marching through it.

So you had a choice to put it back into your wallet. However, you decided to just leave it on the bench... more like slot it between two planks to hide it a bit. You don't really know why you did that, but you knew it would probably help him or someone else who actually needs the money somehow.

As if on cue, the next bus arrived to pick you up. You didn't look back and just headed in.

The doors shut, and you took a seat. A passenger was blocking the window that faced the bus stop. It's a shame that you didn't see him coming back to search the area, eventually finding the money that he truly needed to get through the day on his own.

You had to get through your own day, though. And you decided to work longer hours to compensate for your tardiness. Which meant you had to be the closer to this quaint Café you work at. The promise to bring Cain home slipped your mind, and luckily, it did, or you would feel guilty the entire time you're stuck behind the counter. He must be waiting there cluelessly.

The day consists of, well, coffee making, cleaning... and it's just boring. On a good day, you get to chat up with nice customers to pass your time. On the bad way, you would be hurriedly emptying the cash register while you have the cold barrel of a gun pointed at you. Today is just one of those days where it's neither good nor bad, it's just mundane.

You're not keen on being the closer. This town is somewhat known for their "colourful" personalities. They tend to come out when the sun goes down, and this cafe closes well after that. But you trudge on, as you know life too goes on.

Soon, you found yourself flipping the sign on the door from "OPEN" to "CLOSED". It's the end of the business day and it's time to go home. You did what you have to do and double checked, you wouldn't want to be responsible for any break-ins, damages or spoilages.

You stretched your arms and yawned. Pausing midway when you realized that you probably left Cain waiting aimlessly. You picked up your pace and ran to the bus stop, maybe if you could catch an earlier one, you would get there and not witness too much of his wrath.

"Hey, what's the rush, beautiful?" You ignored the cat caller in favour of catching the bus that's fast approaching. You let your feet propel forward, you felt the burn in your lungs as you ran.

But it wasn't enough. You couldn't catch it. So you slowed down in desolation and panted.

"What's the rush?" You look behind you to see a stranger with a sleazy smile. You felt a little bad for judging his looks, but he doesn't make you feel safe.

"Let's get to know each other a bit." He approached you. Oh god, it's one of them. This is why you hated closing shifts; these creeps are everywhere when it goes dark.

You politely declined and said you have somewhere to be. You began walking away quickly, but he followed you.

"Aw, c'mon. Don't be like that, I just wanna talk." You hastened your pace, but the stranger had no problem catching up. You hissed curses under your breath, as there was no one around at the moment, you didn't think you saw any surveillance cameras either. Why did this Cafe close so late?

You told the stranger to get away from you. But that didn't ward him off. It did the opposite, as he suddenly shot out to grab your wrist. You screamed and began thrashing, but you knew no one was there to save you. But you had to try, you're not in any capacity to fight him off... or even fight through a paper bag.

"Fiesty thing, aren't you?" He sneered, managing to restrain the other wrist. The stranger laughed at your pathetic attempt to free yourself.

You thought you were done for until,

An empty bottle crashed onto his head. You shut your eyes tight as some of the shards got onto you, which managed to loosen his grip on you enough to escape.

"What the f-!" A fist collided against the side of his face as he turned around, causing a crack to resonate in the air, and immediately knocking him out cold. You gasped in horror, looking at your violent, drunken savior.

Of course, who other than Cain would do this for you?

You heard him hiccuping and saw him stumbling a bit as he rummaged through the stranger's body. He took some jewelry and his wallet. You tried saying something about the morality of that, but you were swiftly met with a slurred "Shut up."

You asked him how he knew where you were. His eyebrows scrunched up in annoyance.

"How do you think? I followed you. Stupid." He mumbled, taking the cash out of the stranger's wallet and chucking the empty accessory against the unconscious body. Cain gave him one last kick to the ribs before stumbling towards you.

He slapped the cash against your chest, letting it go before you had the chance to grab it. So it fell to the ground, but you can clearly see that he had given you sixty dollars, triple the amount of cash you tried giving to him earlier today. It looks like Cain still got a bit more cash after giving you that. You wonder how much this stranger was carrying.

You told him that you didn't want this money. He merely ignored you and slowly and unsteadily made his way to the bus stop.

Well. It's a shame for it to go to waste, and this should be compensation for causing you so much distress in the first place. So you picked them up and spared a glance at the stranger who was on the ground. You're afraid that he's heavily injured, or worse-

"He'll fucking live! Move your ass, the bus is here!" You jumped when Cain hollered.

You then ran towards him, who appears to keep the doors open despite beration from the bus driver.

You apologised as soon as you entered the vehicle, even tipping him a bit more money for the trouble and paying for Cain's fare. The driver grumbled something and told you to take a seat.

You did as you were told and decided to sit next to Cain, all the way at the back of the bus. He was resting his head against the glass window, and his eyes were closed.

The ride was mostly uneventful and quiet. Save for the unstable man that you promised to house tonight. But he isn't interacting with you much, focusing on not completely dozing off. There were bruises on his knuckles and fresh cuts, too, no doubt from defending you earlier and probably something else that occurred during the day.

The bus was empty, save for the two of you. So when a woman entered from a stop, and decided to sit too close to you and Cain...

"Sit somewhere else, bitch." He growled, which caught you off guard. You thought that he's mostly unaware of his surroundings.

The woman reacted in surprise, and decided to sit far, far away from the two of you.

And you felt bad. Because she probably just wanted to be in the company of someone, it must be scary for her to be out alone this late. But you decided not to say anything, Cain is actually quite scary and you're really doubting your judgement to let him stay with you tonight.

When it's your stop, you turn to him to wake him up, only to find that he's already standing. Albeit wobbly from the alcohol.

He was the first to leave, you apologized to the bus driver profusely as you followed along. You only received a dismissive grunt.

You found Cain standing there, using the dented bus stop pole for support. Waiting for you to lead the way.

And of course you did, reluctantly. You started walking in the direction of your apartment. Cain followed you without saying a word too.

You eventually reached your apartment, though. Unfortunately for him, there isn't a lift. But fortunately for him, you're living on the ground floor.

Cringing as you let him in, you observed what he's doing first. He simply plopped himself down onto your couch as he caught a breather. You stared at him, but he doesn't seem to be doing anything else.

"What are you doing? Shut the fucking door! Anyone can just get the hell in!" He suddenly snapped at you. Immediately after, you closed your door.

"And lock it too!" You did just that.

Then...

It was just silence. Cain just stares into space as you cautiously move around the room to get to the kitchen.

You asked him if he wanted anything to eat.

No answer. But you know he heard you.

You took that as a yes, so you proceeded to cook two portions of a very simple dish: Egg fried rice. That's all you could cook anyways, you had forgotten to do some grocery shopping this week.

The entire time, he didn't budge from his seat. Not to turn on the TV, not to snoop around. He's just sitting motionless there, you think Cain must be utterly exhausted.

Once it's finished and the aroma of delicious simple cooking filled the air, you plated it. A dish for each person.

You placed one on the coffee table in front of him, while you dug into yours. Cain just averted his gaze away from you or the food and did not attempt to even touch it.

You held your tongue and focused on eating your portion. And you think that it's too much for you because you already felt full despite only eating a quarter of the heaping plate.

Cain still hasn't touched his plate, and you could tell that it went cold. But you're not one to force people to do something.

You just told him to wrap it in cling wrap and put it in the fridge if he's not hungry. You got up to pack away your leftovers, planning to have them for breakfast the next day. This entire time, Cain was almost in a catatonic state, not speaking or moving very much.

You announced that you're going to get ready for bed, and he's free to use the couch. You also told him where to find extra blankets in your various cupboards.

No response. Not even a grunt of acknowledgement.

You sighed. There's not much you could do except lock your bedroom door. You don't think there are a lot of valuable things in your living room anyway, so if he were to rob you, it'll just be nothing more than an inconvenience and a mess to clean up.

And so, you went ahead and did your usual routine to feel fresh and ready to sleep. It didn't take egregiously long, but long enough for Cain to do some damage to your home if he wanted to. However, you tend to see the good in people and prefer not to think of them in that light. You had a strong belief that he wouldn't do that to you out of courtesy... right?

You feel an extra washing of dread as you scrub yourself with soap, letting your mind race about him. Please, please, please don't prove you wrong, and turn up to be the biggest mistake of your life. You begged internally, hoping hard that he would just go to sleep and disappear on his own the next morning. Maybe leaving a note telling you that he's going to be fine.

Once you're done freshening up, you get out of your bathroom to see... the lights were still on. However, it seems like Cain was already out cold.

Strangely, there were signs of use in your kitchen. You quietly made your way to the sink and saw that there were more dirty dishes and containers that you hadn't accounted for. Baffled, you checked the fridge to see that every and any foodstuffs that were half-opened, half-eaten from prior dinners were gone. Some of which were old and were supposed to be thrown out today, but it's gone, and the bin showed no signs of solid food waste. Even sodas that you sipped a bit of and forgot about for days are gone. The only thing that was left untouched was anything that had its packaging intact, and his pristinely kept portion of egg fried rice, which is still in its original plate and covered in cling wrap, like how you asked him to.

You were perplexed at his choices. Why would he eat stale leftovers and not freshly prepared or untampered-with food? You tried thinking hard about it, and the only conclusion that sounds plausible enough to you is that... he thinks they aren't poisoned. Logically, if you were evil, you probably wouldn't poison your own unwanted leftovers but would instead do so to enticing, fresh, and delicious batches. Like the dish you prepared for him outside his supervision.

With the short time that he could have possibly done this, he must have eaten everything cold. You don't think he could have cleared out most of your fridge from unappetizing leftovers if he took the time to microwave each thing. You felt bad for the man, but it's not like you forced him to do it. Neither could you stop him.

You're too tired to do the dishes now. And it's going to wake him up, so you're planning to do them sometime tomorrow. Though he should have done it instead.

You tiptoed to where he was lying and saw that his eyes were fully closed. His arms were crossed, and his chest rose up and down as he breathed. You know that it can get quite cold at night, so you went and took out a folded blanket. It would be a nice gesture to drape the fabric over him, but seeing that he probably wouldn't appreciate that, you placed it near him instead. He will put it on himself whenever he wants to.

You switched the lights off before retreating back into your room, locking the door behind you.

You unfortunately couldn't get much sleep that night. Worrying about what Cain might do to you or your beloved home, you became hypervigilant. Every little noise causes you to jerk in place, and you perceive everything as danger now. Luckily, tomorrow is your off day, and you wouldn't really need to worry about responsibilities. Maybe you should ask him to come with you to the grocery store and figure out what he wants to eat.

And here comes the sunrise. You felt groggy and completely like shit. But you're alive and well. Exhaling a breath of relief, you got out of bed and opened the door with caution, expecting to see that the state of your living room had been turned upside down. But no.

It's pretty much the same as how it was left last night, with the dirty dishes, except Cain isn't to be found anywhere, and the blanket was messily strewn on the couch. No notes, no indication as to where he might be at this time of day.

You noted that a pot was used. Checking your freezer, it seems like he ate a good chunk of its contents. Again, the only things that were missing were freezer-burnt leftovers. Oddly didn't use up the chicken nuggets or fish fingers. The fried rice was still untouched in the fridge.

The day went by uneventfully, aside from having more dishes than usual to wash, you spent your time doing what you would usually do. Cain was still out there, somewhere. You hope that he's not getting in any more fights, but you knew that a free, fiery spirit like him can never find himself outside of trouble.

At one point, you got ready to go to the grocery store.

You left your room and locked the door. Then, you began walking towards the direction of the bus stop with your eyes glued onto your cracked smartphone. You were making a list of things that you're supposed to buy, but it seems like you didn't learn your lesson since the last time you biked and texted. As you kept going, and going, and going--

You choked when you felt a powerful tug on the back of the neckline of your shirt. This inevitably made your phone slip out of your hand and hit the asphalt, where a car that's been sounding its horn continuously ran over it and utterly destroyed it this time. You stumbled as you tried to regain your balance.

"Watch where you're fucking going!" You heard that familiar yell in your ear, but you couldn't escape it as he held you tightly by the shirt. "You're no better than the deaf and blind with that damn thing, good that it's fucking destroyed now, maybe then you'll learn to pay attention!"

You stammered apologies as he gave you an earful, you tried to pry his grip away from your shirt, but to no avail. He lets out an exasperated groan before letting you go. You immediately tried retrieving whatever is left of your pancaked phone, but Cain grabbed you by the shirt again to prevent you from getting hit by an oncoming truck. Which also further flattened your beloved device.

"Leave it! You can't do shit with it anymore." He dragged you away from the electronic gore scene. You frowned, feeling a sense of despair, and were about to cry from your loss, until-

"Where the hell are you even going, anyway?" He lets you go, but grabs onto both your shoulders. Probably to prevent you from turning around and making a mad dash for your pulverised phone.

You told him that you wanted to go to the grocery store. You then asked where he went, which doesn't seem like a good idea because it sets him off further.

"Mind your own fucking business! I do what I want, I go wherever the hell I want." He barked.

Hypocrite, you thought.

Before you could say anything, Cain dragged you along with him. You struggled to keep up with his large strides. You wondered where he was taking you until you saw the bus in sight. Oh. Not the exact bus that you wanted to take, but it still brings you to a grocery store nonetheless.

He made you get on the bus first, you greeted the bus driver, paid for your and Cain's fare. You knew he probably would just pick a fight with the driver if you didn't.

The ride wasn't very riveting. Neither of you talked, and you get the sense that he probably wouldn't appreciate you prying into his life. You noticed that Cain was carrying a duffle bag that wasn't there yesterday; it's not yours either. The curiosity was killing you, but you're too afraid to ask.

The bus dropped the two of you in front of a suburban shopping mall. Not only does it have a supermarket, but it also has a bunch of other stores; the only thing you can afford there is to leave.

You looked at Cain. He looked at you. And he gestured with a jerk of his head to move along. He is definitely someone who isn't big on words.

He followed behind you, and you wonder if he has a goal here. You deduced that he doesn't like walking next to or ahead of you unless he knows where to go. As you tried to match your pace with him, Cain would slow himself accordingly. There were many times when you would peek over your shoulder to see how Cain was doing, and you always caught him staring ahead, around him, not necessarily at you, with a neutral look. His hands would be tucked into the pockets of his ripped jeans with his duffel bag slung over his shoulders.

However, each time you looked behind you, Cain appeared more and more visibly irritated.

"Might as well walk backwards!" He was loud enough to garner some attention nearby. You quickened your pace and stopped looking over your shoulder.

"What? Think I can't handle myself? Huh? You think I'm some fucking pervert? Huh?" He continued snarling at you, but now in a quieter tone, nonetheless still threatening. "Just keep walking, don't piss me off." You were so relieved that he didn't demand an answer to that question, and the rest of the journey, it was as if your head was locked to face only forward.

You're terrified of him, even such a simple, small thing as this sets him off. At first, you thought that he didn't have any rhyme or reason to his outbursts. Until you noticed that people all around you are avoiding eye contact with Cain, and he seems content. You wonder if he just doesn't like to be perceived, either in a good or bad light. Perhaps that's why he gets neurotic over certain types of help- unsolicited and pushy ones are met with great resistance, but if you just leave it out with the implication that he is free to use it, he would take it with no fuss.

You're still a bit salty over your umbrella. Maybe that's why you're psychoanalyzing him in broad daylight; it feels better to think that you're helping a mentally ill person instead of someone taking advantage of you.

Upon reaching the supermarket buried deep inside the mall, you took a trolley with you, but made the mistake of asking him to put his heavy-looking duffel bag in it.

"Fuck off." He hissed before stomping away into one of the aisles. Well. You should have known, no good deed goes unpunished.

You made your rounds, buying whatever you could remember from your list, feeling that fear of accidentally making eye contact with him and getting yelled at in public. So, to other customers and staff, you just looked so engrossed in picking your fresh produce. Each time, you instinctively reached for your phone in your pocket, only to remember that it's been destroyed. It felt painful, you almost wished that you were flattened instead of your electronic companion.

You think that he had passed you and your trolley multiple times, but you kept your gaze down in fear of accidentally inciting a one-sided fight with him. But you recognize him from his tattered shoes, ripped jeans, and duffle bag. You don't know what the hell he is doing, periodically standing next to your trolley for a few seconds before leaving you on your own again.

And finally, you're done. You decided to look up and search for him. Think of the devil, he emerged from the snack aisle. But with nothing to buy.

You told him that you're ready to check out. He stayed silent, but gestured for you to lead the way.

It went by without a hitch. Cain wasn't with you at the cash registers; you don't know where he was until you left the supermarket and saw him waiting there, leaning against a pillar and looking terribly unapproachable.

You told him that you're heading to the food court to grab something to eat. You were about to ask what he wanted to have for lunch, until you realized that it probably isn't a good idea. So you left it at that.

"Go." He ordered.

You hope that over time, he becomes nicer to you.

So you took multiple escalators up, window shopping on the way to the food court, pretending that you do not have a live grenade of a human man trailing behind you.

You were half expecting him to yell at you for taking too long to get there, as he seems like he's the type to not like beating around the bush. But even if you were staring at a clothed mannequin, a gaming console, a flat screen TV, or otherwise for a ridiculous amount of time, he didn't complain. It was only when you accidentally looked at him directly does he had a problem with it. You quickly learned to just ignore his presence as a self-preservation measure.

Upon reaching the food court, you made a beeline for the nearest stall. It happened to be a company that sells typical Western fast food: burgers, fries, and the lot. You decided to conduct an experiment that involves you buying two burgers, nothing else. No drinks and no sides. You hypothesize that if you give him something as a token of appreciation, he would accept it.

So when your food came, you and Cain sat down at a table.

You told him that this burger is for him. Almost instantly, he snapped, "I don't want it."

Then you said that it was to thank him for not letting you get hit by a car and a truck earlier today.

He became silent.

You unwrapped your burger and took a bite. As soon as you swallowed that bite, Cain snatched it out of your hands and began munching on it, pushing his unwrapped burger towards you.

You couldn't help but ask why he only eats the things you've already eaten.

He, too, couldn't help but ask: "Why are you up in my business all the time?" This time, there wasn't too much hostility. It was more neutral sounding, a bit more bored than usual. You noticed that he's a fast eater; he had already finished half of it at the end of his question.

You chose your answer carefully, even considering not answering at all, but ultimately you said that you think he is interesting to you.

He scoffed and shook his head, scrunching the empty wrapper. "Nothing is interesting about me." You think he's somewhat flattered despite hiding it under layers upon layers of rudeness.

You opened your mouth to disagree and make your case, but he cuts you off:

"Eat your damn burger." He aggressively pointed at it.

You took that as a signal to end the conversation.

But he decided to add in a bit more precious information:

"Give it to me if you can't finish it."

And you took that as a reward for your bountiful patience.