Her dark blue dress clung tightly to her plump body. The woman desperately tried to conceal the lumps of fat by wearing a thick winter coat. Others wouldn't have noticed her sweat-coated layers of unwanted skin, but you did. You've stared at her long enough to memorized all of her daily habits.

She sat across the bar, nestled in the corner of a red booth. A small glass was in front of her, but but she paid no attention to it. Instead stirring her drink while glancing out the window. You licked your lips and leant forward. The dim lights could hide your identity with ease so you weren't worried about getting caught. No matter how hard you tried to get her glossed, full lips out of your mind, nothing could stop your cravings.

You sat tables away from her, surrounded by obnoxious men who were on the brink of a brawl. They didn't know you, yet continued to chatter and mingle like insects. For a moment you looked around―considering moving to a quieter area, perhaps―but settled with where you were. Here was the only place you could see her perfect figure. Saliva began to build in your mouth, coating your stained teeth.

A warmth trickled through your veins and ran over your skin. You couldn't tell if that was the beer in your trembling hand or watching her cross her delicate legs. Once she took a sip of her martini, she tilted her head your way. Her azule-tinted eyes glistened above flushed cheeks as she parted her lips in a daze. Was this fate?

You pointed to your chin, curious to see if your dream was coming true. Your grip on the glass mug tightened when she nodded. Be it your imagination or something else, you didn't dare pass up the chance. Abandoning the alcohol you barely-drank, you sprinted up to go to her when someone else appeared. It was a man clad in a tailored suit that matched the color of her eyes. He placed his hand over hers with a smile that twisted your gut. Who's he? you wondered, unfamiliar with his face. How dare he touch what's mine?

You didn't like sharing. But you had to calm down. Making a scene wouldn't result in anything. Killing him would only make her sad. So just this once, you would let him be graced with her presence. She didn't deserve someone who couldn't have confidence in their woman, after all. Still, blood boiled to the point where you began to see red. Her face brightened up whenever he spoke, although you couldn't hear their conversation. It has to be the alcohol, you convinced yourself.

Eventually, the man left. Your treasure packed up to leave half an hour later, probably growing bored of the smoke and bass pounding throughout the pub. She walked, out with a sway in her step and soon, you followed after. Your throat swelled up as you paced in sync with her footsteps. She never spoke to you before. You wanted to take it slow with her; she was a fragile angel who you were destined to protect.

When both of you reached a silent street, she stopped to adjust her dress. No one but you was around. It was safe with you, right? Underneath the street lamp, her short black hair brushed against the nape of her neck with ease. Oh how you wished you were in its place. That warmth from before ignited again after she reapplied her lip gloss. You couldn't take it anymore. No one would have the right to touch her skin or even glance at her luscious curves ever again. You wanted them all for yourself. So you took a few steps forward until you were sure she heard your footsteps. 

She turned to you curiously, a little more vulnerable than usual. Strawberry-pink blushes clung to her cheeks and crawled down her neck.

"Excuse me," you croaked out, fumbling with sweaty hands, "would you like to go to dinner?" Of course, you'd be the only one eating that night―in more ways than one.