He hands me a cup of sweet nothingness, motioning for me to drink. I do.
With him, it's just so easy to just sink into a comfortable, serene happiness. But I know that he treats everybody else like this, too.
"Don't be so nice, if you're just going to leave each time," I say, even while my fingers helplessly intertwine with his. He is hidden in shadows, but I can feel a hesitant look cross his face.
He begins to speak, but I talk over him, "You always give me such delightful memories, but they're never actually real. Stop teasing me, will you?"
He is silent, perhaps remorseful. I won't admit, outright, that I'm hopelessly confused by him, but I think he understands.
"~end~"
Others have come, attracted to you. If you agree with me, then I think I should go.
As I say goodbye, you conjure up some more things that leave me thinking, so that I wouldn't dwell on you.
It almost worked.