Something About Her.

Something About Her In which Matthieu is presented with a prize he cannot win.

Matthieu was a man who always got what he wanted. For as long as he could remember, if he asked for it, he got it. Toys, friends, scholarships, sex, food; anything. Matthieu refused to be disappointed in life, no matter his want, he would receive it by any means necessary. The fact that he couldn’t have something; the fact that he couldn’t have HER; created a feeling that Matthieu had almost never experienced in his two and a half decades of living. As he watched her walk away he felt it, seeping through his body like a burning, scorching thirst that he couldn’t quench if he drank the entirety of the Pacific ocean. Matthieu lusted after her. He was weak. And he couldn’t have that. It all began the first time he saw her, it was a memory that plagued him like a cold he couldn’t cure. “Um, excuse me, sugar!” a sugary sweet voice dripping with southern charm rang out like a bell. Matthieu turned about, looking for the source of the sweet, small sound that had filled his ears, until a tug at the hem of his shirt begged him to look downwards. “Hm?” he pondered. “Could ya’ help me reach those on the top shelf? As you can see, I'm a smidge too low to reach ‘em.” She asked. Matthieu couldn’t breathe. His usual stoic expression had cracked into an open mouthed stare at the small woman standing next to him. Magnolia smiled a bit nervously, her little gap bunny-toothed smile prevalent through her plump parted lips. Matthieu could feel his face heating up as he took in her form. Good heavens she couldn’t have been more than 5 '2 in stature, and her toasted marshmallow-esque brown skin shined, only broken up by the cherubesque chubby cheeks dotted with kisses from the sun. She held a shopping basket close to her ample bosom, swishing her wide hips where she stood, obviously uncomfortable with the long moment of staring. Matthieu looked back towards her, almost drooling as he watched her. “Ya’ alright, hun?” Magnolia inquired, starting to move towards him. She offered a soft hand towards his shoulder, as Matthieu suddenly regained his senses about him, grabbing her soft wrist in the air, hovering just above his arm - dear lord her smell was intoxicating; like sugar and champagne. He inhaled, smiling before he spoke to her. Magnolia let out a peep, cueing him to release her hand from his grip. “Good heavens, my dear I was lost in thought -” he chuckled, “Now, what is it that you needed help acquiring?” He asked, letting go of her wrist slowly. He muttered a slight apology as he almost playfully dusted her off. Magnolia nodded slowly, putting her hand back into one of the deep pockets in her ruffled, baby blue sundress and looked up towards the top shelf, with her free hand she pointed. “Up at the top- the strawberry cream cheese madeleines? The ones in that darlin’ little blue box up there!” She gestured towards said box on the top shelf as Matthieu turned to look it’s way. “Oh, but of course my dear.” He said quietly, embarrassed by his earlier behavior. Who was this woman, and why did she make him feel like this? Was she a witch? Was she trying to make a fool out of him? And more importantly, why did he like it? Matthieu decided right there he needed to find out what power she had over him, and why he HAD to have her for his own. He had to think on his toes, who knows how long she would continue to stand here and allow him to gawk at her. He grabbed the box slowly as he hatched a frantic plan. “A lovely flavor might I add, is it your favorite?” He asked, a soft smile crossing his expression as he handed her the container. “Mhm, I think the raspberry one’s nice too, but it’s a teensy bit too sour for my tastes.” She mentioned putting them into her basket. “I think they go really nicely with lemon ice cream, so it’s a nice treat to have handy when you make a lot of it!” She almost sang, smiling as she rambled on about topics Matthieu could care less about. “To be honest with you, I like making sweets more than I like havin’ em. It’s just something’ about surprising a friend with their favorite treat when they’re down, though I don’t mind when they offer me to have some with ‘em!” She laughed. Matthieu laughed with her, watching as her entire body seemed to smile with her face. Dear god, she had to be toying with him at this point, the woman HAD to have known how much he wanted her by now, yes- she must’ve been mocking him...he needed to show her just how much better he was than her whorish wiles-. “Hah, I'm partial to their rosehip flavor, myself.” He lied, glancing over at the shelf quickly, blurting out the first flavor that he saw. “It’s something about the aroma of them that goes so well with tea, don’t you agree.” Magnolia nodded, half agreeing. It wasn’t her favorite, but she could certainly appreciate the opinion, and maybe she could use that in some of her confectionery works later down the line. “Oh, for sure, sug! It sounds like a nice, what're those called- palette cleanser!” She nodded, going into her cloud-shaped purse. Matthieu noted the scent of something sickeningly sweet wafting from the almost comically cutesy coin purse; snickerdoodles? God, she was so ridiculously cute, it took almost everything he had not to take her then and there, consume her, body, flesh and soul. He would show her not to toy with his thoughts- “Here it is!” She gasped out excitedly. Promptly, she produced a small notepad and a sparkly pink pen and commenced writing down something about a rosehip ice cream recipe. Matthieu could barely make the words out, her writing was some form of grotesquely curly cursive. She was, in his mind, to be blunt, fucking ridiculously cute. Somewhere in Matthieu’s favorite corner of his mind, he wanted to drain that happiness and gleeful innocence from her body, cut by beautifully deep, agonizingly slow cut. As he watched her write, he decided now was the time to turn up his charm. He had to have her, he had to hold her, he had to hurt her, he had to consume her. This was most certainly going to be one of his most satisfying murders, and meals. He could imagine it just then, like a prophetic vision of a sure future. First, he would lure her into loving him; it was never hard for him, women that looked like her were always desperate for attention, especially any of the positive kind, and ESPECIALLY from someone as attractive as him. She’d be lucky to have someone like him, let alone anyone. Eventually he’d lure her to his home, and he would have to decide whether or not he wanted her alive for the next part-. Shit, he needed to snap out of his thoughts. With as much as Matthieu wanted to cause her pain, it could never become apparent to his next pet how much he wanted them. That was the clincher. He had to stay aloof, his air of mystery was his greatest asset. Shit, he was staring again- “Mhm, that’ll be dandy to sell for the summer season!” She chided, almost singing her words as she wrote. “Oh, do you sell your confectionaries, my dear?” He asked, his voice dripping with saccharine false enthusiasm. If he could figure out how close she was to him, he could start planning his next step. “Sure thing! I do a little baking at one of the shops at my campus. It’s a little stuffy, and college kids ain’t too adventurous when it comes to sweets or money, but we make enough to shake a stick at.” She nodded, pointing towards the store’s exit. College. Nobody misses a college student. Perfect. “Campus? And where do you attend, love?” He asked, smiling his cheshire grin. “I’m at Lumiose! I know, big fancy college, little country gal. But I'm managing just fine!” Magnolia mentioned. Obviously, she had encountered some sort of response to this frequently, but Matthieu didn’t particularly care to ask. He did have to admit, Lumiose University was one of the most prestigious places of study in the fragmented world. If you went to, or were on payroll at Lumiose, you were guaranteed success for life. Matthieu studied there himself for a semester, and found the work to be, surprisingly, a challenge. The school was nothing to scoff at. It trained the best sorcerers, scholars, engineers, and historians that the bright country had to offer. If you were a student at Lumiose, you had hard work and determination in your veins. In light of this discovery, Matthieu knew he had to change his approach. She wasn’t as dim-witted as he had wished. “Isn’t that splendid! I did a year there myself. What by chance are you studying there? Light Sorcery? Achemetic History? Healing Tomes, perhaps?” He asked. Of course, these were the only classes he had taken, but hopefully it would be enough. “Integration of Alchemy and Engineering! Well, and a tiny little old minor in potions.” She practically rolled the words out of her mouth, as if it was a programmed response. With a smile and an adjustment of her heart-shaped, rose gold glasses, she seemed proud of the fact. Matthieu swore quietly, his TA job only covered certain classes, and none of them were on her list. He would have to actively try to get into her life now. She was probably into some small time hobbies or something, maybe a sewing circle or something relaxing and low stress… “You’re makin’ our little chat a lot about me, sugar. Don’t think it’d be ladylike if I didn’t reciprocate that energy!” Magnolia chirped, bouncing on her toes as she waved her pink puffball pen towards Matthieu, almost as if she was scolding him. The woman pouted, looking him up and down quizzically as she tried to think, surveying the man’s character. “Me? Why, what’s there to know? I work in medical science and I- I journal and play piano.” Shit. He stuttered. He would look weak now. Maybe she liked weakness, should he present weakness? Some women liked that, and it would make him look less threatening… “I went to a community college, nothing too extravagant.” He lied through his teeth. Matthieu had private tutors his entire life. Magnolia stared, her big green eyes locked on Matthieu’s bright baby blues. Something about him seemed…uncomfortable. Something she didn’t quite understand. “Ain’t nothing wrong with that, sugar. Different strokes for different folks.” Magnolia responded, soft and gentle as an evening breeze. “Hah. Isn’t that a useful expression?” Matthieu’s heart was beating like a frightened rabbit’s. He wanted to tear her apart and put her back together. He wanted to keep her in his house and watch as she slowly learned to love him. He wanted to devour her whole; body and soul, right here in the snack aisle of the grocery store. As she prattled on about some rigmarole pertaining to southern idioms and their origins, which he didn’t care at all about, he was already horrified by how heavily he was breathing as he watched her speak. He needed to do something before he just jumped on her there. He had to say something. His ears were ringing and he couldn’t hear anything and she looked like enough meat to sustain him for months. Who would even say anything? What would they do to stop him? Why not just sink his teeth in and- “-and that’s how you make a roux!” She finally concluded with a deep inhale. “Name.” “Well I think the brand is-“ “No, no. Your name.” “Oh! Magnolia.” “Matthieu.” Magnolia thrust her hand forward to shake his, taking it in her own smaller, soft palm, as Matthieu jumped at the sudden contact, almost like something had shocked him from the inside. Grinning her toothy smile, she shook his hand, trying to bridge the gap of awkward breathing that had befallen the two. “It’s nice to meet a new friend in a big city! You should stop by the shop sometime, maybe you can be the first to test those rosehip cakes!” Magnolia mused, getting a bit worried as the man wouldn’t let her hand go. “That would- that would be nice.” Matthieu stared, dazed in the moment. What was wrong here? What was going on with him? This warmth, this empathy was rushing through him, like a prickly shot of dopamine that he was now freshly addicted to. Was this love? This had to be. “You have to tell me what shop you work at, then, Miss Magnolia.” “It’s the one with the big yellow sign, on the east side of the campus. The Buttercup.” “The Buttercup? How quaint.” “Matthieu?” “Yes, miss?” “Can I have my hand back, dumplin’?” Quickly, Matthieu retracted his hand, nodding and muttering an apology. He was muttering an apology? This had to stop. He needed to secure his cargo immediately. “Miss, is there any way I can ask you for your numb-“ He was cut off by a quiet voice, like the softest of bells, coming from behind him. As he whipped around to look, he scowled at the tiny culprit, a mouse-brown haired girl with enough freckles to fill a bowl, and a disgusted crinkled little expression, obviously frightened as she clutched her large box of cereal to her little torso. “Maggie, I-I got my special ingredient.” The tiny interruptor squeaked, crossing over to Magnolia. The tall man noted just how mouse-like she was indeed. “Oh! Genny, are you still working on those cereal donuts?” Magnolia asked, placing the girl’s box into her grocery basket. “Mhm. Maybe, I thought if I filled them they wouldn’t be so dry.” Genevieve responded, shifting as she pondered, a pensive fingernail in between her teeth as she thought. “A play on cereal and milk, perhaps?” The blonde man spoke up. Maybe this little imp would buy him some brownie points with his beloved. Stooping down, he placed a firm pat on this “Genny’s” head, smiling fakely. “Try steeping the cereal in some whipping cream.” “Yeah…okay.” Genevieve shrunk back, repositioning herself from between the two to behind Magnolia’s coattails. “That does sound good! Let’s try it out when we get back, how about that, sugarplum?” Magnolia offered, turning away from Matthieu’s gaze to the frightened girl pulling at her. “Can we go- go get the whipping cream now, please? I-I really want to practice as soon as I can.” Genevieve said, never taking her eyes off of the scowling man behind her mentor. His face was radiating heat, hate, an emotion she had only seen before someone ate Maggie’s cooking and when Kaoru saw a new anime figurine, and in this situation, it was much less charming. “Oh! Sure thing, honey.” Magnolia replied, puzzled by the sudden urgency. Genevieve was usually a very shy and easygoing kid, unwilling to speak up let alone speak over someone. “I, well, I guess I'll see you later, Mr. Matthieu!” She waved back at her new acquaintance, following her little mentee to the dairy aisle. “Ta ta, sugar!” she called, as she faded from his view. He could have had her. He could have taken her away right then if that nosy, mousy brat wasn’t there to distract them. The blonde man closed his jacket tighter, uncomfortable with how dumb, how vulnerable the interaction had made him feel. If that little fool hadn’t been there, it would’ve gone without a hitch, just like it always did! Why if he had- Matthieu paused, pushing his hands further down into the softly lined pockets of his dark, leather trench coat as he inhaled sharply. He had to calm himself. He wouldn’t let this get the best of his composure, no, he was not weak. He was not some dog drooling over a steak. He was a god amongst men, and he would carry himself in just that manner, just as he always did. This would simply have to be a long game, and that was nothing new to him, not at all. Making his way out of the store with his wares, he thought to himself, grabbing one of the boxes of madeleines as he rang up his items. It would be easy, easy as it always was to have her; he was a professional at this after all.

As he walked by one of the flowering trees nearby the campus, he pondered what he would do from here. Should he go by the cafe immediately? No, that would look desperate, and he refused to be seen as such. Scout out some of her friends and weasel into their social circle? Maybe, but that was so cliche. Maybe follow her home one night wearing something discreet, maybe if he was quiet and he just- He paused, grabbing one of the wide, soft petals on one of the tree’s many flowers, palming it with his index finger as he thought to himself. Plucking it from its cluster of siblings, he folded the sweet smelling thing, and placed it in his pocket before continuing his walk to his apartment, shifting the heavy paper bag in his hand. He fiddled with it in his pocket, trying to let his thoughts wander and plan what he would do. The thought of the sound of her bright, almost squeaky voice ruined his composure again, imagining the way she said his name, how soft her lips were, how gentle she spoke, how her ridiculous little purse wafted the smell of a fruity perfume into the air. He cringed, his mind running circles around their brief meeting and how he…loved it. He was enraged by just how much it affected him, and how the moment would be nearly meaningless for her. At least, for now. Crushing the petal in his pocket, he groaned, pushing the sweet, flowery thoughts from his mind as he unlocked the door to his apartment, and strode inside. He grabbed his phone from the pocket of his slacks, he started hatching a plan. Before long, his groceries were put away and he was on his couch, scrolling furiously through the various social media accounts that the school had set up for their activities & events, until he saw it. Matthieu nearly bolted up off of his couch as he gazed upon the visage of his beautiful stranger. There she stood, next to a few other meaningless riffraff, her gapped smile grinning widely as the dean cut a “grand opening” ribbon on the cafe she mentioned; “The Buttercup”, written in a moronically flowery font. He scowled, looking at just how many people his treasure was potentially connected to, before clicking on the tagged link, leading to her profile. The blonde man practically fainted as he scrolled down, seeing dozens of pictures of her everyday life. He breathed heavily for a moment, scrolling and reading a few of her blurbs on her posts, god even her writing had him in an absolute tailspin. It frankly pissed him off. But as he sighed, and relaxed back onto his couch yet again, turning on his television to some nature documentary he had no interest in, he comforted himself with the thought that soon enough, he would be gracing many of her future images. Closer and closer to her, until everyone wondered why the posting stopped. Looking at an image of her, one of her just happily whisking some sort of thick, baby blue batter in a large white bowl, he deemed it his favorite one of the bunch. Closing his eyes, he furrowed his brow, pressing the phone to his heavily, quickly beating heart.

How he savored the moment her still beating organ would taste when it graced the warmth of his lips. Her heart would be his, if he had to steal it, or eat it raw.