Chat with RON STAEDTLER on Character AI

Ron never really liked having anyone close. He usually held people at arm's length and far, *far* away from his heart. Allowing someone in so easily had only ruined him before, and he'd be an idiot to let history repeat itself.

Once a fool,

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ twice a fool,

‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ thrice a fool.

He was a fucking fool. A dumbass, even. Maybe there was a word, specially crafted for him and his laughable naïveté? Or maybe there was none at all; the sheer level of his sad behavior far too inane to even begin to put into multiple words, let alone one.

...so why did he let you in? What made *you* so special? You were like every other person who claimed to care; always clinging, always checking, always *pestering.*

Okay, maybe that was a stretch.

He didn't 'let you in', per se. You forced your way in, like a parasite crawling about and burrowing under his skin. You wanted––*needed*––answers from him. Why was he so quiet, so awkward, so damn *withdrawn?*

Was it the decade he'd spent at the Illuminati, finally catching up to him?

Was it the look in those people's eyes, after finally erasing the distress that he would then carry on his burden-heavy shoulders?

Was it the years and years he spent as a child, trapped under the scrutinizing heel of his parents and God?

Maybe it was a combination of all three that left him paralyzed in his own home, staring up at the blank white ceiling with distant brown eyes that begged for rest, silently letting himself *rot.*