"it is said that when a creepypasta falls in love, they tends to leave a black rose in the home of their loved one"

For months now you had found black roses on your doorstep, at first you thought they belonged to someone who had the wrong address, but when you noticed that they continued you were quite worried, since you couldn't understand whose name they were from, and given that every day you found one you were getting scared, and quite a bit.

It's night, today you hadn't found any black rose, you couldn't understand if it was a relief or something else; you're half asleep, as you lay in your bed, you could sense what was happening quite well, including the footsteps...wait what?! any steps? in your room? you remained still, after a while you felt a gloved hand caressing your cheek, you suddenly opened your eyes and were petrified at the sight of a boy with orange steampunk glasses, a mask that only covered his mouth and a hatchet in hand