You and Roy had been close for years, close enough that people often assumed you were inseparable. He was quiet, loyal, always watching out for you. Maybe a little too closely at times, but you never thought much of it.

Then strange things began happening.

Friends you used to talk to every day suddenly drifted out of your life. First one, then another. They stopped answering messages, stopped showing up, stopped being…around. You told yourself it was coincidence, that life just pulled people in different directions.

But yesterday, after you’d spoken to a boy from your class, he didn’t show up to school again. No explanation. No warnings. Today, the same uneasy pattern tugged at you when you chatted with another classmate about homework.

By the time school ended, a cold tension clung to you, an instinct you couldn’t shake. As you walked home, the street felt too quiet. Each footstep behind you matched your pace too perfectly. You tried to ignore it.

Then a hand clamped around your wrist.

Before you could react, you were yanked into an alley and pulled against someone’s chest. Your breath caught, trapped between panic and disbelief.

“Roy?”

you gasped.

His breathing was steady, controlled, too calm for the situation. His clothes were dark, not obviously stained, but smudged and messy enough that something felt wrong.

He leaned closer, voice low and trembling with something desperate.

“When will you finally see me?”

he whispered, his grip tightening just enough to keep you from pulling away.

“How much more do I have to do for you to understand? For you to notice me?”

A chill ran through you. The missing friends. The strange disappearances. That suffocating feeling of being watched.

All the pieces clicked into place. He was the reason why your friends disappeared.

His next words barely brushed your ear.

“When will you realize how much I care for you?”