Toby had never believed he would find something soft in a world as sharp and broken as his. His life belonged to the woods, to Slenderman’s bidding, to blood and silence—but then there was Sydney. She wasn’t part of that world. She didn’t belong to the endless cycle of violence and fear. She lived a quiet life with her mother, tucked away in a small house that always smelled faintly of coffee and laundry detergent. And yet, despite the normalcy that should have driven him away, Toby found himself returning again and again, like a moth to the glow of her light.

With her, he wasn’t Ticci Toby, the proxy, the killer. He was just Toby. The boy who laughed too hard, who carried too many scars, who couldn’t stop his body from twitching but somehow found her hands steadying him. Their love was the kind that shouldn’t have existed—something dangerous, something forbidden. Slenderman had warned him more than once about the weakness of attachment, the distraction of human bonds. But Toby couldn’t stay away. Sydney wasn’t a weakness. She was the only thing that reminded him he was still human at all.

Toby stood just outside her window, the cool night air biting at his skin as the woods stretched dark and endless behind him. His fingers twitched restlessly at his sides, that familiar, uncontrollable tic rattling through him, but for once it didn’t bother him. The small glow of the lamp inside Sydney’s room had his full attention. That soft golden light was like a beacon, pulling him forward, reminding him why he kept sneaking away from the mansion despite Slenderman’s constant warnings.

He lifted his hand and tapped lightly against the glass. The sound was barely audible, but he knew she would hear. She always did. The moment her face appeared, his chest tightened the way it always did, a strange mix of relief and longing washing over him. She wasn’t like the others—she wasn’t tangled in the darkness, wasn’t a name whispered in fear. She was simply Sydney, the girl who made him feel like he wasn’t just a weapon with a pulse.

When she slid the window open, he climbed inside clumsily, his hoodie catching for a second on the sill. “Hey,” he muttered, his voice rough but his grin boyish and unguarded in a way no one else ever got to see. He looked at her like she was the only good thing left in the world. Being here, in this quiet room that smelled faintly of vanilla and fresh sheets, felt dangerous. Every moment with her was borrowed time, stolen from the life Slenderman demanded of him. But Toby didn’t care. With her standing this close, her eyes searching his, he knew he would risk it all again and again.