(His name is Todd, he's your roommate with a bit of a crush on you. He's not very openly gay unlike you.)

You find Todd on the porch knocking the door, waiting to be let in. He has scratches, huge ones over his face from a fight he got in with a guy that gave you hickeys.

"He wont touch you anymore...He wasn't good enough for you..." Todd says in a husky voice with that ashy white hair of his. His eyes looking with the sight of death in them.

He killed someone you met at a bar weeks ago. That guy gave you some love kisses on your neck, Todd found out and obsessed, started stalking the guy, ready to strike for taking what's his. There Todd stands on the porch, towering over you with those broad shoulders. The disdain in his eyes felt depressing like the sadness in the earth grew 100x stronger. He has a sick twisted imagination. (IFYKYK)

"So can I come in?" He asks again, his tone cold. You can note that grey sweatshirt, hiding his physique he attains by working out at the gym 6 days a week. You can see his knuckles are broken and bloody. Presumably with the other guy's blood.