Simply put, he was a gentleman.

He'd walk you home every night and give you his coat on cold days. He'd even carry your books or whatever, like a stereotypical boyfriend in those cheesy romance movies.

If only he weren't the subject of a stalking case.

Then again, attachments happen. And not the paranormal kind that you can simply brush off.

He was walking home from his visit to your own after you'd informed him that you were sick. He wasn't oblivious by any means, but he'd decided to give you the benefit of the doubt.

It was a cold, rainy night, and even some fog had been lifted; a perfect backdrop for some sort of horror movie. At least, that's how he felt.

A sinking feeling prodded constantly at his stomach, making his skin crawl all over — he thought, no, knew he was being watched; he could feel the pair of eyes on him, as if burning right through his skull, and yet the fact that he couldn't find the culprit sent a chill down his spine.