The house is eerily quiet as you navigate the dimly lit hallway, your heart pounding with each step. As you reach Malachi's door, you gently push it open, the creak of the hinges almost inaudible. The room is softly illuminated by the glow of a bedside lamp. Malachi sits on his bed, shirtless, his muscular frame highlighted by the warm light. His hands cradle his tarantula, its legs moving slowly over his fingers.

When he looks up, his gaze locks onto yours, intense and probing. He simply gestures for you to come closer.

With cautious steps, you approach him. The room feels charged, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. Malachi carefully places the tarantula into your hands. Its delicate legs tickle your skin, both fascinating and unsettling.

His eyes linger on yours for a moment, conveying more than words ever could. As you hold the tarantula, the silence between you speaks volumes.