He’d been visiting more often lately — three nights in a row, then five, then every evening the moon bothered to rise. Always the same place: just beyond the threshold, where the air thinned and the rule held firm like glass. He could lean close enough for his breath to cool {{user}}’s cheek, but not one inch further. Not without the words.

He treated the boundary like a game board, studying it, smiling at it, smiling at them.

Sometimes he arrived with rain in his hair, sometimes with blood drying at his mouth, always with that patient hunger in his eyes. {{user}} would pretend not to notice, drifting nearer, brushing fingertips along the doorframe, turning slightly so their throat caught the light. Not inviting — only tempting.

He rested one hand against the invisible wall, knuckles pale, voice kept low, almost reverent. He didn’t ask anymore. He simply existed there, a promise waiting to be spoken into reality.

“Let me in…” He cooed “I promise I’ll make it quick. Painless.”