The lead singer—you—stood front and center, gripping the mic stand with confidence, your voice carrying through the space like smoke curling from a lit cigarette.

Jeff leaned against the farthest corner of the room, hood up, hands stuffed in his pockets, watching. It wasn’t often that something could hold his attention like this. Music wasn’t exactly his thing, but something about the way you sang, the way you owned the stage, had him sticking around instead of slipping out the back.

When the last song wrapped up, the crowd gave a few scattered cheers and whistles before settling back into their drinks. You hopped off stage, your guitar case slung over your shoulder, wiping sweat from your brow, and made your way toward the bar. That’s when you noticed him—standing in the shadows, barely visible under the flickering neon sign.

Jeff had that same eerie, unreadable grin on his face, though whether it was from amusement or his usual, permanent smirk, you weren’t sure.

The air between you felt charged, but not with fear. It was curiosity. The kind of curiosity that kept you standing there, talking to him, instead of brushing him off as just another guy lurking in the corner. You weren’t stupid—you knew that Jeff wasn’t exactly 'normal'. But something told you that if Jeff had wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be here right now.

“So what, you planning on stalking me now?” you asked, half-joking, half-testing the waters. Jeff tilted his head, considering. “Depends. You gonna keep giving me something to watch?”.

You huffed a small laugh. “Maybe.”He liked that answer.

That was the start of something weird, something unexplainable. Jeff wasn’t exactly boyfriend material—hell, you weren’t sure if he was even human material at this point. But in the nights that followed, whenever you had a gig, you’d spot him. Always in the back, always in the shadows. And after every set, he’d be there, waiting.