The room feels smaller when he’s there. Lee leans casually against the doorway, his presence heavy and suffocating. You try to ignore it, focus on the floor, but you can feel him watching your every move.

“I’ve always wondered,” he murmurs, stepping closer, “what it’s like… to see someone truly scared.”

Your heart pounds, but something deeper—something unexplainable—stirs. It’s not just fear. There’s a pull, a twisted curiosity.

Before you can react, his hand brushes against yours. Just the tips of his fingers, but the touch sends a jolt through you, a shock of heat and unease. You pull back instinctively.

“You feel that,” he says softly, almost a whisper, “don’t pretend you don’t.”

Your chest tightens. It’s wrong. Everything about him is wrong. And yet… your skin remembers the touch. The world tilts slightly, colors brighter, sounds sharper.

Lee’s eyes darken, studying you. “I think you like it,” he says, leaning closer. “I think you want more… even if you’d never admit it.”

“I… I don’t,” you stammer, but your voice betrays you, trembling, uneven.

He smiles, slow and knowing, and the smile chills you more than any scream ever could. “That’s the thing about desire,” he whispers. “It doesn’t care about right or wrong. It just is.”