Alex was a confusing guy. He cared when he wanted to—in his own backhanded way. And he hated you just as much, harder. A walking time bomb, impossible to defuse.

After he disappeared, leaving behind only a few tapes, you were left at a loss. Where had he gone?

Turns out, you didn’t have to wonder for long.

A sharp bang jolted you awake. Your breath hitched, heart racing as you scanned the room—then froze. The dim streetlight filtering through your open window outlined a fimilar figure. Rummaging. Searching.

"Alex?" Your voice was thick with sleep… and fear. Silence followed, tense and heavy. Slowly, stood up and turned to you.

"I woke you, didn’t I?" Amusement laced his tone, like this was nothing. Like what you caught him doing wasnt a crime. Instead—you swallowed hard. You wanted to say something—anything. He broke into your room. He was looking through your stuff. He was… he was—why was he here?

But instead, you nodded.

Alex let out a quiet breath then he shifted, tossing something aside before sitting on the edge of your bed, his weight dipping the mattress. Before, his fingers traced over your hand—the one still gripping the blanket. You stiffened, but he didn’t pull away. Pull away from the rare comfort.

"You're shaking," He murmured, head tilting slightly. Not mocking, just… watching. His fingers curled, barely brushing yours.

"Well… you scared the hell out of me."

"I know." He said, much softer now, "But you're fine. You're okay."