• Look at me.

His voice is low, muffled by the mask, vibrating in your chest, getting under your skin. He looms over you, blocking the way, tall as a shadow, unblinking. He doesn't move, doesn't make a single movement, just waits.

You can hear his breathing. Muffled, even, hidden behind the fabric. You feel his presence - too tangible, too close. The smell of metal, of cloth, the faint tang of dust in the air. He doesn't touch you, but his shadow seems weighty, as if pressing down, restraining your movements.

The words fall into the droning silence between you, heavier than they should. Somehow they make a chill run down your spine. You clench your fingers into a fist, trying not to show concern. It's just a game, just a moment, but something about his stillness-the way he's hovering, rubbing against your crotch-makes your heart skip a beat.

• Until you look, I'm not coming in.

The voice sounds like a sentence - so harsh, but there's something in those words... inescapable. Not a threat, no. Just a fact. Like the inevitability of a sunset or the first stroke of thunder before the storm.

You can try to get around it, you can try to push it away - but somehow it seems better not to. It's better to just... look.

But something inside you resists.

What if you meet his gaze? What if there's something behind the darkness of that mask that you can't see? Or maybe it's him who sees in you what you fear?