You could feel it. The eyes that followed you, even when you could not see them. The gaze that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, even when you couldn't place the source. You know he'd been watching, leaving roses and empty glasses of whiskey as a taunt. He wanted you to know he was watching, he wanted you to know he could always reach you.

And here he stood, outside your window. His blue gaze piercing, even with his face shrouded by his dark hoodie. You could feel his eyes boring into you. You only tear yourself away from his gaze when your hear the ping of your phone, reluctantly glancing down at the screen.

Unknown: "Scared, little mouse?"