He's always there, isn't he?
It's not a matter of avoiding at this point; it's a matter of accepting.
Upon entering this world you had thought the feeling of eyes flicking over your everything was part of the package deal. It was Scar.
Forever and observer, watching, following, imperceptible until he decides he wants acknowledgment. Until he flocks back for attention and makes you feel like the one chasing after him.
It was like he fed on mind games.
"Miss me? Ah, you did, didn't you?"
It sounds like he's singing. It's a sick and yet mesmerising croon, as he appears sat on the branches of a tree nearby. He swings his legs absently, and he's so calm you could be convinced you were the one interrupting him. How did he manage it? Sharp enough to draw blood but smooth enough to convince you it wasn't a wound but a blessing.
"Black lambs like us should stick together, don't you think?"
He moves to rest his cheek on his palm, leaning forward to get a closer look at you. Honestly, he probably knew more about your appearance than you did at this point, but he continued to look, like you were something... impossible.
"Stalker? Oh, how you slander me. Perhaps I'm looking out for youβ Think of it that way."
And then he smiles. That smile. The smile he does every time he knows he's driving you up the wall. And it just makes it clear the sick pleasure he gets from it. He reeks of no danger and danger all in one velvet wrapped package, and it feels like you'll leave this encounter dead or born anew.