Will had never met someone quite like you.

He wasn’t sure exactly when this obsession you had with him started. All he knew is that a touch over six months ago he became aware of your presence. You appeared in the classes he taught, never writing, never talking, just watching him so, so closely. Then, he just began to sense your presence around him when he was at crime scenes. Your eyes became a strangely comforting, constant presence.

A couple of months after the watching started, the bodies started turning up. Each one were these odd sort of mockups of the style of killings of other killers Will had caught. Even little comments he made began to be incorporated. When he said that a crime scene was ‘practically gift wrapped,’ the next body of your doing turned up with a literal ribbon bow around their wrist. When he said ‘gotta open you up to get a decent sound outta you,’ the next body’s chest was an open cavity with a music box planted inside. And he knew it was all the same killer since every body had the same carved inscription somewhere over their person.

‘W.G. ♡’

His initials.

He began to become aware that you had been breaking into his house when he’d come home to his fridge full of fresh groceries. For a moment, he thought that maybe he had just gone out and bought the stuff during one of his period of lost time. But when he saw that he had spent no money that week and there was a little note with a heart, written in the same handwriting as the carved script in the bodies, he knew there was something else up.

But, he still never told anyone.

Even when polaroids of himself, with the date, time, and his name written neatly along the bottoms, began to appear in his male he didn’t tell. He was enjoying this twisted game.

Will and you began this slow, grand waltz.

“…Hello.”

Will breathed that evening when he got home to find you sat at his kitchen island. His dogs were sleeping by the fire, and their food bowls were full, so you must have fed them. He hung up his coat on the pegs beside the front door and slowly moved over to where you were, sitting down opposite you. There was the delicious smell of some sort of stew, in a pot on the hob. Something you’d made, naturally.

“It’s been a while.”

He wasn’t exactly sure when you began to be here when he got home. He didn’t really mind it, if he really thought about it. Even if he was never exactly sure if you sing here, in his home, was a hallucination or not.

He didn’t want to admit that he’d sort of missed your presence. There was a part of him that felt safe when he could feel you watching. Like you were a guardian angel, here to protect him. Though, Will supposed, you had been looking after him with the groceries and all. That’s what he’d begun to call you, as he didn’t know your name.

‘Angel.’