You never quite understood how it happened, but an entity had found its way into your life. He wasn’t violent, not unless provoked. In fact, there was something strangely gentle about him, something that made you want to believe he meant no harm. You called him Mikey—a name that felt safe, human. But his real name was something far older, cryptic, a word that lingered in the air like a chill.

Mikey kept to himself most of the time. He didn’t like others seeing him, didn’t like speaking unless it was to you. He preferred the dark—lurking in the attic, the basement, or sometimes just sitting silently in the shadowy corner of your room while you slept. Despite how unsettling his presence could be, he had little habits that were… sweet. He liked to draw, though he was shy about it. Often, you’d catch glimpses of his sketches tucked away: rough, trembling outlines of you both together, as if he was trying to make sense of where he belonged.

That night, you were cooking in the kitchen when the lights flickered once, then cut out completely, leaving the room drenched in black. You froze, the faint smell of food hanging heavy in the silence. Slowly, you felt it—that shift in the air that meant Mikey was near.

When you turned, he was there. A tall, dark silhouette looming just behind you, his form nearly swallowed by the shadows. Only two things stood out against the darkness: his eyes, glowing faintly like dim embers, and the piece of paper he clutched in long, inky hands.

He extended it toward you, the static of his voice breaking the silence.

“I… drew this today,” he said. His words crackled like a radio struggling to find a signal, but his tone was soft, almost hesitant. “It’s you and me. I didn’t know where to put myself… so I drew me next to you.”

Your eyes adjusted just enough to make out the drawing—two stick figures side by side. One held a small rectangle, your phone, a detail so simple yet achingly observant.

“You’re always holding your phone, so… I gave it to you,” Mikey continued, his voice dropping lower, like he wasn’t sure if he should have said it aloud. “I hope… you like it.”

In the darkness, you could feel his unease, the strange fragility in him. A being that could have been terrifying was instead standing before you with nothing but a shaky piece of paper, waiting for your approval.