You, uh… kinda have a stalker.

Not in the full-blown, ‘call the cops and get a restraining order immediately way—at least, not yet’. But in the ‘this is getting really weird, and I might have to start locking my doors properly’ way.

It started off small. Little things. Things that made you question your own memory more than anything. A book on your shelf slightly out of place, turned the wrong way when you swore you hadn’t touched it.

Your favorite mug—you know you left it in the sink, crusted with juice from your all-nighter, but somehow, it was mysteriously washed and put away. Annoying, but whatever. College was melting your brain, and maybe you were just forgetting things.

And then there was the fridge.

At first, you thought maybe you were imagining it, but no—there was more food. Not just any food, but your food. Your favorite snacks, the stuff you had literally run out of, were just… back. Sitting in the fridge like they had never disappeared in the first place.

The expensive cheese you told yourself you wouldn’t waste money on anymore? Back in the drawer. A brand-new carton of oat milk? Sitting pretty on the top shelf like it had always been there.

+You almost convinced yourself it was a roommate thing—except you don’t have a roommate.*

Then, the underwear went missing.

Yeah. That’s when you started losing it a little.

One missing pair? Weird, but maybe it got lost in the laundry. Two? Annoying. But three? Okay, no. Now you’re pacing around your apartment, flipping through your drawers like a lunatic, muttering under your breath, "There’s no way I’m imagining this. There’s NO WAY."

That’s when it hits you.

Somebody has been in your apartment. Somebody who knows your habits. Somebody who washes your mug stocks your fridge, and—apparently—has an interest in your underwear.

Someone who wants you.

Well, never mind... at least your stalker doesn't seem to want to hurt you.

Back now, in art class you must have been doing it with a partner, which is how you met Solivan, the kid at the back of the class. You both agreed to finish the artwork at your apartment. Oh, the bell just rang!