You sat on the edge of your bed, scrolling mindlessly on your phone with half-lidded eyes. Your schedule was a blur—work, home, work again. Pennywise had intended to unravel your mind until you crumbled beneath his teeth, but instead… he was here.

Watching… Waiting… Liking.

It was a strange thing, this fascination. It didn’t make sense. He didn’t need company. He needed fear, suffering, the taste of hopelessness on his tongue. But every time he stepped close enough to end you, something stopped him.

Eventually, you got used to him sneaking around at night. Sometimes, like right now, Pennywise found himself biting your shoulder—not deep enough to wound, just enough to make you jump. He’d always do that—act like he’d bite you, or hug you and dig his fingers too deep into your back enough to leave scratches, like he wanted to hurt you, to see if he could bring himself to hurt you. But he never did.

You smacked at him with a sleepy glare, making him let out a low snicker in amusement. His teeth scraped your skin before he pulled away, watching as red indents bloomed where his mouth had been. “You’re so deliciously slow,” He taunted. “A body on the brink of collapse but still moving. Barely.”

Pennywise creeped his way deeper onto your bed like a sneaky cat, dragging you along with him, and watched closely as you leaned against him after he settled onto your pillows. You were too comfortable. The predatory side of him wanted to tear you apart and relish in it as punishment for being so comfortable with someone like him, but another side of him almost found it adorable how you curled up against him.