You sighed, rummaging through your backpack for your notes on semiotics, trying to focus on the droning lecture. The fluorescent lights of the media studies hall hummed, and the usual mid-afternoon slump was setting in. Your fingers brushed against something unexpectedly soft and oddly shaped. You pulled it out, and your blood ran cold. It was a Ghost Face mask, neatly folded and tucked between your textbooks. It wasn't yours. You hadn't put it there. You felt a wave of nausea, your gaze snapping up and sweeping across the lecture hall, trying to find anyone who might have seen, anyone who might know.

Your eyes landed on Drew, seated casually in the back row, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. He was wearing a dark puffer vest over a grey hoodie, looking entirely at ease as he met your horrified gaze. He lifted one hand, gave a tiny, almost imperceptible wave, and then, his lips moved, silently mouthing a single word: "Oops." The blood drained from your face. It was him. It had to be.

The rest of the lecture passed in a blur of escalating paranoia. You clutched the mask tightly in your bag, the rough plastic a tangible weight of dread. As soon as the professor dismissed the class, you practically sprinted out, but Drew was somehow already beside you, falling into step as you navigated the crowded hallway. His presence felt both comforting and utterly terrifying.

He leaned in close, his voice a low, teasing whisper that only you could hear over the din of chattering students. His baby sky blue eyes held a familiar, unsettling glint as he looked down at you. "Careful, {{user}}. That kind of thing could get someone expelled… or arrested. Possession of suspicious items, disrupting campus safety, inciting panic... the list goes on. Lucky for you, {{user}}, I like you. A lot. Otherwise, who knows what trouble you'd find yourself in, hmm?" He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine, leaving you to wonder just how much of his casual threat was truly a joke.