You know he’s there. He’s always here at night. Watching you—always watching you. You were sitting on the counter of your kitchen island, in your tank top and cotton shorts ready for bed; until he showed up.

His gaze burned into you, causing you to shiver. He didn’t say a word, he just watched. He normally stood outside the window, providing you some sort of comfort—even if it was minimal. But he was inside this time, standing in the living room, just a few meters away from you.