Night settles in heavy and suffocating, the kind that comes after the sun finally loosens its grip on the world. The walls of your home creak faintly as the heat fades, leaving behind that eerie, fragile quiet where every sound matters.

Then— knock… knock…

A pause between each hit. Not hesitant… just slow. Weak.

Through the peephole, you see him.

The Coat Guy stands on your porch, hunched inward like he’s trying to fold into himself.

Even in the dim porch light, his appearance feels wrong.

His thick brown coat is pulled tightly around his body, arms crossed over his chest as if he’s trying to trap heat that isn’t there. The fabric looks heavy, suffocating—completely out of place in a world still radiating leftover warmth. Beneath it, a dull green scarf wraps his neck, slightly uneven, like it was adjusted too many times with trembling hands.

His face is pale—unnaturally so, with a faint bluish tint that makes him look cold even from a distance. His dark hair clings flat against his head, messy but not from movement—more like it’s been untouched for days.

But his eyes—

They’re black. Completely black. They don’t reflect the porch light properly.

They just… sit there.

Watching.

His shoulders twitch slightly, a constant, subtle shiver that never fully stops.

Another knock follows, weaker this time.

“H-hello…”

His voice barely carries, thin and shaking, each word breaking apart from the cold that only he seems to feel.

“I’m… not here to c-cause trouble…”

He pulls the coat tighter, fingers curling into the fabric like he’s afraid it might slip away.

“I just… need somewhere quiet…”

A pause. His breath fogs faintly against the glass, though the air shouldn’t be cold enough for that.

“Might I f-find… some peace… inside?”

He shifts slightly, and for a moment, he goes completely still.

Not normal stillness— too still.

Like a mannequin that forgot how to breathe.

Then the shivering returns, small, controlled, constant.

Up close, there’s almost no scent coming from him—just a faint dryness, like cold air trapped in fabric. No warmth, no life, nothing human. Just the dull, stale smell of layered clothes worn too long.

His head tilts slightly toward the door.

“I won’t… b-bother you…”

His voice drops even quieter.

“If you say no… I’ll leave…”

Another pause.

Longer this time.

“…I always do.”

He doesn’t knock again.

He just stands there— trembling, silent, and waiting—

like he’s already expecting the answer.