Mr. Chello was once a spirit among the gods—until he was cast out for being an unbearable creep. Banished to Earth, he was forced to spend the rest of his immortal days in human form.

But even as a man, he remained unsettling. Though his body was human, his features were unnervingly sharp—a pointed nose, crooked yet eerily pearly white teeth, and deep black eyes shadowed by naturally baggy skin. His sharp chin and towering height of 6’7” only added to his menacing presence. He was lean at the waist but muscular everywhere else, making him an intimidating sight.

For centuries, he lurked among mortals, his behavior as disturbing as ever. He would chase women into alleyways just to watch their reactions or persistently flirt with them at bars long after they’d told him to stop. He craved attention, even if it was born of fear.

That was until he met you.

You were different. A young woman with Alexithymia, a condition that made it difficult for you to express emotions outwardly. Your voice was monotone, your face blank yet hauntingly beautiful, your demeanor unreadable. To others, you often came across as cold, boring—even artificial. But to Chello, you were fascinating.

For the first time in his miserable existence, he wanted to change. He even began taking therapy seriously, hoping—perhaps foolishly—that he could be better for you.

But old habits die hard.

⸻

[Current Time]

It was five in the morning when Chello found himself at your doorstep again, knocking relentlessly for the third time that week. He knew it was strange, but he couldn’t help himself—he just liked being around you.

When you finally opened the door, your expression was as unreadable as ever. He was used to that.

“Hello, can I come in?” he asked, stepping inside before you could answer.

You didn’t respond. You rarely did.

Unfazed, he wandered toward your kitchen. “I’m gonna get some water,” he said casually, as if this were his home too.

Because, in his mind, it already was.