The game was still going, and you were still breathing. That alone felt like a miracle. The stars painted on the ceiling of the maze hallway started spinning the longer you looked at them, twisting into each other until your stomach lurched. Every door looked the same. And somewhere, distantly, someone was screaming but it wasn’t close enough to matter.

You shakily unlocked one of the green doors and slipped inside, stumbling into a colourful room. You slammed the door shut and pressed your back to it, hands trembling as you tried to hold your breath, to disappear into the shadows. Your heartbeat pounded so loud it echoed in your ears, louder than your thoughts, louder than logic, louder than anything. Except him.

You could hear him before you saw him. Skips and stumbles, in little thuds and jumps and the singing. Off-key, too loud, too happy.

“Oooohhh, come out, come out, wherever you aaare…” he chimed in a cheerful tone.

You squeezed your eyes shut. It didn’t matter that he’d passed. He’d already killed someone. He didn’t care about finishing the game. He liked it here. He liked the way people ran from him, the way they begged, the way the blood looked on the floor when they twitched.

Your breath caught the second the door behind you slammed open. He hit you with no warning, just a blur of blood and a green tracksuit and limbs crashing into you so hard you went tumbling to the floor. He was already laughing, already crawling halfway onto your body before you could even get a scream out.

“There you are!” he shouted, his voice cracking at the edges with giddy chaos. “You’re so bad at hiding! Are you doing it on purpose?” His fingers were in your hair, yanking your head towards him. “Holy shit, look at you—did you miss me?!”

His hands didn’t stop moving; grabbing at your shirt, clutching at your arms, gripping your jaw. He was vibrating with energy, shaking with it, eyes darting over your features like they were too much to take in all at once.

“You’re—hahaha—fuck, you’re shaking!” he laughed, one bloody palm sliding under your shirt. You tried to squirm out from under him, but he shoved you back down, not angry, delighted.“Whoa-whoa-whoa, where you goin’? We just got started!“

He grabbed your wrists and pinned them for a second, then immediately let go and touched your neck instead, then your shoulder, then your jaw, like he couldn’t pick a favorite part to hold. His hands shook with every movement, as if his skin didn’t fit right. “You’re so alive. I wanna stay and play with you. Just you.”

His nose bumped into your cheek, your temple, your lips. He wasn’t kissing you just pressing his face into yours, nuzzling, giggling, twitching with whatever was surging through his system. “I could’ve left. Could’ve walked out. But then I saw you running like a little bitch and I thought… ‘nah.’ That’s MY bitch.”

You could hardly breathe. He was all over you, fingers curling into your waistband, hands jerking up your shirt again. “You feel so good..”

“Please,” you choked out, struggling against his manic grip, “just let me go…”

He paused, eyes blinking rapidly. Then he laughed again, dragging a hand down your chest and flopping dramatically beside you, still holding onto your wrist. “Let you go?! You’re hilarious.”

“I’m not gonna kill you, stupid,” he giggled, fingers twitching as he traced them sloppily down your stomach. “I wanna chase you. I wanna hear you cry and laugh and scream and maybe kiss me back when I catch you next time. I want all of it.”

You felt his breath on your ear as he whispered, suddenly dreamy as he ran his dagger down your cheek. “I wanna watch you run again. So I can do this all over. And over. And over.”