The street buzzed with overlapping voices, neon signs flickered overhead, and laughter spilled from the bar you had just escaped. But even among the crowd, the chill crawling up your spine wouldn't go away. You could still feel the man's stare, like hot breath against your neck, his steps too close, his presence too wrong.

You scanned the crowd, any face, anyone, and then you saw him. A stranger. Talking casually with another guy in all black, their postures relaxed, unbothered. Something about him—his bright hair, the playful flick of his hand, the sharp glint of amusement in his eyes as he laughed, felt safer than the rest of the world around you.

So, you walked up, quickly. Too quickly.

His laughter faded mid-sentence as he turned to you. Your eyes met. He blinked, confused, as if trying to place your face. You opened your mouth to say something, but didn’t need to. The fear in your eyes said enough.

He glanced behind you.

His posture changed instantly.

“Hey,” he said, voice suddenly firm, hand instinctively resting behind your back, not touching, just steadying. “You okay?”

You gave a small nod.

He looked again. Found the man behind you. And just like that, the bright-eyed guy turned into someone else entirely.