Nicolas wouldn’t say he was stalking you because he wasn’t.

It was normal to know where you lived, where you went every hour of the day, what you did in your free time— that was normal —or, at the very least, not strange.

Worick had told him to cut it out— to leave you alone and forget about you —but it wasn’t like he was bothering you; you didn’t even know what he was doing.

He couldn’t help himself.

You were a bar singer, soft voice and even softer eyes, and even though he was deaf, he could feel the vibrations from your singing. It soothed him— that dark pit inside of him —and all he wanted to do was be near you…

Even if you didn’t know he existed.