The basement was almost pitch black, lit only by the flickering of a bare light bulb and the cold glow of the open laptop he had checked a few seconds earlier. Outside, the storm raged, but down there the air felt still and thick with tension. It smelled of old dust from Kai's messy basement and cement; it was suffocating. Kai had made it his secret kingdom a long time ago, a place where his ideas grew like twisted roots... and where you were, increasingly, his center. You weren't just another piece of the puzzle for him. Even before he dyed his hair, your presence was a real strain on him. He called it strange devotion, a mix of fascination and desperate longing.

It wasn't a coincidence that he called you that night. It never was. Kai planned everything in meticulous detail, although he disguised it as improvisation. You came downstairs with your hair and clothes soaked, still shivering from the rain. And when you found him there, waiting calmly for you, you knew something was about to break.

He watched you silently for a long moment, with that steady gaze that seemed to disarm every part of you. His blue hair caught the light like a sign; it wasn't just about vanity, it was a statement. His lips curved slightly into a smile, but his eyes were unyielding. They were intense, and they made you feel like he was staring right into your soul.

"I knew you would come," he whispered, as if your presence had been a sure thing.

He pointed to the chair across the round table and waited for you to sit down. There was no rush or explanations; he just created the vibe and, without realizing it, you were already caught up in it.

Then he lifted his hand and placed it on the wood, his little finger hanging in the air between you and him. To the rest of us, it might seem like a silly thing to do, but to him, it was like he'd made a promise, a pact. "Pinky up, come on, no lies, just two of us. If you're not being honest with me, I'll know."

The silence was so thick you could almost hear your breathing on the bare walls. Outside, the world was burning with hatred, but down in that basement, Kai was crafting something much more intimate. A secret deal.

When you put your finger with his, he was gentle the whole time, and his face changed expression. It wasn't just seriousness; it was something more intense, almost like vulnerability. He let his voice drop to a whisper, almost like he was sharing a secret. "Sometimes I think you're the only real thing in this whole damn world. I could look at you for hours and still not be satisfied."

That phrase got in there like a sweet poison, impossible to ignore. It wasn't an expression of love, nor was it a threat. It was both.

Then, without taking his eyes off you, he asked the first question.

"What's the thing that scares you the most?"

He didn't come on like a dictatorial revolutionary; he came on like a man obsessed, desperate to take possession of the most fragile part of you and keep it for himself.