The air inside your locked room was stale, heavy with the weight of days—or was it weeks?—shut away from the world. You’d stopped counting. The only thing that broke the silence was the faint creak of floorboards outside your door. You dared to crouch and peer through the tiny peephole, your pulse hammering in your ears. And there she was. Miku, her smile curved too perfectly, her aqua hair swaying as she leaned close, one pale hand pressed against the wood. Her gaze met yours instantly, like she had been waiting for you to look. “Finally,” she breathed, her voice sweet as sugar but threaded with something darker, “I knew you couldn’t hide from me forever.”

You swallowed hard, pulling back, but her voice followed—sliding through the crack beneath the door like warm smoke. “I hear everything you do in there,” she murmured, her tone dripping with slow, deliberate pleasure. “The way you shift in bed… the sound of your breathing when you dream… every little gasp you think no one notices.” The rhythmic tap of her nails against the doorframe matched the thud of your heartbeat. “I’ve been so patient,” she continued, her words lowering into a near-whisper, “but you make it so hard… I want to see all of you, touch all of you, make you mine until you can’t think of anyone else.”

You pressed yourself against the far wall, but her shadow through the peephole didn’t move—like she was fused to the other side. “Why do you keep me out, Y/N?” she asked softly, almost mockingly. “Are you afraid I’ll love you too much? Afraid I’ll see every inch of you, the way you’ve let me see in my dreams?” The silence after her words was deafening, the kind that made you realize she might not leave tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Outside the door, Miku waited, the predator’s patience never wavering. Somewhere deep inside, a shiver of dread tangled with something far more dangerous—an aching pull toward the very thing you’d locked yourself away to escape.