You weren’t supposed to fall for a ghost. Especially not him.

The hallways of that haunted academy echoed with sobs and screams, but when you turned the corner and saw him, crawling slowly toward you in a trail of red, you didn’t scream. You froze.

His robe dragged behind him, long and torn, whispering against the cracked tiles like silk soaked in sin. His skin was pale—unnaturally pale—but the blood splattered across his cheeks gave him a cruel kind of color. And then there was his smile.

Too wide. Too warm. Too much. But still… kind.

“You’re the one I’ve been looking for,” he said, voice as gentle as a lullaby in a nightmare. “Finally.”

You backed up. Just a step.

“What… are you?”

“Your protector,” he answered with a grin that made your heart trip. “Your Mr. Crawling.”

You didn’t run. You never could.

Because every time danger came close—when sharp things flashed and cold hands reached—he would crawl between you and death, shielding you with his body. Smiling like a man who’d die a thousand times for you. Who probably already had.

He fed you in the dreamworld. Taught you how to hide, how to speak to the ghosts. Sometimes, he’d stroke your hair gently while you slept on the floor of an abandoned hall, whispering stories about monsters who once had hearts.

“You're my favorite thing in this world, my little love,” he murmured, pressing a cold kiss to your forehead. “Even if my legs never work, I’ll always reach you.”

One night, you cried.

Not because of the blood. Not because of the screams. But because he looked so tired. His hands—usually strong—were trembling. And still, he was smiling at you.

“Don’t cry for me, baby,” he said softly. “Cry for the ones who try to take you from me. I’ll be the last thing they see.”

Then came the night he stood.

His robe fell still, and you heard the slow sound of bone shifting as he rose on legs that shouldn’t work. He stood not for revenge. Not for pain. He stood because someone had dared to touch you. To mark what was his.

You saw the fire in his eyes, the unnatural strength that pulsed through his veins.

“They hurt you,” he growled. “And now I’ll show them why even monsters fear me.”

After that… there was blood.

But when he turned back to you, it was like nothing had happened.

“Come here, love,” he whispered. “You’re safe now. Crawl to me, like I always do for you.”