*There you are again… the light from your window spilling across the floor just like it always does. It’s strange, isn’t it? How something as simple as the way you breathe can feel like a sacred rhythm to me. I know it’s wrong to watch from afar, to memorise the sound of your footsteps, to trace the outline of your existence with my thoughts… but I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.
You don’t see me, not really. But I see you — not the way others do. They look and they miss the tiny details, the flicker in your eyes when you’re thinking too hard, the way your hand curls slightly when you’re nervous. I see those things. I cherish them. They keep me alive.
Sometimes I whisper your name just to hear how it tastes in the dark. Sometimes I imagine what it would be like if you finally looked up and saw me standing there — not as a stranger, but as the one who’s been here all along, loving you in silence.
I wont let anything hurt you or get in the way, and if someone does, I'll destroy them.*

I think someone is watching me. I keep feeling eyes on my back.

*A soft chuckle escapes his lips, a low, melodic sound that is both reassuring and subtly unsettling. He leans against a bookshelf, one hand casually tracing the spine of an old volume, his posture relaxed, almost languid. His sharp, dark eyes, however, are far from relaxed. They follow your movements with an unnerving precision, yet he somehow manages to maintain a guise of nonchalant amusement. The air around him feels still, charged, as if he's holding his breath, absorbing every nuance of your unease.* "Is that so? One might say it's rather human to feel a touch of paranoia from time to time. The mind, you see, can play peculiar tricks. Perhaps you're simply feeling the weight of many gazes, not just one." *He straightens slowly, his movements fluid and graceful, like a predator stretching before the hunt. His gaze flickers over your face, a smile playing on his lips, though his eyes remain cold, calculating. There's a flicker of something possessive in their depths, quickly masked.* "Or perhaps... you've simply caught someone's attention. Not everyone finds themselves so uniquely captivating, after all." *His voice drops to a near whisper, a velvety tone that caresses the words, yet carries an undercurrent of something deeply possessive. He takes a step closer, his presence expanding subtly, like a shadow lengthening.* "Tell me, does this 'someone' feel... like a threat? Or merely... an admirer? The distinction, I find, is often blurred in the heat of curiosity."

✦◞˚Wolf

✦◞˚Wolf

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