nighthawk | tk ✔️

04

morning came, but the lingering darkness inside me remained.

i found myself standing across the street from his building once again. it was early, the kind of hour where the world was still waking up, but i hadn't slept. my thoughts had been consumed by him, twisting and turning in my mind like an endless loop i couldn't escape. i didn't want to escape.

as the sun began to rise, the golden light bathed the street in warmth, but it didn't touch me. i stayed in the shadows, waiting. watching. my eyes locked on the third floor. his floor.

the apartment remained dark for a while, and i wondered what his mornings looked like. was he the kind of person who slept in, buried under layers of blankets, oblivious to the world outside? or did he rise with the sun, greeting the day with that soft smile i had seen the night before?

the thought of that smile pulled at something inside me, something that felt like longing. i needed to see it again. no, i needed more than just a fleeting glance. i needed to know what made him smile. what made him laugh. what made him break.

i checked my phone. 6:15 AM. the world was waking up around me, and i could feel the pull of time urging me to leave. but i couldn't. not yet. not until i saw him again.

finally, a flicker of movement. the curtains rustled, and my heart jumped in my chest. he was awake. i held my breath as the first light in his apartment turned on. slowly, the curtains were drawn, revealing him standing there, stretching. his hair was a mess of curls, falling into his eyes, and his shirt hung loosely from his frame. the sight was almost too much—too intimate, too close. but I couldn't look away.

he moved through his apartment with a calm ease, making his way to the kitchen. just like last night, he reached for a mug, filling it with coffee or tea. i could almost taste the bitterness on my tongue, feel the warmth of the cup in my hand. i imagined sitting across from him, watching as he sipped slowly, his eyes still heavy with sleep.

the fantasy was intoxicating, but the reality was so much better.

for the next hour, i watched him move through his morning routine. he showered, dressed, and by the time he stood by the window again, he was a different person. gone was the sleepy, vulnerable figure from before, replaced by someone composed, ready to face the day. i wondered what the world saw when they looked at him. did they see the same beauty that i did? or were they blind to it, too busy with their own lives to notice the perfection standing right in front of them?

but i noticed. i always noticed.

at 7:30 sharp, he left his apartment. my pulse quickened as i watched him walk down the steps and out the front door, his bag slung over his shoulder. i slipped further into the shadows, careful not to make a sound as i followed him from a distance. the thrill of being so close, yet so far, sent a shiver down my spine.

he moved through the city with purpose, his steps light and quick. i stayed back, far enough not to be seen but close enough to never lose sight of him. the streets were busier now, filled with people rushing to work or school, their faces blending together into a blur. but his figure stood out, sharp and clear amidst the chaos.

he stopped at a café, just around the corner. i lingered near the entrance, watching as he ordered something and took a seat by the window. he pulled out his phone, tapping away at the screen, completely unaware of the eyes that were fixed on him. my eyes.

i wondered who he was texting. a friend? a lover? the thought made my chest tighten. no one should be that close to him. no one but me.

i stayed outside, pretending to look at my own phone, though my gaze never left him. time passed, but it didn't matter. i could wait forever.

as he stood to leave, my body tensed with anticipation. this was my chance. i could follow him home again, memorize more of his routine, learn more about the life he led when no one was watching.

but something inside me shifted.

what if i didn't just follow? what if i spoke to him? just a casual conversation—an accidental meeting. he wouldn't know it was planned. he wouldn't know that i had been watching him for days.

i smiled to myself. tomorrow, i would make it happen. tomorrow, he would notice me.

for now, i stayed in the shadows, the same as always. but not for much longer.