Stalker with a Secret

............It wasn't there before, was it?.............

Koji stepped into the apartment quietly, the soft click of the door louder than usual in the silence. The umbrella was still clutched in his hand—its curved handle slick with fading raindrops, the metal tip dull and harmless. He should have left it near the door like always, but instead, he carried it to his room without thinking, tucking it beside the dresser like it belonged there.

It didn't.

He stared at it for a moment. The shape looked unfamiliar against his things. Too tall. Too dark. Red detailing. Something about its presence felt off, but his mind was tired, fogged up by the day's nervous energy and whatever the hell had been in Zane Mobius's eyes back at the café.

That look—like he saw more than Koji ever said out loud.

He huffed. Distracting himself, the break down had left him too tired to think about today. So, as always he locked his feeling away, saved of another dreading day.

Koji reach in his bag, fingers brushing the rough, slightly sharp edges of the keychain, gifted. He pulled the strange thing out. The diamond-shaped thing caught the low hallway light, shadows flickering across the jagged red center. It was almost palm-sized, slightly too large for comfort, and heavy in a way that felt deliberate. The stone was sealed inside a dark, Victorian-looking metal frame—blackened silver with intricate etchings curling like vines or claws around the edges. Clips gripped the gem like they were trying to keep it in place... or keep something in.

A tiny vial was set into the side of the diamond. Blood-bark red liquid clung to the glass inside. Too thick to be dye. Too rich in color to be ink. Koji had no idea what it was.

He swallowed and turned away, heading toward the bathroom to shower. Putting it off

The keychain should've stayed on the table. He was sure of it.

But when he stepped out again, towel loose around his neck and hair damp against his forehead, it was there—sitting neatly on the shelf across from the bathroom door. Perfectly placed. Like someone had set it down for him to see.

He froze.

"...I must've grabbed it," he mumbled, more to the hallway than himself. "Must've... kept it with my stuff."

He didn't remember doing that. But he must have. Right?

He picked it up again. The jagged red gem was cold against his fingers, but not in a way that felt lifeless. It was more like touching something that shouldn't have warmth and yet almost did. His thumb traced the vial's shape, then the delicate metalwork—like a cursed heirloom out of a vampire drama.

It was absurd. It was gorgeous. It was not the kind of thing he would accept from anyone. Not even from a saint, and definitely not from his mother, who once gave him a book about "graining muscle mass" with a sweet note implying his body was the disappointment in their relationship.

And yet—he'd accepted this.

Willingly.

Why?

He carried it back to his room, tossing the chain onto his desk with more care than he meant to show. It landed softly, the gem glinting faintly under his desk lamp. He changed into his favorite baggy pajama pants and an oversized shirt, then settled in to do what little homework he hadn't ignored.