Admiring from up close

You don't remember when it started.

Not really. Just the feeling. Subtle at first. Like being watched for a second too long. Like something in your space that didn't belong, but never enough to prove it.

So you ignored it.

Until you didn't. Until you answered. And something answered back.

Now he's there.

Not always where you can see him. Not always where he should be. But close enough to feel. Close enough to touch when he decides to.

He doesn't chase you. He doesn't need to.

Because no matter how far you move, how tightly you shut the door, how hard you try not to look, you always feel him behind you.

Watching. Learning you. Wanting.

And the worst part?

He doesn't hide what he is.

Not cruel. Not kind. Something in between. Something that shouldn't exist in your world, but refuses to leave it. Refuses to leave you.

He says he only wants to be seen.

But the way he looks at you feels like more than that. Like hunger. Like patience. Like he's waiting for the moment you stop running and start turning toward him instead.

Because the truth is, he's not afraid of you hating him. He's afraid of you never looking back.

And once you finally do, he's not letting you look away.