Work Text:
You’ve always been worried about your neighbor, and for good reason, too. Ever since he moved to Paradise, not once have you seen him step out of his home. Each time you walk down your driveway to pick up your mail, you always see the bastard patrolling the streets from his window, peering through the small crack in his pleated shades. You’ve noticed that if you were to squint hard enough, you could see the obvious fingerprints he had left on the glass. He doesn’t leave to take out his trash, so who knows how filthy his home must be? You don’t even think you’ve ever seen him leave the comfort of his home to get groceries. You silently ponder to yourself how the hell he’s still on his two feet at this point, assuming he’s on the brink of death by starvation.
The past few weeks have been different, though. You’ve been hearing rather strange noises coming from inside that house of his. Having the fence surrounding his estate being as thick as two popsicle sticks superglued together doesn’t help your case either, overhearing his manic tangents and screeches in the dead of night. Over the past week, there’ve been times where you’ve debated going over to his place and telling him to quiet down once and a while, but something in you just assumed it would all blow over soon.
To which it did not. In fact, he got even louder.
At this point, you’ve grown rather tired of his nonsensical chatter. Day by day, he’s been costing you sleepless nights and sluggish, drowsy mornings. You begin to wonder how you’d go about giving him a piece of your mind, while at the same time wondering how you’ll be able to even pull your confrontation off in the first place. While taking short, simplistic notes of his behavior, you’ve concluded that he might not even open the door if you were to go and try to strike up a civil conversation with him. Your “specimen research”, as you’ve dubbed it, of him has been rather vague while trying to describe his mannerisms.
Though you have little evidence, you’ve clearly seen that he isn’t on the same level of sanity that any of your other friendlier neighbors are on. You’ve concluded that he’s rather skittish, drawing his blinds shut as soon as a passerby were to spot him watching intensely at whatever miniscule task they were doing. It was like he was trying to figure out what’s up with the citizens of the town just as you were trying to figure out what’s up with him. However, this didn’t stop you from wanting to learn more about him.
***
Deafening, ear-splitting clattering noises could be heard from a door over, assuming what was being slammed were plates. You tossed in bed, clutching your pillow from the side. As if he was trying to break every single piece of silverware and fine china in his home, the man went on, smashing, throwing, and launching these objects at what sounded to be the insides of his fence. Then again, your assumptions may be wrong, the sounds being partially (and thankfully) muffled by your doors being locked tight. This could’ve been the most peaceful night in weeks if he hadn’t decided to start pulling this shit again. You groan sharply, hurling your plush blanket off of you and onto the floor. You begin to redress yourself of your robe and house shoes, reaching into the side drawer of your bedside table to grab a can of pepper spray if things start to go south.
The cold, harsh air slapped your face as soon as you stepped outside. After having your AC being at full blast for the entire night, finally facing the crisp night wind after a few hours was a surprise. Regardless, you press on. A sudden wave of nervousness trailed down your spine as you approached his home. For one reason or another, it had a threatening aura to it. The scuffed dirt patches showed themselves through the snow, looking as though they’d been dug out for something different. You cocked your head around the side to his home, cautiously walking towards the empty dog house in the corner of the yard. Crunching through the soft snow, you regret your casual choice of shoewear, not expecting the snow to be this deep. Hell, you should’ve just gone barefoot at this point, your heel being soaked in the sopping wet residue of snow you left in your tracks.
You continued on, stepping on unraked leaves and stray branches lying beneath the icy nightmare you trudged through. Nearing the dog house, you crouch to see if anything still remains inside. Any food, resemblance of an animal, or anything said animal would’ve left behind. Although he may be a lunatic, at least he isn’t neglecting his pet. As you get back onto your feet, you hear the rustling of plastic, assuming it was coming from somewhere close. Faint whispers of an unfamiliar voice filled the open air, causing your heart to throb heavily in your chest. You clutch your robe tight, steadily reaching for the pepper spray you brought with you for moments like these.
In your near hysterical state, you began rapidly checking your surroundings, scanning the area to spot any sign of life besides your own. Your mouth ran dry, tongue quickly coating your lips with saliva just to keep them from becoming cold and brittle. Through your half-dressed attire you felt your body temperature steadily rise, fearing what was next to come. After waiting minutes that felt agonizingly like hours, you finally spotted the source of the commotion. Your stomach dropped as you met a pair of dull, faint green eyes staring directly at you through those same grimey, fingerprint stained windows.
His eyes, celadon, hungry, and as dead as the bodies he’s most likely hiding in his fridge. They stared deep into your soul, as if reading you perfectly. They traced your face, chest, legs, all the way down to your shoes. It’s damn near obvious that he could sense your fear from a mere 15 feet away. You debated whether or not to make a run for it, but what would be the point? He’d already spotted you, if you ran he’d probably be sprinting after you faster than you know it. You froze, eyes unlocking from his gaze as he soon vanished from your sights, causing you to grip your small can as tight as you could.
The patio door flung open, causing you to release your hand from your pocket and begin to wildly spray him with the oil that you were shooting from your can.
I mean, that’s what would be happening if you remembered to open the damn thing.
In pure fear and desperation, you chucked the small can at his chest, seeming to startle him more than he had startled you. Finally getting a good look at his entire figure, he looked less intimidating than you imagined; although he was much taller, he didn’t look as scary as you thought. His hair looked greasy, he looked as if he had just got done running a marathon from how fucking sweaty he was. He swayed back and forth with a sluggish, uneasy manner. It was clear that he was struggling to keep his balance while trying to accumulate what words he was about to shoot out at you. You stared at him with confusion, lowering your shoulders and relaxing your stance. For a lack of better words, he looked pathetic.
“Leave, pl-please.” He managed to sputter out, backing towards his patio door slowly as if he regretted even coming out to face you in the first place. You stared at him like he was insane, to which you had all rights to do, and conjured up way too many questions to even count in that scattered brain of yours.
“You’re one of- one of them, aren’t you? Yo– Say something, damnit!” He hissed, his tone becoming more assertive and tense.
“One of them”? The hell is he going on about? Your expression fell flat and more or less concerned. You looked around, seriously expecting a more horrifying grand reveal than this loser. You accept your results and begin to appease his demands of an interrogation.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I came here to ask why you were making all that damn noise. Are you smashing plates in there or something?” You asked, quickly fixing your posture so as to not fool him into thinking you’d still be an easy target of his. “You know there’s people in this neighborhood who have actual jobs, right? Having to deal with you keeping everyone up with your screaming and rambling an—“
The man furrowed his brows, grabbing you by the arm and hurriedly dragging you inside of his home. Your brain was too scattered to fully grasp the situation at hand, but in no way were you fully calm about anything that was going on.
Letting go of your arm, he slammed the patio door behind you shut, hearing the quiet click of the lock following behind it. You watched in silence as he quietly conjured up how he was going to explain his situation to you, watching as he fidgeted with his fingers and eagerly scratched at his hands. They were red and coated in tiny shards of glass that were lodged deep into his palms. You could faintly hear him wincing at the pain the glass caused him as he picked at his hands. You were almost tempted to ask him what he was doing, but even having you in his very, very humble abode seemed a bit much for him on its own.
He turned back to face you, guiding you into his living room. Your face scrunched up with unfiltered disgust, restricting yourself from covering your nose from the putrid stench that emitted from the room. You couldn’t tell where it was exactly coming from, but, god, would you pay the poor bastard an absurd amount of money to get rid of it. Your eyes roamed around the room, scanning top to bottom at each photo, piece of writing, and other strange decoration that the man decorated the room with. You quickly whipped your head back to question him, but he was gone. You quietly question your situation and decide to check out your environment until he pops up again.
Through your investigation, you noticed polaroid film scattered across his table. Photos of your neighbors, garbage collectors, and even a few of you had been snapped and hung proudly on a large bulletin board he had hanging on the wall behind his couch. Both written and printed text documents stapled beside each photo, being strung and connected together with what looked to be red string. Sitting still on the table, you noticed various other food items that you had suspected have been there for at least a few days now.
Turning away from the data he had collected on the wall, you turned back to his couch. You spotted various blankets, pillows, and fast food bags. From someone you thought was dying of starvation, he seemed to be eating pretty decently now that you finally got a look at his place from the inside. Coming to spot his desk, you see his computer. You sat down at the desk and began inspecting the chunky piece of machinery that he had been also keeping his notes on.
The multicolored sticky notes filled the perimeter of the screen, slowly making their way to cover the entire front side of the power box. The desk itself was a mess of its own. Pens, staplers, and other stationery tools being scrambled about gave you the sudden urge to clean his home yourself. You opened the drawer to your right, eyes widening at the items placed inside of the desk.
You promptly closed it just moments later. It was quite rude snooping through someone’s personal belongings, isn’t it?
Your search then concluded as quickly as it began, as you soon felt him looming over you as you sat at his desk. You turned your head to face him, shooting him another repulsed expression. You lifted yourself from his desk chair, watching as his view looked down at you slightly. You eagerly awaited what he was going to say, if he was going to say anything at all. He looked like someone’s lost son in a grocery store, afraid and confused. He unlocked his gaze from you, finally beginning to explain his antics.
“They’re all sick, all of them. They’ve been trying to get me, turn me into one of their slaves” He stammered, leading you over to the bulletin board you had just seen moments ago. He pushed the couch to the side so he could thoroughly explain his visual train of thought whilst being close to all of his information. Trying to hide your expression of pure confusion, you pretended to know what the hell he was going on about.
His hands shook as he proceeded to explain his evidence, his words going in one ear and out the other. You grew rather tired of his incomprehensible ramblings, and so you interrupted him to question him. After all, you had all right to do so; he didn't make much sense.
“Listen, listen, please,” You said calmly, walking up to him and grabbing him by the wrist, thoroughly scaring him. His pupils shrank in size as he stared at your hands. You cherry picked your words carefully as to not scare him into shanking you or something. “When was the last time you left this place? It’s obvious that you don’t know what it’s like out there.” You asked cautiously, hoping to not stir any negative reactions out of him. Jesus, this man’s like a loose canon.
You watched as he visibly started to get nervous, looking around at other objects in the room as to not stare directly back at you. “A-actually, I went out a fe-few days ago. I had to get..” He paused, clearly being distracted by something much more interesting going on behind you before returning to his sentence. “I had to get dog food..for my dog, C-Champ.” The answer he gave was good enough, finally explaining the empty dog house in the back. You uncuffed his wrists and faced the board yourself, soaking in each photo and file that was sloppily plastered onto it.
He seemed so out of touch and veered away from society. Seeing as the only source of communication he has to the outside world is a dusty-looking house phone that hadn’t been touched in who knows how long and a janky computer that looked as though it took ages to boot up, you assumed that he didn’t have many friends or family that he communicated with from the town he formerly lived in. You felt the need to help him, show him that whatever he’s believing is false to finally set his mind straight.
“Alright, well, when was the last time you had someone over your house? Not for a delivery, but actually inside your home.” You further questioned, stepping back to give him his personal space. His pupils returned to their normal size and he began to think up the last time another human came to his home that wasn’t just a delivery boy for Chinese takeout. Realizing that his mind had drawn a blank, he simply didn’t answer your question. You returned to him with a sigh and plopped yourself on the couch behind him, ushering him to do the same.
He hesitantly placed himself next to you, keeping a nice yet small distance between the two of you. He breathed heavily, obviously nervous about having to speak to someone for longer than five minutes. You noticed by his posture and overall sitting position in general, he was as stiff as a board. Why, though? You leaned back more to see the open kitchen in the next room over, watching as he did the same. He sharply turned his head to face you.
“Do you want something to drink? I ha-have lots of.. beer.”
By his expression, it was clear that he meant to say a different beverage, but his word vomit caught up to him quicker than he could. You gazed up at the clock on the stove, reading 3 a.m. in its bold, illuminated lettering. Despite the time, you obliged and accepted his offer. You watched closely as he scurried off to his kitchen to grab the two of you a nice cold beer.
Coming back to the couch, he handed you the bottle pre-opened, seeing as he had yet to pop the cap off of his drink. You took a swig and watched as he opened his drink only a few seconds after you began drinking. He silently watched as a small droplet ran down your chin and onto your neck, wiping it off as quickly as it came. Finally parting his lips, he began to start up the conversation this time instead of you. It’s like he was excited to have someone to talk to besides his dog.
“How long have you been l-living here? Is it nice? Are they friendly?” He asked eagerly, knowing that you have much more knowledge on this specific part of Paradise than he does. For the first time tonight, you were actually happy to hear him speak coherently. “I heard the mountains here are b-beautiful, great ranges.” He whispered, taking another swig.
“Oh, I’ve been here for about five-ish years, I believe? I’m still somewhat warming up to the whole place, but my neighbors have been here for ages.” You replied, kicking your feet up rather casually on the messy coffee table that sat in front of both of you. “Man, you really need to hike up here sometime, amazing, really.” You chuckled, watching as his face subtly lit up. There’s so many things he’d been missing out on that he had grown a bit jealous that he wasn’t participating in such a simple and mundane outdoor activity.
Although he wasn’t very conversational before, after a few minutes of drinking he became more and more open to you. Seeing this side of him was actually sweet, endearing in a way. Neither of you were heavy drinkers, but just in case, both of you stopped drinking around a bottle and a half. Just by his mannerisms, you could tell that he was getting a slight buzz, carefully placing down his half empty Samuel Adams on the coffee table. Not that you were completely sober either, you were starting to feel a bit fuzzy.
The laughter the two of you created filled the open air, telling him about all the strange things you’ve come across while living in this town. Hearing all about your weird anecdotes amused him greatly, actually seeing him happy for the first time. He snickered, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, flopping onto the back of the couch, and moving closer to you. You felt his body heat being matched with yours, causing you to sweat nervously. Seeing him from this close made you feel something, you felt that same throbbing sensation in your chest from earlier creeping up on you again.
Looking at the top of his head, you noticed more of his hair than you did before. Shoulder length and auburn. From afar, you swore it looked greasier, but here it looked as if he had just tidied it up. It was silky and had a notable smell to it. You weren’t sure if it was cigarette smoke or gas, but either way you didn’t really care. In a weird kind of way, you were actually becoming accustomed to his messy living state. You reached your hand behind him to try and sneak in a few scratches, but he soon moved, canceling your plans indefinitely. Hm, strange.
“You’re.. actually really cool. C-c-cooler than I thought.” He smiled, gazing up into your eyes. He leaned more into your shoulder, prompting you to do the same out of plain instinct. You felt your face get warmer at his comments, wondering how to respond in a calm manner so as to not seem too outlandish. Those same pale green eyes shot daggers into your soul, arising goosebumps from beneath your robe. Something about his cold, dead eyes peering through you made you feel both fear and another sense that you couldn’t particularly put your finger on.
You smiled sweetly at him, trailing your hand around his neck, instantly catching his attention. You watched as his face became flushed with red, making you giggle silently. Seeing him in this state was so adorable, almost stirring up other more deeper feelings in you. Evoking such desires in you that you didn’t even know you had. Your heart began to beat quicker; seeing as he was already pressed against you, he began to do the same. You removed your legs from the coffee table and turned your body to face him better.
“Is something wrong?” You asked, trickling your hand further up his neck and onto the back of his head. You began making your way up his head, gently scratching at his scalp, obviously sparking a reaction out of him. Your nails carefully dug themselves into his hair, twirling your fingers around individual strands as to watch him squirm even more. “Are you feeling okay?” Your voice rang out once more, a soft, sweet tone hiding your later intentions.
You heard as soft moans and whimpers exited the man, just barely being able to form syllables to answer your questions. He leaned deeper into you, hands nervously twitching to grab onto something as if to contain himself. Hearing his noises of desperation caused you to smile, releasing your hand from his scalp and resting it against the back of his neck, caressing it gently. Seeing how worked up he got over just simple head scratches, you wondered how else you could loosen him up.
“Wh- how– w-what?” He stuttered, lightly breathing as he hesitated to utter another word to you. He was embarrassed, but seeing this newer, more docile and submissive side of his stirred up emotions in you that made you want to explore him even more. Even if you did go through with doing so, it would add to your “specimen research” that you’ve been meaning to get back to. You watched as his freehand moved itself onto your neck, pulling you in closer, mere inches away from his mouth. Eyes shut tight, he embraced you tenderly, soon becoming more rough and thorough with his kisses.
His lips were sweet, coarse, but still sweet nonetheless. You could still taste the liquor on his lips as you went back in to continue your business. Low, quiet whimpers escaped his lips, his hand making its way onto your cheek, thumb carefully caressing your jaw. As much as he wanted to make his way onto you, his efforts failed, causing you to easily place yourself on top of him. He positions himself at the edge of the couch, propping himself up with his elbows. Due to his lean stature, you found it quite easy to straddle him.
You watch as he stares up at you, your vision quickly falling down towards his pants. You were about to ask if you were allowed to go this far with him, but before you could spit out your first syllable, he called out desperately from the other end of the couch.
“..Can you..ple-please be gentle.” He muttered, trying to keep himself together.
After being cooped up in your own home for so long, being intimate with someone could be more than overwhelming for a guy. After speaking, he gave you a quick nod, the go ahead to help yourself to whatever you’d like of him. You were eager to see how long it took until you’re on the edge of breaking him. Being able to have full control over a man as pitiful as him made your cunt throb with excitement; having a physical personal toy for a few hours to relax yourself was something that you weren’t a stranger to.
“Are you sure?” You asked once more, feeling under his shirt and up his stomach with your free, left hand while palming his crotch with another. You could actually feel how scalding he really was beneath those layers he was wearing. Raising your hand further up his body, you glazed over his chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly as you caressed him gently. “You seem nervous, almost as if you’re not enjoying yourself.” You teased, curling your lip into a devious smirk.
You slowly began pressing your hand into his crotch, moving your hand rhythmically with the way he was squirming at your touch. Watching him try to keep his composure over just you touching him from the outside made you wonder how he’d behave when you got to what you really wanted to do. You lifted your palm from his crotch and took both hands off of him completely, watching and waiting for his reaction.
Although he may not have spoken to you directly, his body most certainly told you everything you needed to know about how he felt about your actions.
“ Shit, shit, shit, shit .” He whispered, other unintelligible words following his swears. He looked as sweaty as he was before, if not more. You clearly knew that he wouldn’t be able to calmly keep up with what was next to come, offering him a safeword in case it was too much for him. The word he decided on was normal, more simplistic than you would’ve suggested it to be, but it worked perfectly. Finishing up establishing a small boundary between the two of you, you pressed on as he asked.
You hurriedly removed his jeans, watching as his erection settled itself inside of his boxers. Your fingers curled itself around the elastic band that kept his boxers up and tugged it down towards his thighs. You smiled hungrily as it stood proudly in front of you, grazing the side of it with your index finger. You saw as his stomach rose, soon flattening as he exhaled.
( Nuts #C7917F, Shaft #F2B79D, Tip #DB8F7F sorrysorrysorrysorry )
Your right hand curled around his shaft, waiting for a moment to savor the warm heat that came from him. Already knowing how worked up he was, you knew this would be quick; seeing as though precum is already seeping out of his tip. “My,” You said sweetly, looking back up at him from the other end of the couch, “You really enjoyed that, didn’t you?” You asked, beginning to pump him gently. You leaned closer to his ear.
“God, you’re filthy.” He whimpers at the degradation.
Seeing how excited he was getting, you decided to continue with your teasing, calling him all sorts of degrading names that you’d never even think of calling another human. Pumping him further, you moved away from his ear. Noticing how nervous he was getting during most of this made you wetter by the second; paired with his delightful sounds of pleasure, it was like a match made in heaven for you.
A subtle, wet liquid trickled out of his tip and onto your knuckles, causing you to slow your pumps. Looking down at his dick with wide eyes. You removed your hand, turning it towards you to admire how his semen had “decorated” your fingers in a way. Seeing how the white substance trailed down your hands, leaving its slightly transparent trail behind it, made your mouth dry.
Holy shit, you weren’t lying when you thought he was gonna be a quick cum.
Watching at how utterly overwhelmed he was, you expected him to finally be out of it; finally cleansing himself of the desires he once wished to excite. As you began to stand to go wash your hands, you felt something slap your leg. Looking down to see the source of the noise, it was him once again. Speaking only through his eyes, you sensed that he didn’t want you to leave. You smirked, looking at him in anticipation, wondering what he wanted out of you.
Once more, without words, he rose from the couch and placed himself down on his knees in front of you. He looked deep into your eyes, periodically breaking eye contact so as to not seem threatening. Your stomach dropped, realizing what he specifically wanted to do. It seemed as though he wanted to return the favor to you. As he parted his lips to speak, you hunched over, placing your hand beneath his chin, thus flustering him.
“Should..” He whispered, looking as though he were trying to change his words.
“Can.. Can I?” He hesitated, spitting out his words quickly so as to not choke on them.
You nodded, removing your hand from his chin and back onto your thigh. He slowly made his way towards your crotch, removing your panties, and letting them dangle around your ankles. Just seeing your parts made him nervous, occasionally gazing up at you with a look of both apprehension and confusion on what to do with you.
You scoot yourself further off the couch to help him get even closer to you. He then presses his tongue against your lips, quickly making his way to your clit. You watch as he desperately laps at your pussy, looking as though he was eating his last meal on death row. Just this alone made your legs shake, closing your thighs in around his face, and thus enclosing him in you. Your shaky right hand guiding itself to his head, grabbing a nice, thick chunk of his hair.
You audibly heard as he moaned deeply, putting him on pause from enjoying his meal. As quickly as he ended, he began to tongue you once more. His fingers dug deep into your thigh, causing your body to quiver. Watching him so eagerly press himself deeper and deeper into you, licking up every ounce of your arousal fluid made you throb even more. You curl your fingers into his hair, sharply jolting your wrist and erupting yet another moan out of him.
For what you assumed was his first time, god damn did he know what he was doing.
You felt pressure building in your stomach, shutting your eyes tight and releasing soft, gentle moans of pleasure. You unconsciously started slurring out quiet praises to him, almost as if your brain was moving faster than your mouth. He stopped for a moment, his breath heavily panting onto your cunt. Without moving his head, he gawked at you with anticipation, wondering what you were saying. You opened your eyes to meet him once again, he wanted to hear what you were murmuring.
“You’re.. You’re doing good.” You blurted out, panting out between each word. He smiled at you, continuing to pleasure you intensely. You could feel the saliva dribbling off his tongue and into your walls. Using the hand that’s still stuck deep in that rat's nest of hair he had, you pressed his head against your parts, causing a small choking sound to come out of him. You could feel yourself wettening, almost on the brink of a climax. Your mouth ran dry, moisture seeming to disappear the more he drank you down.
Feeling his fingers clench your thighs once more, you feel your muscles tense, stiffening your legs. You dug your nails into both the man’s hair and the surface of his couch, swallowing whatever spit that had accumulated in your mouth. Feeling his tongue slowly stop its rotation around your clit felt so relieving, finally having a break from his constant lapping made you sigh internally. Your grip on him quickly returned as you pulled him away from your crotch.
He looked dazed, almost as if his brain didn’t fully realize what just happened. Examining his face, you notice that your arousal fluids coated his lips, almost as if he just got done fucking annihilating a Krispy Kreme glazed donut. You couldn’t really say much, either. Your head was still a bit fuzzy after your orgasm. You watched as he seemed to regain conciousness, ogling at you, almost as if he was about to ask how he did.
Through your blissful state, you really wish you had learned his name.
“You got a little..” You motioned to your mouth with your hand, hinting at the substance that ran down his lips. Embarrassed, he wiped it off with the sleeve of his trench coat. You unclenched your hand from his head, feeling each silky strand for the last time. His legs wobbled as he arose from the floor. Through his jeans, you could see that he was still a bit excited, but seeing how tired he looked, you assumed he wasn’t going to do anything about it.
You watched as he staggered over to the bathroom, gripping the door frame before entering and closing the door behind him. You pulled up your panties and let out a loud sigh, trying to collect your thoughts. Shuffling on the couch, you grabbed the beer bottle from earlier and chugged down the small amount of alcohol that was left in the glass.
After a few minutes, you heard him emerge from the bathroom, plopping himself back down on the couch. He was acting just like he did when you first entered his house, nervous and unreasonably quiet. You prop yourself back onto your feet, stretching your back with it. Hesitant to ask why he’s so quiet, you nonchalantly begin to collect yourself and get ready to head back to your place.
“Holy shit,” You muttered, obviously trying to catch his attention. To an extent, you did, causing his eyes to perk up at you. “I didn’t even.. Where did you learn to do that?” You chuckled, tying off your silk robe before lightly dusting it off. He returned to you with silence before looking you up and down. “You seemed so nervous before I met you and then you just..” The awkward silence between the two of you became deafening, causing you to just shut up entirely.
Jesus, what’s with this guy? Giving you the best head of your damn life and not even wanting to strike up a normal conversation? Did releasing the obvious sexual frustration and anxiety inside of him completely break him or does he just not want to talk to you?
He returned to you with a shrug, getting up to arrange more of the polaroids he had left on his table. It’s almost like he’s just blatantly ignoring what just happened, forgetting the embrace the two of you just shared moments ago to return back to his stalking habits. “Thank you.” He muttered.
Letting out an annoyed sigh, you began to walk back out the patio door. Before you completely left, you heard his quiet voice ring out from behind you.
“Come back soon.”