Chapter 9 – The One Watching Me Has a Name

The rain had been relentless all afternoon, a soft but steady drumming against Adrian’s apartment windows. It should have been comforting — that kind of gray, cocooning weather that makes you want to curl up with a blanket and tea. But lately, comfort was a stranger to him.

He sat on the couch, pretending to read a book he hadn’t turned a page in for half an hour. His mind was elsewhere, darting from thought to thought like a trapped bird. Every time the building’s pipes groaned, every time the wind rattled the glass, his muscles tensed.

The light in the corner flickered again. Just once, but enough to twist the knife of paranoia deeper into his chest.

He closed the book, rubbed at his temple.

And then it came — that prickle. The unmistakable awareness of being seen. Not the casual glance of a passerby, but a steady, intent gaze that sank into your skin like heat from a fire. He swallowed, his eyes moving instinctively toward the window.

There was no one there.

He almost laughed, except the sound caught in his throat. Get a grip, Adrian.

The knock at the door was so soft, he thought he imagined it. Three slow taps.

His heart tripped over itself. He stayed frozen, barely breathing.

Another knock. Louder.

He forced himself up, legs trembling as he moved toward the door. He should check the peephole — rationality told him that. But he didn’t. His hand was on the lock before his brain caught up, and by then it was too late.

The door opened.

He was there.

Not a stranger now. Not an imagined face in the crowd.

Evan.

Up close, his presence was sharper, like the sudden scent of a storm before it breaks. His eyes — an impossible shade between green and gray — locked on Adrian’s with a focus that made him feel like the rest of the world had vanished.

Adrian’s breath hitched. “What—what are you doing here?”

Evan smiled faintly, not the friendly kind you give a neighbor, but slow and deliberate, as if he enjoyed the effect it had. “You say that like you weren’t expecting me.”

“I wasn’t,” Adrian shot back, though his voice lacked conviction.

“That’s not true.” Evan leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, casual and predatory all at once. “You’ve felt me near you for weeks. You’ve been waiting for this.”

The words dug under Adrian’s skin, both terrifying and… something else. Something warmer than fear had any right to be. He shook his head. “You’ve been—following me?”

“Watching,” Evan corrected. “Following is clumsy. I’m not clumsy.”

Adrian’s mouth was dry. He should slam the door. Call the police. Scream. Anything. Instead, he asked, “Why?”

Evan’s smile deepened, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because you’re worth seeing.”

It was absurd — that a single sentence could make his chest tighten, his pulse race for reasons he didn’t want to examine.

“I don’t know you,” Adrian said, trying to anchor himself in logic.

“You know my name now,” Evan said simply. “And I know yours.”

Adrian blinked. “…I never told you my—”

“I heard it the first night I found you,” Evan interrupted, his tone still soft but unwavering. “The way it sounded when someone said it on the street. It stuck. Everything about you stuck.”

A shiver worked its way down Adrian’s spine.

“This isn’t normal,” he said, his voice faltering on the last word.

“Normal is overrated.” Evan’s gaze dropped briefly, tracing Adrian’s posture, the way his hands were clenched at his sides. “Fear looks different on you than I expected. It’s almost—beautiful.”

Adrian’s breath caught. He hated how heat rose in his face. He hated even more the flicker of curiosity that kept him from ending this right now.

“You should leave,” Adrian managed, though it didn’t sound convincing even to him.

“I could,” Evan said, tilting his head slightly. “But you don’t really want me to.”

“That’s not—”

“You’ve been alone for so long,” Evan continued, as if reading directly from the private pages of Adrian’s mind. “No one notices the little changes. No one cares enough to look twice. But I see them. I see you.”

Adrian’s pulse thundered in his ears. The scary part wasn’t that Evan knew too much — it was that he wasn’t wrong.

“You’re insane,” Adrian whispered.

“Maybe,” Evan admitted. “But I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life than I am about you.”

The words were too heavy, too close. Adrian stepped back, just enough to break the invisible pull between them. Evan didn’t follow, but his eyes didn’t leave him either.

“Go,” Adrian said again, firmer this time.

Evan’s smile shifted — not gone, just different. Like he’d been handed a challenge instead of a rejection. “For now,” he murmured.

And then, without another word, he turned and disappeared down the hallway.

Adrian closed the door, locked it, and leaned against it, his knees threatening to give way. His hands were shaking so hard he almost dropped his phone when he picked it up. He should call someone — the police, a friend, anyone.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he pressed the phone to his chest, closed his eyes, and tried to slow his breathing.

Evan’s voice was still in his head. His name still on his lips. And that — more than anything — terrified him.