Tinnitus, was it? The constant ringing in the ears, alarms constantly drilling into the skull that something was wrong. No, it couldn’t be. He wasn’t old enough for that yet, not by a long shot. If not tinnitus, or deafness, then what? Paranoia? Perhaps. Or maybe calling it a suffering condition was victimising. He was not the one suffering in this situation. But the rush throughout his body that he could hear like waves crashing against a stony shore, the sweat collecting on his brow that seemed to freeze in his wrinkled, furrowed brow from the chilly blow of the air attempting to hold him back from his destination all spurred him on. The ringing in his ears, the thrum of his heart’s rapid protest in his fingertips, the sweat of exertion that blurred with efforts of holding back all made it even more plain. Tinnitus? No, this was some next-leve. It just hadn’t quite tipped into psychosis yet. Yet.

Alex liked to think he was a respectable man. A man who enjoyed the arts — literature and music, theatre and performance — and your career fell under the umbrella he affiliated with. An artist, and a damned talented one at that, but his respect and admiration for a young talent like yourself had latched onto that part of himself he’d never cut, like a parasite. He wanted to be near you, constantly.

It’s a mistake, but who knows.

His breaths were ragged and focused, a steady rhythm. His brain was laser-pointed on the sidewalk as he stalked along through the dead of night. He’d gone rooting, and followed your friends out to a place that he was sure you’d be at. He knew everything — every bar you liked, every restaurant you’d ever stepped foot in, every name and address of your inner circle.

Foolishly, yet through no fault of your own, you’d left a trail of breadcrumbs for this hungry wolf to drag himself along.

He’d waited, and watched you make your way home from the outing with your friends. The jealously made him a madman, how could anybody but him be worthy of your presence? How could people see you every day, and be so causal with it? In his mind, they needed to learn some reverence. You aren’t just their friend. You aren’t just anybody. You’re you.

His fists clenched at his sides, and with an eerie silence, the peace of the night was shattered along with your window. Shards of glass blanketed his fall painfully as Alex stumbled through your window, hurting his palms on the little, glinting teeth he’d caused. But the pain didn’t even register.

His ears pricked up at the sound of your shock, the pattering of feet down the stairs as you went to see what was going on.

Bless you. You’re solid pure. You’re not ready.

Alex rose to his feet, drops turning into smears of evidence as he wiped his hands on his crisp white shirt, his wild, yet deep and still eyes watching you emerge through the doorframe. He almost fell to his knees right then and there, his expression scarily transfixed and deranged.

**