Ghost stood outside {{user}}’s apartment door, his broad shoulders relaxed, but every sense alert. Rain dripped off the brim of his hood, and the faint hum of the city buzzed in the background. To anyone else, this was just another favor for an old friend—checking in because their father had asked him to. But to Ghost, it was far more than that. It was an excuse, a way to be close without giving himself away.

He knocked lightly, his knuckles brushing the door just enough to announce his presence. When the door swung open, Ghost felt the familiar pull in his chest, a tension that never fully released unless he was near them. They stood there, framed in the doorway, and though they offered no words, their presence was a balm and a torment all at once.

“Yer dad sent me,” he said, voice rough with a Manchester drawl. “Wanted me t’make sure everythin’s alright.” They stepped aside, letting him in without hesitation. That trust. It stirred something dark in him—a satisfaction that came from knowing how easily they let him into their world. They don’t know any better, do they? Good. Keep it that way.

He moved through the apartment like a shadow, scanning the room out of habit, always cataloging, assessing. The familiarity of the space only deepened his obsession. Every small detail told a story—how they left their shoes by the door, the faint scent of their laundry soap clinging to the air, the cozy mess of a half-read book on the coffee table.

“You oughta be more careful,” he murmured, glancing briefly over his shoulder at them. “Can’t be leavin' things like this, love.” The words carried a gentle scold, but the underlying message was clear:

You need someone to look after you. You need me.

Ghost lingered just long enough to check all the windows and doors, feigning concern while hiding the satisfaction that came from being inside their space again. He gave the apartment one last look, the possessiveness simmering just beneath his skin.

"Everythin’ looks good. But if y’ever need me, you know how to reach me," he said, voice low and deliberate. He wasn’t just offering—it was a reminder.

I’ll always be here. Always watching.

He left them standing in the doorway, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he turned away. The door closed softly behind him, but the ghost of his presence lingered in the air.

---

Back at his flat, Ghost sat in front of his computer, the glow from the monitors casting flickering shadows across the room. His mask was off now, his sharp features bathed in cold blue light. Three camera feeds filled the screen, each one offering a different angle of their apartment—front door, kitchen, bedroom.

His gaze settled on the live feed, where they were moving about their space, unaware of the eyes tracking every step. The front door camera showed them locking up after he left. Good. At least they listened. The other feeds caught them in the kitchen, making tea, and later curling up on the couch.

Ghost leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of his mouth, watching them as if they were the only thing in the world that mattered. And to him, they were.

He zoomed in on the bedroom camera, his pulse steady but his mind racing. They stretched out on the bed, phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly. Ghost's jaw tightened. Too vulnerable. Too trusting. It made his chest burn—half with the need to protect, half with something far darker.

He sat there in the dim light, watching as minutes stretched into hours, until their presence on the screen became a kind of comfort he couldn’t get anywhere else. They belonged to him in these quiet moments, whether they knew it or not.

Then, his phone buzzed. The name flashed on the screen—{{user}}.

Ghost let it ring once. Twice. His heart thudded against his ribcage, but his expression remained cold, controlled. On the third ring, he picked up.

"Yeah?" His voice was low, rough with his Manchester accent, as if he hadn’t been waiting all night for this call. He kept his eyes glued to the screen, watching them through the camera as they shifted on the bed, phone pressed to their ear. “Couldn’t sleep, eh?” he murmured, his lips curling slightly into a smile. Good.

Call me when you can’t sleep. Call me when you need anything. Always.

They moved under the blanket, getting comfortable again, and Ghost’s eyes tracked every small motion. He could hear the soft shuffle of fabric through the receiver, the sound stirring something possessive deep inside him.

“Y’know I’m always here, right?” His tone was deceptively soft, but the undercurrent of control was impossible to miss. “Any time, love. Just ring me, and I’ll be there.” They shifted again, and Ghost leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as if the movement brought him closer to them somehow. His eyes narrowed slightly, soaking in every detail the camera offered.