Vesper || Unwarranted Guest

Nights were long and dreary. You studied hard until your head fogged and your eyes seemed to blur words as they no longer made sense. Work was much if the same old same old, nothing much to be considered remarkable or memorable. Legs hurt after hours of standing, even when moving back and forth. Moments droned on. Headphones pulsed in and out of hums only your ears could dissect and process clearly — you were practically inseparable to your music as it kept you more in the present rather than completely checking out fully as you body often threatened to do. It was hard. Days were such a. blur.

Class was every other day, three times a week in the early mornings — before you dedicated the rest of the evening to slaving to slot into the cog to some random corporation that cared little about you. A company that’s only will was to want you to follow the clock and give blind faithless obedience to them, and them alone. It was all busy work. There was no rhyme —certainly no reason. It was just to fill the prospected duty of what elders and authority have filled your head since you were little. The only thing you were ever destined and meant to do. Free days were dedicated purely on catching up on school work and studying until you crashed.

You were exhausted.

And he noticed that.

Vesper.

You were a criminology major, and he had overlapping classes with you. Stalking and watching from the shadows like a darkened fog lurking and drifting ever so silently. He never made his presence known. He kept his head down anytime you looked up, in fear his eyes meeting yours alone would tear a frisson into the cracks of reality.

He never raised his hand to answer the professors. He preferred solo work to teamwork. He was silent, like a ghost spent of all its soul. In some sense, he should’ve been a kindred spirit to you — but he wasn’t. Far from. His mind was a torment of sickly weeping webs that clung to every inch of his reality. Jarring. Limitless. Unrealistic.

He was drawn to you like moth to a pyre, where the ash was his divination to rejoice in and you his deity to worship from the distance. If you were the moon he was nothing more than a mock reflection, distorted and rippled in desperation to mimic all that you are with ease. It was a primal unexplainable thing for him he’s long lost the need to try and reason with.

He liked you. He wanted you. He sought you.

Your routine became his. Your interests became his subject. The very lining of your arteries would become his to dissect and hold with anything that it took. He was suffocating in this festering feeling that only clawed at him more and more as each day passed. Everyday he saw something to you more that made him even further obsessed. Even the most obscure things of your person drove him mad and turned him on in a way that it increasingly got harder to dismiss and suppress.

The sun was little more than just a figment of the day as the warmth from it dissipated with the oncoming shadows that creeped and stretched over the land. Chill swooped up and came the gentlest of breeze to tickle at the ends of your hairs in an eerie caress. Your eyes drooping as your feet trudged, feet scuffling against cement with your bag-strap clutched in your hands. Your eyes one track, and mind even more one noted with objective after a hard day of midterm tests. You knew this would drain you so you didn’t schedule for work today — you needed the peace even if it was minuscule and a lapse of a moment.

Concern ached his chest and intrigue stung in his eyes as he kept his distance. Watching. That feeling was so strong these days, he could hardly breath. His throat felt closed and swollen on the inside as his heart hammered as loud as a beating drum to some ritual. He made sure to be quiet, even if his insides were not — including his intrusive and impulsive thoughts alike.

He always walked on the opposing side of the road to you, quite far back. You were always too exhausted to be aware of your surroundings, that egged him on early on like a sweet treat that gave him the best high he could ask for. Now, he felt the most intense level of responsibility and protective pride at this honor that he was convinced the Gods had allowed for. That was the only reason.

You lived on the outskirts of the city, always taking the more quiet dimmer roads. He enjoyed playing guardian for you because he wouldn’t let anyone harm you. Not if he was there. Never if he knew. The thoughts of you getting harmed made him hold his own bag painfully tighter, material softly groaning against his palm.

Eventually, you slumped into your front door — key fumbling at the busted lock your landlord has yet to fix. The handle turns, and you stumble in before sheltering yourself for the rest of the night. Your routine was too predictable, never varying. You lived on the second floor to the complex. It wasn’t the worst, but it wasn’t bougie either — far from. It was tolerable. The cooling and heating system hardly worked and when it did it cranked and stuttered loudly like it was beyond its grave. Old bugs painted over into the drywall. Lights sometimes flickering, whether that was a shoddy electrical issue or the supernatural was up for debate. It was spacious enough and affordable, so that’s all that mattered.

Night hung further over the sky as the moon rolled deeper into the stars. You practically groveled around your apartment, fetching easy non-nutritious quick heatable meals for a replacement for dinner and worked away at your homework from your different classes.

Vesper on the other hand crept up into the spindled and bushy tree that loomed perfectly outside the windows of your apartment. He was leaned back against the tree, one leg dangled and other bent against the brands as he lazed there simply entertained by watching you from the wide spanned window that stretched across the wall to your room. A true prize for him bestowed by the universe — easy clear access to you.

When you found your way weaseled and snaked up into your sheets, wrapped snuggly in your blankets and pillow gently cradling your head as you laid on your side — that’s when he found you particularly desirable. The ever growing mould of obsession was consuming him. His hands found his neck and his head tilted back against the tree as he tried to grapple with the feeling of quite literally being left breathless at the sheer sight of you. Breathing heavy, his face flushed, his eyes glossily hazed like he may cry from the intensity of it all, and his pants tight with desperation and need. He knew he was sick, beyond the point of unwell, but he couldn’t stop now. He was so lost in you — a person he’s never even spoken to and likely doesn’t even know he exists.

You were his salvation.

When your body was no longer restlessly fighting for the right position in your bed and the blankets to comfort you properly, your body stilled. Ribs subtle yet rhythmically expanding and depressing at every deep sleep induced breath. That made the pull grow deeper, tighter for Vesper.

He needed this.

He needed you.

Before he even knew it, his body was crawling closer — slow and quiet like the whisper of wind, blended in. His eyes hard locked on your form. His body moving on questionable autopilot despite never getting drawn in this close before to you. The branch gave and dipped as he trekked farther along it like some viper.

Then, his hand was in contact to your window. The cool glass sending shivers down his spine making him shudder out a breath and eyes flutter closed as he took in a moment to recollect himself. He couldn’t stop though. He was so far, yet so close — it was too invigorating. He couldn’t stop now. His other hand trailed up slow and carefully like a lovers reverent touch, fingers slowly curling around a hitch on the outside of your window where it seamed breaking it apart between two panels of window to make one complete one. He quietly shimmied and slid it open. Only a soft shushing noise made from the window sliding against it’s tracks.

His body was acting alone as his head felt light and clouded and his eyes narrowed in on how the soft moonlight shone down on you giving you a personalized angelic spotlight. It made his heart flutter. He was inching in, legs swung over and stepping into the floorboards to your room. The tree branch waving and shuttering as it bounced from the loss of his weight as he fully was erected into your room.

He stood there, straightened up and looming in front of your window like a vision. His heart was catching in his throat as he was in awed. His jeans straining further, uncomfortably but oddly arousing-ly. His hands were shaking as he brought them up nervously to his face as his mouth was parted, He had to cover his mouth from gasping and swallowed down the heavy breaths. His breathing stuttered and shallow as he was trying to keep himself composed to not awake you but he was reeling. His was a new line he’s crossed.

His feet lifted, gliding over carefully forward. Balls of his feet touching first before letting the arch and heel of his covered and shoed feet flatten against the ground. He was careful, but felt so courageous right now.

Then,

You were stirring at a sudden loud creak to the wood.

Vesper’s hands wrapped around his mouth further as a sharp yet quiet gasp had escaped his lungs, fingers clung into the flesh of his cheeks. His eyes bulging and his knees visibly shaking as he stood there beside your bed. Your back turned to him, and he was frozen like a deer in a headlight watching you to see what was to happen next.

It was another day, like any other. Droned on and on like an endless series of nothingness. Never anything to note, no change, just same old same old. Skies brightened just to darken again in the evening. Stars glimmered only for the sun to wipe them out again. It was beginning to get too monotone, far too exhausting. It begun to show in your eyes, your frame wore exhaustion like a weighted coat and bags creased from under your eyes as nights only appeared less appealing than before.

Mid-terms had roll around, haunting you, draining you dry from what little energy you had. You were a criminology student, the morbid and obscure had always fascinated you and now you looked the part too. You didn’t bother with anyone else on campus, you stayed in your own bubble, focused and absorbed in your own book or notes — mock dainty organization only to see your handwriting at a closer look was as chaotic as your sleep schedule.

One person had taken note of your exhaustion, feeling a strong whirlwind tied connection between the two of you at a moment’s glance. His heart swirled and swooned like an eagle’s strong stroke in the sky, clenching at the mere thought of you. It was destiny, fate, perhaps even a blessing finally placed in front of him from the gods just for his viewing pleasure. At first glance at the start of the semester, he already began to idolize you. You were his every song and rhythm to his thoughts, ebbing and flowing in weary routine.

At first, it was only meant to be a harmless crush — nothing more, nothing less. Then weeks passed. The way your skin glistened under natural light, hell what was he kidding, even under the buzzing florescent ones you were like a star bundled in flesh. The way he caught whiffs of your scent in momentary passing made his head spin and gut weak with a magnetizing pull.

He had never felt this way for anyone else. You were his every waking thought, every wet dream, every whisper in the lingering halls. You were his everything, and so quickly at that. You were imbued into his skin, crawling and festering like an injection that wasn’t meant to belong and slowly snuffing him out.

You didn’t even know him.

You hadn’t even looked at him before.

You both shared overlapping classes to your varying courses, but he was quiet like the shadows. He never raised his hands to speak up. Never paired up in groups. Never gave presentations. Just a looming body to blend and merged with everyone else in no particular fashion besides his style. That was the only thing to stand out.

He told himself he wouldn’t let his crush control him. Wouldn’t let it turn into obsession, but before he could even lecture himself, he could feel it was already too late. He had already subconsciously been acutely aware of your routines — which made it easy for him to consciously learn them. He thought he could just indulge a little, to satisfy his sickening wounds to his mind. To cork the thoughts and feelings just by giving into curiosity just once.

It wasn’t just once. Nor was it twice. Not even four times, like he told himself is when he’d stop because he knew this was wrong. This was an invasion of your privacy. It’s been three months now, and he knew your every routine, your habits, the foods you ate, the clothes you often wore, all of it. You only had classes three times a week, work after classes, and breaks on your free days from school just to study. It was those three days of university he would allow himself the leisure to watch you. Spare times, as a treat, he’d visit you outside your window on your free days — only outside, he’d never dare to go in, not yet anyways...that was too far. He only ever monitored you from afar. The tree outside your window to your apartment on the second floor made it perfect for him to do that without being spotted.

Your feet dragged against the sidewalk, skipping and skidding against the cement without much care nor will. You were on autopilot. Those tests burnt you out, but you still had to head into work today. They wouldn’t let you take the day off, too understaffed. It was a shame, but at least you were making the money, that’s what you told yourself anyways just so you wouldn’t quit and give up.

You were always too tired to feel his eyes on you.

Vesper.

He always stalked you, but you never knew. You’ve never even made eye contact with the guy. Whenever you looked up, his head was pushed far down like he was trying to avoid something...or someone. You didn’t know, didn’t care either. Never let your eyes linger. It didn’t matter, he was just some other guy that happened to sometimes take the same path home, right?

Your feet rounded a corner to a street of where you worked. It was dingy, worn down. The streets were littered and questionable, but it was a city. You worked at a grocery store, cramped and small, owned by an older couple who could hardly read with their shot eyesight now. They constantly mislabeled prices on items and even misread your name. Didn’t matter how much you corrected them, it would still happen, but at least they were kind. They felt like the closest thing you had to family in this decrypted town.

You walked in. Already, the air felt unexplainably damp, perhaps it was the half broken misters overhead the small section of produce cramped up in the back corner of the store. The place always smelled something almost of petrichor and dirt, hints of soft perfume from the old nonna(grandma), her favorite scent that never seemed to run out despite being discontinued years ago, and hints of undisclosed mold just subtly there. Perhaps the mold was beneath the linoleum floors, that could be likely. There were plenty of stains from stuff being dropped that could never be cleaned no matter how hard you scraped and scrubbed. You tried.

You clocked in on a half broken and buggy machine, always having to upside smack the thing until it let out a soft ding for it to register the time you inputted. With a heavy sigh, you unhooked a small apron. There was only ever one hanging there by the entrance, never a need for more because the store was too small for more than one body working the joint. Thankfully there was no one in the shop yet. Lights from remaining day flickered and seeped in through the door and windows, lighting the place better than the dim lights littered through the front house.

You did some small things, tidying up left out items that the old pair must’ve forgotten about before you gotten here. Checked the register quickly with a small slam to open and close it equally. Then went out back through the small plastic curtain out into the cold storage room with boxes lining the walls to go and drag one out to stock the shelves in the front.

As you did that, Vesper had followed you up until the front door, he lingered by it. His hands curled around the black frame to the door, peering into the glass awkwardly and unsure what to do with himself. He was so close. This could’ve been an opportunity for him, finally, to speak with you. To stamp out his strange obsessive behavior by behaving normally. Introducing himself.

Yet his lungs suffocated him, throat tightened, knees weakened, hands shaking, nose running slightly, and that heat of fire building at his crotch straining slightly in his jeans. It was a heady experience. An overwhelming feeling. The sight of you busied away and focused on your task, bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly and brows furrowed as you stocked the shelves made his head dizzy and his face flush. You were like a deity to him, so surreal, so ethereal and entrancing further than a siren’s call.

He let out a shuddery breath, pulling his shoulders back as he straightened up and tilted his chin up. He shook out his hands as he tried to muster up courage, he had to. This was his only opportunity. His only chance, but oh if it wasn’t the most terrifying thing he has ever done before. He quickly glanced around the street, ensuring no one saw him — as if that mattered, yet he couldn’t bare the embarrassment of schoolmates seeing him pinning after you so hard. He shook off the fear and with an emboldened step, he pushed open the door.

The small bell above the entrance chimed as he breached the entryway. His hands shook like geographical tremors so he shoved them quickly and casually into his pockets to hide them. As if that did a thing. His knees were like jelly, face flushed against his pale skin exaggerating his freckles no one knew were there, and eyes holding a modicum of gloss.

Your head quirked up and eyes meeting his for the first time. His heart was beating in his ears now like gunshots. He could hardly breathe, but he slowly and carefully approached you, trying to act as normal as he could.

“H-hey uh...you-you work here..?”

He asked with a stutter, trying to come off composed and smooth. A friendly tilt to his head as he peered at you and a quivering weak forced smile on his lips as he held back the urge to scream and cry, to shrivel up in a ball and hide.

“I-I’m Vesper, we-we haven’t met before, b-but you’re in my crim-criminology class. I s-sit in the back, m-maybe you’ve se-seen me before..?”

He introduced himself, trying to weakly joke but it fell painfully flat, reaching a shaking uncertain hand out. He was mentally cringing at himself, at how much his voice was vibrating as it came out. His hands were clammy and warm. He could barely think as he looked at you, dazed and starstruck. He couldn’t believe this was real, it felt like a dream to be this close to you. He felt like he could faint any second now. He just prayed deeply inside you wouldn’t be put off by him and his strange nervous behavior, he couldn’t explain that to you.