''~°.HIDE AND SEEK.°~'' | YEONGYU

THE WATCHER

It watched...

And Beomgyu could feel it...like cold fingers trailing along the edges of his ribs.

He stepped back, slowly. One step. Then another.

The wood floor creaked underfoot and the sound felt too loud, too sharp.

Still...the figure remained still, as if frozen in time and space. No movement. No sound.

Beomgyu's back bumped against the hallway wall. His hand reached for something, anything for balance. His fingers found the edge of the side table and clung to it.

From there, the front door was in sight.

It was closed. But not locked.

Did Yeonjun forget?

No.

He wouldn't.

...Would he?

Beomgyu's thoughts spiraled, fast and wild. His eyes darted back toward the window. But this time...The figure was gone.

Gone.

Like it had never been there.

Beomgyu's knees buckled slightly, chest heaving. His legs wanted to run back to the bedroom, to the blanket, to safety but his instincts kept him rooted.

Because gone didn't mean safe.

Gone meant somewhere else...and Beomgyu had no idea where.

His fingers still clutched the side table, white-knuckled and shaking. The space where the figure had stood seemed darker now, like its presence had left a bruise on the window. The curtain swayed gently again...innocent, indifferent.

But the silence? Oh, It wasn't empty. It pressed in on him, a weight behind his ears, under his ribs. Even the creaks of the house had gone quiet, as if everything was holding its breath with him.

His feet started moving before his mind caught up...bare against the cold floor, steps light, uneven.

Where's Yeonjun?

Beomgyu's pulse spiked. A sick thought slithered in.

Did that thing—

No. No. Yeonjun had said he wouldn't leave. That he'd stay.

But the hallway was darker now.

Beomgyu turned toward the living room, arms wrapped around himself, trying to hold the panic in. His eyes kept flitting back to the window. Still empty. But the longer he stared, the more it felt like something was just out of frame.

Watching...Waiting.

His mind offered explanations he didn't want. Maybe it got inside. Maybe it's already here. Maybe it's behind you.

Beomgyu spun. Nothing. But the silence felt louder now.

He stepped toward the front door, heart pounding hard enough to make his vision pulse.

And then—

A sound.

So soft he wasn't even sure it was real.

Tap.

He froze.

Tap...tap.

This time, it was unmistakable. Fingertips. Against glass. The Window.

Beomgyu turned slowly.

And there...there it was again.

The silhouette...closer. As if it was trying to see him more clearly through the curtain.

No movement. No breath, Just the long, cruel stillness of something that knew it had time.

And Beomgyu...Beomgyu couldn't scream. Couldn't speak.

All he could do was stare back.

Because what if it moved if he looked away?

One blink was all it took and the figure vanished yet again.

Not with a step. Not with a sound. Just gone.

Like it had only been there to be seen, just long enough to leave its imprint permanently in Beomgyu's mind.

Beomgyu stared, frozen in place. His fingers trembled at his sides. The silhouette had felt too close. Too aware.

His breath hitched, lungs tightening, the silence pressing in again.

And then—

Click.

The front door creaked open.

Footsteps...measured, deliberate, closing in....

Beomgyu stiffened.

But the next sound...

The soft snick of the doorknob turning...

and the familiar cadence of a voice he could finally breathe to...

"It was it, wasn't it?"

Yeonjun's voice was low, certain, like he didn't need confirmation. He shut the deadbolt behind him, eyes already narrowing, scanning Beomgyu's face.

"You saw it."

Beomgyu didn't speak. He didn't have to. His wide, terrified eyes answered for him.

Yeonjun exhaled sharply, his jaw tensing. He reached out, pulling Beomgyu toward him before the boy could collapse from the adrenaline still crashing through his limbs.

"I won't let it hurt you." Yeonjun muttered under his breath, gaze flicking toward the curtained window.