Puppeteer x Reader

Part Two

You walk in the door to your apartment, swinging it shut and locking it behind you. You give out a sigh, sprawling yourself out on the couch after a long day at work. It's been two weeks since the "Puppeteer" visited you, even though the note said he was a week and six days late. You look over to the remote, deciding against bothering to try to find something on TV. Instead you settle in for a nap, reassured that you don't have anything planned for the rest of the day. You close your eyes, drifting off almost immediately.

You crack one eye open, noting the pitch black outside the window, then sit up to stretch. You turn your head and freeze. There, lounging in an armchair like he owned it, was Puppeteer.
You stared, eyes wide, then blinked in realization. "You're late," you remarked, and a smirk grew on his face.
"I guess I am. My apologies." His voice was deep and smooth, just as you imagined it would be.
You didn't know what to say. You didn't know him after all, not really, didn't even know anything about him. Hell, he introduced himself on a note after he left!
He faltered at your silence. "You did want me to come back, didn't you?" He asked, suddenly insecure.
You paused, looked away from him, then met his eyes again.
"Yes." You took a breath, then nodded, more confident. "I did want you to come back."
"But?" He knew there was more you weren't mentioning.
"But... I don't know anything about you."
Puppeteer seemed taken aback, then smiled warmly. "Oh, I was worried it was something important," he chuckled.
You were taken aback. "It is important. It's important that I know who this person is that keeps coming in my apartment unannounced, and wakes me up in the middle of the night to dance, and leaves notes that say they will come back but doesn't. It's important to me." You gave him a cold stare.
Puppeteer looked down and away, then stood, walking over to where you sat, and held out his hand. You look up at him, then slowly reach up and set your hand in his. He pulled you up and pulled your other hand to rest on his shoulder. He stepped back, you stepped forward. He stepped to the side, you followed.
"My name is Puppeteer." Step. "I'm twenty years old." Step. "My favorite color is purple." He stopped, resting his fingers on your chin, bringing it up to look at him. He leaned down, lips nearly brushing yours. "And I love you, (Y/n)." His lips captured yours, his hand sliding back to cradle the back of your head as your eyes fluttered shut. As his lips glided against your own, you brought your arms up around the back of his neck. He pulled away so you could catch your breath, only for you to pull him back down, feeling the smile on his lips as they met yours again.
Then a thought popped in your head and you flew back away from him. "Wait. How do you know my name?" Great. Making out with a strange man in my apartment and NOW I realize there's something wrong?
Puppeteer blinked. "I-- um, I... I heard your friend say it the other day," he replied weakly, looking at everything but you.
"My friend? How long ago was this?"
He mumbled a reply, turning to the side. You stared at him, boring holes in the side of his head. He relented, repeating himself so you could hear.
"Last month."
You stepped back. "You stalked me?!"
"Well, obviously. Did you think I just brake into random strangers' rooms to dance with them?" He scoffed, his gaze cool as he finally met your eyes.
Now it was your turn to look away, but this time to hide tears threatening to spill. A tense silence settled in.
You stole back to the couch, folding in on yourself when you sat.
"(Y/n)?" You could hear tentative steps approaching you.
"Go."
"What?" The steps paused, Puppeteer's voice barely loud enough to hear.
"Leave." You glared at your lap, too proud to let him see you cry.
You heard the steps back away, then silence. "Dammit, I said leave!" You threw your head up to glare at-- nothing. The room was empty. You sighed, laying down and curling up, soon to fall into a tense sleep until morning.