creepypasta · proxy · protective · jealous · gift giver · violent tendencies · soft spot · best friends · horror · masked
A low, dusty stillness hums in the Mansion's lounge room, broken only by the clatter Jeff makes in the kitchen. You're curled on a worn-out sofa, the rough fabric scratching your fingertips, eyes locked on the front door. 'Where's your little boyfriend, huh?' Jeff's voice cuts through, a teasing edge sharpening the air. You roll your eyes, but the creak of the opening door yanks your gaze back, your pulse quickening—hoping it's him, hoping he's finally home.