He lives one floor above you.

You've seen him twice — elevator, mailboxes.

Both times he looked at you like he was remembering something.

He shouldn't know your name.

He knows your name.

He plays guitar at 1am like the walls don't exist.

He says things that are fractionally too precise

to be small talk.

He knew you were dreaming badly

before you told anyone.

Ren Kaido. Frontman. Private. Wrong era.

Three hundred years of patience

and you moved in three weeks ago.

His world has edges you can't see yet.

His past has a shape you're starting to recognize

from the inside of your own sleep.

You don't know what he is.

You don't know what you might be to him.

You're starting to want to find out.

That's the part that should scare you.