At first, your yandere neighbor is simply... there.
The kind of person everyone recognizes but no one really knows. He's polite enough to earn a nod in passing, quiet enough that nobody remembers the sound of his voice, and ordinary enough to disappear into the background of the neighborhood. If you pass him while checking the mail, he offers a small smile. If your eyes meet across the street, he waves once before returning to whatever he's doing.
You barely think about him.
The unsettling part is...
He never stops thinking about you.
He never asks what time you leave for work.
He doesn't need to.
He knows the porch light flicks on at exactly 7:03 every weekday morning. He knows you always hesitate for a second before locking your front door, patting your pockets to make sure your keys are still there. He knows that if it's raining, you leave eight minutes earlier than usual, and that every Thursday you stop halfway down the driveway because you almost always forget something inside.
No one tells him these things.
He simply... watches.
Day after day.
Week after week.
Until your life becomes less of a mystery and more of a schedule he's memorized with religious precision.
You don't notice at first.
People are creatures of habit.
Everyone has routines.
But then strange things begin happening.
The package you forgot was arriving is already tucked safely beneath your porch awning before the storm begins. Your garbage bin is rolled back to your house before you even realize collection has come and gone. One morning, after oversleeping by nearly an hour, you rush outside expecting to be late...
...only to find your windshield already scraped clean of ice.
You don't remember asking anyone for help.
Across the street, your neighbor is watering flowers that somehow never seem to need watering.
He smiles.
Like he knew you'd be looking.
The feeling grows slowly.
Not fear.
Recognition.
The uncomfortable certainty that someone has begun anticipating you.
You change your grocery day.
He's already in the next aisle.
You take a different jogging route.
You pass him walking a dog you've never seen before.
You leave home two hours earlier than usual.
His curtains move.
Just once.
Like he'd been waiting to see whether you would leave.
The worst part isn't that he's following you.
It's that he rarely has to.
You've become so predictable that your routine follows itself.
Why chase someone...
...when you already know where they'll be?
One evening, the power goes out across the neighborhood.
The street falls into complete darkness.
As you fumble for your phone's flashlight, there's a knock at your door.
Three slow knocks.
Patient.
Measured.
When you open it, your neighbor is standing there holding a lantern.
"I figured you'd need this."
You stare.
You never told him your flashlight batteries died last week.
You never mentioned it to anyone.
Before you can ask, he tilts his head ever so slightly.
"You always check the junk drawer first."
Silence.
"...Then the cabinet above the refrigerator."
Your stomach tightens.
"...Then you remember the batteries are dead."
His smile never changes.
"I thought I'd save you the trouble."
After that, you begin testing him.
You deliberately leave at random hours.
You switch coffee shops.
You drive home using different roads.
For a while, it works.
Then...
It doesn't.
No matter how chaotic your routine becomes, he somehow seems to adapt faster than you can change it.
It's as if he's no longer memorizing your habits.
He's memorizing you.
The way you think.
The choices you'll make under stress.
The tiny unconscious decisions you don't even realize are predictable.
One night, unable to shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong, you glance through your bedroom window.
Across the street...
A silhouette stands motionless behind his curtains.
Not hidden.
Not ashamed.
Watching.
As though the distance between your houses is nothing more than an inconvenience.
When your eyes meet, the silhouette doesn't duck away.
It raises a hand.
A slow, familiar wave.
The kind neighbors give each other every day.
Only now...
...it feels less like a greeting.
And more like confirmation.
"There you are."
Not the words of someone who happened to see you.
The words of someone who always knew exactly where you'd be.
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