Hear me out on this. Carson. Right? But. Stalker Carson 👀💦💦💦💦
He wouldn’t call it stalking.
Carson knew he was lying to himself, even as he cut the engine of his car, his hands lingering on the steering wheel as he took in a deep breath. It didn’t matter that he wouldn’t call it stalking, he knew, point plank, what he was doing was well within the confines of stalking and also bordering on ‘Felony’ Territory. He was treading on dangerous ground, because if he was caught the last name tacked onto his own would be tainted, and the Dhouti’s didn’t exactly have a glowing reputation as it was. If he was caught, and there was a rather heavy chance he could get caught if he wasn’t absolutely on his guard….
They would call it stalking. They would call him insane, they would call him obsessed. they would call him a threat and she would be taken from him, pulled from his hands before he even got the chance to have her.
Carson’s hand clenched, his heart seizing before he forced himself to calm, releasing each one of his tense muscles with sheer force of will.
People just didn’t understand. People couldn’t understand. Requiem DeAngelis wasn’t just the princess of the people, she wasn’t just the pretty face and the broken smile or the dancing light of her eyes. She was more than the perfect girl they had made her to be, that he had, admittedly, made her out to be. She was perfection that could not be obtained, a haunting figment of all you could never be but made you want to be so much more than you were so you might have the chance to earn her attention.
She was so much more than theirs. She was so much more than the people’s idol.
All he wanted was to keep her safe. He needed to know where she was, needed to see if she was okay and if she needed help because god knows her brother wasn’t about to protect her. He just needed to keep tabs on her…. needed to know she was safe and sound. It was imperative, to his own mental health, otherwise he would spend the whole night just tossing and turning and worrying. Why do that when he could just…. watch her? Make sure she’s okay? It wasn’t as if she knew, and she most certainly wasn’t getting hurt over it.
She should be home in about three minutes.
That gave him plenty of time to make it up into her room and learn more about the little darkling who had stolen his heart so easily.
Carson pushed open his car door, eyes on the house as the lights flickered out, one by one until the house had fallen completely dark. There was another moment as he listened to the woods around him, the cracks and winds making his ears flicker with each little sound. His heart hammered in his chest, his body moving to quietly shut the door. It made a soft noise he cursed at, but other then that, he managed to make it to the back door with ease.
He pause at the door ears pushed forward as he listened for something, anything to indicate someone was still walking up and and around. His hand drifted closer to the door, until his fingers grazed metal, his eyes never moving off the shadows or the windows on either side. He twisted the doorknob, and, finally satisfied that no one was behind the door, cursed gently and reached into his pocket to pull out one of the few tools he had thought to bring.
The pin was hard to grasp, irritation flooding him just as he pulled it out and kneeled before the lock. It took a moment, his lock picking skills a little rusty as he hadn’t had to break into his dad’s office here recently or really anywhere else for that matter. Getting older had opened up more doors than his little old bobby pin had, but now he struggled to remember how to moved the pin to open the door, he made a half serious note to start picking Zebon and Soren’s locks again, if only for the practice.
Watching them freak about what might have been taken was an added benefit.
The lock popped open with a click, his hand freezing as he watched the door drift open just that tiny bit. Carson moved, pulling closer, gaze flickering to look through the small crack before he dared to push it wider.
The inside of her house was eerily quiet, something he noted even as she moved across the halls and wooden floors. His house was alive with sound and heartbeats, but he could only hear the distant rumble of hearts across the house and the faint hum of the heater as it struggle to fight off a Heaven’s Falls winter. He crept slowly, but it honestly didn’t take long to find Requiem’s room. All he had to do was track her scent, and it led him straight upstairs, straight to her room and luckily, this one was open.
Her room was just as pink as he might have envisioned it, certainly far more vivid than his slight glimpses through her window had been. Everything was dusted with it, her walls, her floors, her bed. Nothing had been spared, Carson’t dark attire sticking out like a sore thumb.He frowned at the thought, and absently shut the door.
This was where she lived.
It was the only thought that ran through him, the only thought that seemed to ring out above all the others. This was her room, her little private space untouched by anyone but her. He had seen her, outside when she had been here just those few days prior, had watched her as she had settled in, his body moving over the tail she had made along her own floor, the path she had taken as she had taken off her jacket near the door and had placed her bag on the floor.
Carson’s Hand grazed over the fabric of her lined up jackets, over her painted walls and the bags she had left on the floor. His body moved to followed her ritualistic path, trailing over her desk and computer, tapping along the keys as a slow smile started to creep along his face.
This was her room. This was the place she called sanctuary, the place she called him from when he had to let her come back here for some reason or another that she never usually told him. She stood here, and she took off her jacket and shoes at the side of her bed and she changed into her cute little rompers she loved so much. This was where she played with Popper and where she danced around to loud music and polished her pink bat. This was where she moved to her bed and she cuddled in her blankets because she hated to be cold, where she pulled her hair out from the pigtails she loved and she maybe, hopefully, thought of him when her eyes fluttered and the heat kicked on.
His body dropped onto her bed, and he couldn’t help but to turn, leaning slightly into her sheets to take in the scent of her. He was drowning, drowning in the scent of her all around him and the feeling of her blankets, her sheets, her pillows against his skin, imagining what it might be like to have her right there next to him. They Were soft, like the touches of hands, and he pulled his legs up, curling himself into her pillows upon pillows and blankets, the mountain of fabric that settled over her bed. There was only her, the similar but off scent of her sister just next door. He moved, reaching out to grab hold of a small pink pair with sewn on angel wings on the pack, eyeing it a moment as his thumbs brushed over the worn fabric. Memory played along his mind, watching her pick of each of her stuffed animals in ter, pressing kisses over them as she laughed or curled up into herself..
Her hands had touched this. Her lips have touched this. Her kiss is right under his fingers.
He pressed the Bear to his lips, pressing soft kisses against it, if only to kiss spots her lips had touched and to have his mark, though invisible, on something she would be sure to kiss again.
She wasn’t wholly fond of him, though she did spend an uneven amount of time with him when you compared it to other peers. She merely tolerated him, and his mission here wasn’t to drown himself in her sheets but rather learn more about her that simple surveillance could not give him.
Come on Carson… Her love Depends on it.
He pushed off her bed, reluctantly pulling himself away from pink sheets that smelled of vanilla and rose wood. He stood up, the bear still in his hands before he placed it down, straightening the sheets and blankets with even hands. He stood, just about to turn when he heard the door knob start to turn.
