The silence in Eli's apartment felt too heavy after the call ended. His phone was still warm in his hand, the soft glow of the screen casting a faint light on the room, but it didn't seem to offer him any comfort. There were no more words. No more voices. Just the memory of that deep, low sound that had invaded his thoughts. I'm always listening, Eli.
He dropped the phone onto the couch beside him, feeling the weight of its absence. The house seemed to grow colder without the warmth of the conversation, and his mind buzzed with questions he didn't know how to answer. Who was that man? Why did he sound like he was speaking from somewhere far away? Somewhere close?
Eli's heart hammered as the details of the conversation replayed over and over in his head. There was something about the way the man spoke so confident, so assured, so… possessive. It sent a thrill down Eli's spine. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had made him feel like that. Hell, no one had ever made him feel that way, not since... well, since before he gave up on his own life, let alone his future.
But this was different. This was… intoxicating.
The man, J.M. Whoever he was, Eli wasn't sure what was real anymore. How could someone so far removed from his world—the one that seemed too good to be true—find his way into Eli's life? Into his thoughts? Into his soul?
He thought he'd be fine without connections. He was used to living on the edge of loneliness, after all. But something about that voice, about the way J.M. had understood him really understood him had shattered that protective shell he'd built around his heart. Eli wasn't ready for the pull, wasn't ready for the feeling of being wanted like that.
His phone buzzed again.
A text. He snatched it up, fingers trembling slightly. He expected it to be from someone else maybe a friend, maybe a reminder for work. But when he opened it, his stomach twisted.
> "Did you miss me?"
— J.M.
Eli froze, his breath caught in his chest. He hadn't expected it to be so soon. He had barely managed to gather his thoughts, let alone answer to a message like this. His fingers hovered over the screen as if he had all the time in the world to respond, but he didn't. His heart was already racing, already pounding in his ears.
> "Did you?" he typed back before he could stop himself. The words came faster than he could control, the desire to reach out more powerful than the hesitation that held him back.
— Eli
He stared at the screen, waiting for a reply that didn't come immediately. His pulse quickened. The silence stretched on. What was he doing? Why was he even playing along? This was madness. He barely knew anything about this person. For all he knew, he was just a pawn in some game a game that had been going on long before he'd ever entered the picture.
His phone buzzed again, and the flood of anticipation nearly knocked the breath out of him.
> "I think you know the answer to that, Eli. I miss you every minute. Every second."
The words felt like a shot of adrenaline. He could hear that voice again, hear it saying those things, feel the power behind them. He had no idea why, but the idea that this stranger missed him—missed him—sent a rush of warmth to his chest.
> "Why me?" Eli typed, his fingers almost aching from the need to get to the truth. "You barely know me."
— Eli
The reply came faster this time, almost too fast, as if J.M. had been waiting for him to ask.
> "I know everything I need to know. You're everything I've been looking for, Eli. You just don't realize it yet."
Eli didn't know what to think. The words were intoxicating, but they made his skin crawl, too. Was it all too good to be true? Was this really just some game? A rich man playing with a nobody, hiding behind a screen?
He quickly typed another reply, his fingers shaking with uncertainty.
> "Why won't you tell me who you are?" He added, more out of frustration than curiosity, hoping to draw out some answer that would give him a hint.
— Eli
There was a brief silence, and for a moment, Eli thought he might have gone too far. Maybe he had pushed too much. Maybe this was it no more messages. No more mystery.
But then the phone vibrated again.
> "Patience, Eli." The words were simple, but the tone, even through text, was firm. "Some things are better left hidden. Trust me, you'll understand soon enough."
Eli's stomach churned. He didn't know if he was supposed to be reassured or terrified. The message left him with more questions than answers. What did that even mean? What would happen soon enough?
His fingers hovered over the screen, the question still burning in his mind. But before he could ask again, the phone buzzed one more time. He clicked it open. His breath hitched as he read the last message of the night:
> "Sleep well, Eli. I'll be waiting for you in your dreams."
— J.M.
The phone slipped from his hands, landing softly on the couch as his heart thudded painfully against his chest. His eyes were wide, unblinking, as his mind raced. What had just happened? Who was this man? Why did he feel like he was drowning in words that weren't even real?
Eli glanced over at the clock. It was 1:15 AM. He hadn't even realized how late it was.
With shaky hands, he grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch, wrapping it around his shoulders, trying to steady himself. He hadn't expected any of this. He hadn't expected to fall into something that felt so real, so dangerous.
The voice on the other end of that phone call wasn't just a distraction anymore. It was a pull. A magnet. And no matter how much he wanted to ignore it, he couldn't.
He closed his eyes, the weight of the words still heavy in his chest.
"I'll be waiting for you in your dreams."
And as he drifted off to sleep, a part of him wondered just how long he'd be able to resist. How long before this stranger, this obsession, would take over every part of him?