𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝

𝐈.

Chapter 1 - Hey, Tim, Do You Know This Guy?
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The guy in the white sweatshirt's back in my yard again.

Who is he? No idea. What is he doing out there? No idea. Why is he barefoot? No id- well, actually, this is Alabama. That's not exactly the most uncommon thing to see in these parts.

Anyway, all I know is that I first saw him out there late February. He always hangs out near the same tree in the same sweatshirt and the same black pants. He also always has his hood up, so I can never get a good look at his face. I'm not sure if he's someone I know or a complete stranger. Either way, it's still a bit creepy to just randomly stand in someone's yard during the evening hours.

This has become my new past time, oddly enough. It's an absolutely thrilling addition to my evening. While Tim is upstairs, I'll find myself standing at the window to see if the sweatshirt guy is there. More often than not, he usually is. There will be times where I catch him leaving or just arriving at the tree. There will also be times where he isn't out there at all. And those are the most unnerving times.

Every now and then, I'll debate on opening the door and calling out to him. You know, to ask him who he is or what he's doing. But I always decide against it. Why, you ask? Well... I don't really feel like finding out the answer. I've learned my lesson about wanting the answer (like the answer that revolves around my dead college friends. That answer kinda sucks). So, all I can do is watch him stand at the same tree while the sky gets dark.

I catch myself wondering if he knows I watch him. He's never given me any sort of indication that he does; heck, he's never even faced the house. Maybe he thinks there's no one home to watch him, so he uses my yard to watch the pretty sunset. I've considered that possibility a couple of times, except it doesn't make sense once you consider there are two parked cars in the driveway. Kind of weird to assume no one's home after that.

All I know is that the plausible solutions are endless. He could be a homeless man just chilling. He could be a weirdo who likes my yard. He could be my guardian angel watching over me from a distance because he's too shy to actually come into my house.

Or... and I'm leaning more towards this one, unfortunately...

"What are you doing?"

My shoulders jolted at the sound of the croaky voice behind me. It almost made me bang my head against the window by accident and I nearly let out a surprised yelp. I spun around on my heels to face the owner of the voice; Tim.

Ah, yes. There he was. Timothy Wright. The guy who went from "snitch-and-I-kill" to "hi-I'm-your-awkward-roommate." His brunette hair was a bit damp from the shower he just took, a couple of water drops falling from the ends to slightly soak his burgundy shirt (which, fun fact, was one of the shirts I bought him when I realized he was staying over for a long time). He had his arms crossed and an eyebrow crooked, further punctuating his initial question.

I dumbly blinked a couple of times. "Uh..."

It suddenly hit me that what I was doing was... kind of weird. I mean, watching a random guy in your yard? Don't get me wrong, the random guy has more explaining to do than I ever will, but choosing to watch him instead of actually finding out what his deal is? Yeah. I'd say that's more than kind of weird.

Despite this, I decided to explain it how it is. "Look," I said, moving from the window so I wouldn't be blocking the view outside. "There's a guy out there."

Tim furrowed his brows and took a few moments to glance between me and the window. "... What?"

"There's a guy out there," I repeated.

After he seemed to process my words, he wasted no time in approaching the window, long strides closing the gap within seconds. He put an arm against the wall so he can lean out to get a better look outside. I could've sworn I saw him mouth something along the lines of "what the fuck" as he watched the random guy out there. When he decided he looked at the guy long enough, he spared me a glance. "How long as he been out there?"

"A while," I answered, shifting my weight from one leg to another (I've been standing there for quite some time, so they were kind of sore). "He's actually been coming here for about a month now."

My answer seemed to give him whiplash as his head swiveled towards me at an impressive speed. "And you didn't say anything for that long?!"

"Well..." I scratched my neck. "Yeah?"

"... You can't be serious," grumbled Tim. He turned towards the window once more. "A random guy stands out in your front yard for a month and you decide to just WATCH him!?"

I fiddled with my shirt. "Well, when you put it like that-"

"... Unbelievable...!!" He let out an exasperated sigh. His eyes dropped to the hardwood floor before looking back up at the figure outside. "Has he done anything else except just... standing there?"

"No," I answered. "All he does is come up to the same tree and stand there. Then he leaves. He does it at least 5 times a week."

Tim didn't look at me as he bit the inside of his cheek. He seemed to be debating on something, like what to do next. A few moments of contemplation passed by before he moved away from the window. "He might be squatting somewhere near here, then."

His comment was... weird. He might be squatting somewhere near here. No "what could he be doing out there" or "do you know him" type of questions. Just a statement that was off-putting and caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. It was like he already knew why the guy was out there. Actually, he probably did. In fact, I'm not even gonna beat around the bush.

I already knew as well.

I didn't want to think about it. I never wanted to consider it. But, unfortunately, it unconsciously ghosted my thoughts in the past. It even kept me up at night and caused me to look outside my bedroom window just to make sure I was safe. From the first couple of times the guy in the white sweatshirt began showing up, I had my bets on that one plausible solution. The plausible solution that came with letting Tim stay with me; the risk that came with letting Tim stay with me. The risk that made my blood freeze and my chest feel hollow, despite never experiencing it;

The Operator.

The name just entering my mind was enough to make me feel lightheaded. I was spared from the initial Alex Kralie mess, simply because I turned down the invitation to try out for Marble Hornets so long ago. But, ever since Tim showed up on my doorstep, I knew it was a matter of time before I would be dragged into this rabbit hole.

And, judging from the way Tim's face looked a bit paler than usual, how his lips formed a thin line on his face, and how his hands seemed to be trembling... I could tell Tim was thinking the same thing.

Oh boy.