Wentworth Miller Imagines

Stalker (L.S)

SNARTS POV

2016

I watch Y/N when she sleeps, eats, works, talks, is sad or happy and any other time I can.

In the shadows, she doesn't know who I am and it hurts that she never will know. I watch her in admiration every night, as she sleeps, sometimes I even brush a stay hair away from her face.

I collect her napkins and clothes she no longer desires when she tries to get rid of them. I watch Y/N undress as she walks into the shower and every night into her bed. She likes to sleep naked, always alone.

Y/Ns skin glows angelically in the summer, matures in the winter. Always smelling of lavender. My favourite smell.

Her hair brush is always clean and Y/F/N never, ever misses out on cleaning her photo frames every 3 weeks.

I bumped into her by purpose today. Y/N smiled at me, apologised and then carried on choosing her favourite roses from the florist. She didn't notice me or recognise me, before she could, I paid her bill for her.

When Y/N turned around to thank me I'd already left.

She ran out stopping me. "Hey." She shouted after me. It took a lot of courage but I turned to her. "Thank you, sir." She smiles at me and I nod my head in acknowledgement. "It means a lot." She calls out as I walk away.

If only she knew how much she meant to me.

1952, New York, the bullet my wife and the mother to my child took to her head, for me.

Breathing her last breath of air in my arms.