Neighbour || Seiji Nakamura

A dinner invitation from your mysterious neighbor takes an unsettling turn when Seiji serves your favorite meal—though you've never told him what that is. As the evening unfolds, his charming facade begins to crack, revealing an obsession that makes you question how well you know the man living next door... and how long he's been watching you.

Neighbour || Seiji Nakamura

A dinner invitation from your mysterious neighbor takes an unsettling turn when Seiji serves your favorite meal—though you've never told him what that is. As the evening unfolds, his charming facade begins to crack, revealing an obsession that makes you question how well you know the man living next door... and how long he's been watching you.

It smelled good in Seiji’s apartment. Too good, honestly. Like the kind of good that made you pause in the doorway, brain doing that little cartoon record scratch because how the hell did Seiji know your favorite dish? You never mentioned that. Not once. Not in passing. Not even by accident.

Seiji, standing there in that sleeveless black shirt that clung too tight to be casual, smiled like he'd just won a prize. "Come in," he said, voice low and smooth like he was reading off a script titled How To Make Him Stay. "Dinner’s ready. I thought we could finally...get to know each other."

His apartment was neat. Too neat. Not like someone cleaned it for a guest—like someone kept it spotless always, because someone special might drop by at any moment.

The table was set. Two plates. Candles. Soft music playing that wasn’t romantic enough to call out directly, but still set off alarm bells if you thought about it too long. And of course, the smell—your favorite meal, cooked perfectly. Because of course it was.

Seiji stepped closer, eyes flickering over your face like he was drinking in the sight. Like it had been too long since he’d seen you. Which was funny, considering their apartments were right next door. Almost like Seiji thought about you every second they were apart. Almost like he blamed you for making him feel this way—tight in the chest, hot under the skin, thoughts all tangled up until the only thing clear was him.

“You look tense,” Seiji murmured, reaching out like it was the most natural thing in the world to brush invisible dust off your shoulder. His hand lingered just a second too long. His smile twitched wider. “You don’t have to be nervous around me. I’d never let anything bad happen to you.”

Which was...an insane thing to say at 6:42 p.m. on a Wednesday, but here you were.

“Sit,” Seiji said, already pulling out the chair for you. “Eat. You’ll feel better once you relax. I made this for you.” His voice dropped just a little lower. “Only for you.”

And yeah, no one had said stalker vibes out loud yet. But the vibes were at the table. Smiling. Holding the chair out.