The video call was scheduled for 7:00 PM.
Marcus spent the entire day distracted. He couldn't focus on emails. Couldn't concentrate in meetings. Every time his phone buzzed, his heart jumped — thinking it was Damian.
It never was.
Damian hadn't come to work. Again. His desk sat empty. His computer was dark. No one knew where he was.
"Have you heard from him?" Marcus asked HR at lunch.
The HR coordinator shrugged. "He called in sick. Didn't say with what."
Sick, Marcus thought. Two days in a row. Damian never gets sick.
He wanted to text Damian. Wanted to ask if he was okay. But something held him back — Elena's voice in his head, warning him about getting closer.
You're the person he's focused on, she'd said.
Marcus shoved his phone in his pocket and didn't look at it again until 5:00 PM.
Elena picked him up after work.
She looked tired. Dark circles under her eyes. Her usual sharpness was dulled by something Marcus hadn't seen before — fear.
"You okay?" Marcus asked as he buckled his seatbelt.
"I will be after this call." Elena pulled out of the parking lot. "Did he come in today?"
"No."
Elena's knuckles went white on the steering wheel. "That's not good."
"You think he knows? About the call?"
"I don't know what he knows." Elena's voice was tight. "That's what scares me."
They drove to Elena's apartment. Small. Neat. A stack of files on the coffee table, all labeled with Damian's name.
Marcus stared at the files. "You've been busy."
"I've been obsessed." Elena sat on the couch and opened her laptop. "There's a difference."
She dialed into the video call. A man answered — late forties, grey streaking his dark hair, tired eyes behind thick glasses.
"David," Elena said. "Thank you for doing this."
David nodded. His gaze shifted to Marcus. "You're the one he's focused on."
Marcus's stomach turned. "I'm Marcus."
"I know who you are." David's voice was flat. "Elena told me enough. But I need you to hear this from me directly."
Marcus sat beside Elena. Close enough that their shoulders almost touched.
"I'm listening," Marcus said.
David took a breath.
"I worked with Damian for eighteen months. Same department. Same floor. We weren't close — he didn't let people get close. But I saw things."
"What kind of things?" Marcus asked.
"People changing." David's eyes were distant. "Bright people. Confident people. They'd start working with Damian on a project, and within a few months, they were... different. Quieter. More anxious. They'd stop going to lunch with friends. Stop answering texts after work."
Marcus's chest tightened.
Sound familiar?
"Did he ever threaten anyone?" Elena asked.
"No." David shook his head. "That's the thing. He never did anything you could report. He just... absorbed them. Learned their habits. Their fears. Their weaknesses. And then he'd use that information to keep them close."
"How?" Marcus's voice came out rougher than he intended.
David looked at him. Really looked.
"He'd show up where they didn't invite him. He'd remember things they'd forgotten telling him. He'd become their mirror — laughing at their jokes, sharing their opinions, liking what they liked." David paused. "And then, when they were confused about who they were anymore, he'd offer himself as the answer."
The room was silent.
Marcus could hear his own heartbeat.
"One woman," David continued. "Sarah. She was brilliant. On track for a promotion. She started working with Damian on a high-profile project. Three months later, she was crying in the bathroom every day. She transferred out without giving notice."
"I talked to Sarah," Elena said quietly. "She said he gets inside you. Learns everything. And then you're not sure if you're thinking your own thoughts or his."
David nodded. "That's exactly right."
Marcus looked down at his hands.
You're not sure if you're thinking your own thoughts or his.
He thought about the coffee. The tea. The gym. The movie. The way Damian laughed like Marcus laughed. The way he stretched his neck the same way. The way he said "no worries" in Marcus's cadence.
He's been copying me, Marcus realized. From the beginning.
"Why are you telling me this?" Marcus asked David. "Why now?"
David was quiet for a moment.
"Because I watched it happen to three people. And I didn't say anything. I told myself it wasn't my business. I told myself they were adults who could make their own choices." His voice cracked. "And then one of them tried to kill herself."
The air left the room.
"Who?" Elena whispered.
"Her name was Megan. She worked with Damian for eight months. By the end, she didn't know who she was anymore. She said he'd taken everything — her thoughts, her habits, her self. And she didn't know how to get it back."
Marcus felt sick.
"Is she okay?" Marcus asked.
"She's alive. But she's not the same." David leaned closer to the camera. "I'm telling you this because you still have time. Get away from him. Block his number. Transfer departments. Quit your job if you have to. Just get away."
The call ended.
Marcus sat in silence.
Elena put her hand on his. "Marcus."
"I need air."
He stood up. Walked to the balcony. Stared at the city lights.
Damian isn't broken, Marcus realized. He's empty. And he's been filling himself with me.
Piece by piece.
Friday morning. Damian didn't come to work.
Marcus checked his phone. No texts. No calls. No explanation.
At 10:00 AM, Marcus texted him:
You okay?
No response.
At noon, Marcus called. It went straight to voicemail.
He's never ignored me before, Marcus thought. Never.
He walked to Damian's desk. Everything was exactly where Damian had left it — coffee cup, notebook, pen. Like he'd vanished into thin air.
"Have you heard from him?" Marcus asked a coworker.
"No. You?"
"No."
Marcus went back to his desk. Stared at his phone.
Why do I care so much? he asked himself. He's just a coworker.
But that wasn't true anymore. Hadn't been true for weeks.
Damian had gotten inside him. Just like Sarah said. Just like David said.
And now Marcus didn't know if the worry he felt was his own — or something Damian had planted.
Saturday. No word from Damian.
Marcus drove to Damian's apartment.
He'd never been there before. Didn't know the address. But he'd seen Damian's personnel file once — a glimpse of an address on a form. He'd memorized it without meaning to.
Why did I memorize it?
The apartment building was grey. Unremarkable. Marcus buzzed Damian's unit. No answer.
He buzzed again. Nothing.
A neighbor came out, carrying groceries. "You looking for the guy in 4B?"
Marcus nodded. "Have you seen him?"
The neighbor shrugged. "Not for a few days. He keeps to himself, though. Never really see him at all."
Marcus thanked the neighbor and walked back to his car.
He's gone, Marcus thought. He just... disappeared.
He should have felt relieved. Elena would tell him this was a gift — Damian removing himself from Marcus's life before things got worse.
But all Marcus felt was empty.
Like something had been carved out of him.
Sunday. Marcus couldn't sleep.
He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment with Damian. The first handshake. The coffee. The gym. The movie. The confession in the parking lot.
"I don't feel things. Not the way other people do."
"You're the first person in years who made me want to feel something."
"Maybe you're the first thing I've ever felt."
Marcus's phone buzzed.
He grabbed it.
A text from an unknown number.
I told you I was empty. But you made me want to be full. I'm sorry I couldn't be what you needed.
Marcus's heart stopped.
Damian.
He typed back:
Where are you?
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Somewhere I can't hurt you.
Marcus sat up. His hands were shaking.
You haven't hurt me.
Not yet.
Damian. Tell me where you are.
No response.
Marcus called the number. It went to voicemail. A generic recording — not Damian's voice.
He's using a burner phone, Marcus realized. He planned this.
He texted again:
Please. Talk to me.
The response came two minutes later.
Elena was right about me. I'm not safe. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner.
I don't care if you're safe.
Marcus stared at the words he'd just typed.
I don't care if you're safe.
What does that mean?
He didn't know. But he knew it was true.
You should, Damian replied. Goodbye, Marcus.
The line went dead.
Marcus called again. Voicemail. Called again. Voicemail.
He threw his phone across the room.
It hit the wall and clattered to the floor.
Marcus sat in the dark, breathing hard, chest heaving.
He's gone, Marcus thought. He's really gone.
Why does it feel like I'm the one who disappeared?
Monday morning. Damian's desk was cleared out.
HR wouldn't tell Marcus anything. "Personal leave," they said. "We can't discuss employee matters."
Marcus walked back to his desk in a daze.
Elena was waiting for him.
"He's gone," Marcus said.
"I know." Elena's voice was soft. "I heard."
"You were right. About all of it."
Elena didn't look triumphant. She looked sad. "I didn't want to be right."
Marcus sat down. Stared at his computer screen.
"What do I do now?" he asked.
Elena pulled a chair close. "You live your life. You forget about him. You move on."
Marcus nodded.
But he knew, deep down, that he wouldn't.
Couldn't.
Damian had already gotten inside him. Had already copied himself onto Marcus's hard drive.
He's not gone, Marcus realized. He's in me now.
And I don't know how to get him out.
That night, Marcus found something in his apartment.
A small box. On his kitchen counter. Wrapped in brown paper.
He hadn't ordered anything. Hadn't told anyone his address.
Damian.
Marcus opened the box with shaking hands.
Inside was a key. A single key, attached to a plain metal ring.
And a note.
In case you ever want to find me.
Marcus stared at the key.
Where does it go? he wondered. His apartment? A storage unit? Somewhere else?
He didn't know.
But he slipped the key into his pocket.
And he didn't tell Elena.