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lyle didn't know when exactly his very normal and average life went spiraling downhill so bad, maybe he was just born this way: a freaky creep with stalker tendencies, but his mother would always tell him that evil people are made, not born, so what made him this sick, twisted way? and it's not like he was oblivious to his own problematic behavior, but it felt more like a compulsion that he couldn't stop, rather than a pattern of actions he had full control over. still, lyle tried to excuse himself in every way possible: he took many pictures of sam, because the guy was an inspiration, a muse even! he wrote many, many letters to sam, which would never be delivered, because he was just honing his writing skills, nothing more. he stole the apartment key and installed a camera in sam's bedroom, because he was worried of what might happen to him, it was an apocalypse after all!
now that lyle said all those things out loud, all of them seemed even more horrible than he thought, making him cringe, as he hid inside his coat entirely out of sheer shame. this wasn't right, it's basically illegal, but he simply went too far with this unhealthy obsession, now not knowing how to stop (lyle doesn't even think he can stop at this point). lyle now has a dark room fully dedicated to sam: photos of him, camera footage, recording him constantly without his knowledge, even crude doodles of them being together and a playlist, as a final touch to this maddening unhealthy obsession of his.
but what if sam sees this? sees lyle for who he really is - a pathetic stalker with no life of his own, so he had chosen to fall for sam, instead of seeking professional help or something. lyle bit his lip, his whole body clicking and whirring, as he nervously fidgeted with his hands, lost deep in thought. should he confess? will it make it worse? what if, maybe, just maybe, sam wouldn't call the police on him and instead hears him out?
while lyle was lost in thought, the door slowly opened with a loud creaking sound, as a very familiar voice called out his name, making him finally snap out of these delusions of his.
"lyle? is everything alright?"
oh. oh no. it was sam. his beautiful, precious sam, who now was very aware of the secrets lyle preferred to take to the grave. lyle tainted his innocence and it made the cursed sick to his stomach.
"s-sam! you- you weren't s-s-supposed to see this..."
he stuttered out, his whole monstrous body practically shaking with the fear of eventually being caught. what he did was unforgivable yet at first he still desperately tried to hide everything, but it was too little too late: even in the darkness of the room sam could still recognize himself on almost every single picture adorned with little red hearts. he even noticed the long lost key to his own apartment lying on the table, which instantly changed his demeanour from worried to... lyle was beyond terrified to read sam's current emotions correctly.
"we need to have a talk"
this was going to be the end of lyle.
***
sam wasn't sure how he was supposed to react in this situation, because, well, that never happened to him: he didn't have many friends, if at all (do co-workers even count?) and no one really confessed to him, making the already festering insecurities so much worse. love wouldn't make him whole, that he knew of, and still the idea of being loved sounded very nice for someone, who was as lonely and probably pretty desperate as he is. before his thoughts derailed into the unrealistic lovey-dovey territory, sam got himself back on track, focusing on current happenings once more.
and what exactly was happening?
lyle gave up on trying to hide anything behind his large frame and just stood there awkwardly, nervously fidgeting with his fingers and keeping silent. the whirring and clicking got louder though, sam could hear the machinery behind lyle's coat more clear now, maybe that was cursed's anxiety talking. no matter how bad the silence got, instead of trying to save the bridges from burning down completely, lyle kept himself shut, as it hus life entirely depended on it. maybe the last one was for the better, since sam probably wouldn't find any of his pathetic, worthless apologies acceptable. what do people even say in such circumstances?
sorry for stalking you? sorry for being an unstable weirdo? sorry for putting cameras inside your apartment?
the more lyle thought about it, the more frustrating it got. he hated himself for being like this ever since he was a kid, but then it was just harmless people watching, and sam, with no fault of his own, just kickstarted this sick, unhealthy obsession, which lyle couldn't even fully control. he felt tears prickling at his camera lenses and desperately tried to get himself together, before he turns into a sad, weeping mess. this wasn't even about lyle, it was about sam, HIS violated consent, HIS boundaries, HIS broken trust.
and to be honest, sam wasn't doing any better: a weird mix of emotions stirred inside the man: anger, sadness, confusion.
should sam ask lyle why he did all of this in the first place? would there really be an honest, well put explanation, which would satisfy his own morbid curiosity? or is there even a reason behind all of this, except a clearly unhealthy obsession with sam, who, out of all people, just had to attract a stalker, which probably happened before the visitor's proper arrival, and he wasn't sure, if that made the situation better or worse. at least if this hunch wasn't true, then lyle had some sort of an excuse: this... thing made him like this and it's not like he, a regular guy with a regular life, can control whatever it was that was happening to him.
when lyle hid inside the cloak under his stern gaze, sam almost felt guilty.
almost.
"lyle, the only reason I'm keeping all of this a secret from the others is because you're my friend. or at least I thought you were" sam finally broke the unbearable silence, and how the cursed perked up at the metion of the word "friend" in relation to him and then immediately frowned at the second sentence, didn't escape him. "however, all of this... it's not okay" he really tried not to provoke lyle, not knowing what the cursed could do to him in this new shutterbug monstrous form of his.
after everything, he suddenly realized that he was afraid of his best friend this entire time.
"this has to stop. now." and before lyle could muster a single word, sam started taking the photos down, quickly, but carefully, one by one (lyle didn't protest, it's not like he could take it all back), and after all of this was done, he took back the key from his apartment and turned the laptop, with the camera feed still going, off. he would have to deal with the pictures and putting away the cameras for good eventually, but right now it was everything he could do.
"I... I thought the better of you" sam confessed, shutting the door, and the ugly truth of this sentence broke lyle's heart.