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Dexter liked you. no, he loved you. Because a normal person, a good person, wouldn't do the things he did for you for just any old stranger off the street. The affection he viewed you with was specific. Not that you had to do anything in particular to endear yourself to him, you were already perfect at that.
He remembers the night he first met you, saw you really, like a sweetness on his tongue. Something he can look back on and feel sustained in a way nothing else can, except maybe being bullseye, but that changed with the day, the wind. You were absolute, the warm little centre the earth crowded itself around.
Most people find salvation in churches, among the languid heat between someone's legs, snorting whatever pulverised pill they'd found that day. Dex? He found his on youtube, of all places.
~*~
You had crooked teeth. That's what he noticed at first, the way the pink flesh of your lips curled around them as you smiled towards the camera, obviously self conscious but too excited to let it affect you. Second, was that you had to be one of the most beautiful women, girls? The inflamed speckling of copper along your mouth and jawline almost made him doubt himself but no, your voice was definitely that of a woman's, albeit a breathy one. Not beautiful in that bimbo plastic way of most of the flock invading New York, with lips harder than their breasts and ivory teeth to match, but sweet. Fuck he thought you were cute.
The thumbnail told him very little of what you were talking about, if you were talking about anything specific, but the video's title immediately made his finger hover over the play button. “I'm so lonely I could take a stalker on a date”. Well, that was interesting. Enticing even.
It's a simple photo, a slightly grainy snapshot of you looking at what must be your laptop webcam, hell maybe even your phone camera with how shitty the quality is, with the type of worn down self depreciation smile only someone at the end of their rope can muster up. Dexter knows. He understands.
Dex had been home from his latest missions a few hours at most, and after showering and forcing himself to pick at whatever was residing in his meager apartment fridge it was already bordering on 2am. One video wouldn't hurt right? You interested him, your title definitely interested him. Fuck sleep, this was more important.
He settled backwards into the worn leather covering of his sofa, cracked and pleading to be thrown out but heaven on his joints after a particularly hard fight, and positioned the laptop in front of him on his coffee table as a centrepiece. This felt too important not to.
He pressed play.
~*~
“As someone whos never fit in, never had friends or a boyfriend or anything of the like, im fucking lonely. I-i’ll admit it! Its probably my fault, and i probably could change it if i dragged myself out the depression nest i call an apartment and actually spoke to people but whenever i do that i just seem to fuck it up! I say the wrong thing or smile at the wrong time or hey, fucking dont smile when im supposed to. I dont think ive spoken to another person except to buy groceries, not that I do because leaving my place is a nightmare, in weeks? A month at least. At this point im gonna end up talking to myself like some crazy per-”
You went on for another twenty minutes. And he watched every single one. More than once actually, because every rewatch yielded another detail for him to scrutinise and turn over and over in his mind. The way your cheeks flushed a blotchy red at the mention of never having a boyfriend. Your hair, greasy enough to be seen through a pixelated screen. How your clothes had obviously been worn for days without changing them. He shifted against the leather, such a weak, sad little thing. Alone. In need. In need of someone like him. He could take care of you, talk to you every hour of the day to fulfill the painstakingly obvious itch you had for human contact, remind you to eat, to shower, to have all the firsts he hadn't ever had with you. Go on actual dates to cafes or parks or the movies, normal people things. He could be good, polite and respectful, never going further than you needed him to, than you needed, he could be a good bo-boyfriend. A good boyfriend. Would you tell him that? Would you tell him he did what you wanted? That he was goo- fuck, he needed to calm down. Would you hold him?
The video had 36 views, around 10 most likely from Dexter himself, and one comment. A porn bot. God, you really were all alone weren't you?. Nobody to check up on you. To notice you. Weeks without talking to another person and even the internet couldn't offer you any solace.
~*~
6am. He hadn't slept.
You'd uploaded 10 videos over the course of the past 4 months. Months he could've been watching you instead of lugging his aching limbs around after another mission or mix up. Months of coming home to you. They ranged from just you rambling breathlessly to the camera, like the first one, to choppilly edited vlogs of your (quite sad) days playing video games in your apartment. Dexter devoured it all.
It was obvious you weren't posting them for online attention or to gain an actual fan base, you were just passing the time, as you said in the first video uploaded to the channel. Ironically titled “i become a mega famous vlogger”.
You were funny, albeit in a stilted awkward way that was probably more endearing than actually humorous. Little comments under your breath about this or that, what you were watching or playing or attempting to eat with plastic cutlery better suited for a toddler than a grown woman.
Dexter? He loved your voice most of all. It was this quiet, melodic thing. Deeper than he thought it would be, which shouldn't have been as attractive as it was, the way your lack of sleep made it rough around the ages where softness would be expected. He mostly replayed the videos just to hear you speak, about anything and everything, felt his face flush thinking about what you'd sound like talking with him. Praising him. Begging hi-
No. This wasn't about that. At least not most of it. He was a good guy, and he liked you. Good guys dont think with their lower half like scumbags who only want one thing. They're better than that, deeper.
Dexter would take care of you, protect you, hell even from yourself if he had to, obviously as it was your ineptitude at taking care of your own needs. You'd understand his need for order. His quirks and eccentricities.
You'd understand.
~*~
Around 6:30 he can't take it anymore. So what if it goes badly and he gets rejected again, like he always has. So what if you think he's a freak, everyone else does. So what.
He needs you to know he exists.
Tomorrow he can find out more about you, your name for instance (he doubts “nekovomitsuprise” is your government name), where the hovel you live in is, though he knows its somewhere in hell's kitchen because you'd mentioned a stabbing in video 3 that happened recently enough for him to remember. He'd find his girl, his little shut in, and he'd make sure she was taken care of, if she wanted to or not.
Until then? He reigns himself into just leaving a single comment, decides the lonely video would be particularly fitting, your first date, no?
He doesn't even have an account to comment with so it takes another twenty minutes before your laptop pings with a comment from “marksman123”.
“I get how you feel, honestly. I've spent nearly my whole life feeling cut off from everyone else. But I don't think inviting someone to stalk you is the best answer, unless you really know what your asking for, neko”