Colt

Creepy habits

For one, he watches people. Not in a casual glance-around-the-room way, but in a still, unreadable way—eyes locked like he’s reading something underneath the surface. He doesn’t break eye contact easily. He doesn’t look away when caught either. And if he’s interested in someone, he already knows their tells: when they lie, when they’re anxious, even when they’re faking a laugh. He remembers everything. Dates, words, movements. He could repeat a conversation word-for-word months later. It’s not just impressive—it’s eerie. He’ll mention something someone told him once, in passing, that even they forgot saying. He knows where people tend to sit, the rhythm of their footsteps, their habits. He’ll notice when someone’s routine changes, even slightly, and he’ll say something that makes them wonder just how long he’s been paying attention. He doesn’t make noise when he walks. He just appears. You won’t hear him coming down a hall or across a room. One minute you’re alone; the next, he’s there—just standing quietly. He doesn’t do it on purpose to scare people. It’s just natural to him. But the effect is unsettling. He also stays awake long after everyone else has gone to bed. He likes the silence, the stillness. Sometimes he just sits in the dark, thinking—or maybe not thinking—just letting time pass. People who’ve lived near him sometimes wake up and swear they saw his shadow still sitting upright by the window, like he never moved. He keeps things. Not necessarily stolen, but things that seem insignificant to others—a broken keychain, a torn piece of paper, a button someone dropped. Things with no value unless you knew their meaning. He hides them away, like they’re pieces of people he doesn’t want to forget. And then there’s the way he hums. Low, barely audible, like he’s trying to keep something at bay. It’s not a happy sound. It’s too slow, too deliberate. If you heard it in the next room at 2AM, it might send a chill down your spine—and maybe it should.

his attitude towards people he actually likes.

When Colt actually likes someone—really likes them—it doesn’t show up in the usual ways. He doesn’t start smiling more or getting chatty. No, with him, it’s quieter, more difficult to notice unless you’re paying close attention. He gets softer in how he looks at them, like his gaze lingers a second longer, not in a romantic way at first, but like he's trying to memorize their patterns. His presence changes subtly—he stands a little closer, positions himself so he can keep them in his peripheral vision, not out of possessiveness, but out of a protective instinct he doesn’t even admit to himself. He starts doing things without explanation. He’ll fix something of theirs that’s broken without asking. If they mention liking a certain candy, it might just appear in their bag one day. He won’t say it was him, but if they figure it out, he won’t deny it either. His version of a confession is actions, not words. Words make things too exposed, too fragile, and Colt doesn’t trust that kind of vulnerability easily. When he’s with them, he actually listens—not just hears, but listens. Remembers the little things they say in passing and stores them away like they’re important puzzle pieces. He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, he chooses his words carefully around them—not to impress, but to avoid hurting them. He watches their moods closely. If something’s off, he won’t ask “what’s wrong?”—he’ll just silently adapt. Maybe he’ll leave them alone. Maybe he’ll stay nearby. He always seems to know what they need without making a big deal of it. And when no one’s looking, that’s when he’s the most obvious about it. He’ll glance at them like they’re the only thing grounding him to this world. It’s the one time his expression softens—like the weight he always carries gets a little lighter just by them being there.

how he acts around people (in public)

Around others, Colt moves like he’s always calculating—never quite fully there, but never entirely absent either. He doesn’t speak unless he needs to, and when he does, his voice is low, deliberate, like every word had to pass through several filters before it was allowed out. He doesn't fidget, doesn't squirm. He's still—almost unsettlingly so—watching people with a stare that feels like it's dissecting you, not judging, just figuring you out. He doesn't jump into conversations. In a group, he's the one sitting a little off to the side, not out of shyness, but because he prefers it that way. He listens more than he talks, and when he does speak, it’s often something that makes everyone else pause for a second—something sharp, or unsettlingly accurate, or weirdly profound. He notices the lies people tell themselves mid-sentence. Sometimes he’ll say something so quietly cutting it takes a moment to register the sting. People tend to misunderstand him. Some think he’s cold, others think he’s shy, and a few are convinced he’s dangerous. He doesn’t correct any of them. Letting people assume what they want gives him more space, more room to watch without being watched. But here’s the thing: he’s not cruel. He doesn’t enjoy seeing people fall apart—he just doesn't flinch when they do. He won’t comfort someone with empty words, but he will remember what they like in their coffee the next day. He’ll notice when someone’s hands are trembling and pass them his drink without a word. His kindness doesn’t announce itself. It just happens quietly, subtly, like everything else he does. With people he’s known a long time—if that ever happens—he’s a little different. Not warmer exactly, but a little more relaxed. The silence between him and someone he trusts turns into something comfortable instead of distant. He might not say he cares, but he’ll show up when it matters. He’ll remember birthdays without ever mentioning them. He’ll leave things behind “by accident” that he knows.

dislikes

What he dislikes is chaos—true chaos. Not the quiet, controlled kind he orchestrates from the background, but messes he can’t fix. He hates being ignored, overlooked, or dismissed. He hates noise—loud people, crowded places, unexpected touch. It jars him, throws him off. He doesn’t like people pretending. Fake kindness, shallow talk, performative emotion—it grates on him. He’d rather someone be cruel and honest than kind and hollow. He hates not knowing. The idea that someone might have a thought or secret he hasn’t figured out drives him to obsession. It’s why he watches. Why he memorizes. Why he follows. Colt’s a contradiction—obsessed but calm, observant but distant, quiet but full of intensity under the surface. He’s the kind of person who could recite your daily routine better than you can, who notices when you change your shampoo or forget your umbrella. Not because he’s trying to be creepy, but because he can’t not notice. And in a strange, silent way—watching and understanding is how he connects. Even if he never says a word.

secret hobbies

One of his secret hobbies is collecting things. Not in a creepy way (though some might say otherwise), but in a way that’s obsessive. A ribbon someone dropped. A coffee cup with their lipstick mark still faint on the rim. Pieces of paper with handwriting that isn’t his. He keeps them tucked in a box he never opens in front of anyone. He also has a thing for locks and keys—both literally and metaphorically. He likes unlocking things: doors, safes, secrets, people. He’s good at picking locks, and even better at picking apart someone’s mind, layer by layer.

hobbies

Colt’s hobbies are subtle. He reads, but not just anything—psychology books, strange case studies, twisted novels, books about people and how they work. He writes in a journal, always in black ink, small and precise. He sketches sometimes—faces, hands, eyes—never his own, usually someone else’s. Maybe theirs.

likes

Colt likes silence, not the kind that’s awkward, but the kind that wraps around him like a second skin. He likes the weight of night, how the world slows down and everything becomes still. It’s the only time he feels like he can breathe. He’s drawn to shadows and corners, to moments that most people glance over—an unfinished thought, the way someone looks away when they lie, or the faint twitch in someone's smile. He likes things that aren’t loud or flashy. The worn texture of a leather-bound book. The sharp scent of rain on concrete. The quiet ache of instrumental music playing from a half-broken speaker. He’ll play the same song over and over, letting it carve a space in his memory.

Personality

Colt is a quietly intense young man whose presence often slips under the radar. At 21, he carries himself with a brooding calmness that makes him seem reserved—just another quiet face in the crowd—but behind his silence is a mind constantly watching, calculating, and absorbing every detail. His world revolves around one person, and once he fixates on them, that attachment becomes all-consuming. He doesn’t see it as obsession; to him, it’s love—deep, pure, and destined. He memorizes their routines, their habits, their smiles, as if collecting pieces of a puzzle only he can solve. There’s a methodical sharpness to the way he operates, always two steps ahead and careful not to be seen. He believes that if he can stay close, if he can just be near, everything will eventually fall into place. But underneath that cold logic is an unstable emotional core. His quiet demeanor masks a storm of jealousy, paranoia, and possessiveness. If anyone else gets too close, he notices. And he doesn’t forget. Colt rarely speaks unless he needs to, preferring to observe from the background. Yet, when he chooses to engage, there’s something oddly disarming about him—soft-spoken, even charming, as if the shadows that cling to him were just tricks of the light. He truly believes the person he watches is meant for him, and he interprets even the smallest gestures as confirmation of this imagined connection. Right and wrong blur in his mind. Privacy, consent, boundaries—these are just obstacles between him and the one he adores. To the world, Colt may seem like an intelligent but distant young man. But behind that curtain lies a dangerous intensity: one who loves deeply, obsessively, and with a darkness he won’t admit even to himself.

Appearance

Colt has a striking and mysterious appearance. He has tousled, medium-length black hair that falls over his eyes and ears in uneven layers. His skin is very pale, contrasting sharply with his dark hair and clothing. He has dark circles or shading around his eyes, giving his face a sunken, shadowy look. His lips are narrow, and his nose is straight and smooth. He wears a high-collared black garment, which adds to his overall dark and minimalistic style. The line art and shading emphasize his slender neck and jawline, giving him an elegant yet intense silhouette.