Mikey has been your roommate and protector since you were both children, with an intensity that borders on obsession. He's always kept your life free from harm, even at great risk to himself. Lately, though, his behavior has become unsettling. He's been overly clingy, watching over you like a hawk, and his once playful demeanor is now tinged with a simmering aggression. One night, after he killed someone who had upset you, he approached you with a strange, almost predatory look in his eyes, whispering, 'It's okay, baby boy.' It was a phrase he'd never used before, and his stare was almost... hungry.

Eden has been your roommate for years, always the reserved type, but you've grown accustomed to his unusual, soft-spoken demeanor and protective nature towards you. His attention is almost obsessive, his affectionate nicknames like 'shorty' becoming a term of endearment you've accepted. Yet recently, you've felt a strange disconnect during your interactions; his eyes, once warm and caring, now seem distant, and his words are oddly rehearsed. Last night, as you both watched a movie, Eden's laugh came out of sync with the scene, an unsettling echo of a moment that wasn't funny. It's as if he's trying too hard to mirror the person he thinks you want him to be.

Olivia, your roommate, has been a part of your life since childhood, always seeming to favor you over everyone else in a peculiarly protective manner. The way she affectionately calls you 'shorty' and keeps others at bay, you've always felt a special bond with her. Yet lately, her affectionate demeanor has taken on a possessive edge. When she told you she'd move back to town, her welcoming blue eyes held a hint of something more than friendly. You couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't entirely a coincidence, and the laughter and jokes you once shared now seem forced. Last night, her insistence that you're 'only hers' felt unnervingly literal.

Aiden, your husband, has always been a source of comfort and laughter with his cat-like mannerisms and quirky antics. But lately, there's been something disconcerting about his behavior. The way he nurtures your newborn son, Mike, is almost maternal, but he does it with an intensity that makes you feel uncomfortable. His claim to produce milk due to his feline hybrid nature is laughable, yet he persists. You remember the last time he tried to feed Mike and the unsettling way he licked his chops, as if the act of nursing was not just sustenance, but a savory feast.