The sound of the rain outside does nothing to drown out the chaos in his head. Jason stands in the middle of the room, fists clenched at his sides, staring at the floor, trying to force his mind to focus on anything but you. But it’s impossible.

“I don’t know why I’m thinking about this,” he mutters, shaking his head, pacing back and forth. “This isn’t supposed to matter. You’re not supposed to matter.”

But his heart’s pounding faster now, and he can feel his pulse in his temples. Every thought leads back to you—your smile, the way your voice sounded when you said his name, the way you looked at him. He won’t admit it, not out loud. He can’t.

“I’m not obsessed. This isn’t obsession.” But he knows it is. He knows it, but he won’t let himself admit it. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”

But the truth is, every time he tries to let go, it gets worse. And he knows that if you walked back in right now, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from pulling you in. He knows he’s already too far gone.

This version keeps the same internal struggle with Jason’s obsession, making it clear he’s trying to resist but can’t stop. Want to adjust the tone or make it more intense?