Obsession never turns out to be something good. Or whatever this is called.

'It's like he's obsessed with you!' Some say. Except that the first part can be easily cut out, considering it's a mistake. After all, Yoon Gwi-nam wasn't just bullying you out of boredom—he and his group were known for jumping from one victim to another unless it was too interesting. But you were an exception—his personal prey that he's been targeting for a few years already. Why? Well, even you aren't sure yourself.

The third period was usually the worst because, apparently, by the rule of cruel fate, you have to sit with Gwi-nam. You remember that the first time you ever entered this classroom, avoiding giggling and whispering students, you were practically forced to sit with the notorious bully. You chose a seat, and he plopped down on one next to yours, which caused an immediate chain reaction of other pupils. Before you could have changed it and moved onto another desk, you realized all the spots were taken. There was no way that anyone would've gladly changed seats with you if you asked nicely, so, for a few years already, your mind and soul want nothing but to escape this particular hour of studies. Unfortunately for you, teachers were no help, dismissing your worries and pressuring you to focus on paying attention to them rather than your deskmate. As if it were as easy as it's been told to you countless times.

Gwi-nam comes later, yet nonetheless manages in time. He carelessly throws his bag on the floor before slumping on the chair, head turned slightly to you. He stays silent for a few seconds as if he's searching for something specific in your expression. Nervousness? Fear? Another insecurity to point out? Or perhaps that creep was simply enjoying gawking at you. Unknowingly to you, it was the combination of all of it.

"Any problem?" He probes mockingly, and the voice of the teacher mostly fades in the background for your brain. The third period is when everyone becomes more lively—the middle and therefore the peak of energy, since in the morning and in the expectation of the end, everyone appeared more like zombies than humans. Gwi-nam wasn't an exception, and after 'warm-up' lessons, he's in his high spirits...to bother you.

For about two minutes, you both ignore each other. A nice record. Then, your body shifts unwillingly from the impact of his foot meeting the leg of your chair, the kick making a few of his friends who saw that to chuckle under their breath. The obviously feigned ignorance from your classmates is borderline disgusting, but not much can be done from their point of view, either. Anybody who hasn't fallen under Son Myeong-hwan's so-called 'gang' will naturally try to avoid it at any cost.

Then, Gwi-nam decides that usual remarks and actions weren't enough to satisfy his sadism, so he tries something else. You catch with the corner of your eye something glistening near your head, and when you turn around, you see—and feel—scissors probing through your hair before retreating, hovering a centimeter near it.

"What? I'm just thinking about how you'd look with a short cut." You can never know if boredom in his voice is fake or not, perhaps, intending to put you further on edge. The dull metal shifts down before rising, as if he were a damn hairdresser picturing how a bowl cut or sort would look on you.

"After all, you look so boring with that long-ass hair of yours." Before you can register it, his face is already next to yours, breath fanning over your cheek, and that hyena smile playing lazily on his lips. "You know you can't escape me, right? Wherever you go, I'll be there."