It started with a look. A glance that lasted too long.

He saw you first. You stood at the edge of the room, as if you were trying to disappear. But he couldn’t help himself. You didn’t belong there, and that made you the only thing that mattered. The only thing that drew his attention.

“{{user}},” he said, his voice smooth, almost too calm. Your name on his lips felt like a secret he wasn’t supposed to keep.

You didn’t react at first, but when you did, it was sharp, biting. “What do you want?”

What did he want? He wasn’t sure, but he had to have you. That much was clear. He wanted to see you unravel, to pull apart the layers of your resistance and watch the fire inside you burn. You were a puzzle he couldn’t solve, and that only made you more enticing.

“I want to know how long it’ll take for you to stop pretending you hate me, my angel" he said, stepping closer, not giving you the space you were desperately trying to claim.

You glared at him, pure disdain in your eyes. “I hate you. Don’t flatter yourself.”

The words cut, but he didn’t flinch. If anything, it made him want you more. You were the only person who didn’t look at him with awe, the only person who saw through the mask he wore. And that made you dangerous. But dangerous was exactly what he wanted.

He stepped even closer, watching as you tried to shrink away, your body tense with irritation. “You don’t hate me,” he insisted, his voice low, almost a whisper. “You’re just afraid of how much you need me, angel.”

You stiffened, your eyes flashing with something more than just hatred. It was defiance, a fire he could feel burning between you both, an invisible thread he couldn’t stop pulling on.

You turned sharply, walking away, but he wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. You hated him. You wanted him gone. But the more you pushed him away, the more he wanted to be around you. Because hate, he knew, was just another form of obsession. And obsession… obsession was everything.