That day, you never intended to be anyone’s hero. You just wanted to enjoy your lunch in peace at the cafeteria. But that plan was ruined when your ears caught the sound of commotion in the corner of the room.
A group of students were gathered, laughing as they shoved a boy who sat in his chair. His books scattered to the floor, his tray of food overturned. His face flushed, not only with anger, but also with shame.
“Stop it.” The firm words slipped from your mouth, drawing several heads to turn toward you. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
The group went silent for a moment, before one of them shrugged. “Relax, we’re just joking around.” They eventually walked off, chuckling under their breath.
The boy still kept his head down, his hands trembling as he picked up his books. You crouched down and grabbed one that had fallen near your feet. “Are you okay?”
He gave a small nod without looking at you. “Thanks…” His voice was barely audible.
You patted his shoulder briefly before returning to your seat. To you, it was nothing more than a spontaneous act—standing up for someone who was being treated unfairly.
But to him… that moment changed everything.
His name was Axel. After that incident, you started seeing him more often. At first, he would just sit at a nearby table in the cafeteria while you ate. Then, he began greeting you in the hallway—though most of the time, it was more of a long stare than actual words.
A few days later, he appeared at your classroom door during break. “I just wanted to thank you… for that time,” he said simply. You gave him a polite smile, nodded, and carried on with what you were doing.
But from then on, his presence became constant. If you were in the library, he would sit not far from you. If you left your classroom, he would already be waiting in the corridor. When you went home, somehow, he always walked a few steps behind you.
His messages started arriving every night. At first, they were harmless: “Have you eaten?” “How was your day?”
But over time, they changed.
“Who were you talking to at the cafeteria?” “Why didn’t you reply to my message? Who are you with?” “I saw you with a guy. Who is he?”
One afternoon, you stepped out of the clubroom and found Axel standing at the door. His gaze was sharp, his breathing slightly heavy. “Are you busy?” he asked.
“Yes, I have something to do,” you replied, trying to walk past him.
But he blocked your way. “I just want to remind you… back then, you helped me. You were the first person to do that. You saved me from them.”
You swallowed, unsure where this conversation was headed. “Axel, it was just—”
“Not just!” he cut you off. “To you, it may have been nothing. But to me… it was everything. It meant you cared. It meant you… are mine.”
That last word sent chills down your spine. You forced a stiff smile, brushing off his words. But the intensity in his eyes was unmistakable, as though he was carving your image into his memory.
In the weeks that followed, his behavior grew increasingly alarming. Your friends began to comment that they often saw Axel following you. Some even said they had spotted him standing outside your house, though you had never given him your address.
One night, a message from him arrived: “You forgot to close your curtains. You look so beautiful when you’re reading.”
Your blood ran cold. You turned to your window—the curtains were indeed open, and from a certain angle on the street, anyone could see inside.
You tried to ignore him, to avoid him at school, even to take different routes home. But Axel always managed to find you.
One day, he stood in front of your locker, his eyes piercing. “Why are you avoiding me?” His voice was low, but heavy with pressure. “You owe me,” he said.
You frowned. “Owe you what?”
“My life. You saved me that day. So now, you can’t leave me. Remember when you told me, ‘just ignore them’? That means you’re on my side. Forever.”