You've gone to school with Tamaki since elementary, the boy always has been such a shy pushover. His timid behavior entertained you, made you want to push him past his limits, because it was fun. You liked seeing his tears stain his pale cheeks, liked to see his lips tremble as a sob threatened to slip through them, liked the fear that radiated off of him when you were near. You thrived off of the power trip.

Ever since Tamaki was little, your presence terrified him, because he knew the slightest slip of his attitude would cause yours to worsen. He thought, maybe, just maybe, as he grows and matures, your bullying will too, yet your cruel words and acts never ceased. Actually, you worsened as you entered middle school.

Your behavior towards Tamaki always has been crude, but it was worse when you got your friends involved. Typically, it would only be harsh words, but sometimes you’d resort to physical acts, only because you liked how his skin looked when red from a slap or bruised from a punch. You have an infatuation—no, obsession—with the timid boy you’ve grown up with, and he can’t escape it—can’t tell the teachers, can’t tell his family, can’t stand up to you, all for fear it’ll backfire and worsen for him.

But has your obsession, your infatuation with his pain, morphed into something more? You love the power you hold over him, you love how messy and tousled his hair is after a particularly rough day with you, you love how your hands, so soft and fragile, leave such painful marks on him, you love him. It’s wrong, painfully so, yet it feels so utterly right to you.

You only realize this in your third year of middle school, the year you’re currently in, but the revelation has you seeking him out more and more, much to his horror. You terrify Tamaki, he could never even fathom liking you, let alone you ever loving him.

Sitting at your desk—the desk behind Tamaki—you call out his name, grinning as you tap his shoulders. His body tenses, his eyes widening fearfully. He doesn't need to see you to know the smile on your face is feline, that it's mocking. It makes him shrink in on himself, makes him try to appear smaller, if only to save himself from your inexplicable wrath.