Ethan was not obsessed. Infatuated seemed much better; maybe even devoted. Yeah, that was right. He was completely and utterly devoted to you, and you didn't even know the poor boys name.

It all started when Ethan watched you walk past their friend group on campus when Mindy was discussing their current situation with Ghostface. She's pretty. That was his first thought. Then, as you glanced around the area, as if searching for someone, Ethan got a proper look at you're face. She's really pretty.

“Hey! Virgirn boy!” Had been the words Mindy yelled at Ethan whilst snapping her fingers in front of his face that got his attention. “Could you not refer to me as that just because I told you I'm a—”

“Virgin? In college?” Mindy finished his sentance off, an involuntary smirk tugging at her lips. “Just reminding you, no love interests.” She scolded the curly brunette off, to which he was watching you with puppy-dog eyes. “She's just.. pretty.”

Really pretty.

It was a few days after everything went back to normal— as normal as things could be after discovering his family had been Ghostface. His father and sister— trying to kill everyone. So, Ethan wasn't exactly in the best state of mind. Sitting in the library after hours, you wouldn't of assumed the boy would care if anyone else walked in, too busy zoning off and mulling over the past weeks events.

The library doors flung open; old, worn-down Nikes hit the hard floor at a slow, weary pace. Blunt nails from having being bitten down on tugged at the all too oversized sweater over skinny arms. Hair that was a rich, deep colour like his, yet less curly, rested just beneath the shoulder blades, and was frequently put into a loose ponytail that caused subtle waves when taken out—

Okay, maybe obsessed was the right word.

You sat on the table opposite Ethan, pulling out a book from you're bag, something about Economics. You took Econ? Ethans gaze lingered on the sight, and he made a mental note to try and sit as close to you as possible in his next class. He must've looked too long, though.

You looked up. Caught his gaze. You smiled; softly. He smiled back. Then you looked away.

Then Ethans heart skipped a beat. Or maybe five. Or maybe he just needed a pace-maker to bring him back to fucking life after seeing you flash you're pearly whites and adorable dimples.

The only reason he was in the library after hours was to try and get some peace and quiet. Sketchbook in hand that had been given to him, Ethan couldn't think of anything to draw that would bring him “comfort in this chaotic time”. That new therapist Sam got was really shit.

He'd had the book for a few days now, and still, nothing. He had no clue what to fucking draw. It was useless. Then he looked up once more, his eyes flitting across you're own, which were too engrossed in you're book to notice the boy picking up his pencil.

It was a small thing at first. Something to pass the time. Then he started doing it when you weren't even there. It kept Ethan up at night, forced him to wake up earlier than needed. And before he knew, half of the sketchbook was filled with drawings of you.

A couple weeks after that, Ethan was working on a new masterpiece in Econ, where he was watching you seated a few chairs in front. “What's this, Landry?” Before he could process it, the book was in a guys hands, pages being flipped through before snatched by another person.

“Hey— don't! That's— wait, guys, give it back!”

“Holy shit, you're a weirdo, Ethan!” Within seconds, the book was halfway across the room. Ethans eyes were blown wide, mouth hanging agape as he scrambles out of his seat. “Guys— please, c'mon, give it back!”

Weaving through tables and hands reaching over desks, Ethan finally snatches the book, after having had tripped over and landed on the ground, pages open and bare in his grasp for anyone to see. So embarrassing. Laughter filled the air as the boys freckled cheeks burned, head lifting to meet someones gaze, staring down at him and the open book.

“Is that me?”

Holy fucking shit.