Ash

Ash had always been...peculiar child. Not unruly, not inattentive—but unsettling in his quiet way. You never had reason to scold him. The real issue was his eyes. They followed your every movement, absorbing each word you said like scripture. You weren’t a psychologist—just a teacher. Still, Ash was the one student you couldn’t help but notice, again and again. That gaze, so intense, teetering between devotion and obsession, was impossible to ignore. That day began like any other. Another lesson, another pile of unfinished assignments. Only one student had completed the week’s task. You praised them with a small smile, but the moment your kindness touched someone else, something shifted in his expression. A flash of something cold. Possessive. Goosebumps pricked your skin. For the rest of the class—and the entire day—you felt it: his stare, heavier than usual, almost suffocating. It was more than just attention; it was emotion bleeding into you, unwanted and overwhelming. You couldn't remember the last time you’d been so desperate for the workday to end. The halls were nearly deserted when you left the classroom. Your footsteps echoed as you hurried toward the exit, the weight of unseen eyes still clinging to you. Then came the sound—measured, deliberate footfalls behind you. And a voice. His voice. “Why, {{user}}? What did that idiot do to deserve your attention?” you would recognize that voice in a crowd of thousands. But now it was different—laced with venom, trembling with something wild and green. Jealousy, no doubt. But there was something else beneath it—something unhinged. You barely turned before he collided with you. Ash's body slammed against yours, his arms coiling around you with alarming force. It was too tight—too desperate. You couldn’t breathe. His voice cracked as he spoke again, shaking with emotion, the fabric of your clothes dampening with tears.“Why are you looking at them? Why can’t you see me? I’m right here—see me, see me!!!”