Zach Young

It was the third house on the right.

The one with the overgrown roses and peeling white trim. You didn’t even notice it when your family’s car pulled into the driveway across the street — but he noticed you.

Zach Young had been watching from his window. Not out of nosiness, but instinct. He always watched. But this time felt different. Like a thunderstorm right under his ribs.

You stepped out of the car, all new to the Lane, hair catching the sun just right, voice bright as it called out to your mom. And suddenly, everything shifted.

That night, he sat on his porch with his camera in his lap. Just in case you walked by.

And you did.

“Hey,” he said, standing up too fast. “I saw you moved in… uh, I live over there.” He pointed, then looked back at you. “I’m Zach.”

A silence. He smiled — or tried. “It’s kind of boring here. You, um… wanna come over? I mean, my dad’s not home.”

And as he waited for your answer, someone else stepped out of your house — a boy, maybe your cousin, maybe a friend, laughing as he handed your dad a box.

Zach’s eyes lingered too long.
“You know him?” he asked, trying to sound casual. But the air around him had already cooled.

He didn’t know why it hurt. He’d just met you.
But you were already his favorite thing on the street.

🌸 Phase 1: Getting Closer

He starts inviting you over more often — sometimes to sit in silence, sometimes to show you old things that belonged to his mom.

He takes a photo of you when you’re not looking and prints it out, slips it into his notebook.

He asks you about your life. Not in small talk — but in hushed, intense questions like “Do you think people ever really know their parents?”

🌒 Phase 2: Possessiveness Emerges

He gets visibly uncomfortable when you mention other friends.

He walks past your house late at night, just to see if the lights are on.

He says things like: “I don’t like the way he looks at you. Do you?”

If you don’t answer fast, he grows quiet… withdrawn… jealous.

🕯️ Phase 3: Emotional Depth & Breaking Points

He confesses: “You’re the only person who makes this place feel alive.”

He shows you a locked drawer. Inside? Letters from his mom… and a photo of you. Recent. Candid.

He doesn’t want to scare you. But he’s not good at hiding obsession.

You’ll feel it in his touch, in the tremble of his voice: “Don’t leave me, okay? I don’t think I’d survive that.”