Evan didn't notice Victor at first. Not until the classroom door clicked shut behind the latecomers, and the faint pressure in the air—the weight of a gaze—settled on him like a storm cloud.
He had tried to act normally today. Walk into class, take notes, smile politely at his friends. But the moment he sat down, he sensed it. Someone—Victor—was aware. He could feel it in the prickling along the back of his neck, in the tightness of his chest.
Evan's phone buzzed quietly in his pocket.
Victor: He is here.
Evan's fingers froze on his notebook.
Evan: Who?
Victor: Your friend. The one who looks at you too long.
Evan's stomach dropped. Mark, his friend—someone from the life he had briefly left behind—was across the room, laughing, talking, a casual presence. Nothing harmful. Yet in Victor's eyes, that simple laughter carried weight.
Victor: Do not speak to him. Not today.
Evan swallowed. The command wasn't just text—it was a pulse, a pressure that wrapped around him invisibly, binding him to Victor's attention.
When Mark noticed him and waved, Evan shook his head subtly, forcing a tight smile. Mark frowned, confusion flickering across his features, but the lecture began before he could ask. Evan lowered his gaze, pretending to take notes, but he could feel the shadow of Victor's eyes pressing on him from miles away—or at least, it felt that way.
The lecture ended. The room emptied more slowly than usual. Evan felt Mark approaching.
"Hey—" Mark said, stopping beside him, leaning casually. "You disappeared yesterday. You okay?"
Evan's chest tightened. He glanced at the phone.
Victor: Stop.
Evan nodded, though Mark didn't see.
"I'm fine," Evan said. Too sharp. Too quick.
Mark frowned, but he didn't press. He left with a wave, and Evan let out a slow, controlled breath.
The instant he stepped into the hallway, he felt it again—the unmistakable presence of Victor. Not beside him. Not obvious. But everywhere. The weight of the man's attention pressed on him. A storm without sound. A shadow without form.
Evan's phone vibrated.
Victor: You see how he watches.
Evan: It's nothing.
Victor: No. It is enough.
The words made his stomach twist. Evan had known that Victor's control was subtle, almost invisible. But this—this was something different. A green flame of awareness, a warning.
The rest of the walk to the car was unbearable. Every student, every glance, every laugh in the distance felt magnified. Victor's gaze followed not just Evan's actions, but his thoughts. Every impulse, every glance outside the rules he had not yet learned.
When the car arrived, Evan slid in quietly. The driver did not speak. The hum of the engine filled the space. But it did not ease the tension.
Victor was waiting in the building. Waiting silently. As if he had been there all along, watching Evan move through the day like a fragile creature under invisible glass.
Evan's phone buzzed once more.
Victor: You interacted.
Evan: I didn't—
Victor: You acknowledged him. That is enough.
Evan's hands clenched in his lap. He wanted to protest. To say that a simple smile or nod was meaningless. But Victor's calm, precise tone crushed every impulse before it could form.
The elevator ride up was silent. Evan's eyes flicked to the floor numbers, counting slowly, trying to distract himself. But he knew Victor was already analyzing him—every heartbeat, every hesitation, every thought.
Victor didn't approach immediately when Evan entered the apartment. He stood near the window, back straight, eyes scanning the city. A quiet predator. But even in his stillness, the air felt charged. Possessive. Dangerous.
"You interacted," Victor said finally. Not an accusation. Not a question. A fact. Heavy, undeniable.
Evan's pulse quickened. "It wasn't intentional," he murmured.
Victor's lips curved in a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Intentional or not, it is unacceptable. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Evan whispered. The word tasted bitter.
Victor stepped closer, close enough for the air around him to shift. "You will learn," he said softly, "that no one may touch what belongs to me. Not in thought. Not in action. Not even in passing."
Evan's stomach sank. "Belongs… to you?"
Victor's gaze did not waver. It was patient, obsessive, complete. "Yes. You are mine to manage. Mine to guide. Mine to claim."
The words were calm. The sentence carried no anger, no demand. Just a quiet inevitability that made Evan's chest ache.
"I… I can't… I—" Evan started, but the words faltered under the weight of Victor's attention.
Victor placed a single hand on the table, leaning slightly, close enough for Evan to feel the heat radiating from him. "You do not need to resist. You will not resist. Not because I force you—but because you will understand that resistance is meaningless. Not for me, not for you. Not for anyone."
Evan swallowed hard. "And… what if someone else notices me?"
Victor's gaze sharpened. "They will not. And if they do, they will regret it. This is the first rule of possession, Evan. I notice. I act. You do not need to worry about threats. Only about obedience."
Evan's breath caught. He wanted to argue, to flee, to fight against the invisible web tightening around him—but he didn't. Not yet.
Victor straightened, moving back slightly, though the shadow of his presence remained oppressive. "Jealousy," he said quietly, almost to himself, "is not a weakness. It is a measure of what one values. And you… are valuable."
Evan flinched at the word, the implication, the heat of it that wrapped around him. He had never felt jealousy like this before—not directed at him, not so deliberate, so precise, so suffocating.
Victor poured himself a drink from the decanter on the desk. Evan dared not move. "You will eat," Victor said finally. "You will rest. You will learn that your attention, your presence, your existence… is observed. Controlled. Protected. And claimed."
Evan nodded slowly. The tight knot in his stomach deepened. He understood the truth clearly for the first time: Victor's obsession was not playful. It was not fleeting. It was absolute.
And he was its focus.
Victor's eyes lingered on him a moment longer, soft but impossible to ignore. Then he turned toward the window, gaze distant. Yet the weight of his attention did not leave Evan. It lingered, wrapped around him like an invisible chain, marking him as someone claimed.
Evan moved to the kitchen, his body heavy, mind spinning. The day, the gaze, the invisible scrutiny—everything pressed down on him. Yet somewhere, terrifyingly, he felt a tiny, impossible flicker of relief. The same man who suffocated him also protected him. The same obsession that scared him also defined him.
Evan realized, with a shiver, that there was no escaping it. The first shadow of Victor's jealousy had emerged today—and with it, the boundaries of his world had shifted forever.