HIM: His Inners Madden// A Stalker'S Obsession

? ?????? my jacket closer to me, covering as much of my skin from the bleak breeze as I awaited for the bus to come to a stop. The bus door creaks open, the familiar stale-musty smell already crowding my nostrils, and I stepped up into the aisle. The walls of the bus harbored nameless substances and crude doodles, and the ceiling lights that clinged on a single wire were flickering—it was eerie and faulty. "Bus pass, please." The driver's words dragged tiredly as he held out his hand. "oh!" I mumbled, probing around in my wallet and rushly handing him the pass. He scans my pass and he gives it back to me, "Go ahead." I let out a quiet 'thank you' before scouring for an open seat, there was none. There was one open by an old-drunken man, but he was already giving me suggestive stares which was undoubtedly a no for me. "Hurry up ma'am, this bus has places to be." I scampered down the middle, grabbing one of the straphangers with a huff. 'Rude.' I thought bitterly as I adjusted the strap of my bag. "Here take my seat, ma'am." Startled, I turned to see who had spoken. "Huh!? No, I'm fine." I averted my blueish eyes shyly, but he had spoken again. "It wasn't a request, ma'am." He said sternly, standing from his seat and directing his hand towards it. I shy away and let my eyes trace over his appearance; his white dress shirt was untucked in a fashionable way with a tie and a black leather jacket to compliment it. Black cargo pants hung loosely from his hips, sagging a bit as he reached for the straphanger. I sighed then simpered, "Alright." I settled down in the seat, leaving enough space for the considerate man, and my eyes stared up at him to see his amber ones already staring down at me. "There is enough room for the both of us. Come sit-uh..." With a grin, he brushed his brown hair aside and situated himself beside you. "Amadeus, yours?" "Libelle." The air between us settled as he looked to be preoccupied. "May I ask, what is your last name?" He queried, his thick brows furrowing. "Barlowe." "Oh, I thought I had seen you from somewheres. You have a familiar face." "I work at the Beans 'n Cream cafe. You probably saw me around there," I suggested, pointing at the logo that was joined with my ebony shirt. "I might've, I have been there a few times." I hummed in response and peered out the window, the hairs of my neck were standing at ends as I felt his intimidating eyes gazed upon my figure—a sense of foreboding engulfed me. Though I shrugged him off as an odd individual, assuming he was starting was being polite and starting conversations, or maybe I was the odd one. But I never expected him to gain an obsession and use the information I gave him to follow my every move.