Possession
425 Words
The letter sat in Ethan’s trembling hands. The words burned into his mind.
Don’t let him do it again.
You belong to me.
He wanted to rip it up, throw it away, burn it. But instead, he shoved it deep into his drawer, afraid that Liam would wake and see.
All night, he lay awake with the ghost of Noah’s lips on his, warmth twisting with fear in his stomach. It should’ve been beautiful. But now… now it felt like a crime someone was punishing him for.
⸻
The next morning, Noah caught up with him outside the lecture hall. His smile was small, uncertain. “Hey. About yesterday…”
Ethan’s chest ached. He wanted more than anything to kiss him again, to lose himself in that fleeting comfort. But he heard the letter in his head like a warning.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Ethan whispered.
Noah froze. “What?”
“I can’t… we can’t. It’s not safe.”
Noah frowned, stepping closer. “Ethan, safe from what?”
Ethan looked away. His throat tightened. “I don’t know who I can trust.”
Noah’s jaw clenched, but his eyes softened. “Then trust me. Please. Whoever’s doing this—they don’t get to decide your life.”
Ethan wanted to believe him. But he couldn’t shake the image of someone standing in the shadows, watching. Recording. Judging.
⸻
That evening, he returned to his dorm to find another gift on his bed.
This time, it wasn’t jewelry.
It was a small photograph.
A photo of him. Asleep. His lips parted, hair messy, sheets tangled around him.
Ethan’s blood ran cold. His fingers shook so hard the picture slipped from his grasp.
The admirer had been here. Again. Not just in his space—next to him. Close enough to touch.
“Jesus,” Liam muttered behind him. Ethan spun around, but Liam was just staring at his phone. He hadn’t seen the photo.
Ethan shoved it into his bag before Liam noticed. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding.
⸻
That night, Ethan locked his door. He checked it three times, four.
But still—just as he started to drift into uneasy sleep—there came a knock.
Soft. Gentle.
A whisper through the door.
“Ethan… open up. It’s me.”
He shot upright in bed, blood rushing in his ears. He knew that voice.
But was it Noah? Adrian? Liam?
Or someone else entirely?
The whisper came again, low and pleading.
“Please, Ethan. Don’t shut me out.”
- Writer
