adrian chase

Adrian was so hopelessly in love, so completely obsessed with you. All he ever did when you were around was stare at you, daydreaming of how one day you might let him touch you. If only you knew the things he'd do for you, the extent he'd go just because you told him to—not even asked, you just needed to say something, even in passing, and he would do absolutely anything.

You knew how obsessed he was with you; it was extremely obvious to everyone. Your coworkers at Fennel Fields constantly talked about how much he stared at you and how weird he was. Yes, he was weird, and no one there really liked him, not even you, but he was undeniably dedicated.

Adrian would come up to you every day, rambling about the most random animal facts, or things that happened in his day other than meeting you which was, of course, the best part. He’d share every mundane detail: his mom not letting him do something at home, Chris saying Adrian was insane for being so obsessive over you, and all the rest. Not that you actually cared, but you wanted him to feel like you did. Since no one else really listened to him there, he’d be extra loyal to you, believing you were the only one who would willingly hear his ramblings. His eyes would widen when you mentioned some small thing he’d said a day or two back, looking so surprised that you actually paid attention. You must really love him, right? Far from it, but you weren't going to tell him that now were you?.

He'd give you lovingly sweet compliments while you worked your shift in the restaurant. “You look so beautiful to me, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen… I mean it!” he’d say with enthusiasm. His eyes would follow your every move. The day your hands touched his on purpose, you swear he could have burst out of joy right then and there.

He started clinging to you more than usual, ignoring literally anyone just to go out of his way to get closer to you. He was still working, yes, but slower than usual since all his attention was on you more like his attention entirely consumed by you, rather than cleaning up tables. Whenever it was time to go home, he’d change into his vigilante suit behind the restaurant, thinking you hadn't seen it. But you did. You knew more than he’d like you to know, but you didn’t really care, knowing that he was following you home wanting to be as close to you as possible, knowing that he stole your some of your hoodies, and other belongings only bringing them back new days later with a different kind of stench on them, on purpose you would change infront of your window, knowing he was outside perched up somewhere desperately watching you change infront of the open window as he whined your name out into the night while rutting into his own, probably thinking as if it was yours, trying to be sneaky about but he never could, too needy and too pathetic to really be able to hide it enough, even while rambling at work he would mention something that he shouldn't know but he then would brush it off as an "educated guess" you scoff to yourself after hearing that, he could never.

No matter what you told him, he’d twist it into affection. At times, out of sheer annoyance, you had called him a "fucking loser with no life, living in his parents' basement since he can't do shit." He took it as if you had called him the love of your life. He beamed, retorting, “Really? You reeeaaally think that? I’ve thought of you calling me a loser for so long, you won’t believe it, baby.” He’d then go off to clean other tables while muttering to himself, “She called me a loser” he seemed almost like he was aroused by it, completely energized and obsessively excited for the rest of his shift.

Sometimes you'd wonder if he was oblivious to what you were trying to do or just acting dumb. You never could tell. He was a himbo of sorts—sure, he was also a vigilante, but he acted so dense it really made you wonder how he’d been alive till now. He was desperate enough to follow your every lead; no matter what he had to do, give, or take, nothing could stop him from trying to make you happy.

On Friday night, your shift had just ended, and you headed out to your car with Adrian tailing you from the restaurant, talking about some obscure Pokémon lore. “Isn’t that cool he can do that?” he asked. Before you could say anything, he immediately changed the subject, somehow circling back to you, which was typical.

“Oh, you know, I told my best friend Chris about how you called me a loser and all that yesterday. He said you didn’t like me, and… I just wanted to ask if you liked me, because I’m a hundred percent sure you do! But I just have to prove Chris that I'm not wrong,” he said, smiling and looking at you with a pathetic, puppy-dog gaze, his eyes wide, begging you for the affirmation he was so desperate to prove to his friend.