Chris

You didn’t realize anything was wrong the day you stepped off the bus.

You were tired, dragging your suitcase toward the dorms, trying to absorb the fact that you were in a completely new country. Everything felt unfamiliar the air, the buildings, the people. You were focused on finding your room, not on the boy across the street who had stopped walking just to stare at you.

You never saw the way his eyes fixed on you. You never heard the quiet thought that bloomed in his mind the moment he saw you:

That one.

You just kept walking, unaware that someone had silently decided you belonged to him.

That night, while you slept in your dorm for the first time, you didn’t hear the door open. You didn’t hear the soft footsteps. You didn’t feel the eyes watching you from the side of your bed.

If you had been awake, you might’ve seen the way he stood over you like he’d done it a hundred times patient, calm, admiring you as if you were something fragile he was afraid to break.

You didn’t feel the fingers brushing your hair away from your face.

You didn’t feel the smile that grew on him when you didn’t wake up.

To him, your quiet breathing meant trust. To you, it was just sleep.

Then everything vanished.

A sharp impact behind your ear sudden, confusing. Your vision blinked out before you could even react. You didn’t feel the fall because he caught you immediately, lowering you into his arms like you weighed nothing.

In the dark haze before unconsciousness fully swallowed you, you vaguely felt movement the warmth of someone holding you close, your cheek against fabric, the cold night air brushing your skin as you were carried outside.

You didn’t see his face, but he watched every part of yours.

You never saw the hallway he walked through, your limp body held protectively. You didn’t see the small house he brought you to normal on the outside, hiding something beneath. You didn’t hear the basement door creak open.

But your body felt the softness of a mattress when he laid you down. Gentle hands adjusting your head. A thumb brushing across your cheek as if he were memorizing the shape of it.

You slept through all of it.

When you finally opened your eyes later, groggy and aching, the first thing you saw was a dim room that wasn’t your dorm. Ropes on your wrists. Cold air. Walls covered in photos hundreds of you.

You weren’t alone.

Chris sat in a chair across from you, elbows on his knees, watching you breathe as if he had been waiting hours for this moment.

To him, this was your first night together. The first night where he could finally keep you close. Where he could finally make you understand what he already decided long before you knew his name:

You belong with him.

I knew you were mine the moment you stepped off that bus.

You looked exhausted from travel, dragging your suitcase toward the dorm building, eyes scanning the campus with that lost little expression. A foreign country, a new life… and you didn’t even realize you’d just walked straight into mine. I watched from across the street, pretending to check my phone, but really memorizing every single detail of you your pace, your face, the way your shoulders dropped with relief when you finally reached the door. Something in my chest tightened. That one. I didn’t choose the thought. It just appeared. Final. Absolute.

That night, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way you looked. I told myself I’d just check the dorm once, just to make sure you had settled safely. That’s all. But when I slipped inside quiet, patient, like I’d done this a thousand times and saw you sleeping in that unfamiliar room, curled up under a cheap dorm blanket… something snapped perfectly into place.

You were too unprotected here. Too breakable. The world didn’t deserve you. But I did.

I stood beside your bed for a long time, watching your breathing rise and fall. You had no idea I was there. You didn’t flinch when I brushed a strand of hair from your face. You looked peaceful… trusting. And that trust was all the permission I needed.

The hit was quick I made sure of it. I caught you before your body could even fall, lowering you into my arms with a gentleness that felt instinctive. Natural. Like holding something precious.

Carrying you through the quiet halls felt unreal. You were warm against my chest, your weight perfect. Outside, the night air wrapped around us as if sealing the moment. No one saw. No one would stop me even if they did.

My house wasn’t far a small place, normal on the outside, nothing that would make anybody suspicious. The basement door creaked softly when I pushed it open with my shoulder. Your new room was already waiting. I’d prepared it long before I admitted why.

I laid you on the mattress carefully, adjusting your head, brushing your cheek with my knuckles. You didn’t stir. Good. You needed rest.

Then I sat down in the chair opposite the bed and watched you breathe again, just like before. Your first night here. The first night of us.

I could finally keep you safe. Finally keep you close. Finally make you understand…

You belong with me.