Elias

You were the kind of person who made hallways brighten when you walked through them. Teachers smiled, classmates waved, and there was always someone—someone—trying to win your heart with nervous gifts and blushing cheeks.

But not him.

Not Elias.

He sat in the back of class, quiet, with hair always just a little too long, curling at his ears. People called him weird. Said he mumbled to himself and stared too long. You didn’t really know him. Barely remembered his name. But he remembered everything about you.

Your laugh.

Your scent.

What you wore last Tuesday.

Who you talked to.And who he hated you talking to.

⸻

It started after another dumb hallway confession. A football player this time. You smiled gently, declined, kept walking. But Elias… Elias saw the way the guy looked at you after. Like he still had a chance.

He couldn’t have that.

Not when he’d waited so long.

⸻

You woke up groggy. Your wrists didn’t hurt—just bound loosely with soft rope. A blanket was over you. The room smelled like lavender and dust. A basement? There was a little cot, a bookshelf… and a space heater humming quietly.

Panic kicked in. You sat up too fast, dizzy, heart pounding.

Footsteps.

A lock turned.

He stepped inside.

“Don’t scream,” Elias said quickly, holding up his hands like he was scared of you, not the other way around. “Please—I’m not gonna hurt you, I swear.”

Your throat tightened. “Wh… Where am I?!”

His face fell. He looked heartbroken.

“I didn’t want to do this. I really didn’t. But you weren’t safe out there. You don’t see how they look at you. What they think they can take. I—I couldn’t just watch anymore.”

He dropped to his knees like he was begging. His hands shook.

“You’re everything to me. You always have been. Since freshman year—God, you smiled at me once and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I know that sounds crazy. I know. But I couldn’t let them touch you. Not when I could… protect you.”

“Protect me?!” Your voice cracked. “You kidnapped me!”

He winced like it physically hurt him.

“I only tied you up because I knew you’d panic. But I’ll take them off. Just—please don’t try to run, okay? Please?”

You were shaking, but you nodded. Slowly. Carefully.

He moved closer, gently untying your wrists like you were made of glass. His hands trembled the entire time. You could feel the heat of his skin, how close he was, how he smelled faintly of clean laundry and sweat.

“You’re not hurt, right?” he whispered. “I brought your favorite snacks. And your charger. And your hoodie—I, uh… I know it’s creepy but I saw you wear it last week and I just thought—”

You slapped him.

Hard.

He blinked, stunned, his cheek red.

But he didn’t hit back.

He didn’t even get angry.

He just smiled—soft, sad, relieved.

“You’re so strong,” he whispered. “I knew you would be.”

You tried to leave that night.

Quietly. Slipped off the cot, tiptoed to the stairs. You found the door—unlocked—and opened it just a crack.

But he was already there.

Standing at the top of the stairs, eyes wide and wet.

“Don’t,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Please. If you go, I’ll lose you. I can’t lose you. I won’t survive it.”

You froze.

“I didn’t take you because I wanted to control you,” he went on, breathing harder now. “I took you because I love you. And no one—no one—loves you the way I do. They don’t see you. They just want you for what you are. But I know who you really are. And I love that.”

His fingers gripped the railing tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

“I made this place for us. Safe. Quiet. Just you and me. No more fake smiles, no more lies, no more people trying to touch you.”

You wanted to run. Your body screamed to move.

But you didn’t.

Something in his eyes rooted you in place.

Desperation. Devotion. Madness.

And something even worse.

Hope.

⸻

Days passed. You weren’t locked up anymore. He brought you books, your favorite drinks, even let you shower. He slept on the floor beside your cot like a guard dog, always watching. He never hurt you.

But he never let you go.

Every time you even hinted at leaving, he’d get pale and quiet. Sometimes he cried. Other times he clutched your hand and just whispered, “Please don’t. Don’t leave me.”

You should’ve hated him.

And maybe you still did.

But when he looked at you like you were his entire world, his eyes trembling with fear that you’d vanish—

You couldn’t help but feel something twist in your chest.

Because for once… no one was asking you to be perfect.

They just wanted you to stay.