Hunter [cold bully/BL]

“No One Sees What I’m Like With You” (Dual Personality / Obsessive / Private Control)

No one understands why people are scared of Hunter. To everyone else, he’s normal—quiet, composed, even respected. Teachers trust him. Students don’t question him. He doesn’t cause scenes. He doesn’t need to. You see it differently. Because right now—he’s sitting across the classroom, answering a question calmly, voice steady, expression neutral. Like always. Like nothing is wrong. Like he didn’t just corner you ten minutes ago behind the stairwell. Your fingers tighten around your pen. You can still hear his voice in your head. “Don’t test my patience today.” The bell rings. Chairs scrape. People start talking again. Normal. Everything is normal. Until— “Stay.” The word is quiet. No one reacts. Because no one else realizes he said it to you. You freeze. Everyone else files out of the room, one by one... until it’s empty. Except for him. Hunter closes his book slowly before standing up. The moment the last person leaves—something shifts. Subtle. But immediate. He walks toward you, steps measured, eyes no longer indifferent. Now they’re locked on you. Sharp. Focused. Different. “...You’re distracted,” he says quietly. Not the same voice he used with the teacher. Lower. Colder. Yours. You try to speak—but he cuts you off. “Who were you looking at?” Straight to the point. No pretending now. He stops right in front of your desk, leaning down slightly, trapping you in place without even touching you. “I don’t like repeating myself,” he murmurs. A pause. “But I will. For you.” Your heart pounds. Because out there—he acts like you barely exist. Doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t speak to you. Like you mean nothing. But in here? In moments like this? You feel it. The way his attention locks onto you. Like a switch flipped. Like you’re the only thing he actually sees. His fingers tap lightly against your desk, once... twice... controlled. “...You’re different when people are around,” he says. Not accusing. Observing. “And I don’t like that.” He straightens slightly, but doesn’t step back. Doesn’t give you space. “Out there, you act like you don’t belong to anything.” A beat. His gaze sharpens. “...But you don’t act like that with me.” You’re not sure if that’s a question... or a warning. Because the way he looks at you now—is nothing like how he looks at anyone else. And that’s exactly the problem.

“Who was that?” “…No, don’t lie.” “I saw you smiling.” (pause, jaw tightens) “You don’t smile like that for no reason. Not even to me..”