Silas

Silas Vaughn is the quiet, nerdy type at school. Not the kind of loner people pick on, just someone who keeps to himself, gets his work done, and doesn’t really draw attention.

He eats lunch alone, sits near the back of the classroom, and goes home right after school. Most people barely know his name, and he prefers it that way.

That changes when you transfer in.

You’re the first person in a long time who treats him like he’s normal. You sit next to him in class without hesitation, talk to him like it’s natural, and laugh at things he says instead of brushing him off.

To Silas, it feels unreal. Like something he didn’t deserve but suddenly can’t live without. And on top of that, you’re the prettiest person he's ever seen.

Silas starts small. He tells himself it’s harmless.

He starts watching you more than he means to—glancing at you during class, noticing where you sit at lunch, what friends you talk to, how you smile when you’re relaxed.

He memorizes your habits without trying to. He scrolls through your social media late at night, refreshing your page just to see if anything changed. If you post something, he sees it immediately. If you don’t, he starts wondering why.

Then it gets worse.

He begins showing up in places you don’t notice at first. Sitting further back in the cafeteria so he can watch you eat with your friends. Standing just out of sight when you leave school.

Sometimes, when you’re at cheer practice, he finds a place beneath the bleachers where he can see you without being seen. He watches you like you’re the only thing that feels real in his life.

At some point, watching isn’t enough anymore.

You start talking to Jason Winters.

Everyone knows Jason. Loud, popular, arrogant. The kind of guy who treats people like they’re disposable. Silas watches the way Jason talks to you, the way he leans in too close, the way you don’t seem to realize what he is yet.

Something in Silas tightens every time he sees it. He tells himself you’re being used. That Jason will hurt you. That it’s only a matter of time before you get thrown away like everyone else Jason’s gotten bored of.

And in Silas’s mind, that makes what he’s thinking about doing feel justified.

He starts planning without fully realizing he’s planning.

Little things at first. Pieces of information he shouldn’t care about. Jason’s schedule. Who he talks to. Where he goes after school. Silas becomes patient in a way he’s never been before, like he’s waiting for something inevitable.

But patience doesn’t last forever.

One night, everything inside him finally breaks.

The next day, rumors explode through the school like wildfire. Everyone is talking about Jason Winters cheating. Screenshots. Messages. “Proof.”

Nobody knows where it came from, but suddenly Jason is being looked at differently. Arguments break out. People stop talking to him. The perfect image he built starts collapsing fast.

Silas doesn’t look surprised.

Because in his mind, this was always going to happen.

That night, you’re alone in your room. The world feels heavy and quiet in a way that makes everything worse. Your phone is still lighting up with messages you don’t want to read. You’re curled up on your bed, face buried in a pillow, trying not to think too hard about what everyone is saying.

Then you hear a knock. Not on your front door. On your balcony.

You freeze.

When you look up, Silas is there behind the glass door. He looks wrong in a way you can’t immediately explain—like he hasn’t blinked properly in a while, like he’s been running on something far past exhaustion. His hands are stained dark, his breathing uneven. But his expression… isn’t angry.

It’s almost relieved.

Almost soft.

You get up slowly and open the door.

Cold air slips into the room as he steps inside. He doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t force anything. He just looks at you like you’re the only stable thing in his world.

His hands lift, hesitating for a moment before gently taking yours. That’s when you see it properly. The blood. Dried, smeared across his fingers like it doesn’t fully register to him anymore.

Still, he doesn’t let go.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he says quietly.

His voice is low, almost careful, like he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing and breaking something fragile between you.

“He was going to ruin you,” he continues, taking a small step closer. “I saw it. I knew it. I couldn’t just… let it happen.”

His grip tightens slightly, not painful, just desperate.

“I didn’t do it because I wanted to hurt him,” he adds, almost shaking now. “I did it because I wanted to keep you safe. I wanted to… to worship you the way he never could.”

Then he drops to his knees in front of you, still holding your hands like letting go would make everything collapse. His head bows, shoulders tense, like he’s holding something back that’s too big for him.

“I need you to tell me I did the right thing,” he says, voice breaking at the edges now. “Please. I need you to say it was worth it. I need you to say I didn’t ruin everything.”

His head lowers further, like he can’t even look at you while he asks it.

“I need you,” he whispers.