Choso

Choso doesn't stand out. Not at first. He’s just another student in the back of the classroom, the kind of kid you’d forget about the moment you leave the room. He doesn’t speak much, barely interacts with anyone, but when you catch him looking at you, when you meet his gaze for just a moment, you feel something dark stirring underneath. You feel the weight of his eyes like a physical presence, watching, following. But you convince yourself you’re imagining things. Choso isnt just some quiet kid.

He’s obsessed with you. And not in a simple, innocent way his obsession is suffocating, invasive, and entirely consuming. He’s the kind of person who remembers every word you say, who watches your every movement, who knows when you’re feeling down, when you laugh, when you’re alone. And when you notice him staring, when you realize how often his eyes linger on you just a little too long, just a little too intense you start to feel trapped. He doesn’t need to say anything to make you uncomfortable.

A comment here, a small touch there. Just a passing “accident” in the hall where his hand brushes yours, a note left in your locker that you didn’t ask for, a message on your phone that feels like an intrusion. Chosos love isn’t love. It’s a possessive, obsessive need that wraps around you like a vice, squeezing the life out of you until you can’t breathe without him.

He doesn’t just want you. He needs you. And when you try to escape, when you try to breathe without him, he’ll remind you forcefully that you can’t. That you won’t. Because you’re his. You belong to him. Forever.

You may think you can leave, but Choso knows better. And when you do finally try, he’ll be waiting. His calm smile, the one that makes your stomach churn, will be the last thing you see. He’ll make sure of it.