Shadows of Obsession

Chapter 1: The Beginning of an Obsession

Han Seojun strutted through the school halls with the kind of arrogance only a few could pull off. His leather jacket hung loosely over his broad shoulders, and a lazy smirk played on his lips. Every step he took seemed to send whispers through the crowd—girls giggling, boys sizing him up, and teachers pretending they didn't see him skipping class. It didn't matter to him. This place was his playground.

Life was good. He didn't have to try too hard. Things just came to him, and if something or someone caught his attention, he pursued it until it was his. Simple as that.

Until today.

Seojun leaned against his locker, scrolling through his phone mindlessly when something—or someone—pulled his focus. It was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, like the world had momentarily quieted. His gaze flickered up, and that's when he saw him.

Suho.

The new kid.

He had heard about him—rumors about his transfer from a prestigious private school, whispers of his incredible grades, and how he kept to himself, seemingly uninterested in anyone. 

Suho didn't walk through the halls like Seojun did. There was no swagger in his step, no crowd following him. But he had a presence. His dark hair fell neatly over his forehead, framing sharp, cold eyes that seemed to dissect everything around him, yet look at nothing in particular. He was tall, slim, and carried a quiet confidence that didn't need validation from anyone.

Seojun couldn't tear his eyes away. There was something strange about Suho—an air of mystery that gnawed at the edges of his mind. Who was this guy? Why did it feel like he was... different?

For the first time in a long time, Seojun felt curious. No, it was more than that. He felt intrigued—almost compelled. He watched as Suho walked to his locker, a few feet away, completely unaware of the attention he was drawing. Or maybe, Seojun thought, he just didn't care. That cool indifference only made Seojun want to know more.

"Yo, Seojun," someone called out, breaking his train of thought.

 It was Taeyang, one of his usual lackeys, jogging over. "You coming to practice later?"

Seojun ignored him, his eyes still glued to Suho, who was now rifling through his locker, his back turned.

"Seojun?" Taeyang repeated, sounding confused. He followed Seojun's line of sight. 

"Oh, the new guy? Yeah, I heard he's some genius or whatever. Totally weird though, right? Doesn't talk to anyone."

Seojun's lips curled into a slow grin. "Weird, huh?"

Taeyang raised an eyebrow. "Why are you looking at him like that?"

Seojun shrugged, pushing himself off the locker and casually sauntering toward Suho. He didn't have a plan. He didn't need one. He just wanted to get closer, to figure out why this guy was stuck in his head after just a few minutes of seeing him.

Suho didn't look up as Seojun stopped right beside him, leaning lazily against the locker next to his.

"Suho, right?" Seojun's voice was smooth, dripping with that trademark confidence.

Suho paused, his hand frozen mid-movement in his locker. Slowly, he turned his head, locking eyes with Seojun for the first time. His gaze was sharp, cold, and calculating, as though he were sizing Seojun up, peeling away the layers of his persona.

"Yeah. And you are?" Suho's voice was low, but there was something unsettling in the way he spoke—like he already knew the answer but was just playing along.

"Han Seojun," he replied, flashing his signature smirk. "You've probably heard of me."

Suho blinked, unimpressed. "No."

For a split second, Seojun felt a flicker of annoyance. No? That was new. Usually, people fell into two categories: they either admired him or envied him. Suho seemed to do neither. It made him even more interesting.

"So, what's your deal?" Seojun asked, leaning a little closer. "Why'd you transfer to this place? Doesn't seem like your scene."

Suho closed his locker slowly, his movements calm and deliberate. "Does it matter?" he replied coolly.

Seojun chuckled. "Guess not. But you do stand out, you know?"

Suho's eyes flickered with something unreadable before he turned his back on Seojun, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I'm not interested in standing out," he said, walking away without another word.

Seojun stood there, watching him disappear down the hall, a strange thrill coursing through him. He wasn't used to people walking away from him. He wasn't used to people like Suho.

He found himself smiling as he whispered to himself, "I guess I'll just have to make you notice me."

That night, Seojun lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. No matter how much he tried to focus on something else, his thoughts kept drifting back to Suho. There was something about him, something off, something that made Seojun want to know everything about him. It wasn't just curiosity. It was something deeper. A pull he couldn't explain.

Seojun glanced over at the sketchpad on his desk, his fingers itching to grab it. He sat up, turned on his desk lamp, and flipped the sketchpad open. His pencil moved on its own, tracing the sharp lines of Suho's face—the coldness in his eyes, the perfect symmetry of his features. Before he knew it, he had filled the page with Suho's likeness.

Seojun leaned back in his chair, looking at the sketch with satisfaction. But it wasn't enough. He needed to know more. He needed to see Suho again, and again, and again.

And he would.

Across town, Suho sat at his own desk, staring at a photo on his phone. A photo of Han Seojun.

His lips curled into a barely-there smile. It's working.