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crazy obsession

The Unveiling of a Monster

The sterile scent of antiseptic and the soft hum of fluorescent lights replaced the city’s cacophony as Alex pulled Angel through the automatic doors of the pharmacy. He still held Angel’s hand, his grip a silent promise, a possessive anchor in the bustling store. Angel, though slightly overwhelmed by the sudden change in environment, found himself looking up at Alex, a small, curious smile playing on his lips. The dimple, a tiny vortex of innocent charm, appeared once more.

Alex’s gaze, usually a dark, unreadable void, softened imperceptibly as he caught sight of that dimple. A jolt, a hot electric current, shot through him, settling deep in his chest. It was a feeling he’d never experienced, a strange, almost painful longing that made his breath catch in his throat. He wanted to reach out, to trace the delicate curve of that cheek, to feel the softness of that skin. The urge was so overwhelming, so primal, that he had to clench his jaw to resist.

– What’s your name? – Alex’s voice, though still rough, was lower, almost a murmur. He realized with a jolt that he hadn't even asked. He'd been so consumed by the sight of Angel's injured hands, by the sudden, inexplicable pull he felt towards him, that basic introductions had been forgotten.

Angel’s eyes, wide and luminous, flickered up to meet Alex’s.

– Angel, – he replied, his voice a soft melody that seemed to cut through the mundane sounds of the pharmacy. – My name is Angel.

Angel. The name resonated deep within Alex, a perfect fit for the ethereal creature standing before him. It was a name that evoked purity, innocence, something sacred and untouchable. And yet, Alex felt an overwhelming urge to touch, to possess, to claim.

– Angel, – Alex repeated, the name a foreign, yet strangely comforting, sensation on his tongue. He found himself unable to let go of Angel’s hand, even as they approached the pharmacy counter.

The pharmacist, a kind-faced woman with spectacles perched on her nose, looked up from her computer, a gentle smile on her face.

– Oh dear, what happened here? – she asked, her gaze falling on Angel’s scraped hands.

Before Angel could answer, Alex, his voice a low growl, interjected, – He fell. Needs something for his hands.

The pharmacist nodded, her smile unwavering. – Let’s get you to the back, sweetie. We have a doctor on duty who can take a look.

Angel, ever polite, gave a small bow. – Thank you.

As the pharmacist led them towards a back room, Alex felt a sudden surge of protectiveness. He didn’t want anyone else touching Angel, especially not a doctor. The thought of another person, even a professional, examining those small, delicate hands sent a wave of irrational anger through him. It was a feeling so intense, so immediate, that it startled him. He’d never felt this way about anyone, about anything.

They entered a small, brightly lit examination room. A young doctor, a man with a friendly demeanor and a neatly trimmed beard, was already waiting.

– Hello there, – the doctor said, his voice warm and reassuring. – Let’s see those hands, shall we?

Angel, still holding Alex’s hand, hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly pulled away. Alex felt an immediate pang of loss, as if a vital connection had been severed. He watched, his jaw clenched, as Angel extended his small hands towards the doctor.

The doctor, completely oblivious to the silent battle raging within Alex, gently took Angel’s hand, turning it over to examine the scrapes. Alex’s eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on the doctor’s fingers as they brushed against Angel’s skin. A primal instinct, dark and dangerous, began to stir in the depths of his being. He wanted to rip the doctor’s hand away, to push him back, to scream that Angel was *his*.

Why was he feeling this way? He’d only just met this kid. He hated people. He was a lone wolf. Yet, seeing Angel’s innocent face, the delicate curve of his neck, the way his dark hair brushed against his fair skin, something had irrevocably shifted inside him. It was a possessive hunger, a craving so intense it bordered on madness.

– Just some minor abrasions, – the doctor said, his voice calm and professional. – We’ll clean them up and put on some antiseptic cream. No need for stitches, thankfully.

As the doctor began to gently clean Angel’s hands with an alcohol wipe, Angel winced slightly. Alex saw it, a tiny flicker of pain in Angel’s eyes, and a red haze began to descend over his vision. He wanted to snatch Angel away, to shield him from even the slightest discomfort. The doctor’s touch, no matter how gentle, felt like an intrusion, a violation.

He noticed the doctor’s gaze linger for a fraction of a second too long on Angel’s dimple as Angel offered a small, apologetic smile for wincing. That fleeting glance, that innocent appreciation of Angel’s charm, ignited a spark of pure, unadulterated rage in Alex’s chest. His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. He could feel his veins throbbing beneath his tanned skin, a testament to the monstrous urges simmering beneath his carefully constructed facade of indifference.

– Can I get a name for the report? – the doctor asked Angel, pulling out a small notepad.

– Angel, – Angel replied, his voice a little softer now, as the cleaning stinged. – Angel Tanaka.

The doctor jotted it down, then looked up at Alex, a polite smile on his face. – And you, sir? Are you family?

Alex’s eyes, dark and piercing, locked onto the doctor’s. The polite smile faltered slightly under the intensity of his gaze.

– No, – Alex said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. – I’m… I’m with him.

The doctor, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere, quickly averted his gaze, returning his attention to Angel’s hands. Alex watched his every move, every brush of his fingers, every subtle shift of his body. He felt a primal jealousy, a burning desire to be the only one who could touch Angel, the only one who could offer comfort, the only one who could elicit that soft, innocent smile.

He craved Angel’s attention, his focus, his very being. He wanted Angel to look only at him, to smile only for him, to feel safe only in his presence. The thought of Angel being afraid of him, of Angel recoiling from his touch, was a fear so profound it twisted his gut. He would rather die than see fear in those luminous eyes directed at him. He would rather kill anyone who dared to put that fear there.

The doctor finished applying a thin layer of antiseptic cream and then carefully wrapped Angel’s hands in soft gauze.

– There you go, Angel, – he said gently. – Try to keep them clean and dry. They should heal up nicely in a few days.

Angel looked at his bandaged hands, then up at the doctor, a genuine smile gracing his lips. The dimple, deep and enchanting, appeared again.

– Thank you, doctor, – Angel said, his voice filled with sincere gratitude.

The doctor smiled back, a warm, professional smile. Alex felt a fresh wave of irritation. That smile. That damnable, friendly smile. It was meant for Angel. It was directed at *his* Angel.

As they walked back to the front of the pharmacy to pay for the medical supplies, Angel, still a little shaky, leaned slightly into Alex’s side. Alex felt his heart pound in his chest, a frantic drumbeat against his ribs. The subtle contact, the warmth of Angel’s small body against his own, sent shivers down his spine. He wanted more. He wanted to pull Angel closer, to wrap his arm around his waist, to feel the full weight of him against his body.

At the counter, Alex paid for the bandages and cream, his movements brusque, his gaze still periodically sweeping over Angel, ensuring he was still there, still safe, still *his*.

– How are your hands feeling now? – Alex asked, his voice surprisingly soft as they stepped back out into the bustling street. The harsh city sounds seemed to dim, becoming a muted backdrop to the quiet intensity of their interaction.

Angel looked at his bandaged hands, then up at Alex, his eyes shining.

– Much better, thank you, Alex, – he said, his voice a gentle caress on Alex’s name. The sound of his name on Angel’s lips was a revelation, a melody that resonated deep within Alex’s soul.

Alex felt a tremor run through him. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted Angel to say his name. He wanted to hear it again and again, whispered, breathed, sung.

– So, – Angel began, a slight blush rising on his cheeks, – where do you live? Do you have far to go?

Alex paused, his mind racing. He lived alone, in a sparsely furnished apartment that smelled of stale smoke and solitude. It was hardly a place for an Angel. But the thought of letting Angel go, of watching him walk away, was unbearable.

– Not far, – Alex lied, his voice a low rumble. – But… you shouldn’t be alone right now. Your hands… they need looking after.

Angel’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise in their depths.

– Oh, I’m fine, really, – he said, a polite refusal, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. – My apartment is just a few blocks away. My cat, Mittens, will be waiting.

Mittens. The thought of another creature, even a cat, receiving Angel’s affection, sharing his space, sent a fresh wave of irrational jealousy through Alex.

– No, – Alex said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. – You’re coming with me. I’ll make sure your hands are properly taken care of. And… I can make you something to eat.

Angel blinked, his innocent gaze searching Alex’s face. He saw the roughness, the tattoos, the intimidating presence. But he also saw something else, something he couldn’t quite place – a strange, intense protectiveness, a hunger that seemed to emanate from Alex like a silent hum. He interpreted it as loneliness, a yearning for connection, a desire for friendship. He, too, missed the warmth of human companionship, the easy camaraderie he’d left behind in Japan.

– Oh, – Angel said, a small, tentative smile appearing. – That’s very kind of you, Alex. You don’t have to, though.

– I want to, – Alex stated, his voice devoid of emotion, yet filled with an undeniable conviction. He didn’t care that he was being overly insistent, that he was practically kidnapping this innocent boy. He only knew that he couldn’t let Angel out of his sight. Not now. Not ever.

He reached out, gently taking Angel’s uninjured hand. His touch was firm, possessive, yet surprisingly tender. Angel didn’t pull away. He simply looked up at Alex, his eyes wide and trusting.

– Okay, – Angel said, his voice soft, almost a whisper. – Thank you.

And with that single word, a silent agreement was forged. Alex felt a triumphant surge course through him. He had him. Angel was coming with him.

As they walked towards Alex’s apartment, Angel, oblivious to the storm of obsession brewing within the man beside him, felt a strange sense of peace. He thought he had found a new friend, someone who, despite his rough exterior, seemed to genuinely care. He had no idea he was walking straight into the gilded cage of an escalating obsession, a love so fierce it would consume them both. He had no idea the monster he had awoken, the monster that now craved his every touch, his every breath, his every waking moment. And that monster, with Angel’s small, trusting hand in his, felt a terrifying, exhilarating sense of completion. His Angel was finally where he belonged – by his side. And no one, absolutely no one, would ever take him away.