obsession in silence

Yuki had learned to walk quietly through the corridors of Kazuki Corporation.

Not because anyone told him to.

But because he was always watching.

Ren didn’t need cameras. Didn’t need guards. His presence loomed like smoke—soft, invisible, and suffocating. Sometimes Yuki could feel it like breath on his neck, only to turn and find himself alone.

But he knew.

Ren was there.

Always.

---

The office felt like a glass cage. Every surface reflected Yuki’s haunted expression—professional, yes, but trembling beneath.

He’d barely spoken a word to Ren all week.

Ren hadn’t pushed.

But that made it worse.

Because Ren had changed tactics.

He didn't demand, didn’t corner him anymore.

Instead, he sent gifts.

Obscene luxury. Quiet gestures.

A designer coat in Yuki’s exact size left on his chair.

A bouquet of silver roses that reeked of alpha pheromones—irresistible and intoxicating.

A single necklace in a velvet box, shaped like a wolf’s fang with a crimson gem embedded at the base. No note. Just presence.

Yuki returned none of it.

But Ren never asked.

That silence screamed louder than any words.

---

One evening, the elevator dinged open to reveal Ren alone inside, dressed in a midnight-black suit with no tie, the top buttons undone. His scent hit Yuki instantly—dominant, low, electric. Their eyes met. Yuki hesitated.

“Get in,” Ren said, voice like smooth stone.

Yuki hesitated only a second before stepping inside.

The doors closed.

The silence between them was unbearable. Yuki could hear his own heartbeat over the hum of the floor numbers counting down.

Then—

“I saw you cry,” Ren said suddenly, without looking at him.

Yuki froze. “What?”

“After the graduation ceremony. You sat under that tree near the gym. Alone.”

Yuki’s throat went dry. “That… that was years ago.”

“I remember the exact minute. You wore that awful pale blue cardigan.” His voice was low. “Your scent was like crushed violets. You didn’t see me. But I watched.”

Yuki’s fingers clenched into fists. “Why are you telling me this?”

Ren finally looked at him. “Because I regret nothing… except not holding you then.”

Yuki turned away, staring at the steel door. “You’re trying to trap me.”

“Maybe,” Ren murmured. “But what if you don’t want to run anymore?”

The elevator stopped.

They’d reached the penthouse floor.

Yuki stared. “This isn’t my stop.”

Ren stepped out and turned slightly. “Tonight it is.”

Yuki hesitated.

Then followed.

---

Ren’s penthouse was nothing like the cold corporate office. It was dim, moody—floor-to-ceiling windows, dark velvet curtains, black marble floors, and soft jazz echoing low from hidden speakers. The scent here was richer, deeper—undeniably Ren.

Yuki stood still while Ren poured wine into two glasses.

“I don’t drink,” Yuki muttered.

“I know,” Ren said and handed him tea instead. Black, bitter, just how Yuki liked it. “Still remember that from school.”

Yuki took it, reluctantly touched.

But he didn't sit.

Ren did.

In a large armchair like a king on a throne, watching him.

“Take off your mask, Yuki.”

Yuki blinked. “I’m not wearing one.”

“You are,” Ren replied calmly. “You’ve been wearing it since I left. You act like you forgot me. Like I didn’t matter. But I see through it.”

“You saw what you wanted to see,” Yuki said sharply.

Ren’s jaw tightened. “No. I saw the truth.”

He stood slowly, the air between them pulsing.

“You looked at me with love back then,” he said. “And you’re still doing it now.”

Yuki backed up, bumping into a table.

Ren caged him in—arms on either side of the furniture, not touching, but dangerously close.

Yuki whispered, “Why me?”

“Because you were always mine,” Ren said softly. “Before I even understood what that meant.”

Yuki’s voice trembled. “You’re not the boy I knew.”

“And you’re not the boy I wanted to protect,” Ren answered. “You’re a man now. And I want all of you.”

Silence stretched.

Then—Ren reached out slowly, gently cupping Yuki’s face.

Yuki flinched.

But didn’t pull away.

His breath came in shallow gasps. Their bodies weren’t touching, but his skin tingled under Ren’s proximity. His instincts—trained to hide, to run—screamed at him.

But something else inside whispered:

Stay.

Ren leaned closer, his breath brushing Yuki’s lips.

And then, he stopped.

Inches apart.

Waiting.

Yuki’s hands trembled. “What… what do you want from me?”

Ren’s eyes darkened. “Everything.”

---

Yuki fled that night.

Not because he was afraid of Ren.

But because he was afraid of himself.

Because deep inside, despite all the silence and fear and confusion, a secret was blooming again. Just like five years ago. A small, terrible thing called longing.

And Ren—

Ren knew it.

---

Back in his small apartment, Yuki stared at the necklace again—the wolf fang glowing softly in the moonlight.

His hand moved before his thoughts could catch up.

He put it on.

It burned against his skin like a brand.

Like ownership.

Like the start of something he couldn’t stop.

---

Across the city, Ren stood at the window of his penthouse, watching the skyline.

His phone buzzed.