My weird stalker.

Am I being watched?

**James' POV:**

"So many people..." James thought, glancing around at the vibrant throng of students filling the hallways with energy. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement as friends reunited, laughter ringing out like music, while others expressed their frustrations with groans and eye rolls. It was a sensory overload, the faint scent of freshly polished floors mixing with the aroma of lunchboxes being opened for the first time. In the midst of this lively chaos, he finally spotted his one and only friend—literally—the cherry on top of this school drama: Jayden. His heart lifted as he made his way through the crowd, and with the enthusiasm of a long-awaited reunion, he approached Jayden and extended his hand for a fist bump.

"Hey, Jayden! Long time no see, eh?!" James exclaimed, his broad smile radiating warmth, genuine delight filling his voice.

"Yeah, long time no see!" Jayden replied, his grin mirroring James's excitement. Just then, a sudden chill swept through the hallway, an inexplicable gust that brushed past him like a cold whisper. James turned his head instinctively, but the space behind him was empty—only the unyielding walls adorned with colorful posters of school events greeted him. Strange. He shook off the feeling, deciding it was likely just his imagination playing tricks on him.

"Well, uh, how've you been?" James asked, his curiosity piqued as he focused intently on Jayden, eager to hear about his summer adventures.

"Good, good... not much going on, you know?" Jayden said with a casual shrug, the ease of his demeanor a soothing reminder of their camaraderie amidst the relentless tide of school life.

"Well, it's time to go to class, so I'll see you around," Jayden said, offering a friendly fist bump before he meandered off down the hallway, his figure blending into the crowd.

"Byee!" James called after him, a touch of reluctance in his voice as he turned toward his own classroom. Yet, the sensation of that eerie breeze lingered in his mind, entwined with the uncertainty of his surroundings. Was it truly just a figment of his imagination? He dismissed it, convinced that he was merely overthinking.

As he settled into his desk and attempted to concentrate on his notes, the soft sound of a knock disrupted the routine of the classroom. The door swung open to reveal a young man with alabaster skin, long dark hair cascading over his shoulders, and eyes that were deep and shadowy, glinting with an unsettling curiosity. 

"I'm sorry for being late..." he murmured to the teacher, barely making eye contact. But when his gaze found James, a hint of a smile flickered across his face—a gentle yet enigmatic grin that sent a shiver down James's spine. The young man glided over to the empty seat next to him, the rustle of paper and books accompanying him as he rummaged through his bag with a slight urgency.

After a moment of searching, he turned toward James. "Do you have a pen I could use? I forgot mine at home..." he asked, his voice soft like the brush of a feather, yet it carried an odd intensity.

James hesitated for just a second, feeling an instinctual wariness but overriding it with politeness. "Sure, I have one." He reached into his backpack, retrieving a sleek black pen and handing it to the boy. 

"Thank you so much," the young man said, his smile broadening, revealing a hint of genuine appreciation as he began to write. In that moment, he seemed just like everyone else—ordinary and unassuming.

Finally, the clock signaled the end of the long stretch of classes, and it was time for lunch—the golden hour James had been looking forward to all day. As he stepped into the bustling cafeteria, the lively atmosphere enveloped him, filled with the jubilant clamor of chattering students and the enticing smell of varied cuisines filling the air. The brightly colored trays in the lunch line showcased an assortment of foods—pizza, salad, and fruit. After what felt like an epic quest through the maze of tables and excited voices, James secured his meal and escaped the cacophony, seeking refuge outside.

He found a shaded spot beneath the grand branches of an oak tree, its leaves swaying gently in the breeze, creating a mosaic of sunlight and shade on the ground. He settled against its sturdy trunk, unwrapping his sandwich and cracking open a small carton of milk. 

"Mmm," he murmured with pleasure, savoring the taste of his homemade sandwich, letting the warm sunlight kiss his skin. Just as he took a satisfying bite, that familiar cold breeze surged past him yet again, wrapping around him like an uninvited ghost. Unease settled over him, prompting him to glance behind him—still no one. Yet, a peculiar feeling crept into his thoughts, as if a hidden presence lurked, observing him from the shadows.

"Am I being watched...?" he pondered, a shiver running down his spine, the question lingering in the back of his mind as he scanned his surroundings for answers.