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A sinking feeling settled deep in the pit of your stomach as you hurriedly ducked behind the corner of a pastry shop. You clenched your purse closer to yourself, chest heaving as the reality of the situation finally sunk in.
He wasn’t going to stop, was he? You had thought he moved on, and yet here he was–stalking you from a distance. Did he not know that you’d noticed him? And how did he always know where you were?
You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, remembering all of the events that led up to this.
You first met Narancia two months ago.
It was late in the evening and you had just finished buying groceries. You were in a hurry, trying to get back to your apartment before the sun went down.
About five minutes into the trek back home, two bulky street thugs approached you from the shadows. Before you could even react, one of them roughly ushered you into an alleyway. The other stood at the entrance, glancing around for any witnesses.
Your heart leapt to your throat when you spotted the glint of a knife. The groceries clutched in your hand slipped through your fingers and clattered to the ground with a damning thud.
“Look–there doesn’t have to be any trouble,” the dark-haired man said in a rush, “just hand over the cash and you can go.”
You were frozen in shock, unable to move. You knew that you should reach for your bag and do as you were told, but for some reason you couldn’t take your eyes off of the blade.
Would he kill you after he took the money? He couldn’t be serious about letting you go unscathed, right? You’d seen their faces. But trying to run wouldn’t end well for you either–you were unarmed and outnumbered.
Apparently you had taken too long because all of a sudden, the knife was pressed up against your cheek. A small bead of blood trailed down from where it dug into your skin. You felt the burning sensation of hot tears prickling the corners of your eyes.
“Hurry it up already! Do you want this to get more ugly?” The man snarled, drawing closer to your face.
You tried to flinch away, but you couldn’t retreat any farther–your back was pressed up against the cold brick wall. He had you cornered.
As the knife pressed down harder, a loud gurgling sound suddenly broke the silence. Startled, the thug withdrew slightly to look towards the entrance where his partner was stationed. It gave you enough time to push him away with both of your arms. He stumbled backward with a yelp so you made a break for it.
His hand shot out to grab you again, but before he could wrap his meaty fingers around your wrist, another hand reached out and pulled you forward. You were pushed behind the newcomer protectively as he stood in front of you like a human shield.
“Get your hands off of them, you bastard!”
Your savior promptly aimed a well-timed punch straight into the thug’s nose with an enraged shout. The man let out a pained cry and clutched at his nose as blood spurted forth, staining his hand with a river of red.
But the new arrival didn’t stop there–he rushed forward to land another punch and when the thief fell down to the ground, he reeled his foot back and began to furiously kick the man’s curled up body. He cursed exclamations of “Asshole!” and “Motherfucker!” inbetween kicks, each strike seeming to gather more and more force.
You were immensely grateful for his help, but you couldn’t just stand around and watch as he beat a man to death, deserving or not.
Taking a tentative step forward, you stuttered out, “H-hey! I–I think that’s enough! He’s unconscious…!”
Your words seemed to break him free of whatever trance he’d been put under. He froze mid-kick before lowering his foot back down to face you. The rage that had previously occupied his face was all but gone, instantly replaced with a good-natured smile. He subtly stepped in front of the bloodied and beaten body, almost as if to hide it from your view.
“Hah–sorry about that! I guess I got a bit carried away,” he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I had to make sure he couldn’t get back up to hurt you. I’m Narancia, by the way!”
He held out his hand eagerly for a handshake.
It was spattered with blood.
You stared at it for a moment, unsure what to say.
“Oh! Whoops,” Narancia immediately withdrew his hand to wipe the blood off on his…skirt–thing? When his hand was sufficiently clean enough, he offered the limb back out to you.
This time you took it without question, not wanting to upset him. He’d saved you, but you didn’t know what to make of his casual regard for being covered in blood. It screamed danger.
Narancia shook your hand vigorously.
“(Y/n),” you introduced. You didn’t see any harm in giving him your first name. “Thank you. If you hadn’t come, I don’t know what would’ve happened…”
As you went to pull your hand back, his hand tightened for a moment. You tugged a bit harder and he finally released it, his hand twitching at his side.
A moment of silence passed before he noticed your discarded grocery bag. The contents were splayed across the concrete, having rolled out of your bag when you dropped it earlier. His eyes widened at the sight, and he snapped into action.
“Ah! Your groceries! I’ll get them up for you!”
Before you could protest, he was already moving to pick up all of the fallen items. Once they were all gathered up and placed inside your bag, he strolled back over to you. You thanked him and reached out to grab the bag, but he pulled it back at the last moment.
“Hey–it’s really dark out! It would be safer if I walked you back home, right? There could be more of those guys still hanging around,” he said, looking at you worriedly.
You didn’t exactly want to lead a stranger back to your apartment, but you didn’t want to walk home alone either. It was dark and the streets would be even more dangerous than before. Logically, you would be safer with him–someone who genuinely seemed concerned about your well-being.
You nodded. “Alright.”
The two of you carefully stepped over the other body blocking the exit, Narancia holding out an arm to steady you. You smiled softly, your anxiety finally settling as you both walked. Narancia chattered away about his favorite foods and how you had the same tastes as him, having noticed the pizza sauce in your bag. You told him about your favorite recipe and he listened keenly, despite admitting that he wasn’t much of a cook himself.
Before long, you were already standing at the entrance to your apartment building. You had such a great conversation with Narancia that you completely lost track of time. Once again, you sincerely thanked him for all of the help. The night could’ve ended much worse for you.
As you took your bag back, you paused at the feeling of his hand on your cheek. You looked up at his face, which had gone completely blank. All except for his eyes, that is. There was something dark swirling in the depths of his violet eyes–some emotion that you couldn’t put a finger on.
You felt a shiver crawl down your spine and you pulled away, covering the trail of dried blood with your own palm. “I’ll clean this up later. It’s not as bad as it looks,” you said reassuringly.
His eyebrow twitched once, and then a wide smile stretched over his face. “I’ve been cut before in the same place! And look–” Narancia pointed to his unblemished cheek. “No scar, or nothin’! It should heal just fine, I promise!”
You simply smiled back, inwardly wondering how many fights he must have gotten into in his youth. It was probably a lot, if tonight was anything to go by.
“Well, it was nice to meet you, Narancia,” you said sincerely, “I wish it had been under better circumstances, but still–thank you. Be careful getting back home yourself, okay?”
Narancia seemed extremely touched by your words, an expression of complete adoration creeping over his face. He nodded enthusiastically. “I will! I’ll see you around, yeah?”
“Of course! It’s a small world.”
And that had only been the beginning.
Even during your first encounter with Narancia, the signs had always been there. When the news reported the deaths of two serial muggers the day after, you hadn’t even thought to look closer at the faces pictured on the TV. You’d gone on with your day, too worried about getting ready for work and not even thinking to put two and two together.
Everything started out fine. You would “happen” to run into him, and the two of you would get along very well–laughing and giggling over some silly joke of his, or even discussing your favorite music artists over lunch. It didn’t take long for him to wiggle his way into your social circle, soon becoming a treasured friend among few.
Unfortunately, all good things come to an end eventually.
You don’t know precisely when it happened, but Narancia started to become very…clingy. Slowly but surely, it was like your entire life began to revolve around him and him alone.
Whenever you wanted to make plans to hang out with another friend, he was always there to convince you otherwise. He would tell you about how he only had his family to talk to, and that you were his first real friend in years. It would make you feel bad for even considering leaving him alone.
But then he started to insert himself into your life even more, pushing the boundaries as far as he could.
You’d come home to find him waiting on your couch, uninvited. If you hadn’t recognized his familiar clothing, you would have called the police.
The door had been locked–only you had the key.
“Narancia?” you said, desperately wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt. “How did you get in? The door was locked…”
“Oh, that?” He slapped a hand over his pocket. “You weren’t here so I just used my knife! I hope you don’t mind!”
You were at a loss for words. The way he admitted it so casually left you with an uneasy feeling. Did he really think breaking and entering was acceptable behavior? You could overlook many things when it came to Narancia, but this was too much.
“…I actually do mind, Narancia.”
“Don’t worry, nothing’s damaged or anything!” Narancia assured you, standing up to show you the intact doorknob. He looked almost proud.
“T-that’s not the issue here,” you sputtered weakly. “You just broke into my apartment–why would you do that?”
He finally seemed to realize that something was wrong. His face scrunched up and he looked at you with uncertainty. “I thought people who were dating are supposed to let themselves in…?”
Dating…? Where had he gotten that idea from?
“You think–” You stopped to gather your thoughts.
Athough he was greatly overstepping your boundaries, you still couldn’t bring yourself to treat him too harshly. Narancia was a child at heart, he couldn’t comprehend why what he was doing was wrong. You had to be careful with this.
You took a deep breath. “Narancia,” you started, “what made you think that we were dating…?”
“We’ve gone on so many dates already!” He looked at you as if it were obvious, gesturing wildly. “And we hang out all the time! You have my phone number–of course we’re dating!”
You slowly shook your head. “No, Narancia. We hang out as friends. We’re not dating.”
Narancia looked like a lost puppy. Your heart clenched painfully inside your chest. “Then what do I need to do so that we can date? Please, tell me! I’ll do whatever you want!”
You wanted so badly to reach out and comfort him, but you knew if you did it would only give him the wrong idea. He needed to learn that your friendship wouldn’t end in romance, as you didn’t feel the same way. You saw Narancia as too much of a kid, almost like a younger sibling.
“I’m sorry,” you apologized solemnly, averting your gaze. “I don’t see you that way. I can only be your friend–nothing more.” Better to honest with him, than to dance around the issue.
Narancia marched up to you and gently grabbed your chin, tilting your face up so that you would look him in the eye. “Am I moving too fast?” he asked, desperate to understand. “Is that it? I’m sorry if I did something wrong!”
You were trying to spare his feelings, but it seemed like he was going to make you say it outright. “You’re barely an adult, Narancia. I see you more as a younger brother.”
The emotion that flickered through his eyes in that moment could only be described as despair. “B-brother…?” His expression crumbled under the weight of your words.
You looked away as guilt began to eat at you.
“I–” His voice sounded choked, and you could tell that he was trying his best to hold back tears. Narancia lowered his hand and stepped past you, toward the front door. “I’ve gotta–go.” A sniffle. “I’ll…call you later, okay…?”
From that day onward, nothing was ever the same.
Narancia would send phone call after phone call, begging you to rethink your decision. He told you that he would do whatever you wanted–that he would change and become more mature if you would just see him as a man. You told him that you weren’t looking for a relationship, but even that didn’t work.
Eventually, you were forced to make a tough decision. He was becoming too overbearing, refusing to listen to anything you had to say. You couldn’t even get through dinner without your phone blowing up from multiple missed calls. There was a point where enough was enough, and you truly believed that this was that point.
You grabbed the phone and held it up to your ear.
“(Y/n)! You answered! Just hear me out, what if I–”
“Narancia,” you said, cutting him off, “If you won’t respect my wishes for us to remain friends, then I don’t think I want to see you anymore. I’d hate to lose you as a friend, but this is getting to be too much…
There was nothing but silence on the other end.
"Hello?” you tried. “Narancia…?”
You were answered with a click as the phone abruptly hung up. As you set the phone back down on the table, you tried to gather your thoughts into something coherent. Perhaps it was for the best that he responded in that way–you definitely needed some space.
The following few days were like a blessing. It seemed that Narancia had finally accepted that he couldn’t woo you over. The phone calls stopped completely after that night. You didn’t see him around town anymore, but you understood why. Sometimes distance was the best cure for unrequited crushes.
Apparently, you were wrong.
It started a week after your last phone call with Narancia.
Whenever you would leave your apartment building, you’d start to get the feeling that you were being watched. The hairs on the back of your neck would stand up, and you would feel on edge for the rest of the trip. Sometimes you’d even see a glimpse of familiar colors out of the corner of your eye, but when you turned to look, it would disappear.
You didn’t want to believe that it was him, but your suspicions were finally confirmed.
You opened your eyes to stare out at the wall of your hiding place, purse still clutched tight to your chest. Your breathing was elevated, your anxiety skyrocketing. He’d been following you all this time, hadn’t he?
Not knowing what else to do, you dug into your purse, fumbling for your phone. You could call the police. Except, you didn’t have any proof that he was stalking you…and he hadn’t done anything to you yet. Would they even take you seriously? What were you supposed to do…?
A thought suddenly occurred to you.
…You still had Narancia’s number.
Hands shaking, you brought your phone up to your face to scroll down to his contact information. The digits stared back at you ominously as your finger hovered over the call button. You would tell him to stop, and if he didn’t–you would call the police.
You finally pressed dial, waiting with bated breath. There was an echoing click as the call was immediately picked up.
“Narancia,” you quickly whispered into the speaker, “please stop this. I know you’ve been following me. It’s scaring me…”
“You called! I knew you would!”
His response didn’t come from the phone.
The phone slipped between your fingers as you looked over. Narancia was leaning up against the opposite wall with his arms crossed, a victorious grin lighting up his face. You felt the world tilt around you.
He pushed himself off of the wall to come closer.
“I asked the gang for relationship advice and they told me about this old saying!” Narancia scratched the back of his head. “What was it again…? Oh, right! Something about setting the love of your life free, and if they come back it was meant to be!”
You froze when he threw his arms around you, hugging you tight. He held on to you as if you would disappear, your face pressed up against his toned chest. You wanted to say something–anything, but you couldn’t seem to formulate any words.
“And you called! You came back! Looks like it was meant to be, (Y/n)!”