The second time, I found it hanging on my dorm room door. No note. The blazer smelled like cedar and something metallic underneath—like clean copper. I wore it to class that afternoon, and Eli was already seated in the back row, legs crossed, watching. He smiled when he saw me. A slow, possessive curve of his lips.
By the fifth time, I tried to give it back. “Really, Eli, I have my own jacket—” yandere blonde blazer
Eli is standing outside my window. He’s not looking at me. He’s sharpening something small and silver in the rain. The second time, I found it hanging on my dorm room door
“No,” he said, and his voice was soft as a scalpel. He stepped closer, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers were cold. “You don’t understand yet. You look perfect in it. You look like mine .” I wore it to class that afternoon, and
I’m wearing the blazer now as I write this. It’s heavy. Not from the wool, but from the weight of being wanted so completely that no one else is allowed to exist.