Faerin was never normal about crushes. That was the first thing everyone who knew him would say. He loved too hard, too quickly, too openly—like he was born with his heart split wide open for the world to poke at. He cried over romance movies, over cute compliments, over old couples holding hands at grocery stores. He memorized tiny details about people he liked and treated affection like a religion.
So when you appeared halfway through the semester looking all high and unfairly pretty, smiling at people like you weren't even trying—of course Faerin was doomed instantly !!
It started with your voice—warm and easy, low enough to make his stomach twist whenever you laughed.
The first time he heard it, he nearly dropped his drink.
He'd been sitting with friends outside during lunch, pink headphones hanging around his neck while he lazily scrolled through his phone. Then you walked past talking to another transfer student, sunlight hitting your face just enough to make Faerin stare like he'd been struck.
Not in the delicate way people called him pretty. No—your kind of pretty felt etheatreal—like the type that ruined people accidentally.
And you smiled at him, just a tiny polite smile because he'd accidentally been staring too long—and then faerin spent the next four hours in his dorm with his face buried in his pillow kicking his feet so hard his bedframe slammed against the wall.
By the next day, everyone knew because Faerin was horrible at hiding things.
His female friends cornered him before class after noticing he'd spent twenty minutes fixing his bangs in the bathroom mirror.
“You like the new transfer!” one of them gasped dramatically.
Faerin turned bright pink instantly.
“You curled your eyelashes.”
“You're not wearing a jacket, you literally want them to see your figure.”
"I literally saw you write their initial next to yours on your computer.*
Faerin immediately covered his face with a horrified squeak while his friends screamed, and laughed.
And somehow, somehow, things got even worse after he overheard a certain conversation.
It wasn't even intentional. Faerin had simply been walking past the stairwell when he heard your voice drifting down between the railings.
“…I dunno,” you said casually. “I just—i think prefer feminine, ya know? It's prettier.”
Then one of your new friends laughed. “Like girls?”
“Nah,” you replied. “Just feminine people in general. Pretty boys too.”
Faerin genuinely thought his soul left his body, and he stood frozen on the stairs clutching his phone so tightly his fingers hurt.
You liked feminine attributes.
Faerin ran away so fast he nearly slipped.
His friends found him ten minutes later practically hyperventilating behind the gym while aggressively fixing his hair in his camera app.
“they like feminine boys,” Faerin whispered shakily.
His friends stared—then screamed, after that, things became unbearable.
Faerin already cared obsessively about his appearance before you arrived, but now it became something far more intense. Every morning turned into a two-hour process of perfecting himself for you.
He'd wake up early to carefully wash his face with expensive cleansers. He started researching ways to make his eyelashes appear longer naturally. He bought strawberry-scented hair products because one time you mentioned liking sweet smells while talking to someone else in class. (He's always listening)
He noticed everything—you once casually said pink looked nice on him, and faerin made sure to add a piece of pink on his outfit every day.
You complimented his rings once while sitting beside him during class, he bought seven more.
You absentmindedly brushed hair out of his face during a group project because his bangs kept falling over his eyes, faerin didn't sleep that night. (He also cummed blanks <3)
He just laid there staring at the ceiling touching the spot your fingers grazed while his stomach churned violently.
His friends thought it was adorable at first.
Then ultimately just straight up concerning because Faerin wasn't simply crushing on you, he was orbiting you.
His entire routine slowly bent around your existence without you even realizing.
He memorized your class schedule within two weeks. He knew what snacks you bought from vending machines. He knew you preferred cold drinks even during winter. He knew you tapped your pencil against desks whenever you got bored because he was always staring at you. He knew you got sleepy during lectures after lunch because you always yawned. He knew which hoodies were your favorites because you wore them repeatedly, and he took track of them in his cute journal. He knew which people made you laugh hardest.
And jesus, he hated those people.
Faerin’s jealousy was honestly terrifying once people paid enough attention to notice it.
The problem was that you never noticed.
Or maybe you just interpreted all his weird behavior as him being naturally clingy and dramatic—which, to be fair, he was. Faerin acted sweet with everyone. He hugged people constantly, whined for attention, pouted dramatically when ignored. So when he suddenly wrapped both arms around yours because some girl was standing too close to you, you didn’t think anything of it.
Everyone else saw the way his expression changed whenever another person touched you.
Because in all honesty—Faerin’s face was expressive in the worst possible way. His emotions lived right there in his eyes, soft and huge and impossible to hide. Usually they sparkled with sweetness—pretty smiles, warm laughter, playful teasing.
But jealousy made him sharp, sharp enough everyone quieted around him once they saw his eyes go dark, and his eyebrows furrow in that nasty snarl.
God, Faerin hated people around you—especially the ones he knew were considered pretty by society's standards, the confident ones.
Girls with glossy hair and long legs and easy laughter. Guys who leaned too close to you when they spoke. Girls who touched your shoulder casually like they had the right. Guys who flirted effortlessly while Faerin sat there internally unraveling trying to figure out if his eye shadow looked okay.
Because how could he compete with that?How could soft little Faerin compete with girls who were naturally beautiful or guys who naturally had the confidence to say what they want ?
Some days the insecurity made him feel physically sick.
He’d sit in class staring down at his hands while negative thoughts spiraled endlessly through his mind.
Then one of those girls would laugh at something you said and Faerin’s entire chest would ache so violently he’d stop hearing the conversation entirely.
He became awful during group settings because of it.
If a girl complimented you too much, suddenly Faerin was draped over your shoulder whining softly.
“Can you help me with math later?” he’d mumble, resting his chin against your arm.
You blinked. “Didn’t you already finish it?”
Faerin’s pout deepened instantly.
“You literally showed me your answers this morning.”
The girl beside you would stare, because Faerin wasn’t subtle—not at all.
He’d cling tighter, fingers curling around your sleeve while staring at you with those huge glossy eyes. His voice would turn softer too—higher and sweeter in a way he only used around you.
And if that didn't make his competition back off—Faerin knew what will, to just insert and cut off whoever was talking till you gave him your full attention.
He did that constantly, inserted himself everywhere, and he was smart about it too.
If girls sat beside you at lunch too often, Faerin would appear seconds later carrying snacks for you both.
“Oh, can I sit here?” he’d ask politely while already squeezing himself beside you. Then he’d stay pressed against your side the entire lunch period—drinking from your straw without asking, playing with your fingers under the table absentmindedly while listening to conversations.
People noticed those things.
And he's glad they did—he wanted people to look at you both and assume he belonged to you.
He documented all of you obsessively. His hidden folders were genuinely insane. He had screenshots of conversations organized by date, and pictures he secretly took of you in class.
He even had voice messages replayed so often he memorized the pauses in your speech. He had entire notes filled with things you liked.
He reread your texts before sleeping every night while kicking his feet under blankets like an idiot.
Sometimes he practiced conversations with you beforehand too.
He’d stare into his mirror late at night rehearsing responses, trying to sound smoother, cooler, less embarrassing.
Then the next day you’d smile at him unexpectedly and he’d immediately short-circuit.
You really had no idea what you did to him.
One morning after carefully coordinating his outfit to match yours, Faerin spent almost forty minutes deciding between sweaters before school.
Because you were wearing black that day (he knew because he had a camera in ur room :3) so of course he picked a soft black oversized cardigan with pink details !
Then spent another ten minutes styling his hair to fall “naturally” over one eye.
By the time he got to school he was practically vibrating with anxiety.
What if you didn’t notice?
What if he looked stupid?
Then you looked at him in the hallway and laughed softly, “Woah. We’re matching."
Faerin genuinely forgot how to breathe.
You smiled so casually after saying it too, completely unaware you’d just caused catastrophic emotional damage.
“Guess we are,” he managed weakly.
God, he loved being noticed by you.
It made him greedy—the more attention you gave him, the more he wanted.
And the jealousy got uglier because of it, especially when people flirted with you openly.
And Faerin dealt with jealousy horribly.
Sometimes he became quiet and miserable.
Other times—other times people mysteriously stopped talking to you afterward.
Nothing obvious, just subtle social destruction, rumors spreading quietly, and embarrassing screenshots leaked anonymously.
One girl who flirted with you relentlessly ended up sobbing in the bathroom after private messages she’d sent someone got anonymously posted online.
Nobody traced it back to Faerin.
Faerin who brought homemade desserts for classmates.
Faerin who looked too delicate to hurt anyone.
Meanwhile he sat beside you during lunch stirring his drink quietly while you mentioned hearing about the drama.
“That’s awful,” you frowned.
Faerin nodded sympathetically.
Then he rested his head against your shoulder and smiled secretly to himself while he hummed your favorite song under his breath.
ellievsbear
theartofmadeline
dailybridgerton
snowghoul
origamiaround
pixelskylines
titsay
izzy806
