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“Crossfire Of Obsession “
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2026-06-13 23:37:27“What the hell?” I gasped.
The room erupted.
“What is wrong with you?”
“Are you insane?”
Several students rushed toward Drey while others instinctively stepped away from Raihan.
Even his friends looked stunned.
Drey pressed a hand against his bleeding forehead and stared at Raihan in disbelief.
“Have you completely lost your mind?” he snapped.
Raihan laughed bitterly.
The sound carried no amusement whatsoever.
“You should be asking yourself that question.”
The atmosphere immediately grew volatile.
“What is your problem?” Drey demanded.
Raihan’s jaw tightened.
His eyes briefly shifted toward me.
“Is he the reason you left the room?”
Raihan asked coldly .His gaze settled on Drey with obvious disdain.
“That insignificant fool?”
He scoffed.
“He’s not even qualified to stand at my gate, yet you’re willingly associating with him.”
I stood there in complete bewilderment, struggling to process the scene unfolding before me.
What was wrong with him?
We weren't even friends.
So why did he seem so inexplicably obsessed with me?
None of this made any sense.
And why would he resort to violence simply because Drey Kissed me ?
His gaze settled on me with an intensity that sent a chill down my spine.
An oppressive silence descended upon the room.
Not a single person dared to move an inch.
No one was foolish enough to challenge the Kings.
Then Raihan finally broke the silence.
His voice was low, cold, and dangerously possessive.
“No one touches what I intend to claim.”
What on earth was he rambling about?
Was he actually referring to me as though I were his possession?
The nerve.
The absolute audacity.
Who did he think he was?
The arrogance radiating from him was almost unbearable.
One day, someone was going to humble him in a way he would never forget.
And judging by my growing irritation, that someone might very well be me.
I rushed to Drey's side, my pulse racing at the sight of the blood streaming down his temple.
"We need to get him to a hospital. Now."
Ethan and Noah immediately came to my aid.
The three of us escorted Drey through the stunned crowd and out of the party.
Within moments, we were speeding toward the hospital, leaving the chaos and tension behind us.
We arrived at the hospital, where Drey was promptly taken in for treatment.
Ethan, Noah, and I waited in the reception area, the atmosphere weighed down by anxiety and uncertainty.
Not long afterward, two distinguished-looking men entered the hospital with evident concern etched across their faces.
The moment they approached us, they identified themselves as Drey's parents.
“Where is our son?” one of them asked anxiously.
The men introduced themselves as Jonathan Sinclair and David Sinclair, Drey’s parents.
What the hell? Are Drey’s parents gay too? I muttered softly, barely believing what I was seeing.
After an exhausting night at the hospital watching the unshakable devotion of Drey’s parents as they hovered over him with visible anguish, I felt something in me quietly fracture.
I slipped away to the restroom and allowed myself a rare moment of weakness, weeping in silence where no one could witness it.
When I finally left for home, my mind felt distant and clouded, as though I had momentarily forgotten the existence of my arrogant, persistently intrusive, and unsettlingly obsessed roommate.
Only when I stepped into the apartment did it hit me again , this wasn’t an escape.
I walked through the door still smelling like antiseptic and hospital sheets, my head pounding from the whole mess with Drey.
Raihan was already there.
He stood right there in the middle of the room, shirtless, arms crossed, waiting like he owned the place.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
His eyes lifted to me.
“You’re late,” he said calmly, his voice carrying that infuriating control, as if the entire night meant nothing to him.
I didn’t respond immediately.
Because the contrast was too loud in my head the chaos of the party still clinging to me, and him standing here in perfect composure like nothing in the world had the right to disturb him.
His gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary.
Before I could open my mouth or ask what the hell he was doing here after cracking a bottle over Drey’s head, he crossed the space in two strides.
His hands grabbed my face and his mouth crashed into mine. Hot, wet, demanding.
His tongue pushed past my lips without asking, sliding deep, tasting like Tokaji wine and something sharper. I tried to shove him back my palms hit his chest, fingers digging into muscle but the kiss kept going, sucking the fight right out of me.
My body betrayed me fast.
My cock started thickening in my jeans while my brain screamed that this guy had just put Drey in the hospital.
Raihan didn’t stop. He walked me backward until my shoulders hit the wall, never breaking the kiss. His tongue fucked my mouth in slow, filthy strokes, teeth nipping my bottom lip hard enough to sting. I tasted blood and spit and still couldn’t pull away. My hands slid up his bare chest instead of pushing him off, feeling the heat of his skin, the way his nipples hardened under my thumbs.
He groaned into my mouth and pressed his hips forward. His cock was already rock hard, thick and heavy, grinding against mine through our clothes. The friction made my knees weak. I hated how good it felt. I hated that I was getting off on this after everything. Raihan’s hand dropped between us, popped my jeans open, and shoved inside. His fingers wrapped around my shaft, stroking slow and tight, thumb smearing the precum already leaking from my slit.
The moment lingered for what felt like an unbearable stretch of time before I finally pushed him away.
Frustration surged through me, and in a sudden burst of impulse, I struck him hard across the face.
But instead of reacting with pain or anger, he only tilted his head slightly, his expression calm and unreadable—almost taunting—as his lips parted faintly, as if my reaction entertained him.
For a brief moment, I stood frozen, my breathing uneven and my thoughts completely scattered.
Without another word, I quickly adjusted my clothes, turned away, and rushed out of the house, the weight of the encounter pressing heavily against my chest.
Latest chapter
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Lucas..**Morning**The alarm went off at the usual time, which meant Raihan groaned into the pillow and I reached over him to shut it up.“Why is it always louder on days we actually need to get up?” he muttered.“It’s the same volume every day.”“Then every day is a crime.”I sat up slowly, testing my ribs out of habit. The sharp edge of pain had dulled into something more manageable. Across the small hostel room, Raihan’s bed was a mess of blankets, one of my hoodies half-buried in them from the night before. Living in the same room had stopped feeling temporary weeks ago. His charger was permanently tangled with mine on the desk. My notes had started appearing on his side of the shelf. Someone — probably Ana — had already started calling it “their room” without thinking about it.Raihan eventually dragged himself upright, hair flattened on one side.“Lecture first or coffee first?”“Coffee,” I said. “If I try to learn anything on an empty brain I’ll start agreeing with Noah.”“Dan
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LUCAS.. Mr. King came the next evening. He didn’t call ahead. He simply appeared at the hostel door with a dark leather bag in his good hand and the same carefully controlled expression he always wore when something important was about to happen. Raihan let him in. I stayed seated on the edge of the bed, already knowing what the bag contained. “I thought it was better if I brought these myself,” Mr. King said. He set the bag down on the desk. “The police have the original documents from the box. These are the personal things. They belong to you.” He didn’t linger. After a short look at both of us, he left again, the door closing softly behind him. For a while neither of us moved. Raihan sat down beside me. “You don’t have to open it right now.” “I do,” I said. My hands were steadier than I expected when I unzipped the bag. Inside, everything was carefully packed. A watch with a worn leather strap. A small stack of photographs bound with a faded ribbon. A leather journal
My Roommate & I Come For Me.
LUCAS…The door finally clicked shut behind the last of them.Ana’s voice still echoed faintly down the hallway, mixed with Ava’s laughter and Ethan’s exaggerated complaints about who had burned the eggs. Then the sound faded, and the hostel room settled into a thick, sudden quiet. The plates were stacked in the sink. The cards were scattered across the bed. The air still smelled faintly of oil and seasoning.Raihan stood near the desk, shoulders slightly hunched, bandaged wrists resting loosely at his sides. The afternoon light coming through the thin curtains caught the edge of the tape on his cheek. He looked exhausted. He also looked like he had been holding himself together for too many hours in a row.I locked the door.When I turned back, he was already watching me.Neither of us spoke at first. The silence stretched, heavy with everything we hadn't been able to say while other people were in the room. Then Raihan pushed away from the desk and crossed the small space between u
My Roommate & I Friends at the Door
LUCAS They discharged the next morning.Mr. King’s shoulder was secured in a proper sling, the wound cleaned and stitched. Raihan’s wrists were freshly bandaged, the cut on his cheek closed with a small strip of tape. My own ribs were wrapped tightly, and the swelling along my jaw had turned a deep, ugly shade of purple. None of us looked like we belonged in ordinary daylight, but the doctors had done what they could and signed the papers.Mr. King insisted on driving.The ride back to campus was quiet. Raihan sat in the front beside his father. I sat behind them, watching the city move past the window, still half-expecting the night’s violence to catch up with us somehow. Every so often Raihan glanced back at me, as if checking I was still there. Each time I gave him a small nod.When we turned onto the final road leading to the hostels, Mr. King slowed the car.“You two should rest,” he said. “I’ll have the remaining documents and your father’s belongings brought over once the poli
My Roommate & I The Letter
LUCAS..For a long time I didn’t speak.The things Mr. King had just told me sat in the room like a third presence — heavy, immovable, rewriting every memory I had of my own life. My father had a twin. That twin had arranged his death. The man sitting across from me had believed I died on that same bridge. And for weeks I had walked through his house, slept under his roof, eaten at his table, while he recognized my father’s eyes and said nothing.Raihan’s hand stayed around mine. He didn’t rush me. Neither did his father.Finally I found my voice.“The letter,” I said. “You said my father wrote me a letter.”Mr. King nodded once. “Yes. It’s still in the cabinet at the house, with the rest of his things. As soon as they discharge us, I’ll take you there myself.”“I want to read it alone first.”“Of course.”Another silence stretched. My ribs ached. My jaw throbbed where Daniel’s fist had landed. None of it compared to the pressure behind my eyes.“You really thought I was dead all thes
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LUCAS…The hospital room was quiet except for the low hum of machines and the occasional footsteps in the corridor. Raihan sat beside me on the bed, his bandaged wrists resting on his knees. They kept us at the hospital longer than either of us wanted.Mr. King’s shoulder required stitches and observation. Raihan was cleared but told to rest his wrists and avoid strain. I was given stronger painkillers for my ribs and jaw and instructed not to sleep flat on my back. None of us listened particularly well.Sometime past midnight, a nurse finally allowed us to stay in the same room. Raihan shifted over on the narrow hospital bed without a word, and I lay down beside him carefully, mindful of every bruise. The bed was too small. Neither of us cared.For a long time we just listened to the quiet sounds of the hospital — distant monitors, soft footsteps in the hallway, the occasional murmur of voices.“I keep seeing it,” Raihan said eventually, staring up at the ceiling. “The gun. Victor’s
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