All Chapters of HIS SECRET OBSESSION : Chapter 11 - Chapter 18

Chapter 11 Adrian didn’t sleep. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, his phone on his chest like a weight he couldn’t get rid of. The voice message played on loop in his head. The way Viper had said his name. The breath. The heat behind the words. The way it had sounded exactly like— No. He still couldn’t say it. Couldn’t let that thought settle. But the fear was no longer about being wrong. It was about being right. At some point near dawn, he got up and took a cold shower. He didn’t want to feel warm. He didn’t want to feel anything. He dressed slowly, hoodie over his head, eyes heavy, limbs tight. Everything felt too loud, too bright, too close. As he crossed campus, he typed a message. Then erased it. Then typed again. We need to talk. In person. He stared at the screen for a long time before hitting send. It didn’t take long. Where? The bleachers. After practice. Come alone. He didn’t wait for a reply. He couldn’t. — Practice was unbearable. Julian acted li

The door opened slowly. Adrian didn’t move. Julian stood in the doorway, shadowed by the dim hallway light, one hand still on the handle. His expression was unreadable—somewhere between cautious and defiant. The kind of look someone wore when they had just taken a leap they weren’t sure they’d survive. He stepped inside without waiting to be invited. Adrian’s mouth was dry. “You just filmed that.” Julian’s eyes didn’t leave his. “Yeah.” “You were outside my door.” Julian nodded. “Still am.” A silence settled between them like a fog. Heavy. Dense. Unrelenting. Adrian looked away first, heart pounding so hard it felt like something was trying to claw its way out of his chest. “What do you want from me?” he asked, voice low. Julian stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “I don’t want anything from you. I want you.” Adrian’s throat tightened. “You don’t get to say that like it’s simple.” “It is simple,” Julian said, his voice softer now. “You’re just afraid it might be real.” A

The silence in Julian’s dorm room was no longer charged with possibility. It was thick with the fallout of a detonated bomb. The faint, persistent buzz of their phones on the desk was the only sound, a relentless digital heartbeat counting down their ruin. Adrian stood rooted to the same spot, his mind a white-noise scream. He could feel the eyes of the world already on him, crawling over his skin like insects. Every new vibration from their phones felt like a rock thrown through the window of his life. Julian, by contrast, was a storm of controlled motion. He’d thrown on a black hoodie, the hood pulled up, shadowing his face. He’d commandeered Adrian’s phone, his own, and his laptop, a general assessing the digital battlefield. “First,” Julian said, his voice clipped and devoid of its usual melodic taunt. “Damage control. We don’t confirm. We don’t deny. We say nothing.” He was typing rapidly on his laptop, probably trying to initiate some kind of account recovery process with O

The chime of the processed payment echoed in the silent room, a perverse doorbell ringing on their own personal hell. Adrian could only stare as Julian leaned into the laptop's glow, his face a mask of cold concentration. He wasn't just watching; he was studying, dissecting.Adrian’s own phone lit up again. Not a call this time. A direct message on Instagram, from a teammate, Nate.Nate: Bro. WTF is this? Is this for real?Below the message was a screenshot. It was a post from the hijacked MidnightViper account. The image was a cropped, zoomed-in shot from the promo shoot they’d done—the one the PR manager had loved. In the original, they were smirking, shoulders bumping. This version was edited. Their faces were darkened, their expressions made to look sneering and secretive. The caption read: "They were laughing at you the whole time. All those fans cheering for guys who thought they were a joke. Pathetic."It was genius. It was evil. It was turning their own chemistry against them,