I made a mistake.
A very big mistake.
I ignored Problem for exactly ten minutes this morning.
And now he was acting weird.
"…why are you standing so close?" I asked, brushing my hair while staring at him in the mirror.
"I always stand here."
"No, you don't. You're closer today."
"I moved."
"I can see that!"
He leaned slightly closer.
Too close.
If he had a heartbeat, I would've heard it.
"…back up," I said.
"No."
"Back up."
"No."
"BACK UP."
"No."
I turned around and pointed at him. "You are invading my personal space."
"You're in my space."
"…this is my room!"
"You're in it."
"…you make no sense."
"You're used to it."
"I'm not used to it!"
"You are."
"I AM NOT."
"You are."
"…stop winning arguments by repeating things."
"I'm not winning. I'm stating facts."
"I hate your facts."
"You don't."
"I DO."
"You don't."
I grabbed my bag. "I'm going to school."
"I know."
"Are you coming?"
"Yes."
"…I hate that question. I don't even know why I ask anymore."
—
The walk to school felt normal.
Too normal.
Which meant something was wrong.
I looked around.
The other spirits were there, but far away.
Keeping distance.
Avoiding me.
Or more specifically—
Avoiding him.
"…Problem."
"Yes?"
"Why are they even more scared today?"
"They should be."
"That's not an answer."
"It is."
"No, it's not."
He glanced around lazily. "They're weak."
"And?"
"They know better than to come close."
"…because of you?"
"Yes."
I nodded slowly. "You know what, I'm not even surprised anymore."
"You're adapting."
"I'm suffering."
"You're dramatic."
"I am NOT dramatic."
"You are."
"I AM NOT."
"You are."
"…you're lucky I can't punch you."
"You've tried."
"…don't remind me."
—
When I entered class, I noticed something immediately.
People were staring at me.
Again.
But this time—
Not because I was talking to myself.
No.
It was something else.
"Why is everyone looking at me?" I whispered.
"You're noticeable."
"I've always been noticeable!"
"More now."
"…that's not comforting."
I sat down.
Problem stood behind me.
Of course.
Then—
Someone walked up to my desk.
A girl.
Pretty.
Smiling.
Danger.
"Hey, Ren," she said. "Can I sit here?"
I froze.
Problem didn't say anything.
Which was worse.
"…uh," I said, "this seat is—"
"Taken?" she asked.
"Yes!"
"No, it's not," she said, already pulling the chair.
I panicked. "Wait—"
Too late.
She sat down.
Right where Problem usually sat.
Silence.
Very heavy silence.
I didn't move.
I didn't breathe.
Slowly, very slowly, I turned my head.
Problem was still there.
Standing.
Right behind her.
Staring at her.
Not blinking.
Not smiling.
Just staring.
"…Problem," I whispered.
"Yes?"
"…don't do anything."
"I'm not doing anything."
"That's what scares me."
He tilted his head slightly. "She's in my place."
"…it's not your place."
"It is."
"It's a chair!"
"It's where I sit."
"You don't even need to sit!"
"I choose to."
"…you're unbelievable."
The girl smiled at me. "Who are you talking to?"
"Myself."
"You do that a lot."
"Yes."
"It's kind of cute."
I choked.
Problem moved.
And suddenly—
He was standing right next to me.
Closer than before.
Too close.
"She's annoying," he said.
"STOP TALKING," I whispered.
"I'm not talking to her."
"I KNOW."
The girl leaned closer. "You okay?"
"I'm great," I said, sweating. "Never better."
Problem's voice dropped slightly. "Tell her to leave."
"…I can't do that."
"Do it."
"No."
"Do it."
"No."
"Do it."
"I SAID NO."
The class went quiet.
Everyone stared at me.
Again.
I smiled awkwardly. "Sorry. Personal issues."
The teacher sighed. "Ren, control yourself."
"I'm trying, sir. I really am."
Problem didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't look away from the girl.
"She's in the way," he said.
"She's just sitting!"
"She's too close."
"…you're also too close."
"I should be."
"…why?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, "You're mine."
I froze.
"…what?"
"You heard me."
"I heard you, I just don't like it."
"You will."
"I won't."
"You will."
"I WON'T."
The girl blinked. "Are you… arguing again?"
"Yes."
"With yourself?"
"Yes."
"…you're interesting."
Problem leaned even closer to me.
"I don't like her."
"I don't care."
"You should."
"I don't."
"You will."
"STOP SAYING THAT."
—
The rest of the class was a disaster.
Because Problem didn't move.
Not even once.
He stayed right next to me.
Watching.
Waiting.
Existing aggressively.
And every time the girl tried to talk to me—
He got closer.
At one point, I swear he was half inside me.
"…you're too close," I whispered.
"I'm supposed to be."
"No, you're not!"
"Yes, I am."
"No, you're not!"
"Yes, I am."
I dropped my pen.
On purpose.
I needed a break.
I bent down to pick it up—
And he followed.
Of course he did.
"You're following me everywhere," I said.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you're moving."
"That's not a reason!"
"It is."
"…you're impossible."
"I know."
—
By lunch, I was tired.
Mentally.
Emotionally.
Spiritually.
I sat down alone this time.
No girl.
No interruptions.
Peace.
For five seconds.
Then—
"Good."
I didn't look up. "What?"
"You're alone."
"…that sounds creepy."
"It's better."
"For who?"
"For me."
I finally looked at him. "You're acting weird today."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
"…you're more annoying than usual."
"That's not new."
"I know, but it's worse today."
He sat across from me.
Closer than usual.
"I don't like when others come near you."
"…why?"
"They shouldn't."
"That's not an answer."
"It is."
"No, it's not!"
He leaned forward.
"You're mine."
I stared at him.
"…you keep saying that."
"Yes."
"Why?"
He paused.
Like he was thinking.
Then said, "Because it's true."
"…it's not true."
"It is."
"I'm a human being!"
"Yes."
"I can talk to people!"
"No."
"YES, I CAN!"
"No."
"YOU CAN'T CONTROL ME!"
"I don't need to."
"…you are literally trying to!"
"I'm protecting what's mine."
I slammed my hands on the table. "I AM NOT YOURS!"
Silence.
Everyone looked at me.
Again.
I smiled. "Sorry. I'm… practicing lines."
No one believed me.
I didn't care.
I turned back to him.
"…you don't get to decide that."
He didn't look angry.
Didn't look upset.
Just calm.
Too calm.
"I already did."
"…you're insane."
"You like me."
"I DON'T."
"You do."
"I DON'T."
"You do."
"I stood up. "I'm leaving."
He stood up too.
Of course.
"You're not done eating."
"I lost my appetite."
"That's inefficient."
"I DON'T CARE."
"You should."
"I DON'T."
—
After school, I walked faster than usual.
Trying to get home.
Trying to think.
Trying to breathe.
He followed.
Quiet.
For once.
Which was worse.
"…say something," I said.
"No."
"…why are you quiet?"
"I'm thinking."
"That's never good."
"I know."
"…what are you thinking about?"
He looked at me.
"You."
"…that's worse."
"I know."
I stopped walking.
Turned to face him.
"You need to stop saying I'm yours."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"WHY NOT?"
"Because it's true."
"It's NOT!"
"It is."
"It's NOT!"
"It is."
"…you're impossible."
"You're mine."
"I'M NOT!"
"You are."
"I'M NOT!"
"You are."
I grabbed my head. "THIS IS WHY I'M GOING CRAZY."
"You were already unstable."
"…I hate you."
"You don't."
"I DO."
"You don't."
"STOP."
—
When I got home, I went straight to my room and shut the door.
He was already inside.
Of course.
"Locking the door doesn't work," he said.
"I know!"
"Then why do you do it?"
"For emotional support!"
"That's inefficient."
"I KNOW."
I threw my bag down.
Turned to him.
"This isn't normal."
"I know."
"This isn't okay."
"I know."
"Then stop!"
"No."
"…WHY?"
He stepped closer.
Again.
Always closer.
"Because I don't want to."
"That's not a reason!"
"It is."
"No, it's not!"
"It is for me."
"…everything is 'for you' with you!"
"Yes."
"You're selfish!"
"I don't share."
"…I hate that about you."
"You don't."
"I DO."
"You don't."
I sat on my bed, frustrated.
"You can't just decide I'm yours."
"I can."
"You can't!"
"I did."
"That doesn't make it real!"
"It does."
"No, it doesn't!"
He leaned down slightly.
Close.
Too close.
"It does to me."
My heart skipped.
Just for a second.
And I hated that.
"…you're annoying," I muttered.
"I know."
"You're stubborn."
"I know."
"You're… too close."
"I know."
"…move."
"No."
"…of course not."
I lay back on the bed.
Covered my face.
"This is my life now."
"Yes."
"I hate it."
"You don't."
"I DO."
"You don't."
"…stop deciding my feelings!"
"I'm not deciding. I'm observing."
"You're wrong."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
Silence.
Then—
"You didn't push me away."
I froze.
"…what?"
"Earlier."
"…so?"
"You usually do."
"…I was tired."
"You didn't deny it."
"…deny what?"
"That you're mine."
I sat up immediately. "I DID DENY IT!"
"You argued."
"That's denial!"
"You didn't reject it properly."
"…what does that even mean?!"
"It means you're getting used to it."
"…I hate you."
"You don't."
"I DO."
"You don't."
He leaned closer again.
And this time—
I didn't move immediately.
"…you're staring," I said.
"Yes."
"Stop."
"No."
"…you're really not going to leave me alone, are you?"
"No."
"…ever?"
"No."
I sighed.
"…you're the worst."
"You like me."
"I don't."
"You do."
"…I'm going to sleep."
"It's afternoon."
"I don't care."
"You're avoiding me."
"Yes."
"It won't work."
"I know."
"…but I'll still try."
"I know."
I lay down.
Closed my eyes.
And felt it again.
That presence.
Close.
Constant.
Unmoving.
"…you're still here," I said.
"Yes."
"…of course you are."
I sighed.
"…Problem."
"Yes?"
"…you're really not going anywhere, are you?"
"No."
"…then stop acting like I belong to you."
Silence.
Then—
"No."
"…I hate you."
"You don't."
"…shut up."
He didn't.
Of course he didn't.
And for some reason—
That annoyed me less than before.
Which was a problem.
A very big problem.