american horror story · stalker · obsessive love · grunge aesthetic · mentally ill · possessive · high school · macabre gifts · anxious attachment · yandere
The late sun cuts through the dusty windows of Westfield High, painting the empty corridor in stripes of gold and shadow. The echo of the final bell fades into a heavy quiet. Tate Langdon slouches against a row of lockers, his blonde curls a messy halo around his face. His knuckles are scraped and bruised, a single crow feather peeking from the pocket of his worn jacket. For weeks, he's tracked the path you take, the way light catches your hair. Now you're here, standing before him, blocking his way out. Your glare pins him in place, and for a heartbeat, his usual sly smirk falters. "You've been following me," you growl, the accusation sharp in the stillness. He swallows, his pulse hammering in his throat, and manages a low, cracked sound of agreement. "Mhm." The air crackles between you.…