A/N: Hey umm ok so this story is actually upon my deviantart account, and I'm more likely to upload new chapters there first, so if you want 'em first, then go there lol but I have like 7 chapters right now and thought that I'd upload them here. And I'm not one of those people who updates like weekly, I update whenever I update.

Anyways, this story was written from one of Nijuuni's deviations on Deviantart, so for all of the information on this chapter and a link to the picture, go here: .com/art/Obsession-ch1-102624046 I'm merely too lazy to retype it all but if You don't care and just want to get to the damn story, then READ ON :P

EDIT: ok well apparently id doesn't want to do my html, so just go to my main page and click on the link to Devintart, and then go into my fanfics section and clock on Obsession Ch1. Can't miss it =P

Disclaimer: Don't own them. Wish I did. Not much more to it is there?

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1.

Roxas gazed up at the new/old house. Built all the way back in the 17th century, somehow it had been overlooked by historical societies and multiplex location scouters, and was actually up for sale to average members of society. Until now, that is. Roxas' mom had bought the house, miles out of town, and they were moving in today. Lucky me, Roxas thought. Why did his mother have this uncontrollable need to blend with the past? For the past 18 years of his life, Roxas had been moving from town to town, his mother always seeking, after a few years, an older and more historical house.

Well, Roxas thought sarcastically, we've sure hit the jackpot here. Just a few more days and it would have been scheduled for demolition, and I could have stayed with my friends while mom looked for yet another house. But no, we had to get to the auction just in time to buy the damn thing, and I'll probably never see any of my friends again.

Roxas sighed as he grabbed his duffel bag out of the back seat of the minivan. It was only him and his mom, but she needed all that extra room for her antiques. She could never go a day without finding something. He slammed the door and took a closer look at the house; small windows with diagonal impressions, white siding with dark oak boards criss-crossing over it, and a small brick chimney. The house was about two stories high, with a small window at the peak, which Roxas assumed indicated an attic. Again, why they needed so much room, Roxas would never know. He was just happy that his mom had enough sense to install electricity and have the roof redone.

Roxas looked back towards the moving van. His mother was instructing the movers on precisely how to carry each and every piece of furniture, since they were "very valuable, authentic, and one of a kind." Roxas rolled his eyes, and decided to take the opportunity to explore the house while his mom was busy, this way he wouldn't get lost later, and he wouldn't have to obey his mom and help the movers. Isn't that what they're paid for anyways?

Roxas walked through the plain wooden door. A wall of overpowering oak smell hit him in the face, and he had to cover his mouth and nose with his jacket before he got used to it. He was in the entrance hallway; straight across from him were the stairs. There were 2 doors on either side of him, and looking through the open doorways he could see that they led to adjoining rooms. They were mostly bare, but the house had come semi-furnished, to his mother's delight.

Having no interest in the lower floor (his mom might find him there) he ascended the stairs into another hallway that bent at a right angle near the end. This hallway was much wider, with floor panels going all the way around the stairs. There were more doorways upstairs, but these ones actually had doors on them. Roxas peeked into every room to determine which one would be his. He wanted to pick before his mother chose them for her study or library or God knows what else.

Poking his head into the last door in the hall, Roxas smiled and claimed it as his room. It already had a bed, an armoire, and a wooden writing desk. Other than that, it was pretty empty, but he could fix that later. He walked over to the desk and sat down, feeling the wood underneath his fingertips. Something caught his eye under the desk and leaning down, Roxas pulled up a small, torn doll. Must have been from the last inhabitants, Roxas thought, wonder why they didn't take the rest of the furniture? It was kind of odd that they didn't take any of the furniture with them. Some of it must have been valuable. He shrugged and tossed the doll on the bed. He'd throw it out later. Actually that bed looked pretty comfortable. The queen sized bed was across from the door, and he sat down on the end to try it out. Not too bad. Looking up, Roxas also noticed that the bend in the hallway was across from his room, and it only led to a single door. I wonder if that goes to the attic, Roxas pondered. Deciding that he wanted to find out, Roxas walked out of his room and over to the door. He reached for the rusty doorknob and opened the door, the hinges screeching the entire time. Roxas looked up into the dark stairwell, and very noisily started to climb.

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He could hear the moving vehicle outside. One would think that after 4 murders and 6 people going insane that someone from the town would tell the new inhabitants that the house was haunted. No one could ever learn the easy way that he didn't want some stranger living in his house. Oh well, the hard way was always the more fun option anyways. The man faded away from view in the looking glass, more commonly referred to as a mirror.

The mirror was long and had an intricate golden frame, decorated with foliage and a child's face at the top. This was his prison, for whatever reason it has been chosen for him. He didn't really care anymore; he had learned to live with it (if you can call it living). Centuries had past, and your choices were to accept it, or go insane, though he did know how to go insane. It was one of his most favorite tricks that kept his home vacant most of the time.

But now some pathetic human beings had bought the house again, and he would have to be bothered with getting rid of them.

Suddenly he heard the door to the attic open, and someone walking up the stairs, creaking the entire time. Show time, he thought to himself. He would keep himself hidden until the appropriate time.

Whoever was coming up into the attic finally made it to the top of the stairs. The small amount of light from the attic window was not a sufficient amount to get an accurate look at the perpetrator, so he would wait until the imbecile found the hanging bulb that had been recently installed.

"Aw, shit!"he heard the individual mutter; obviously now a boy, couldn't be out of his teens. He must have smacked into one of the trunks on his search for the bulb. The man in the mirror chuckled silently to himself, but not silently enough.

"What? Is someone there?" the boy called out. He could hear him shuffling towards the mirror. Figuring that he must have given up on his search for the light after hearing the strange noise, the man was happy to know that he was closest to the attic window. If only the boy would come close enough, he would be able to see his face, and begin his torture to make him run out of the house screaming, or hang himself from the window.

The steps were getting closer and as he heard the boy kneel down in front of him, he readied himself to scare the absolute piss out of the kid. The boy leaned closer, finally penetrating the light and…

He was taken aback. The boy, he was….absolutely beautiful. The way the sun accentuated his bold, blond disheveled hair, his piercing blue eyes that seemed to stare right into his own. Of course he was only staring at his reflection, but the man was much too love-struck to realize. Sunshine, he thought, the boy looks like walking sunshine. The boy leaned in closer, using the sleeve of his jacket to wipe away the dust on the mirror. He held the mirror up to the light and smiled. The boy seemed to light up the room with that smile.

"That's better," said the boy, and the man couldn't help but notice what a sing-song voice he had. Never had he more wished to be able to jump out of the mirror. He wanted to leap out and sweep the boy up in his arms and kiss him so deeply that he would feel dizzy afterward. For the first time, he really did feel like he was in a prison.

The boy placed him back on the attic floor and continued to smile as he kneeled, captivated by the golden frame of the mirror.

Something occurred to the man just then. He was a monster, and this boy could never love a monster. Who would? His spirits fell as he pondered this question. Then a thought occurred to him. The boy never had to know. He could disguise himself, and surely the boy would love him then. He would let him hold him, and caress him and….but first things were first. The boy deserved a proper introduction. Just as the man was about to show his masked form to the boy, and thank him for cleaning his mirror, a shadow appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Roxas honey, there you are! I've been looking all over for you! Can you come downstairs and help me arrange the furniture?" It was a woman's voice; his mother's by the sound of it. The boy now known as Roxas rolled his eyes, and the man smiled at how adorable he looked when he did it.

"Sure thing mom, I'm coming," and with that the boy rose and followed the shadow woman back downstairs.

As the room was once again vacant, a red haired man with bold green eyes and facial tattoos appeared. He was dressed in 17th century clothing, and he was smiling.

"Roxas. What a lovely name."

Roxas, my sunshine.