There are many obsessions in this world. Thousands of them, thousands of phobias and rash needs of either to complete or do something abnormal. There are quirks as well, all different kinds which with ordinary people have to deal with in their lives. Everywhere you look, someone has a facade on; someone is pretending to be what they are not. Of course, some go along with their problems, others try and hide it.

But, let us just focus on obsessions today. Everyday a new obsession arises; new worries, new faults. Ones like Ablutomania were you constantly have to wash yourself. Bibliomania in which you love or are crazy about books. There are ones such as Macromania, Necromania, Onychotillomania, Poriomania, Satyromania, Hexametromania, and many more.

Everyone has one, either you think you do or don't. You do.

So let our story begin with a young man. We will focus on his obsessions, or should I say obsession. You may say he had other ones such as, Methomania were one has a morbid crave for alcohol, or you could say his obsession was Anthomania, a love for flowers. But these things; these things were merely just interests. Just ordinary things he liked too do or drink.

No, his obsession did not lie with an object, but with another man. A man whom he craved, desired, itched for, longed for. He yearned this person, hungered to make him his. It was unhealthy, lustful; he would sit day in and day out; watching him, stalking him, waiting for him though the man never really noticed him. Never took interest in him if more or not as just a friend.

He ached to make him love him; need him just as much as he needed him.

We find this certain young man sitting in his room. The room he sat in was dark and cold with empty bottles of lies surrounding him. One light from an old ancient lamp shined on his silverish blonde locks; his unnatural violet eyes that darkened in the black room. Dark rings under his eyes from sleepless nights; he stared soullessly at the wall. He shook back and forth, rocking as he continued to mumble.

Mine, Mine, Mine,

Everyday, for long hours into the night he would stare at that one single portrait in his room that the light source so kindly shined on. It was a picture of another young looking man, although he was older. His long dark hair tied in a red ribbon that slung on his shoulders; his golden eyes that seemed to be brighter than any of the stars; his thin frame and beautiful feminine features. Too Ivan, Ivan Braginski, that man in the picture; Wang Yao, he was his obsession; he was his covet.

He was the thing he needed more than anything in the world.

I am starting a new story, but don't worry, I will finish Corrupted Convictions first. I am just posting this so no one else will do this before I get to post it. But I am also doing this now so I can get the whole story sort of playing out in my head before I write it. I always wanted to write a Rochu fanfic with Russia having a super obsession with Yao, where as he likes to also stalk Yao. This will be kind of a Dark fic, but you know there will be humor since I am writing it! xDD

It will of course also contain romance, friendship, hurt, maybe a character death and other pairings. So if you would like to see a certain pairing in here, tell me now!

As soon as I am done with my other one, I will work on this. I am also thinking about going back to all my previous works, and fixing the spelling mistakes and stuff. (Man that is a lot of work!) x33

Ratings may vary, form T to M. I will keep a post if it changes.

So please stay tuned~