He goes out every night, and just walks around for hours. It's not like you were really paying attention, it's just that he lives next door to you, and you can't help but notice. Sometimes his friends stop by to walk with him, but most nights, he's alone.

He leaves his house around eight at night, and digs through his pockets for his keys. He pulls out a keychain, and attempts to use several of the keys to lock the door before he finds the right one. You chuckle, because this is his nightly routine, and it seems silly that he still can't remember which key is which.

Even you know by now that his house key is the only clean silver key on the ring.

He shoves his keys back into his pockets, and leans against his door, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath of the chilly evening air. And after running his hands through his chocolate spikes, he leaves. You watch as he walks further and further away, until he's nothing but a speck on your window.

Besides his nightly walks, he doesn't really do much. He takes classes at the local university twice a week. You always know when he's headed towards the school, because he walks with a certain reluctance, his eyes dull, as if bored by the mere thought of his classes. One day, you'll ask him what he's majoring in.

If you had to guess, though, you'd probably say literature. He comes home more often with books than with friends, and his lights are always on until ungodly hours of the night. You can picture him returning from his walk, and getting ready to settle into bed with one of the novels he brings home. He would lock the door behind him when he walked inside, and maybe throw his jacket onto the nearest chair - you've never imagined that he was particularly neat.

He takes a quick shower - something you try not to dwell on too often - and settles into his bed wearing a pair of baggy sweats. Since he usually gets his mail while he's still in sweats, you know that his favorite pair was once navy blue, but has been worn down by frequent use and washing. They're your favorite pair, too, because of how perfectly they compliment his eyes.

He's thin, but not sickly so. His muscles do have some definition. You suppose he works out, but it's not overtly obvious.

You figure he's as close to perfect as there ever will be. He's beautiful, has friends who love him, and the most amazing personality - because when he smiles, the people around him have no choice but to do so as well. There was only one thing missing:

You.

One day you know he'll notice you. Maybe you'll both be alone, or maybe you'll both be with friends, but your paths were destined to cross and entwine. One day, he won't have to take a walk by himself - you'll be with him. One day, you'll remind him which key fits the lock on his front door, and maybe even have a matching silver key of your own. You two will be together if Fate has any say in the matter.

Even right now, opportunity is presenting itself.

In the small café, you noticed him right away. He's talking with his friend Yuffie, and it seems rather serious. You came here with a friend of your own, though, who unfortunately notices you noticing him.

"So, when are you going to tell him?" Cloud asks.

"Tell him what?"

"That you're in love with him."

That grabs your attention. You tear your eyes away from him, and instead turn to look at your friend. "In… Love?" you echo.

The blond rolls his eyes. "Yes, in love. When are you going to tell him?"

Staying silent, you can't help but let your mind (and your eyes) drift back to that boy - that beautiful, flawless boy. His expression is grim at the moment, but you know what could be if he just relaxed and smiled. You see the black pants he's currently wearing, and know that he would much rather be sitting at home in his baggy blue sweatpants, reading a novel. You think of all of his idiosyncrasies, his flaws, his assets, and then you turn back to Cloud, and laugh.

"I'm not in love with him," you answer.

He looks at you skeptically. But you were being completely honest, weren't you, Sora?

No. What you feel for Leon is definitely not love.

It's obsession.

I'll put a spell on you,
You'll fall asleep and I'll put a spell on you.
And when I wake you,
I'll be the first thing you see,
And you'll realize that you love me.