Complication • Ray x reader

Chapter 39

⚠️CAUTION! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS VIOLENCE AND DEATH! NSFW! PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!⚠️

🦋Talking openly about your mental illness is not seeking attention, it's seeking help.🦋

Flashback

"Ray," you hummed lightly. It was early in the morning and you were still currently staying in his apartment. You silently sat up slightly and cupped his face and caressed it gently with your thumbs.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly in his sleep at the intrusion of waking him up. He raised his hand and grabbed the back of your head gently, trying to force your head to lay back down onto the pillow.

"What are you-"

"Go back to sleep, Y/n," he grumbled. "It's too damn early for this," he said in a raspy voice before clearing his throat and turning his back towards you.

"But I'm hungry," you grumbled lowly to yourself.

"There's food in the kitchen. You're a big girl, go fix yourself something," he said brushing your small complaints away.

You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness and threw the covers off of your body, making sure to pile them up on top of him so he can get overheated from the thick fabric before placing your feet onto the clean cold tile floors.

"Fine," you said straightening up the large-size t-shirt that you wore before looking back at his stilled form that was on the bed. "Don't expect me to fix you anything, Ray."

He remains unresponsive and snored softly on his pillow, signaling that he fell back asleep.

You let out a soft sigh and went outside of the room, making your way downstairs and going into the kitchen.

"So what to make, what to make," you mumbled to yourself as you padded your way through the large kitchen.

You grabbed all of the ingredients that you needed from the pantry and the fridge before you began cooking everything within the bowls and pans.

Wasn't too long before you finished and you decided to be kind by fixing Ray a plate.

You took the spatula and placed the omelets that were filled with stirred-fried rice onto the plates. It was a Japanese traditional omelet meal that was called, Omurice.

You grabbed the bottle of ketchup and placed it on the table, not wanting to add anything to his meal, just in case he wanted to eat his omelet without the sauce.

"Ray!" You called going towards the dish rack, grabbing two glass cups and filling them up with ice from the outside of the refrigerator.

You listened to the hum of the refrigerator as the cubs plopped down from the whole, dropping into the first glassmaking loud clicking sounds.

When you filled it up to a certain amount you peered back slightly and looked up the stairway waiting for the male to come walking down the stair sluggishly. But instead, he wasn't there.

Maybe he didn't hear me.

You placed both of the cups down onto the table and made your way up the stairs, down the hallway, and stood before the half-opened door.