Our Midnight Game §Rewrite§ || Yandere Male X Reader/Oc ||

Episode Three

                              ↓ Our Midnight Game ↓

        ⎾Chess pieces are a. . ⏌

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Lost in turbid, webbed thoughts as he was—some of which pertaining to the multiple inextricable construction projects awaiting him to fastidiously superintend at the corporation's auditorium, projects he surely hadn't even asked to be responsible for, seeing as he didn't exactly enjoy convoluted things, but was unfortunately required to staunchly monitor owing to his position as the heir, and many of which pertaining to the complex tasks he kindly planned to allocate to a particular immoderately affectionate friend regarding a certain vexatious woman problem—Isamu's untypical visible flinch, freely fracturing through his honed composure was very much justified, needless to say, as a sudden onslaught of harsh tapping assailed the window beside him, successfully whisking him away from his scheming mental space. 

The clouds muddling his mind promptly halting, short dark locks swayed slightly as he cocked his head, chin tilted a bit high to demonstrate his disgruntlement. Taking a surplus measure for the sake of properly delivering his annoyance, he raised a sharp eyebrow at the unashamed assaulter standing outside in all of his chicly garbed glory; nineteen year old Hagiwara Chiasa, the third child of the Hagiwara main family and most definitely the bravest out of his siblings, considering his ill-advised tendency to pointlessly challenge Isamu at every turn.

The young man knocked against the window remorselessly, those vivid amber eyes gleaming with silly amusement. The self-assurance was transparent.. and, lamentably, warranted. Had it been someone else in Chiasa's spot right now, Isamu would've absolutely rendered them a mucky bloody and sobbing trauma, never able to recover from a most terrible fear that'd haunt them while they were painfully chained back at a specific warehouse, for daring to carelessly touch something of his— in this case, it referred to his precious car. Never let it be said the infamously impatient Isamu tolerated anyone touching his possessions, nevermind them being actually mishandled. 

The former set his teeth on edge, like bedbugs swarming on his flesh, and the latter boiled his veins, like a kettle gone haywire. 

..However, this was Chiasa. The childhood friend he never wanted. Thus, Isamu merely pursed his lips in a warning that was guaranteed to work on other people, yet— Not on Chiasa, who'd gotten way too comfy with Isamu's temperament over the years.

As was expected, Chiasa chose to ignore the admonition expertly, opting for senseless recklessness. Flashing a grin, the smear of Isamu's childhood tapped again on the window. Extra hard. Isamu could just tell. 

Briefly, Isamu wondered why he bothered with this guy, going so far as to entertain several creative sadistic ideas as he halfheartedly rolled the window down, allowing the cool air to invade the warmer space and stopping Chiasa's knocking, opportunely.

"Were you pretending to be a tragic movie character, posing gloomily like that?" Was the first thing escaping Chiasa's mischievous mouth, the ridiculously disheveled mop he called a short hair as sinfully red as a fine wine swirling in a classy flute glass, glossy strands tinting a somber shade under the sunlight. This, in addition to the astonishing brightness contained in the yellowish color of his eyes, the sandy nuance of his skin, and his spindly stature, made a startling combination when absorbing it all. "I'll have you know, the despondent role doesn't suit you."

"Rather than sad, I'm as mad as a wrongly shot hog," Isamu corrected, hand leaving the steering wheel and snatching the black messenger bag occupying the passenger seat as he moved to get out of the car, Chiasa stepping back in accommodation as Isamu's left smooth black leather derby shoe laid across the ground. His white long sleeved, collarless button up purposely loose on his well-built form, dark slim-fit trousers stretching tighter at the abrupt actions, Isamu pressed a switch in order to roll up the window then proceeded to shut the door, before automatically locking the sleek ebony bentley rapier using the key.