Yandere!Senpai x Reader [Bloody Thorns]

pale king has buzzsaws up his ass

There's still some music in the home. Mostly lofi beats to cry to because jesus christ you think he'd wanna sleep to Bad Feeling? (i would). He didn't really mind them staying since well it's a dead rat what is he gonna do.

Zote was in his room, looking for something he had put away. It should had been somewhere here on the shelf...or maybe...

He hoped it hadn't been tampered with, EMS would had loved to get her nasty paws on that.

Is she still watching? He couldn't tell.

He checked the top of his drawer. No, not here. He realized how disorganized his room had come to be recently. With his worries and lack of coordination he began to feel a headache coming.

He looked up to see the mirror that had been attached to the drawer.

As if it were instinct, he flinches

Just looking at his reflection, it still reminded him of that night. He breathes in, and feels his hands shake.

Whoever it was in his dream, they weren't wrong.

He was getting weaker.

"...to think you're in resemblance of me" Zote repeated something he remembered from that night.

What was that creature? Was it perhaps his inner conscious? A memory of his past self? It was still weird.

"I don't understand..." he sighed.

"If I don't find out where I had my precepts written down I'll grow useless for sure."

Just the other day, he would have known them like the back of his hand. How disappointing of him, to fall so far down. He let silly dreams over take him, and now what? He fears his reflection and pities the useless?

He sat on his bed, as his fingers clawed at his head.

Maybe dreams aren't as good as those fools claim they are.

And yet he holds on.

Why was he so indecisive? He knew which answer was forever true, but he desperately wanted anything but.

None of this would have happened if he refused to dream in the first place.

Did that even make sense?

"Ugh...I don't-"

His hands clasped his face. God, he is not about to cry again. Why can't he just be better? He used to never cry, never feel, never hope.

It all just hurt. He hated this. He hated these precepts, he's glad they're gone. He doesn't want to be better.

"I've just gone mad, honestly."

He doesn't want to rest anymore. He fears he will dream again, be rightfully told how pathetic he is.

And honestly, he's scared of going back to how he was.

He heard the distant beats from downstairs. He remembers what he was told by the rodent.

"...he said I should reach out. Can I though? What if they think I'm just strange? Insane?"

If he says it'll make him feel better...

But

He only really trusts one person

"Would he ever have time for something so ridiculous? Would that be ok?"

He really didn't have any other ideas. It was do that or sit here and dwell on it until he dies.

Fine.

He just wanted someone. He just needed help. How weak of him to want help. He should have became stronger much, much sooner.

Maybe he wouldn't feel so bad about what's to come then.

I only wanted to help.