Wavering Emotions: A Natsuki x Yuri Fanfic

Chapter Four

The Marina Trench: feared by men, a place where oxygen decreased rapidly, somehow succumbed to a structure known as Yuri's house. The duplicative black depicted on the exterior, interior, and furniture alike; either black was this girl's favorite color, or Jack Skellington made an unexpected visit to this Halloween-vibed household.

Not all treasures possessed spooky intentions: various family photo's suspended on each wall combated the tremendous loneliness on the inside— or one would think if their contents contained members instead of dusty bunnies. There's no doubt this must have been why the yandere didn't have friends or stuffed animals when younger.

"I'll prepare some snacks." Amid criticism, the front door retracted; Yuri, now in an entirely different room, caused items to dull thanks to the excessive clatter from her specialty.

The excessive amount of music sustained responses from any entity capable of vocalization; Natsuki couldn't withstand these repetitive awful collisions of metal silverware and stoves, so a measly quest finished three minutes later to halt this ruckus occurred.

Audio stopped as a surreal sight prevailed: two cups of warm tea, miniature sandwiches whose crust was removed, all topped with the yandere's presence. "I'm surprised you managed to pave a path here." Upon arrival, the yandere seated herself. Legs crossed, throat parched, a resemblance of a dictator: the description accommodated the soothful beverage which eradicated the enjoyer's parchment.

"I'm 'surprised' you couldn't be any louder."

"..." Inbound for another sip, the tea, clearly above room temperature, prescribed to those with sore throats, failed to entice the speaker's vocal box. Instead, their eyes disclosed secreted pain which concluded after several pensive gazes.

Quiet ambiance, accompanied by reflections of thoughts, embodied the environment as the two dwelled in after the exchange. The silence confirmed that something besides the house inflicted disturbance onto the atmosphere.

"I'll start on the banner. You can invite yourself once done." In haste, the disruption preached their mind, arranged used utensils for the washer, and released a slight sigh before pitter-patters reverberated from walls up above.

She's the blatant fallacy without a doubt: Natsuki propelled out of her seat before the maze of a household's paint interfered another hunt. The carpet wasn't distinguishable compared to the walls, nor half of the portraits— it felt like she used echolocation to navigate through this personalized hell.

Inches away from what looked like a heavily scathed door, hesitation faltered the tsundere's hand onto the knob. Before the reveal, quietness engaged the catalog of the room. Dust, dust, cobwebs, not limited to even more dust, infiltrated the background, but one sole object, insulated in glass, looked unfazed.

The item in question: a frame retained in an oval shape, depicted a younger, more youthful Yuri, accompanied by a much taller female who shared characteristics of the yandere to this day, "Why are they both freakishly tall..." A blatant statement spouted upon the return of the item; whoever that was, now wasn't the time as footsteps above shifted closer towards the intruder's whereabouts.

Quieter than her rival's squeaks, the girl dashed to the corridor's entrance before a leap of fate. The risky yet favorable action benefited them as a yellow banner whose size toppled two bears encumbered sheer darkness within the center.

Before relaxation emerged, the homeowner, with three buckets of utilities, barged themselves into the equation; on the floor, marker in hand, Yuri drowned external obstructions with artistic creativity.

"Psst, I may be skinny, but more space would be nice."

"..." No response, only Jones's grandfather clock's operational pendulum to fill the void.

"That's word for make some damn space!" Her right foot, plastered onto the artist's innovation, conjured her point, yet the same outcome persisted, if not enticed further efforts of mute." I don't know what's wrong with you, but when someone's supposed to help, you let them help!" The receiver, pinned onto a couch, had their head contorted upon the opposite party's will.

Eyes consisted of pain, lips that quivered upon speech: Yuri, afraid of her emotions, emancipated a plea. This request, though scarcely audible, transformed the dictatorship into a democracy.

"You're a master artist, so you'll make a great chef." One inevitable inauguration address later, Natsuki retrieved her items before stomps reverberated; the sun welcomed variety into the house, though this wasn't for free.

A sacrifice for some light: nobody, in particular, no specific requirements, the necessities practically engulfed the consciousness of agitated individuals: the only person brave enough to intervene would be the mute.

"I-I've already denounced my explanation. What else is there?"

"Is it that hard? All I want is a plain, valid, acceptable truth that even I can do!" The ritual neared completion as the oblation welcomed God's warmth—

"M-My emotions are sporadic, w-what else am I to say!" The sense of defeat obliged a head swivel from the other party; back to square one with God's rays gone, the truth compelled itself.

The amount of anxiety in the first encounter, the nuisance of how to approach the apology, the weird object that fluctuated in her heart, all the erratic engagements retold, each enlightened within a new perspective.

Natsuki listened as vivid imagery played before a reaction, "Your nervous system and heart shoot up whenever I'm around? What's that supposed to mean?" Approximately narrative number four piqued interest, for good reasons too.

"I-I didn't say—"

"You like, like me? Is that what that means?" Throw a wrench, call her Sally, bury the coffin; an unthinkable question, so outlandish like that, accumulated hush. Wherever that train was, now would be the time to show.

"I said how my heart fluttered near you: that isn't a symptom of lovesickness."

"Haven't you watched a High School Musical? It happens every damn minute!"

"B-But don't—"

"Just answer my question!"

The veil, whose already suffered one pierce, imposed another wound; the option of escape threw off the table; not even firefighters could lift the unbearable weights beneath the restrained – one foolish measure to the face: that's all it took.

The near future reserved for mentioned yandere and tsundere demolished itself, like a Cheeto-Puff in water, no butts whatsoever. All thanks to irrationality that disclosed emotions that should have remained dormant for another year.