Wavering Emotions: A Natsuki x Yuri Fanfic

Chapter Seven

Lionel's Retreat: not only were musical notes in spoken play impossible to forget, but they genuinely illustrated global topics faced by acceptance in the same-sex-relations community, and one if not the best number bestowed audio to those awake.

Yuri, restless for numerous reasons, harnessed the vocalist's voice while her home's atmosphere transitioned into Planet Popstar. Her life: dampened by heat, on a couch, course destined for darkness, tuned musically, sounded uneventful nevertheless, but thanks to an object beneath the covers, her voyage reeked of immortal vitality.

Arms glued to lower thighs, followed by head nuzzled into her core, the device responsible for heat, depicted with pink hair, and an abundance of cuteness, spewed mumbles that produced insomnia-based ecstasy for the wielder overnight.

After the account of her mother's death and how the yandere anxious yet mature nature arose, the tsundere couldn't help but exhibit comfort with smooth, fragile, petite hands. Not only was this moment ethereal, let alone possible to sleep on, but this was all she ever wanted: devotion from someone other than fictional characters in literature.

"... Pillow..." A voice, unable to penetrate covers, muffled by stomach skin, made its actuality public; a pink blob characterized by its signature canine recited its obscured inquire, "... Is your stomach part pillow...?"

"It's not. Unless you'd want it to be."

"... What do you mean by that..."

"You're welcome to use it for shuteye, is all."

"So now? Thanksss." Affectionate while unable to comprehend: the parasite relapsed into her habitat while her host scrutinized the grandfather clock from afar, whose time depicted half-past ten.

"What time was the event, Natsuki?"

"... ine I thik...?"

"Are you sure? The clock says ten-thirty—"

Summertime hibernation migrated towards winter with the creature in turmoil, "What happened to that alarm earlier this morning!" Halfway through the corridor, the animal neared God's greatest invention, the dryer.

"I-I don't know!" The harborer of the enraged animal arranged their habitat to accommodate wool-crafted pillows with a lavender-scented queen-sized blanket before upstairs beckoned their arrival.

Both residents, engaged in erratic actions, raced time itself: the late revival to dreamland no doubt transpired thanks to story-time, and the grandfather clock was out-of-reach, so an alarm created for an hour before the festival's start time manifested on the yandere's personal phone.

Mobile in hand, a patch of fleece across the neck, jeans at knees: Yuri, partially dressed, scathed the treacherous staircase unharmed before realization granted her a professional entertainment license— she wasn't just a clown, she was an entire circus.

"You left the phone in the bedroom, didn't you?" Pink skirt, a baggy shirt that harnessed the symbol of a cat, all sloppily sported, accompanied by loose hairpins, Natsuki embodied Jackson Pollock's drip technique in fashion with voice directed on scene.

Quite the blunder indeed; three alarms established five minutes apart from one another, two reminders, four text messages about their arrival, and seventeen neglected calls combined, most, if not all, from Monika.

"I'd not respo—" Vibrations traveled phone-to-body in intervals as a mentioned soul whose calls failed to inform anyone since eight in the forenoon attempted videographic confrontation.

"H-He—"

"Where are you guys? I've scoured this zone like three times." A critical hit demolished salutations alike in exchange for answers. The opposite party, clearly on scene, didn't see a banner, cupcakes, or her pink and purple-haired club associates.