Dealing with the Devil [Yandere x Reader]

Chapter 22 - Confused

Avoiding him became an impossible feat; with each passing encounter, the layers of his nickname "devil" peeled away, revealing the unsettling truth lurking beneath his facade.

"And here we go," he said with a smirk, sliding the paper over and invading my personal space. His proximity was unnerving, but I tried to maintain my composure.

"Why on earth am I almost in your lap?" I questioned, feeling the discomfort intensify.

"I just like being close to you, it makes me calm," he replied casually, though his intense gaze contradicted his nonchalant demeanor.

As he continued to stare, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease creeping over me. "Fine, but stop staring at me," I snapped, hoping to assert some boundaries.

"Okay," he agreed, but the intensity lingered in his eyes, making it difficult to focus on the task at hand.

I attempted to bury myself in the paper, but the weight of his presence loomed over me, casting a shadow of apprehension. "Something wrong? You look stressed," he observed, his voice laced with genuine concern.

"That's because I am," I admitted, my nerves fraying under the pressure of the situation.

"Am I making you stressed?" he asked, his tone softer now, almost vulnerable.

"Is the sky blue?" I retorted, unable to hide my frustration.

He sighed, a hint of resignation in his voice. "I don't know why I'm like this either."

Attempting to shift the focus, I brought up Damon. "Is Damon the same?"

His expression clouded with confusion. "Why do you want to know about Damon?"

"Mel mentioned he's also insane like you," I explained, hoping to glean some insight into their shared condition.

"Oh, that. Yeah, we all are a bit... not okay," he confessed, his laughter tinged with bitterness.

"I heard shock therapy helps," I remarked, trying to inject some levity into the heavy atmosphere.

His laughter faltered, replaced by a tense silence. "You're funny," he replied, though his words lacked the usual warmth.

"I wasn't joking," I insisted, the gravity of the situation settling over us like a heavy fog, casting a pall over our conversation.

After a few moments of tense silence, I attempted to focus on the paper. The room felt suffocatingly small, his presence looming over me like a heavy cloud. Each correction he made felt like a jab, further fueling my frustration.

"You got that wrong," he interjected suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet like a knife.

"For the love of—" I began, but he cut me off, demonstrating the correct calculation method with a frustratingly calm demeanor.

"You need to focus," he chided gently, his proximity unnerving.

"I can't focus when I'm around you," I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to him, but he seemed to catch it nonetheless.

"Aw, that's so sweet," he replied with a smirk, clearly misinterpreting my words, and I felt my irritation growing.

"I meant it as an insult," I clarified, my tone laced with frustration.

After a few more minutes of struggling with the paper, his voice interrupted my concentration once again. "You got that wrong too," he pointed out, and I resisted the urge to throw the paper across the room.

"I'm about to throw this paper away," I declared, feeling my frustration reaching its peak, but his earnest plea stopped me in my tracks.

"Don't throw it away," he pleaded, his tone surprisingly sincere, and I paused, torn between my annoyance and his unexpected sincerity.

"That's it, I'm leaving," I announced, pushing back from the table and standing up, determined to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

"Where are you going?" he asked, sounding genuinely puzzled, and I shot him an exasperated look.

"To a damn hotel," I snapped, turning to leave. But before I could take another step, he reached out and pulled me back down into his lap, his grip firm yet strangely comforting, adding another layer of complexity to an already bewildering situation.

"No, no, no," he mumbled, his brows furrowing in concern. "Don't worry about the paper. I'll talk to the teacher and get it sorted out."

A thought crossed my mind, and I couldn't help but voice it. "I'm not doing this work," I stated firmly, feeling a surge of defiance.

"I'll do it for you," he offered, his voice surprisingly gentle.

I eyed him skeptically. "Why?" I questioned, suspicion lacing my tone.

"Just because," he replied with a shrug, his expression unreadable yet strangely earnest.

"You really are just the devil," I muttered under my breath, a mixture of frustration and fascination swirling within me.

"I know," he admitted softly, a hint of remorse tingeing his words. "But I will never be a devil to you." As he spoke, a glimmer of vulnerability flickered in his eyes, revealing a depth I hadn't expected.