The Parasite [Yandere x Reader]

Chapter 13 - (The Sleeping)

The days that followed Damien's visit were a whirlwind of activity. With his help, the mansion slowly came back to life. Each room we tackled together shed its layers of dust and neglect, revealing the beauty that had once defined my family's home. Damien was as efficient as he was enigmatic, his familiarity with the house's nooks and crannies both comforting and unsettling.

How does he know so much about this place?

It's like he's been here before.

Yet, despite his kindness and the progress we made, I couldn't shake the growing sense of unease. Each night, as I lay in bed, the shadows seemed to lengthen and deepen, creeping into the corners of my mind. I started having dreams—strange, vivid dreams that left me feeling both confused and oddly comforted.

Why do these dreams feel so real?

Who is this figure that keeps appearing?

In these dreams, I was never alone. There was always a presence with me, a figure shrouded in darkness, watching over me as I slept. 

At first, it was just a shadow at the edge of my vision, a whisper of movement that barely registered in my consciousness. But with each passing night, the figure became clearer, more distinct.

One night, I dreamt that I was lying in bed, just as I was in reality, the soft glow of the moon casting pale light across my room. 

I felt a subtle shift in the air, a faint rustling that made my heart quicken. I tried to move, to turn and see who—or what—was there, but my body was heavy and unresponsive, as if weighed down by an invisible force.

Why can't I move?

What's happening to me?

In the stillness, I heard a voice. It was soft, almost a whisper, but the words were clear and unmistakable.

"I love you."

The voice was warm and gentle, filled with a depth of emotion that sent shivers down my spine. It was a voice I didn't recognize, yet it felt strangely familiar, as if I had heard it before in another life, another world.

Who are you?

Why do you feel so familiar?

I awoke with a start, my heart pounding in my chest. The room was dark and silent, the shadows unchanged from how they had been when I fell asleep. But the dream lingered in my mind, the whisper echoing in the quiet of the night.

"Who could it be?" I wondered, pressing a hand to my forehead. "Why do I keep having these dreams?"

As the days turned into weeks, the dreams persisted. Each night, the figure came closer, the whispers growing more insistent. Sometimes, I would feel a gentle touch, like a hand brushing against my cheek or a breath of air stirring my hair. 

And always, there were those words, spoken with such intensity that they filled my mind even after I woke.

"I love you."

During the day, I found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Damien's presence was a constant, his quiet efficiency and subtle charm both comforting and disconcerting. He never spoke much about himself, but his eyes held secrets I longed to uncover.

But I never asked.

There was something about Damien that kept me from probing too deeply, a sense of respect for the boundaries he seemed to silently set. And despite my growing curiosity, I didn't want to risk losing the help and companionship he provided.

What if asking him scares him away?

One evening, after a particularly vivid dream, I decided to confront my unease head-on. I found Damien in the library, a room we had just finished cleaning. He was dusting the old books, his movements deliberate and methodical.

This is it.

I have to ask him.

"Damien," I began hesitantly, unsure how to broach the subject. "Can I ask you something?"

He looked up, his dark eyes meeting mine with a calm intensity. "Of course, Y/N. What's on your mind?"

Here goes nothing.

Please don't think I'm crazy.

I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. "Do you believe in... I don't know, spirits? Or something like that? Things that might be more than just our imagination?"

Damien's expression softened, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I believe there are many things in this world we don't fully understand. Why do you ask?"

He doesn't think I'm crazy.

That's a good start.

I hesitated, then decided to confide in him. "I've been having these dreams. They feel so real, like someone is in my room, watching me. And they keep whispering to me, telling me they love me."

For a moment, Damien was silent, his gaze thoughtful. "Dreams can be powerful," he said finally. "They often reflect our deepest fears and desires. But sometimes, they can also be a way for us to connect with something—or someone—we're not aware of."

Is he hinting at something?

I nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief at his words. "I don't know what to think. It's just... it feels so real. Like there's someone here, in the house, who's trying to reach out to me."

Damien set down the book he was holding and stepped closer, his eyes searching mine. "If there's someone—or something—trying to communicate with you, maybe you should listen. Sometimes, the answers we seek are right in front of us, if we're willing to look for them."

He's right. I need to be open to whatever this is.

His words lingered in my mind long after he had gone. That night, as I lay in bed, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. I closed my eyes, ready to face whatever—or whoever—was trying to reach me in my dreams.

The familiar presence returned, as I knew it would. But this time, instead of fear, I felt a strange sense of anticipation, a readiness to accept whatever message the shadows held.

The figure stood over me, closer than ever before, its features still hidden in shadow. And then, just as before, I heard the whisper.

"I love you."

But this time, I didn't wake with a start. I remained calm, my heart steady as I listened to the words. There was a warmth in them, a promise that wrapped around me like a comforting embrace.

"I love you too," I found myself whispering back, the words coming from somewhere deep within me.

The presence lingered for a moment longer, then faded away, leaving me alone in the quiet of my room. But I didn't feel alone. I felt connected, as if a part of me had reached out and touched something—or someone—beyond the veil of dreams.

In the stillness of the night, I knew that my journey was just beginning. There were answers to be found, mysteries to unravel. And with Damien by my side, I felt a renewed sense of hope that I wasn't facing these shadows alone.

As sleep finally claimed me, I dreamed again. But this time, the figure wasn't just a shadow. It was a presence, strong and sure, a guardian watching over me in the darkness. And in its silent vigil, I found a sense of peace that I had long thought lost.

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(1162 Words)