Dealing with the Devil [Yandere x Reader]

Chapter 63 - Blood

I sat at my desk, the glow of the laptop screen casting a dim light across the room. The words from Muse's cryptic comment echoed in my mind:

"Blood is just blood."

What did she mean by that?

I couldn't quite shake the way her words had settled in my chest, heavy and unsettling. There was something deeper in that phrase, something that resonated with me in a way I couldn't fully understand.

In the past month, things had been... insane, to say the least. I couldn't even properly express myself anymore, not the way I used to. The words didn't come out right. They felt stuck, like I was filtering everything through some thick, unyielding fog.

Christian's presence weighed on me, subtle yet constant, always watching, always there. But recently, it felt even stranger, even darker, like the atmosphere between us had shifted in some imperceptible but significant way.

I typed absently, trying to channel my thoughts into something coherent:

"A smile in light, a shadow in the dark, One side cold, the other stark. Beware the gleam, the hidden face— For darkness leaves no trace."

But I stopped, my fingers hovering above the keys.

Christian has always been dangerous,

A deeply disturbed individual.

That much I had always known, even if I hadn't wanted to admit it. But why did it feel different now? Why did it feel more ominous, more suffocating?

My mind drifted to Mel. She had always been jittery about Damon, flipping between hot and cold like some kind of twisted emotional switch. Is that what was happening with Christian?

Had Mel seen it for what it truly was—this darker side of him, the one I'd been trying to avoid confronting?

Like staring into the ocean and realizing just how deep and dark it really was beneath the surface. Maybe that's what had unsettled her so much: seeing the monster lurking beneath the calm waters.

I sighed and deleted the page. Those words weren't right. That idea felt too surface-level, too shallow for what I was really trying to say. I needed to go deeper. I needed to face it head-on, not skirt around the edges. That's when the new title came to me:

"Shadows of Desire: Obsession Masquerading as Love."

I typed it quickly, the words coming more easily now as I began to outline the story.

The concept was clear in my mind: the idea of love that wasn't really love at all, but a kind of obsession—something dark, something that twisted the mind and suffocated the soul under the guise of passion and protection.

The pushback against that darkness, the suffocation of living under someone's control while being told it was love.

As I typed the outline, I became so engrossed in the words that I barely noticed Christian's typing slowing down beside me. It stopped suddenly, almost on a dime, like he had noticed something and was waiting to see what I would do. My fingers paused over the keyboard as I glanced at him from the corner of my eye.

He was sitting at his own desk, glasses perched on the tip of his nose, his face scrunched up in concentration. He looked at me, and I quickly turned my gaze back to my screen, feeling the tension rise in the room. 

My pulse quickened as I forced myself to focus on the words, but I couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching me more intently now, as if sensing the shift in my own thoughts.

This is going to be an interesting conversation,

It was only a matter of time before he would say something, before this uneasy silence between us broke and the delicate balance we'd been walking would tip over.

An hour passed, and the silence grew too heavy to bear. I finally stood, feeling the need to escape the weight of his presence. Without a word, I walked out of the office and into the library, letting the quiet space of books and shelves envelop me.

I heard him follow after me, his footsteps soft but deliberate.

"Darling?" His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of something sharper beneath it—concern, suspicion, perhaps a need for reassurance.

I didn't turn around.

"What?" I asked, my tone flat, keeping my gaze trained on the rows of books ahead of me. 

I reached the psychology section, fingers tracing the spines of the volumes, seeking something—anything—that might give me clarity, even if it was only an illusion of control.

"Are you alright?" Christian's voice was closer now, just behind me. I could feel the heat of his presence, the way it pressed against me even without physical contact.

I clenched my jaw and forced myself to remain calm.

"Peachy," I muttered, pulling a random book off the shelf and flipping through the pages, pretending to read.

In reality, I couldn't focus on the words at all. I was too aware of him standing there, watching me, assessing my every move.

He didn't respond immediately, and I heard the faint shuffle of his feet as he shifted slightly. Maybe he sensed the tension, the resistance in my voice.

Maybe he recognized the distance I was trying to put between us, the subtle barrier I was building in the space of that library.

After a moment of silence, I heard him sigh softly. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, his footsteps retreating down the hall until they faded into nothing.

I stood there for a long moment, my heart racing in my chest. It was rare for him to walk away like that. Usually, he pushed until I gave in, until I reassured him that everything was fine. But today, something had changed.

Maybe he was trying to give me space, or maybe he was simply waiting for me to come to him. Either way, the tension between us hadn't dissipated—it had only thickened, like a storm brewing just out of sight.

I looked down at the book in my hands and closed it, not bothering to see what it was. My mind was too full, too cluttered with thoughts and doubts. I couldn't stop thinking about my new story,

Shadows of Desire, and how close it felt to my own life, how the line between fiction and reality seemed to blur more with every word I wrote.

And then there was Muse's cryptic warning, still ringing in my ears:

"Don't romanticize the poison."

But that's what I had been doing, wasn't it? 

Telling myself that the darkness, the suffocation, was something else—something deeper, something connected to love. But it wasn't. It was just darkness. Poison.

And no matter how beautifully I dressed it up in words, it was still killing me.

I put the book back on the shelf and walked deeper into the library, needing the solitude more than ever. The air felt heavy around me, the weight of Christian's presence still lingering even though he had left the room. I couldn't escape him. Not really. He was always there, in my mind, in my space, in my thoughts.

The suffocation had started long ago, but only now was I beginning to see just how deep the ocean was.