Favorite Fixation (Yandere boys x Reader)

61.) Lachrymose

After what felt like an eternity, their embrace loosened, and (Y/n) finally pulled away just enough to look at Souta's face. The sight of him broke something deep inside her. His once sharp, well-kept features now seemed weighed down, like they had been hollowed out by grief. His normally vibrant purple eyes, now dull and swollen from crying, glistened with shed tears, or perhaps it was just the rain sliding down his face. Either way, the wetness on his cheeks mirrored the sorrow carved into his expression, the kind of pain that couldn't be hidden behind a mask. His lips quivered, as if forming words was an impossible task, and his brows knit together in a silent plea for relief that would never come.

(Y/n) reached up instinctively, brushing the damp strands of purple hair from his forehead. Her thumb moved to wipe away a stray tear - or maybe it was a raindrop - from the corner of his eye. The skin beneath her touch was cold and clammy, a testament to the rain that now came down harder, soaking them both without mercy.

Souta's breath hitched at the small gesture, his gaze flickering between her and the grave as if teetering on the edge of collapse. His fingers fumbled awkwardly in the pocket of his soaked jacket, and when he pulled his hand free, he revealed a single white flower. It was beautiful, delicate, and impossibly out of place in the grim surroundings.

But the flower trembled in his grasp, the stem wavering between his fingers like it would slip from his hand at any moment. The simple act of holding it seemed to take all the strength he had left. His purple eyes darted back to Reina's grave, his lips parting to speak, though no sound came at first. He swallowed hard, gathering what little resolve remained.

"Will you-" His voice cracked, and he looked down, ashamed at the vulnerability spilling from him. "Will you help me?"

The words came out like a broken whisper, his gaze dropping to the flower in his hand, unable to meet hers. There was a flicker of guilt and helplessness in his expression, as if asking for help was an admission of failure, an acknowledgment that he couldn't do this alone.

(Y/n)'s heart clenched at the sight. Without hesitation, she placed her hand over his trembling one, stabilizing it with gentle pressure. "Of course," she whispered, her voice steady but soft, as if anything louder would shatter the fragile moment between them.

With her guidance, they knelt before the freshly packed earth together, the rain drumming relentlessly around them. The headstone stood cold and unmoving, just like the silence Reina left behind. Souta's breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and (Y/n) could feel his hand shaking beneath hers as they slowly, carefully lowered the flower toward the grave.

Together, their hands hovered over the dirt, hesitating for just a moment, one last shared acknowledgment of the finality that came with placing the flower down. Then, as if exhaling a burden they'd both carried, they laid the flower gently on the headstone.

Souta's breath stuttered as he tried to hold himself together. (Y/n) felt the tension in his hand lessen as she carefully withdrew her fingers, leaving him to complete the gesture on his own. For a moment, he stared down at the flower in silence, the rain plastering his clothes to his skin and matting his hair to his forehead.

"Tha-thank you," he stammered, his voice barely audible over the rain. His head remained bowed, as if speaking those words cost him the last bit of strength he had. His clothes clung to his body, drenched and heavy, much like the weight of his sorrow.

"Souta, come on. Let's go."

The rough voice cut through the rain, low and firm. Souta didn't move. He sat there, hunched over with his fists pressed against his knees, as though frozen in place. (Y/n) turned toward the source of the voice, her spine instinctively straightening. It was Souta's father, standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable behind dark sunglasses that reflected the gray sky overhead. Water droplets dotted the lenses, and his tall frame cast a looming presence that made the atmosphere feel even heavier.