Favorite Fixation (Yandere boys x Reader)

61.) Lachrymose

(Y/n) froze for a moment, startled by the suddenness of it all. But the sound of a soft sniffle against her neck made her heart ache. She felt his shoulders tremble beneath her hands, and the sharp inhale he took told her that he was trying - and failing - to hold back the wave of emotion threatening to break.

Slowly, she brought her arms up, circling them around him in return. The movement felt tentative at first, almost unsure. But as she squeezed gently, Souta seemed to melt into her, as though her touch was the only thing anchoring him in place. His arms tightened around her, clutching her like she might disappear if he loosened his grip for even a second.

His breath came out unevenly against her collarbone, each shaky exhale tugging at (Y/n)'s heart. She rested her chin lightly against his shoulder, feeling the subtle tremors that wracked his frame. The rain soaked into both of them, but neither moved to shield themselves.

(Y/n) could feel the way his breath hitched every time he tried to pull himself together, only to crumble again. She gave him the space to break down, to mourn without judgment. Her hand drifted slowly across his back, a soothing motion as if telling him without words that it was okay. He didn't have to carry this alone.

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.