Favorite Fixation (Yandere boys x Reader)

67.) Neurosis

TW: MENTIONS OF S*ICIDE

Aiko's funeral was... depressing, to say the least. The overcast sky seemed to mirror the heaviness in the air, casting the world in muted grays. Even though (Y/n)'s mind was scrambled with anxiety and unanswered questions, she had somehow managed to push all of that aside, focusing solely on her best friend. Just for today.

Still, it felt strange, even wrong, to be wearing another black outfit for the second time this week. But lately, that seemed to be the theme of her life- black clothes, funerals, and goodbyes she hadn't been ready for. Grief clung to her like a second skin, a weight she carried but didn't fully understand.

Only family was allowed to view the body before the service began, and that included (Y/n) and her mother. Standing quietly beside her mom, (Y/n) couldn't stop herself from glancing at the empty seat where her father should have been. Not that it was surprising. He had barely been home in weeks, tied up with investigations- the fire at Kane's farm and, most notably, the body found at Seishin. (Y/n) couldn't even remember the last time she'd seen him.

The thought was bittersweet. On one hand, she missed his steady presence, the way he could make everything feel manageable. But on the other hand, his absence meant something reassuring: He was out there, fighting to get justice. She clung to that thought like a lifeline, even as it twisted painfully in her chest.

The room holding Aiko's body was painfully silent, the kind of quiet that felt suffocating. As (Y/n) and her mother approached the casket, she felt her heart constrict painfully, like a vice tightening around her ribs. Her pulse quickened. Just keep it together. Don't cry yet. Just a little longer.

But when she finally saw Aiko's body, her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.

Aiko looked so... pale. Death had stolen the warmth from her skin, leaving her looking fragile, like a porcelain doll left in the cold too long. Yet her hair remained vibrant, the same deep black (Y/n) remembered brushing off Aiko's face during their late-night talks. The contrast between her jet black hair and her pallid complexion made her seem even more lifeless, as if the universe were mocking the beauty she once carried in life.

(Y/n) swallowed hard, trying to suppress the lump in her throat. Her eyes drifted lower, to the high turtleneck sweater Aiko wore; a soft, beige thing that didn't suit her usual style at all. (Y/n) knew exactly why they'd dressed her like that: to hide the bruising around her neck. That horrible, discolored ring, the mark that hinted at the violence Aiko had suffered in her final moments.

(Y/n) bit her lip hard, tasting the metallic sting of blood, but it didn't help. Tears blurred her vision, distorting Aiko's face until she couldn't tell if what she was seeing was real or just a terrible dream. When the funeral director moved to close the casket, signaling the final goodbye, (Y/n) couldn't stop the tears from slipping down her cheeks.

"No, no, not yet..." she whispered, her voice breaking. She reached out as if touching the edge of the casket would somehow bring Aiko back, as if holding on would make her stay just a little longer. But the lid closed with a soft thunk, sealing Aiko away forever.

That was it. She was gone.

Her mother slid an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. "It's okay, sweetheart," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "It's okay. Just let it out."

(Y/n) shook her head, trying to hold herself together, but the dam had already burst. Her body trembled as sobs wracked her frame, quiet but gut-wrenching. Aiko's face, cold and pale, was etched into her mind, and she couldn't unsee it. She couldn't accept that this was real, that Aiko was truly gone.