Favorite Fixation (Yandere boys x Reader)

83.) Revelation

The day with Souta had left (Y/n) feeling unsettled and mentally drained. His words about their future echoed in her mind in an ominous loop, and it wasn't until she found herself with the gray haired boy that she finally felt some sense of relief. Unlike Souta's obsessive control, this boy seemed... casual. Laid-back. Even comforting, in a weird way.

They sat together in the living room, controllers in hand, the glow from the TV illuminating their faces. His half-empty Sprite can sat on the table beside him, condensation dripping lazily down the side. Every so often, he took a lazy sip, watching the screen with a grin as they battled it out in a fast-paced racing game.

"Where are the others?" (Y/n) had asked during a quiet moment, her thumb pausing over the button.

He didn't miss a beat, taking another swig of his Sprite. "School," he said simply as if that explained everything.

Her brows furrowed. "Why don't I go to school?"

"You got expelled," he answered, his eyes still on the screen.

"Expelled?" she repeated in disbelief, turning toward him. "What for?"

He gave her a grin, the kind that suggested he knew exactly what she wanted to know but had no intention of telling her. "Got into a fight," he added nonchalantly, as if that too was no big deal.

She opened her mouth to press further, but before she could get another word out, the game demanded her full attention. He grinned wider, knowing exactly how to distract her, and in the end, she never won, not once.

"You suck at this," he teased, shooting her a playful glance. "Good try, though."

The playful edge in his voice was annoying, but it was better than Souta's suffocating affection. At least the gray haired boy didn't feel like a cage.

~~~~

Now they were upstairs, standing in his room, which felt like stepping into a chaotic teenager's dream- or nightmare.

The moment the door swung open, (Y/n) was hit with the mess. His room was cluttered in every sense of the word. To the left of the door sat a desk, buried under a mountain of books, empty soda cans, and tangled wires. A half-open laptop peeked out from the mess, but it looked like it hadn't been touched in weeks.

Further down that wall was his bed, unmade and draped with a quilt that was slipping halfway to the floor. Pillows lay in random spots, and a hoodie was crumpled at the foot of the bed. Some socks - hopefully clean - peeked out from underneath the bedframe.

The left wall looked more like a makeshift band's practice space. Drums, guitars, and amps were lined up haphazardly, some cases left open as if he'd been messing with them recently. Loose cables snaked across the floor, a trip hazard waiting to happen. A few of the guitars leaned precariously against the wall, their strings gleaming in the dim light.

At the far wall, between two large windows with blackout curtains, sat a dusty piano. Its keys were slightly yellowed with age, and someone had scrawled doodles in marker on the side, maybe him, maybe someone else. The piano looked out of place among the chaos, as if it belonged to a different, more organized life.

The right wall housed a large, mounted TV, surrounded by more clutter; DVD cases, video game controllers, and a pile of clothes that looked like it had been tossed there in a hurry. To the right of the TV was a door leading to a bathroom, while to the left, another door opened into what must have been his closet. But based on the amount of clothes scattered on the floor, the closet clearly wasn't doing its job.