Favorite Fixation (Yandere boys x Reader)

98.) Quixotic

(Y/n) felt the warm rush of her own blood pooling from her throat, the wetness seeping between her fingers and coating her skin in a sticky warmth that felt surreal. She hadn't expected it to happen so fast, her life spilling out in thick, crimson rivulets. The glass shard fell from her hand, clattering to the floor, her strength sapped. Her vision darkened, a suffocating heaviness blanketing her senses as her body wavered. She began to collapse, gravity pulling her down into an abyss that seemed darker with each passing second.

Souta lunged forward, desperation etched on his face as he caught her mid-fall, his hands instinctively pressing against the wound on her neck. Shards of glass littered the floor, slicing through his feet with every step, but he didn't even wince, his sole focus on the girl in his arms. Her fading gaze landed on Asahi, who stood utterly motionless, his face drained of its usual arrogance and amusement. Blood already smeared his own clothes from past sins, yet he looked almost ill at the sight of hers.

Keiji, however, simply stood near the doorway, his brow creased as he observed the scene with something close to a detached curiosity. His gaze flickered briefly with... was it regret? She couldn't be sure as the darkness crept in faster now, narrowing her field of vision until only the vaguest shapes remained.

Souta's panicked voice cut through the haze. "Get Yuuto!" he shouted, his tone laced with desperation. She heard a shuffle, then Asahi's voice cutting through, shaky and uncertain. "Uh... that might be a problem." There was something hollow in his tone, a crack in the foundation of his usual bravado.

Souta's frustration grew as her blood slipped through his fingers in thick, unrelenting streams. "Then get my sewing kit!" he snapped, his voice sharp, choked with an urgency she hadn't heard before. She could hear the tremble in his voice, each second slipping through his fingers as quickly as her lifeblood.

(Y/n)'s vision narrowed to pinpricks, her hearing taking over as her last sense of reality. She couldn't feel his touch or the warmth of his hand pressing against her skin. But she heard his whisper, soft and agonized, as if he were speaking only to her. "I've got you, darling," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair that she couldn't feel. His breath hitched slightly, a broken exhale that cut through the emptiness overtaking her.

The thud of something dropping beside her- she recognized the faint clink of his sewing kit. His voice grew urgent as he directed the others, his breaths quick and labored. "Apply pressure to the wound. I need to thread this," he directed to the gray haired boy.

There was a tense silence before Keiji's voice broke through, cool and almost clinical. "Shouldn't you wait for it to stop bleeding first?" He spoke as if he were observing a science experiment, untouched by the horror before him.

"It's not stopping!" Souta's voice was raw, desperation tearing through the words as he fumbled with the needle and thread, hands slick with her blood. Asahi's voice followed, hesitant yet steady. "Then... you can't stitch it."

Souta's voice rose, breaking with fury and fear. "Get Yuuto! What the fuck did you do to him?!"

The chaos echoed in (Y/n)'s ears, becoming muffled as the world around her dulled. Each word faded, slipping from her grasp, until she was left with only fragments of their panic as her consciousness slipped away. "I don't know which drug wakes him!" Asahi argued, his voice pitched with annoyance.

"Well, go find the fuck out!" Souta's desperate scream was the last sound she heard before everything went silent, darkness engulfing her as she sank fully into unconsciousness.

"I'll find out!" Keiji sprinted from the room with an eerie grin plastered across his face, leaving Souta and Asahi behind. Souta's hands shook violently as he held the needle, the pressure of his fingers slippery with her blood as he struggled to thread it. Red spread across the floor, pooling around them, casting a grim reflection of the panic in both boys' faces. Asahi quickly ripped a strip of cloth from his shirt, pressing it against her wound to slow the unyielding flow.