Favorite Fixation (Yandere boys x Reader)

100.) Consternation

Keiji had entered the room with his usual energy, all big gestures and wild enthusiasm. He'd swapped out the movie for a horror film, and in typical Keiji fashion, he'd even flicked off the lights to "set the mood." But as the minutes turned into an hour, his usual bravado crumbled. Sitting on the floor by her bed, his knees pulled up to his chest, he was a mess of sniffles and whimpers.

"I thought you died!" he kept repeating, burying his tear-streaked face against the edge of her mattress. His tears left damp spots on the sheets, seeping into the fabric. (Y/n) grimaced, avoiding his gaze. She didn't want to comfort him; she didn't even want him here. The last thing she needed was his neediness and tears making her already miserable situation even worse.

But Keiji was relentless, his orange hair falling messily over his red-rimmed eyes as he clung to her legs like a child clinging to a security blanket. His hands were warm, holding her calves like they were his last connection to some stable reality. Slowly, exhaustion overtook his sobbing, and his arms relaxed as he drifted off, his upper body slumped against her legs, head pressing into her knees.

The dead weight of him pinned her down, and she felt a pulse of frustration. She bit her lip, trying not to make a sound as she twisted her wrists in their restraints, feeling the harsh friction dig into her skin. Her fingers trembled from the strain as she fought to angle her hands just right, inching one wrist closer to the corner of the mattress where she knew her only hope lay hidden: the shard of broken glass she'd managed to stash.

The coarse fabric of the restraint bit into her wrists, her skin chafing and burning as she strained against it. Every movement sent a fresh bolt of pain shooting up her arms, her fingers numb and tingling from the effort. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she worked in silence, her breaths shallow and controlled to avoid waking Keiji. With each tiny shift, the shard was just out of reach, her fingertips brushing the edge of the mattress without ever quite grasping it.

With a surge of determination, she twisted her hand further, stretching her thumb painfully back until her nails finally scraped against the cool surface of the shard. Her pulse quickened. She ignored the screaming pain, gritting her teeth as she slid the shard closer, her fingers trembling as they closed around it at last.

Holding the shard of glass awkwardly between her remaining fingers, (Y/n) was suddenly grateful for the thick bandages Yuuto had wrapped around her hand, which cushioned her grip enough to prevent the glass from slicing deeper into her skin. With a focused determination, she began to saw at the restraint, her awkward angle making it difficult but not impossible. The jagged glass bit through the fibers slowly, and she fumbled, feeling every tug as phantom pain shot through the place her ring finger used to be.

She fought to ignore it, teeth gritted as she made some progress. Her breaths were shallow, tense with concentration. She was nearly through the restraint when a loud scream erupted from the TV, the horror movie's main character shrieking in terror. Her heart skipped, and her hands froze. Keiji stirred, mumbling something in his sleep as he rubbed his eyes, slowly lifting his head. Panic raced through her, and she frantically shoved the shard back into the mattress, praying it was concealed as she hastily dropped her hands back into position.

Keiji blinked himself awake, his eyelids still puffy and red from his earlier breakdown. His gaze landed on her, and he looked as if he were seeing her for the first time all over again, a dreamy smile stretching across his tear-streaked face. "My beautiful (Y/n)," he murmured, resting his head on the edge of the mattress, his eyes roaming over her with a hazy adoration that sent a chill down her spine. His hand drifted up to her leg, his fingertips grazing her calf as he sighed softly, lost in whatever idealized version of reality he'd created for himself.

"I think it was all worth it in the end," he whispered, his voice tinged with that unnerving blend of obsession and tenderness, as though the thought of her presence somehow justified every twisted thing he'd done. His hand continued its path along her leg, growing bolder, pressing into her calf with a touch that bordered on possessive. He massaged her leg gently, his fingers digging deeper into her skin, leaving (Y/n) feeling trapped under his gaze and touch.