Favorite Fixation (Yandere boys x Reader)

111.) Contrition

Souta walked through the archway leading into the kitchen, looking a little breathless, as if he had rushed back from the basement. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his eyes flicked over to (Y/n) as she sat at the barstool, her own plate of omelette nearly finished. He looked a little too calm, a little too collected after what had just happened downstairs.

"Did you find anything?" She asked, letting the fork linger in her lips.

Souta looked at her, momentarily still, as if considering his response. Then, with the kind of practiced ease that came with years of deception, he shook his head, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"No, nothing," he said smoothly, his eyes avoiding hers just slightly too long.

He walked over to the barstool next to hers and sat down with a quiet thud, his gaze flicking to the plate of food in front of her. His smile faded just a little as he took in the dish. The omelette was an odd color, a little too greenish, and the seasoning wasn't quite right. But he didn't let his face betray him.

"You made me one?" he asked, his voice soft but polite.

(Y/n) nodded, taking a slow, deliberate bite from her own omelette, savoring it, knowing it would be the last one she would ever eat.

"You don't have to eat it," she said with a casual shrug, "but I would've felt weird eating alone."

Her words were an invitation, but also a subtle way of coaxing him to eat it. She knew how the game worked. She knew how to play it with him.

Souta smiled faintly, picking up his fork. His eyes lingered on the omelette, his nose twitching as he leaned in slightly, sniffing the strong, unmistakable scent of the seasoning. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking back to her.

"It smells... strong," he said, his tone trying for casual but betraying a hint of wariness.

(Y/n) beamed, her acting as natural as ever, masking her inner turmoil. She forced herself to maintain the charade, hiding the grimace that was just beneath the surface.

"You really think so?" she asked, feigning surprise as she leaned in a little. "I tried to replicate it exactly. Let me know what you think."

She was watching him intently now, every movement of his, every flicker of hesitation in his expression. She could see him struggling with it, but he wasn't going to back down.

He chuckled awkwardly, then took a bite.

His mouth froze. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, (Y/n) could see him wrestle with the overwhelming taste, his expression fighting to keep neutral. But the effort was futile, she could read him too well. He was choking on it, trying his best to keep up the pretense.

(Y/n)'s heart squeezed in her chest, but she kept her smile in place, not letting it falter.

"It's... really good!" he said, forcing the words out with a strained voice. The lie was clear in his tone, but (Y/n) only responded by pushing forward with her own act.

She leaned forward slightly, studying him, her eyes wide and innocent. "You really think so? I thought I added too much seasoning..." she sulked, a playful pout on her lips, her voice soft and just a bit too exaggerated.

Souta's eyes widened, panic flashing in them, but only for a moment. Then, with a sigh and a forced smile, he picked up his fork again. He shoved another bite into his mouth, chewing slowly, deliberately.

"Not at all!" he lied through gritted teeth, forcing a cheerful tone that was anything but convincing. The food was too much, but he was too deep in the lie now to back out.