Favorite Fixation (Yandere boys x Reader)

113.) Dissolve

The hours had passed in a strange, tense silence. No sign of Yuuto, Asahi, or Keiji had graced her doorstep, and, to be honest, (Y/n) didn't mind in the slightest. The longer they stayed away, the better. It gave her a brief respite, a moment of quiet before whatever storm was coming next. For now, though, she was alone with her thoughts and the phone.

She sat cross-legged on the bed, Asahi's phone in her hands, frustration crawling beneath her skin. The device was battered, a spiderweb of cracks spidering across the screen. A few sections of it were so shattered that it was nearly impossible to make out anything. The worst part was the growing discoloration that had started to spread, a sickly, yellowish hue staining the once-clear glass. She grimaced, pressing a finger against the screen, willing it to cooperate.

But no matter how many times she tried to swipe, the phone refused to let her access anything beyond the app that had been open when she had first grabbed it. She was stuck in a loop of uselessness. No texts. No calls. No messages. And worse, no way to figure out just what was going on with the outside world. 

Frustrated, she stood up, carrying the phone with her as she walked toward the vent at the corner of the room. Carefully, she set the broken device inside of it, next to her own phone to hide it. With a small sigh, she stretched her arms above her head, letting the tension in her shoulders melt away for a moment.

Her gaze flicked to her bathroom door, and before she could even think about it, her feet were already in motion. There was something in the air, a strange pull, an itch she couldn't ignore. She stepped into the bathroom and froze almost immediately, the quiet tension returning to her body.

The mirror.

It was gone.

Her lips pressed together, and she sighed through her nose, a sharp exhale. Of course. They removed it. Her fingers brushed the wall where the glass had once been, as if she could still feel its presence, as if the reflection of her own face might suddenly reappear.

She couldn't afford to let herself get distracted, though. She needed to stay focused. With a roll of her eyes, she backed out of the bathroom and stepped back into her room. The wedding dress - the one she had been wearing for far too long - felt heavier with every passing moment. It was torn in several places, stained with blood, dirt, and the remnants of what had happened since she'd been dragged into this nightmare. The thought of wearing it one more second was unbearable.

She walked toward the closet, the fabric of the dress trailing behind her like a reminder of the trap she'd been caught in. Inside, the shelves were lined with her things. Even in the midst of all this chaos, the sight of her old clothes brought a strange sense of comfort. She hadn't had the chance to wear anything besides that cursed dress for what felt like days.

Her hands skimmed over the fabrics, light shirts, soft sweaters, dark jeans, and dresses. She hesitated for a moment, trying to decide on something practical. Something that would make her feel like herself again, something that wouldn't scream "captive" the way the wedding dress did.

She found it. A simple, dark gray hoodie and a pair of black jeans, nothing fancy, but it would do. She pulled the hoodie off the hanger and glanced down at herself. Her body was a patchwork of bruises, scratches, and cuts. The wedding dress had become a kind of prison, its tightness restricting her every movement, and now she was eager to shed it, though she knew it wouldn't be easy.

Her fingers trembled as she began to carefully pull off the torn fabric, wincing with every motion. She had to move slowly, deliberately, every pull sending a ripple of pain through her body. Her torso ached, the rawness of the wounds fresh, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to be steady. She wasn't going to let herself falter now. Not when she was this close to being free, even if just for a moment.