Beneath Their Devotion (Yanderes x Reader)

2.10 Not Exactly Sick

They stood frozen in the doorway—Hayato's chest heaving, her breath caught halfway between terror and disbelief. She hadn't screamed like that in what felt like forever. And he had matched her note for note, like two wrong chords played at once.

His hand, the one that had held the blade, was still curled like it couldn't quite let go of the fear, even though the weapon was now on the floor between them.

For a second, maybe longer, they just stared at each other.

Hayato looked thinner. Tired in a way that sleep wouldn't fix. His hair hung in his face, uncombed, and his clothes were wrinkled. There was a rawness in his eyes that she hadn't seen there before.

"...What the hell?" Y/N managed, her voice cracking. Her heart still thundered in her chest. "You open the door with a knife nowadays?"

Hayato blinked. Then he reached down stiffly and picked it up, setting it inside without a word, like it was just another misplaced object. Not something he'd just been ready to use on another human being.

"I thought you were someone else," he said finally.

"Clearly."

He stepped aside wordlessly, letting her in.

The apartment was small, clean in a lived-in way. She moved cautiously, half-expecting more weapons to be tucked away somewhere. A soft sound made her stop. Footsteps, and then—"Y/N?"

Yuna stood at the end of the hallway in pajama pants and an oversized hoodie, her blonde hair was mussed but clean. Her eyes were wide, but not with fear—with something more familiar.

Joy.

Before Y/N could even register the moment, Yuna ran to her, arms open, and she enveloped her in a hug that hit like a truck. Warm and clumsy and real. Y/N froze for half a second before hugging her back.

"You're—" she pulled back slightly, searching Yuna's face. "You're okay?"

Yuna grinned sheepishly. "Of course I'm okay. You thought I was dying or something?"

"I did!" Y/N said, and it burst out more forcefully than she had meant it to. Her voice trembled. "You stopped showing up at school. And you... stopped answering texts. You even told me you were sick—"

Yuna flinched just barely. Her gaze dropped, fingers tugging absently at the hem of her oversized sleeve. "I know," she murmured. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

She didn't offer more. Didn't explain anything. Her face was neutral, but her mouth had tightened in that telltale way that Y/N had seen before when someone was holding something back.

Her heart twisted.

"You can't just disappear like that," she said, softer now. "I thought something really had happened. That you were... dying, or—" she stopped, voice catching in her throat. "God, Yuna. I was asking around for your adress like a crazy person."

Yuna gave a weak, crooked smile. "That sounds like you."

"But this isn't funny," Y/N said quietly. "None of this is funny."

"I know," Yuna whispered. "It's not."

Y/N studied her. Something about the way she stood there, tucked into herself like a closed book, made her stomach tighten. She took a slow step forward.

"Yuna, I know our last encounter wasn't exactly great," she said gently. "I was hurt..." she hesitated. "I took it out on you. I'm sorry for that."

Yuna looked up at her. Their eyes met, and Y/N could see it, something swimming just under the surface. There was something there—something she wasn't telling her.