Twisted Obsession [Yandere! Izaya x Reader]

Eight

 The night concluded with Izaya escorting you to your apartment. Carefully, he helped you lay on your futon; he does leave the room to fetch a small wet towel and a cup of water. The informant sat on his knees beside your bed; placidly he secures the back of your head and then lifts. The other hand brings forth the cup, tilting the glass's edge to your lips. Tersely, you turn away; the water misses your mouth, and it dribbles down your chin. There is a flash of irritation in his red orbs that you failed to notice.

"Ne, [Name]-chan you must be parched. Come on now, drink up~."

Your throat was dry, and yet you could not explain the ambivalent reaction. The rejection of the water had been automatic, instinctive even. Misfortunes had been unremitting, one cataclysm after another. It seemed every choice you made had disastrous penalties. But surely there was no harm in trusting Izaya? There is another moment's hesitation.

"Drink it." He urges, but it sounds more like a command. His tone is clipped, and you almost shiver.

Shaking off your paranoia you comply, parting your lips for a small sip. However, Izaya inclines the glass upwards and you are forced to take bigger gulps. Having guzzled your fill, your hand comes to block the flow. The informant does not concede to your patent request, he carries on pouring the cool liquid down your throat. When water in the container is nearly gone he finally lowers the glass.

"There we go~!" He praises, much like a mother would do with a child.

He sets your head back on the pillow and then retrieves the small cloth. With great tenderness he dabs the towel over your face. The info broker wipes along the surface of your cheeks, washing away any dry blood that spotted your countenance. The wet coolness is refreshing on your skin, soothing as he rubs gently. He dragged the cloth across your forehead when you end your dead silence.

"M-maybe...maybe I should go back home." You utter in defeat, hopelessly yearning for safety and tranquility.

Izaya did not agree with the suggestion because he laughed. He laughed as if you told him an amusing joke. Had you not felt numb, you would have thought it cruel.

"Go home? You want to run away~?" More chuckles ejected out of him, and he tossed aside the now blood stained towel. "Do you honestly believe he'll let you escape him? I have to tell you, I really don't think so~. If you run from him, he'll just come after you." The back of his knuckle from his index finger ascends, and he strokes your newly cleaned cheek. His silky voice is twined with sympathy once more. "There's no telling what he'll do to get you back. You'll end up leading him straight to the people you care the most about. You don't want to repeat your mistakes, do you [Name]-chan?"

"...No." you whispered, eyes blank and dull staring at the cracked ceiling. He was obviously right. There was no point in running. You were trapped in the hellish existence and the last thing you wanted to do was drag your family down with you.

Contented with your answer he smiles brightly. Izaya pulls the covers up to your chin, and tucks the blanket around your body. Swaddled comfortably in warmth, your eyes grow unwillingly heavy.

"T-thank you Izaya-kun...."

"No problem, [Name]-chan~. Despite all those nasty things you said to me at the hospital..." Even through your exhaustion, you wince at his assertion. You supposed he was still a little sore with your brashness earlier. "I want to help you however I can."

He begins to lean toward you, his lips hover above yours. Your heart is thumping, beating hard against your chest like a drum. Was he...Was he going to kiss you? He was so close. The proximity triggers extreme discomfort due to the assault you had undergone hours beforehand. You flinch fearfully; he notices and there is a pause in his actions, as though he himself is contemplating the right move to make. You are relieved when he instead plants his lips on your forehead, lingering there for a while.