Twisted Obsession [Yandere! Izaya x Reader]

Fourteen

       It was almost unnerving how calm he was.

After hearing such unspeakable tragedies, any normal person would have reacted fervently. A normal person would have been exceedingly horrified, shocked and/or panicked. Needless to say, Izaya Orihara was not a normal person. With the utmost composure he listened to every word, attentive not to the details of your traumatic misadventure, but to the emotions streaming out from your tears. He simply watched, fascinated with the changing features on your face, knowing fully well he was the cause. Secretly, he took a sadistic joy in your display of distress, delighting in the expressions he hadn't had the opportunity to observe the previous night.

By the time you had finished recounting the story you were sobbing hysterically, your sentences becoming more and more incoherent. With soft shushes, he comes to wrap his arms around your quaking body, and gently pulls you into him. Now that you are out of reach from your stalker's intrusive eyes, you willingly accept the tender embrace. He hushes and coos melodies in your ear, his silk voice chanting the words, "You poor thing".

Feeble hands rose up to grab fistfuls of his black V-neck shirt, unwillingly to let go of your safeguard.

"M-my parents! W-what am I g-going to do a-about my parents?" you ask as you stare up at him, eyes wide with desperation. "Is there anything you can do?! There...t-there must be something!"

The informant remains completely poised to your frantic concerns. Gently, the back of his finger runs down your cheek, drenching itself under the saline waterfall.

"I have a few clients that owe me a favor or two." Smiling kindly, he tucks a strand of your dirty hair behind your ear. "It won't be easy [Name]-chan, but I'll see to it that your parents are taken care of."

Blinking through the fountain of tears, you manage to croak, "Y-you will?"

A conjurer of dishonesties and treachery, he dazzles you with the illusion of fallacious security. "You have my word, [Name]-chan~."

Relieved, at once you began to blubber gratitude when suddenly he grasped the hem of your wrinkled shirt, lifting the material upwards. Scandalized, you gasp and immediately try to jerk away to prevent this improper action. The objection is ignored as Izaya simply tugs at your shirt to bring you back to him. "W-what do you - ?!"

"I just want to take a look..." He murmurs reassuringly and succeeds in rolling up the fabric that concealed your disfigured abdomen.

The bandages you had (sloppily) applied in the morning were nearly unraveled. Its undoing might have been related to your attempt to escape Shizuo. Loose bindings are dappled in dry blood and sweat, and the top of etched letters in flesh were visible. Once more, there is no reaction to indicate he is disturbed by the barbaric carving, but there is a glint in his crimson eyes that you are not able to discern. Quickly as it appeared, the glow fades into the red and Izaya merely tilts his head, frowning in disapproval. "Ne, [Name]-chan, you did a horrible job. Did you even bother to use an antibiotic? You can get an infection, ya know~."
The choice of words produces a trigger effect and you flinch.

'Don't forget to apply the antibiotic! I don't want you to get an infection.'

Unsettled, you hastily yank the shirt back down. "I w-was in a hurry..." you mumble, remaining sparse on the definite details.

"Izaya-kun...I really don't t-think I c-can take this anymore." Marred flesh commenced to sting thus physical and emotional pain interconnects. "Please, tell m-me you have more i-information since last time. Something c-concrete."