Tsukiyama x Reader

Chapter Seventeen

You wake up the next morning with a slight headache, squinting your eyes as you sit up out of bed. You glance over at the clock on the nightstand of the guest bedroom.

"12;30!" You say aloud. You haven't slept that long since you were much younger. You dig around in your purse next to the full size bed, and pull out a bottle of Advil.

"That explains the headache then." You mumble as you put the pills in your mouth, and wash them down with a bottle of water. You sit back down and stretch. Still sitting on the bed, you glance around the room, smiling at the memories you had of spending the night here. The familiar smell of the vanilla cupcake candle swirls around your head, and you examine the painting on the wall. It was something (f/n) had painted for an art class she was taking. You smile as the memory of her driving to your house and showing you the finished piece enters your mind. You brush your fingertips across the raised patterns of acrylic paint. Its a still life of an old cello. She had taken flowers and placed them in the cracks of the wood, and wrapped them around the strings.

"You were my inspiration." She had told you.

The feeling of having someone create such a beautiful piece of artwork because of you was so overwhelming to you. You turn to the nightstand, and pick up the picture frame sitting on the surface. You smile at the two faces smiling right back up at you. (F/n)'s hair was shorter in the picture, and both of you were bundled up in winter coats. You were out collecting snow for a snow ice cream recipe the two of you had found online. (F/n)'s boyfriend at the time had taken the picture.

"Oh look! Lemon flavor" She had shouted.

You remember rolling your eyes at her, but nevertheless still smiling at her comment. It was just snow, vanilla, sugar, milk, and salt, but you remember it being the best thing you had ever tasted. You examine the bowl full of snow in both of your hands.

"The memory is probably better than the ice cream. I don't think it was actually that good."  You whisper.

You hear the clink of the refrigerator door being opened, and then closed. You are suddenly overtaken with the all too familiar feeling of terrible guilt. You place the photo on the bed next to you, and rest your forehead against the palms of your hands. You wonder how you could just leave (F/n) out of all this. Why you didn't try harder to contact her. (f/n) had been there for you your whole life. Through thick and thin, she was there waiting with her advice, love, and support. No matter what endeavors you chose she was always there for you, cheering you on.

You compose yourself, deciding that now is the chance to make things right. To rekindle the trust and continue the friendship. You breathe in once, and let it all out with a huff. You grip the handle with determination, and you confidently enter the hallway. You hear (f/n) whistling in the kitchen.

"She sounds like a songbird from a princess movie." You think to yourself.

"Good morning!" You say as your round the corner and enter the kitchen.

Your blood runs cold and you hault to a stop.

"Good morning, (Y/n)."

Your eyes widen as you clench your hands into fists.

"Who are you?"

You try to sound intimidating, but the shakiness of your voice betrays you, your fear and panic very evident as you stand facing the stranger in the kitchen. He turns towards you, and places his hand on the kitchen island next to him.