something more ((yandere x reader))

XXVII- angel

(Y/n) sat at home, thinking about what had happened in the mansion. At least Harlow had got William off her back, but that didn't mean she wasn't still thinking about what he did. The worst part of the whole thing was that Penelope had to marry him, marry that dick for brains.

She felt the need to talk to Yvonne, at that time Yvonne was the only person she wanted to speak to. But even if she knew what William was saying was bullshit it did make her feel a bit edgy, she liked Yvonne but if she kept at this thing then people were bound to find out about it.

Included in her mixed feelings was a pure sense of concern for Harlow. He was very upset and she wasn't quite sure if it had something to do with Peter, William or both. She hadn't expected Harlow to know William from his jaded past but that must have brought up old feelings. She also didn't imagine things had gone smoothly with Peter judging by his attitude.

She thought it best to give him a call, just to make sure he was alright. She called his contact and the ringing tone went on. After an automated message began to play, (Y/n) hung up and tried him again. She felt dread fill her, some sixth sense told her that something was wrong.

Again, he didn't pick up.

Without wasting another second of time, (Y/n) grabbed her phone, wallet, house keys and car keys and headed out the door.

She walked down Harlow's hallway in a hurry. She banged at his door when she reached it, while he didn't respond, the unlocked door did creep open.

(Y/n) barged in and her eyes flicked about for Harlow. She gasped when she caught sight of him. He was laying on the ground, some sicked up food next to his face, dried blood from his nose to his mouth, he looked like he was in comatose he was so still. By him was the painting she'd done with Victor with lines of what she assumed to be heroin in the corner of it.

She darted over to him and knelt beside him, feeling for a pulse. It was slow, so slow it was almost undetectable. When she touched him she could feel sweat leaking out of every pore in his body.

"Harlow?" She shook him by the shoulders, her worry becoming overwhelming. "Harlow? Can you hear me? Are you awake?"

He began to groan and stir on the floor, his eyes flitting open, answering her last question.

"Oh thank God." (Y/n) breathed out in relief. "How do you feel? Are you still high or are you coming down?"

"I'm warm and... dizzy..." He slurred.

(Y/n) nodded quickly, helping him sit up. "How long ago did you take it?"

"Like... an hour?"

"Ok, you should be coming down around now. Do you feel sick?" (Y/n) did her best to remain calm, not wanting to startle Harlow.

He nodded his head slowly.

"Did you take anything else?"

"N... no..."

(Y/n) helped Harlow to stand. "Let's go to the bathroom, try get it all out and then you should get some rest."

"I've had enough rest." He grumbled, wobbling on his legs as he was guided by (Y/n).

"Real rest, not just laying on the floor after sedating yourself." She said, opening the door the bathroom.

(Y/n) gently put her hands on Harlow's shoulders and helped him kneel in from of the toilet bowl. "Try and get as much of it out as you can, okay?"

She rubbed on his back, not looking at him as he threw up and industrial amount. The sounds and smells were disgusting enough for her. After around ten minutes of soothing words and holding the longer parts of his hair back, Harlow announced he was done.

(Y/n) helped him to clean his face and teeth and accompanied him to his bedroom. He dropped onto the bed and crawled under his covers.

"Sleep with me...." He whined, holding his arm out to (Y/n).

She smiled softly. "No thank you. I'm going to keep an eye on you and make sure you're alright in the morning."

What she said didn't really matter since he was sound asleep by the time she'd finished talking.

Harlow felt himself waking up, his whole body ached and his brain felt raw. He tried to recall what had happened last night and then it hit him. He'd fallen off the wagon and broken six years of sobriety.

His eyes opened and he saw (Y/n) looking down on him. She was sitting on his bed and dabbing at his head with cold wet flannel. His pupils dilated at the sight of her, he'd always thought she was beautiful but that morning it was on a whole other level. Perhaps her looks had mixed in his head with the flattery he felt that she'd stayed overnight to look after him. His heart ran fast.

"Sorry to wake you." She said quietly when she noted Harlow's opened eyes. "You were sweating and you had a fever."

"That'll be withdrawal." Harlow lamented, remembering how bad his symptoms were when he took heroin more regularly.

"I'm sorry this happened." (Y/n) sighed. "I shouldn't have got you to meet Peter, I should have known he wouldn't be good for you."

"It's not your fault." Harlow shot up, making his head hurt massively. He brushed off the feeling in order to alleviate (Y/n)'s guilt. "It's my own dumb fault."

"Harlow, don't be so down on yourself. You relapsed. It happens. But you're going to get back on the wagon and try again. It'll be difficult but I believe in you." She placed her hand on his supportively.

Harlow's cheeks went red. He felt like some part of him had been woken up to the blinding reality of (Y/n)'s perfection. He liked her before but now his feelings had transcended love. She cared for him at his worst, she believed in him when she had no reason to.

The way the morning light seeped through his cheap curtains and framed her face only drove home his point. (Y/n) was an angel, she was his angel.

"I won't do it again." He said without hesitation. The withdrawal would drag on his mind and though his body craved more heroin, his heart knew the only drug he needed was (Y/n).