You (YouTube One-Shots)

Killing Me Slowly

(A yandere with another trigger warning. ♡)

It was just a one night stand.

But you hadn't even really been expecting that much, not when he had spilled out his entire life story to you within minutes of meeting you. It was possible that he just needed someone to listen, and you didn't really want to pity the guy, but it couldn't be helped. The way his life had turned out was terrible, and you really felt for him.

He was sitting at the bar in the corner by himself, looking to be about three or four drinks in already, with watery eyes that you weren't sure were from the alcohol or genuine tears. You watched him curiously for a little while from your table in the tavern, nursing your own drink and debating on whether or not to talk to him. From a distance, he seemed good-looking enough, and you really were curious.

He adjusted the snapback on his head before downing the remainder of his alcohol, wasting no time in ordering another. That was when you slid from your seat and wandered over. His eyes glanced over, and they definitely seemed watery now. But they were the most stunning shade of blue you had ever seen, clear as the daylight skies but wide, as though he had seen some horrors in his life, whatever they may have been. Dark circles lay beneath them.

You tried to smile and succeeded partway, ordering another drink for himself. "You all right?" you asked softly. The tavern wasn't too crowded, so you could afford to speak gently and still be heard.

"Been better," he croaked, drinking half of his alcohol before looking down at the bar top, away from you. But he looked back over, eyeing you carefully. You had the sense of being judged by some unseen standards. Or maybe trust issues. He nonetheless swallowed and held out a hand for you to shake. "Chase," he murmured.

Your smile formed fully this time as you took his hand, shaking it kindly and offering your own name. "I'll ask again, are you all right?" you repeated yourself, genuinely concerned. He seemed on the verge of tears for some reason.

"No," he shook his head. "I... I've..."

"You don't have to explain if you don't want to," you protested, holding up a hand to discourage him from speaking any further.

"My family left me," he spoke slowly after about a minute of silence between the two of you. He had turned away again, staring into the depths of his drink. Or whatever remained of it. "Packed everything up one day and just... bailed."

His tone had the low, numbing sense of depression. He was definitely drinking to forget about his past, which of course would only make things worse. But you remained in silence at this thought, also knowing that it would do no good to bring it up. "I'm so sorry," you empathized with him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "It must be so rough."

Rough was an understatement. Brushing your hand away he turned away again. "Sorry. I don't... I mean..."

"No, no, I get it! I'm the one who's sorry." More silence, palpable and thick in the air, heavy with the weight of his mood. He had the hidden sense of being a good, fun-loving guy, but depression had its claws all over him.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" His words startled you; Chase did not seem to be that type of man. But he stood up suddenly, downing the remainder of his drink and grabbing his black jacket.

"U-uh, sure, yeah, okay..." you mumbled, nodding in agreement. You followed him out the door, him with his head down and hands stuffed into his pockets. He had probably had quite a bit to drink already but his footsteps were steady, not swaying on his feet like the stereotypical drunkard.

You had to trot to keep up with his brisk pace, his trainers padding quietly on the pavement. "I don't do this, not... usually..." he muttered, glancing over at you. "But... I need... I don't know what I need. And it's killing me."