Forbidden Fixation (Obsessed!Doctor x Male!Reader)

The Murderer - 22

He couldn't register the reality before him.

"What," Kisaku's throat bobbed, "How...?"

Over Y/n's pair of yellow hospital socks were dirty sneakers that didn't fit. The white pants the hospital allotted were stained. Some stains were dark, suspiciously black-red in color. Over the typical, nondescript hospital shirt was an oversized black hoodie. The strings dangled down Y/n's thin, underfed chest at uneven lengths. (H/c) hair was wild and matted on one side.

Everything about Y/n appeared deranged, save for his face. His eyes were bright, a shadow of a smile teased his lips, and he looked far happier in the basement now, than he ever did before.

He tapped the bloodied bat against the palm of his hand again.

"How am I here?" Y/n asked, no longer suppressing a wolfish grin. "I'm here to get you out of the grave you dug yourself in, doctor. Come on."

The (h/c) boy provided that non-answer, kneeling in front of Kisaku, deft hands falling to the knots the doctor had tied himself.

"Let's get you out of here," Y/n murmured just as Kisaku felt the ropes around one of his ankles loosen.

As soon as the other one did, Kisaku stood and Y/n quickly untied his hands.

"Okay, let's just —"

"Did you ask him for help?" (S/b) croaked from the floor. Their lips trembled. One eye was not working properly... and a good portion of their skull was caved in. Still (S/b) tried to get up, putting their elbows beneath their chest. "Don't ask him for help," they cried freely, tears spilling down their cheeks. "He lies, he lies, he lies. He manipulates. That's all he does. Don't ask him for help."

You're the delusional one, (S/b), Kisaku thought solemnly. It's obvious you feel guilty about what you did in the past; about the atrocious crime you committed. So guilty you've become delusional, taking to shifting the blame instead of taking it yourself.

Kisaku was content to be deaf to (S/b)'s crazed ramblings.

However.

Y/n did not share that same sentiment. Leaning the bat against the chair, Y/n stepped over (S/b) to retrieve the pistol. With deft hands that spoke with experience, Y/n detached the clip, checked the barrel and noted the bullets left.

The (h/c) boy hummed before he turned, noticing Kisaku's stare. The doctor himself had moved to the stairwell. The only thing he wanted to do was leave this place.

Y/n smiled, "What did (S/b) tell you?"

That gave Kisaku a pause. A heart-strangling pause.

Why...

Why is Y/n asking me that? Kisaku's eyes dropped to the gun in the boy's hands.

(E/c) eyes narrowed. "I see," Y/n murmured before aiming the gun at (S/b)'s shaking head.

The sight put a metaphorical bullet in the doctor's chest. With a wheeze, he realized...

"...You did kill them..." Kisaku breathed when he acknowledged the gun's merciless target, and what it meant. "...Didn't you?"

"Only because (S/b) asked," Y/n pulled the slide of the gun, releasing another bullet into the chamber.

Doubts crept in...

Had Y/n... manipulated... (S/b)? That line of thought was absolutely painful.

But Y/n's finger was on the trigger now — he was a murderer —