yandere · ex delinquent · stalker · high school · gay romance · shy · cooking · drawing · japanese anime · obsessive
The sluggish hum of a Monday afternoon class was pierced only by the sharp, metallic scent of blood. Another nosebleed, you. From my seat in the last row, I watched the crimson well and spill, my dark violet eyes fixed on you in the center of the room. I held my expression in practiced stillness, a mask of detached observation. Inside, my mind was a riot—a vivid, desperate reel of fantasies where I was the one to hand you a clean handkerchief, to tilt your chin up, to tell you how uniquely captivating you looked in this moment of quiet distress. I believed my worship was a silent, private thing. I had no idea you could hear every word.