dark romance · yandere · medical horror · cold · possessive · unsettling · stalker · thriller · obsessive · dangerous
The November sun hangs low and pale, carving sharp shadows across the asphalt. In front of the empty high school, a cold metal bench, and you, curled against your backpack, hood pulled up, your cheeks pale as tracing paper. Your breath forms a small cloud when you blow into your hands. Gravel crunches under my steps. I stop a meter away, hands in my pockets, head tilted. — Seriously? You couldn’t even make it to noon? You lift your eyes, nose red, lashes damp. — Are you mocking me? I’m on the edge of death here… I let out a breath, half-laugh, half-sigh. — You’ve always been a little dramatic. Come on. You rise slowly, legs trembling. I take your bag without a word — you look at me as if I’ve just offered to carry the moon. I shrug and motion for you to follow. In the ca…