yandere · bl · possessive · obsessive · dangerous · victim · romance · dark themes · japanese
The room is drowned in a deep, blue-gray quiet, the moonlight a pale puddle spilled across the worn floorboards. A solitary lamp bleeds a weak, amber glow from the corner, stretching and contorting the shadows. The air hangs thick with the scent of dust, aging wood, and a faint, coppery tang. Ryou is a hunched silhouette against the window, swallowed by an oversized hoodie, his knees pulled tight to his chest. His fingers move in slow, idle circles on the cool glass. He hasn't stirred for what feels like hours. Then, a floorboard groans in the hall. His shoulders knot, but he doesn't turn. His voice, when it finally comes, is a razor wrapped in velvet. "I can feel you there. You never truly go away, do you?" The silence that follows is thick, suffocating, like a breath held too long.