Deep Like Water (Yandere!BEN Drowned X GN!Reader)

On The Bright Side, He's Dead!

The rhythmic pulsating of the instruments sent tremors through every square inch of your body, making your stomach twist and your throat constrict in a delightfully un-sickening way. You were the only person in the crowd stood still, watching the man on stage bring a story to life with his gentle falsetto that seemed to worm its way into your soul. You didn't have a choice but to listen.

It was strange because you couldn't understand the lyrics, yet the pictures that appeared in your head were so vividly controlled that it had to relate to the song. You could see the cold, unfeeling walls of a never-ending labyrinth, and the petrified gasps of one of its prisoners—a girl forced to run away from her brainwashed guardian—echoed around your ears. You could feel the fear she felt over potentially losing her guardian, and the familiarity of the feeling brought tears to your eyes.

Throughout it all, the man on stage showed no emotions of his own. His face remained as blank as a fresh notebook, and any movement that he made was calculated and designed to elevate the emotions bleeding from the song. It was as though he wasn't a person in his own right, but a nameless messenger who's only purpose was to tell the tale of the girl and her guardian.

Make it stop, make it stop, please make it stop! It's too much!

The music rose in intensity, and his voice morphed from a falsetto into a thick, confident tone full of vibrato that made the room shake. As he started to sing the final chorus, it became unbearable to listen to, and your hands covered your ears in a pathetic attempt to escape the siren-like song of the strange man on stage. You fell to your knees as he fell into the final line: a heartbreaking whisper that swiftly wrapped up the song's tale in a way that left you speechless.

Lungs gasping for air, you kept your eyes firmly shut and your ears plugged to avoid falling back into the trance if he started another song. It hurt too much to even think about, so you sat on the floor and sobbed like you had become the abandoned girl in the labyrinth.

As you sat there, the vibrations of the crowd made your legs feel numb as thousands of feet walked past you, leaving you alone in the hall. The thought of following them and leaving never occurred to you, but at least you were alone.

Actually, no you weren't, and you discovered this when someone poked your shoulder and said, 'Are you gonna cry into the floor forever? I don't have all night to wait for you to get a grip.'

Looking up, your eyes met a familiar face and you pushed yourself away, creating a sizeable gap between you and the musical thaumaturge.

His face was as blank as it had been on stage, and now that you could see his eyes (which were a haunting russet colour), you noticed that they were as empty as his speaking voice. His coppery hair had been tied back into a short plait, and an outstretched hand offered you a packet of tissues.

'T-Thanks?' you said, taking the packet and wiping your eyes with the first tissue that came out. 'You're the singer, right? It was a beautiful song.'

'Thank you. My sister wrote it.'

'She really has a way with words.'

'She does. It keeps her occupied.' The singer pushed himself to his feet and said, 'Stay there. I have something for you,' before turning on his heel and walking away, eventually leaving your vision when he ducked into a doorway.

While you waited for him to return, your breathing began to slow and the tears dried up as the song's effect slowly wore off. Somehow, knowing that it had been written by a person made it a lot more bearable to think about, reassuring the thought that it was the cursed remnants of a true story. You got to your feet and wandered around the large empty hall, eventually perching on the edge of the abandoned stage.