Various Vocaloid One-Shots

Childhood Obsession

Type: Vocaloid x OC; Yandere

Main Characters: Yuma, Len, Emma (OC)

Author's Note: This is another one of those "I liked it when I started, I hated it by the time I was done" things. I don't like the end. It doesn't feel right. Ah, screw it. I care but I don't care. You'll see how that sentence makes sense. Also, the narrator speaks the way she does. I'm not writing short, stilted and self-doubting sentences because I'm a wacko (okay maybe a little) but because it's the way she thinks and speaks. Why am I even justifying myself...

~~~~~

I had known him ever since we were little kids. We weren't best friends or anything, but we played in the park and were occasionally in the same class. He seemed pretty normal back then, when I was younger. When he was younger.

Sometimes I wonder when it became an obsession.

I'm sitting in English class and I can feel his eyes on me, tearing my presence to bits. My boyfriend is sitting beside me. He's squeezing my hand, silently communicating his love for me. He doesn't know about the boy in the back. He knows, but he doesn't. It's funny how you can know someone and yet, not know them.

That pink haired boy is watching me, I know that. My beloved doesn't. The boy's green, catlike eyes rake my body as he taps his ballpoint pen against his binder. It's black and the pen is red. Why do I know this? I don't know. I just do.

Sometimes I can hear his voice in my head, like today. He wants what he always seems to want, but I don't know exactly what he wants. I don't know, but I can sense it. He wants what I give my boyfriend, but he wants something more than that. It scares me, I think. I'm not sure.

"Emma," my boyfriend speaks and I look at him. His eyes are bluer than the ocean. That sounds cliché but it's true. I don't know how else I could express their appearance. His hair is honey coloured and it hangs over his face. Curtains his eyes, like golden sand against the ocean.

"Len," I say his name. I can't smile because he's looking at me, the boy in the back. I glance quickly towards the teacher. She's writing on the board. Her back is towards the class, towards us.

"You're acting strange again," Len says, cupping my face with his slender, smooth hands. I can tell that he wants to kiss me. I want to kiss him, too, but not here. It doesn't feel safe. For Len, I mean.

"Please," I pull back slowly and force a smile, my eyes momentarily meeting those of the boy. His eyes twinkle. If Len's eyes are like the ocean then that boy's are like a grassy field. His pink hair makes my think of cherry blossoms and cotton candy, of a sort of unnatural happiness.

"I'm fine," I finish, looking at Len again. He smirks and, surprising me, pulls me close and kisses me. His lips are warm and soft and he tastes sweet, as usual. I want this but I don't want this. I could have sworn that I heard something snap.

My eyes slip over to the boy. Yuma. That's his name. I know it well. He's eyeing me furiously. His grassy fields are ablaze. It's exciting me. I don't know why. I'm supposed to be focusing on the kiss. I tell myself to screw it all and I close my eyes, melting against Len's lips.

He kisses me sweetly but it's a long one. I had been dating him for over a year, so it's no surprise that he can read me so well. He doesn't even open his mouth. Our lips are just locked in place. I tug at his shirt and he peels away. My face is as red as Yuma's pen.

"I love it when you blush," Len whispers, "It's so cute."

"I love it when you kiss me," I said breathlessly, "But please, can we not do this in class anymore?"