The 28th Stop [ Yandere x Reader ]

12 - Party

"Come again soon!" Waving her arm, the shopkeeper called in the distance.

With your free hand, you returned the wave. "Will do, miss!"

Too big to fit in the satchel bag hung around your shoulder, you fumbled with the shopping bags until one was in each hand.

"Hey, Ash, could you-" Before you could finish your question, the mass disappeared from your hands in one swoop. You turned your head to thank him and opened your mouth until you saw it. That look in his eyes as he stared ahead. Distant yet it was as if the hazel rings were obscured by fog.

'What is he daydreaming about? Probably how he's going to look 'so good' in his fancy blazer that will make all the ladies fawn over him,' You snickered. But an unknown force made you peer closer into those pupils. Upon noticing how devoid they were, you realised that it could not be a simple daydream.

Instinctively, you shook your hand in front of his face. "Earth to Turnip, you still alive?"

With a few blinks, the chilly look disappeared and was replaced by a dopey smile. "I believe I am. If I were dead, I'd be the last one to know about it."

You ignored his lame attempt at humour. "What's the time?"

"Hm? Oh, um..." Asher looked up at the sky for reference, only to be reminded of the seemingly endless night. "No clue, but it's been a few hours."

"Then let's get going. Back to our rooms and in our fancy dresses we go-"

"Wait!" Ruth shouted from far behind you. "Come back!"

Exchanging looks, the two of you returned to the shop at a faster pace with apprehension hanging in the back of your minds. Upon reaching her, you made out the creases on her forehead and straightened lips.

"What happened? Did we forget anything?"

Ruth's grimace switched into a childlike grin. "You forgot to choose your shoes."

It had been around 10 minutes since you and Asher left the hotel room in your party wear. At least, it felt like 10 minutes - you really needed to get a watch. Now ambling through the cobbled path, leading straight to your destination, you noted the extravagantly gowned couples scattered along the same path and similarly gravitating towards the same landmark. Said couples gave you two apprehensive or dirty glares, but you paid no mind.

No, you had no mind to pay, for it went broke from entertaining itself with the growing ache around your torso.

Your hips surrendered to the suffocating grasp of the dress' bodice. With every breath came a brief wave of pain, paired with a drop in your self-esteem. Pinching the sides of the fabric didn't help, owing to the lack of elastic, nor did rotating your abdomen in a desperate search for comfort.

'Oh come on, the dress wasn't this much of a bitch just a few hours ago! I haven't even eaten anything since then. My metabolism can't be that bad, right?'

Tilting your head to the side, towards your reporting partner, you attempted to telepathically communicate your suffering through an intense gaze. As if he had invisible antennae that detected your corporeal calls of distress, he turned to you. "What is it?"

"I think," you choked, whilst halting your gaze and barely maintaining your balance. "I'm going to die."

Alarm bells rang in the boy's head as he attended to you in an instant. Dismissing the trembles that arose from the closed distance, he carefully analysed the bodice, during which he kept his gaze within modest boundaries. His eyes caught the overly tightened lace on your exposed back and, automatically, his hands reached up to loosen them. Fiddling with the laces, his fingers gingerly brushed over your soft skin as shivers coursed through his body.