Life In Misery | fan!yandere x reader

11/09/17

You've begun a circle you're scared of terminating. Finding yourself stirring at some random hour of the day - the worst was the early mornings, thankfully it was usually somewhere in the afternoon. Maintain half-consciousness for about an hour, then fully wake up. Listen to the soft patter of his feet moving something and ignore the weird, random outbursts of movement or talking he's prone to. Wait until he peacefully wanders into your room. Be fed. Ask to feed yourself. Feed yourself. Use the bedpan. Get the pills. Lose your mind. There he was, stumbling in with a smile on his face. He rushed forward and towered over your seated figure. The pills. One of your only answers.

Your recieved them hungrily, uncaring that his fingers were now in your mouth. The sweet coating of the pain killers almost seemed to cure your mental pain before the physical, leaving a slimy trail on your tongue before dryly working their way down your throat. They took their own path; sideways and deafeningly slow, but they were working. You could feel it already as your untrimmed fingernails scratched at the wood of your armrests. Ohh you could feel it, the scorching fire in your legs were a numb lullaby that relaxed your entire body.

Michael looked down at you and gave a confused smile; one a child would give to something they found ridiculous. Something inside of you made you want to spit on his face. A few minutes passed by of him surveying your face for... god knows why. You couldn't guess. He swayed a little bit, still smiling doltishly.

" Don't you look comfortable? "

Not only was he terrifying, he constantly held the tone of an arrogant caretaker in your presence. As far as him not having many friends to visit.... you could see how it came to be. You managed a weak nod.

" Yeaaah. "

He suddenly looked bored, running his finger against the thin cotton blanket and pulling it so it was completely over the edge of the bed.

He loves you. Wholey, and in a post-modern.

The thought of you getting better ached and pained inside him, almost enough to make him hurt you detrimentally himself. You didn't deserve that ever, but he was a selfish, selfish boy. He thought about his paralysis notes again and reveled in how his plans fell into place after all.

" Sleep. " He commanded.

And so you did. The courage you had left proposed that you did not, but the meds were really kicking in now. And they were all you could feel.

You could sense his presence creeping forward, and forward.

-

Yesterday (you presume) left a bad taste on your mouth and it followed you to dream-land. Once awake you promised yourself to ween off the pills. Only take one and hide it under your tongue - whatever - something. You weren't sure if he knew how to dose you well; though, it was surprising your run-ins with sleeplessness at odd hours were scarce. He might know something you don't know, which was your main concern.

Regardless of what or who he is, you need to be conscious to decipher it. You knew he sent you letters and you knew you signed one of his books.

You had dreams of darkness. The muffled screaming of tires.. your manager... the project you were working on a few weeks ago. On the off chance you had a terror, woke up frozen and in a sweat.
As you were now.

Your breathing was fast and unsteady, and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. The sheets stuck to you and made this all the more hell-like, hot and unable to move anything.

Something dark moved in the corner of the room. Oh god, he was there? He smiled, a book in his hands.

" Bad dream? "

You didn't answer. The analog clock on the bedside table read around 8:55 A.M, making you shiver in disdain.

" I hope you're feeling okay. You want your pills? " There was a pause. Saying no meant none until dinner, which is around 11 hours from now... saying yes... you needed them now. Fuck. The rush is back again, stronger than ever. It doesn't matter anymore, it doesn't matter anymore, it doesn't-

" ..Yyess."

He smiled. Now you're beginning to feel that it's on purpose.

" Okay, sleepyhead. I'll bring you your food, too. "

A few moments later he returned with a blueberry muffin, a cup of orange juice and a bowl of lettuce... A sad excuse for a salad, maybe.

This did, however, give you some alertingly useful information.

You can tell this kid has little to no clue how to feed other people. He looks young; Twenties. He dosed you reasonably well to your fleeting knowledge.... The medication wasn't too strong that you were comatose when you were used to them, but it was absolute hell when it felt like you were off for too long.

It was true. Michael had only delivered the patient's food, he had no experience in preparing it. That was other staff's job.... The patients had special meal plans that were beyond his current ability.

Well, he assumes you're not too picky. If someone not as kind as him were to be your savior, you'd have no food and no orange juice. He ached to give you a little kiss on the head.

" Here you go. "

" Ah, thank you. " You politely declared, " I am hungry. "

This shook your captor as odd, and he brushed his chin for a moment.

" You're... Welcome. "

Were you warming up to him?! Already?

His heart couldn't feel fuller.