Upon the Gaze (Ghostface X Reader 18+)

CHAPTER 33 - Trust of a Killer

I slowly climbed the stairs after Danny. My confusion and curiosity was getting the better of me. When I reached the top of the stairs, Danny was holding his door open, and looked at me, followed by a gesture, leading me into his room. I complied but felt nervous. Though this room was once my grandfather's, it now was the metaphorical nest of the serial killer, Ghostface, and I remembered well the last time I entered.

"Sit down on the bed." He ordered me. I quickly complied. Next thing I knew, he was reaching under the bed, pulling out a box. His hand dove into the contents and pulled out a notebook. He slid the box back under, and raised himself from his former crouched position. He grabbed a pen off the desk beside the bed and returned to my side. When he sat upon the bed, he did so with a careless gesture, one that rocked me upon the mattress slightly. He opened the book to a page, half written, and began to write down a name.
"Officer Phillips."

"Danny...?" I called his name. "What...are we doing? Why am I in here, and...this?" My gaze shifted from him to the book, and back.
"You said you loved me, and you want to trust me, right?" He asked.
"Of course!" I responded almost too quickly. He chuckled at that, then said, "well, this is my book of victims. Next victims, last victims. Almost all of them are here."
I held my breath momentarily. All of his victims? In that notebook? And now...this one.
"That officer. You wrote his name down. I knew you asked his name for a reason." He simply smirked. "Hey, gotta cover all bases. I can't let him run around like that, collecting leads. Plus hes seen my face and has heard my voice now. But don't worry, I'll get rid of him soon enough."
I kept quiet, I could see him scribbling notes that looked like a description of the man, but I felt oddly numb to it. I felt myself grow slightly needy, but not in a lustful way. I just needed his touch, to feel his closeness. I let myself fall gently into him, and I rested my head on his shoulder. I wouldn't say he was startled, but I could tell he seemed surprised by my actions.
"(Y/N)?" I sighed, hearing him speak my name. I was quiet momentarily, and all I thought to say was, "could this really work?"
"What do you mean?" He asked me.
"Can we really be together? Are you actually going to stay with me? And...can I really ever just accept all of this." He shifted slightly, then asked me, "you don't accept what I am?" My eyes widened, but then closed. "No. That's not it. I know what you are. You're a serial killer, and a killer by nature, and...I know I can't change you. But all of this...it's entirely out of my control and something horrible could happen any day." The last of the words I spoke caught in my throat, and I felt the heat of anxiety and premature grief envelope me as I thought of ever losing what we had.
Suddenly I felt his hand reach up to me, he shifted his position and guided my face to look upon his. He gazed into my eyes for a moment before whispering, "don't worry, I won't let anything happen to us."
He guided me closer to him, and kissed me. We held in the moment for quite a while before parting. "Danny," I whispered his name, "how do you do it?" He gave me a puzzled look and asked, "do what?" I sighed again, and asked, "how do you disconnect from it all. Nothing bothers you. You feel nothing, even when killing people. It doesn't phase you. And you never seem worried about getting caught. You just keep going like it's all just...normal."
His expression was somewhat amusing, like he was almost bashful because I had essentially praised him for being a disconnected psychopath. Then suddenly, he laughed.
"What?" I asked, pulling back from him slightly. He wiped his eye like he was shedding tears from his laughter. "Okay, first of all, I don't feel nothing from killing people." I was confused and thought, wait. Does he actually feel remorse? But of course, that thought was short lived when he continued his sentence. "I love killing people. It fills me with an undescribable happiness. One I never felt when I lived an average life."
Of course, I thought.
"Would I say I'm worried about getting caught? No. There's nothing even comparable to the mind of a killer. We'll always be one step ahead. Sure, I'm always precautious, but I know what I'm doing." He had a dark smile on his face again, but I felt something akin to electricity shoot up my spine when he suddenly took my face in his hand, and laughed hauntingly with his lips only inches from mine.
"Tell me, my beautiful babydoll. What is it that goes on in that head of yours?" He whispered with a darkness lingering on his words. I blushed deeply in response to his actions, and I couldn't formulate what to say exactly. Where was this coming from? "W-what? What do you mean?" I stuttered. "You love a serial killer, and although you've killed yourself now, you still feel a moral obligation to fit inside of society's lines. You think killing is wrong, but you did it yourself!"
I looked down, and felt a sort of guilt at his words. What the hell was I supposed to think of myself?
"I don't know who the hell I am, Danny. I don't even know what I'm doing." I responded quietly. His expression softened, and after a moments pause, he raised himself to kiss my forehead.
"My poor baby. You've been so confused lately, haven't you." His words pinned my heart. Even though there was this faint condescending energy, it was apparent he was trying to be almost supportive in his own strange way. I felt tears begin to sting my eyes, and my head limply shifted downward as I began to cry slightly.
"Hey," he breathed softly, as he began to pull me in. "I'm here. And as long as I am, I promise you're going to be just fine." His words were softer than usual. They had a sweetness to them, and it crumpled me internally. I began to sob and he shifted us so we were both laying in the bed together. He pulled me close, rubbing my head softly. It was all so overwhelming, but of course a thought crossed my mind.
Is this really my Danny?
Such sweetness and compassion had never come from him before. Only lust and teasing, honestly. I looked up at him, teary eyed and said, "is this really you, Danny?"
He looked surprised and asked me,
"What? Am I not allowed to be supportive and caring at times?" I sniffled, and responded, "well...you haven't exactly been the type." He chuckled and said, "well, you're officially mine now, right?" My heart fluttered at the words, and I wasn't sure if this was somehow another form of manipulation or if this was genuine. But for this very moment, I simply nodded, and rested my head back into his chest. Allowing him to continue his coddling of my emotional self.