Vitriolic Vengeance (M. Yandere x GN. Reader)

dau.

Rockfell University. The school you are currently attending to get your psychology degree. Rockfell wasn't a huge town, but it did have a decent sized university there. Their main attraction was how good their nursing program was. It fed right into their state's two largest hospitals, one of which was right in the centre of Rockfell. You chose psychology in fifth grade because frankly you had no idea what to do, and it just stuck. It wasn't the hardest thing in the world to do, and it was pretty interesting. Plus you had that true crime phase around seventh grade.

You check the time on your phone for what must be the tenth time in the past minute. You're waiting to talk to your advisor. You need advice on something, hence why you wanted to talk to advisor. But ultimately, you already know what your decision is.

Nick was hospitalised a little over four months ago. Before that, he was getting by with the occasional use of an oxygen tank. But the uses started becoming more and more frequent.

You must be cursed, you think. You rest your head in your hands. After all, you and Nick had started dating only six months before the diagnosis. You frown a little as you remember when he tried to break up with you before telling you the truth about his condition. You remember that sleepless night as you held him and just watched him breathe. Terrified that he would stop.

It got better for a little bit after that. You knew at that point you weren't going to abandon him when he needed you most. He would have highs and lows, not just with his physical health, but also with his mental. He would beg you to leave, then the next day beg you to stay. You would reassure him you weren't going to leave, but he felt awful about putting you through all of his shit. He finally shut up about it though, when you first told him you loved him.

You remember that day so clearly because he cried in front of you for the second time since his diagnosis. He struggled to speak, and you realised quickly that he needed his inhaler. You ran to get it for him, and after two puffs and a couple minutes, he said it back to you with a smile.

A month later, you moved in together. You quoted that it would save rent money, and it's just logical because you were always staying with each other, but there was truth in your anxieties. You worried about how much longer he would be able to work, especially doing manual labour. You worried about something happening while he slept. You worried. But it was worth it.

All of that pain was worth it, is worth it, because you love him and he loves you. Once he stopped being able to work, you would come home to paintings he did of you. An extra clean house. Your favourite food. Once that stopped, he would write you love letters and show you songs and shows he loved. No matter how long you were apart or how much he could do at that moment, he showed you he loved you.

"[Name] Faust?" A deep voice rumbles from the now open door next to you. You snap out of your memories. You've been really out of it lately. Maybe it's the late nights or all the worrying, but you feel lost in your thoughts.

"Yeah, that's me."

You sling your bag onto your shoulder and follow the man into the office. Reginald Sipes says a little silver plaque on his desk. You sit across from him. He looks at you with pity in his brown eyes. You guess that he is in his late forties to early fifties. Probably recently divorced due to his lack of wedding ring but a framed family picture detailing a couple with two kids behind him. His dark skin is free of any wrinkles, but his beard gives away what his bald head doesn't with the splotches of grey speckled throughout.

He clears his throat.

"So, [Name], you seem to be struggling a little in your classes. Which is very uncharacteristic it seems with your track record. Is there anything going on?" He says while reading something on his monitor.