Tempted (Antisepticeye x Reader)

12

You ended up spending the rest of the day in your recording room to finish editing. It exceeded the normal time it usually takes because you needed to edit Anti into looking like Jack on screen. And yes, you almost hate to admit it, but you decided to keep the kiss in the video. You're not sure why, but you're not that worried about what the audience thinks. But it was a dare after all, and dares don't usually mean anything else other than just an action meant for embarrassment.

You can't see any light through your window by the time you post the video. You forget how much of your life can be consumed when you dedicate it to YouTube, but you can't think of any other amazing way to spend it.

Well... Except maybe with...

OK time to get away from the computer screen. You push your chair away and stand up to stretch, then you make your way back to your room.

You find yourself in front of your mirror. Tired, but not as strained as you were before. For some reason, you have felt more comfortable within the last couple hours. Like, there wasn't a constant shadow looming right behind you, sending chills down your spine. You feel more relaxed, and you can see it in your tired eyes. You're just drowsy now and you're lost in your own eyes, wondering if all of these things were really happening to you. To this young girl who dreams of dreams far too large to easily grasp. Who when things seem like their life is falling apart, turn to those who make them feel better. And someone who doesn't know what to do when a demon is in their house.

As if almost on cue, you hear a muffled scraping sound that jerks you back into reality. It scares you for a second that you gasp. Then a series of small scratches emanates from the wall separating yours and Anti's room. They repeat each other in a little pattern. Like a rhythm almost. You lean your ear against the wall to listen to what Anti could be doing. The scratches become more and more violent. Then a pound on the wall causes your head to bounce back away from it. What is he doing? Maybe throwing more knives into the wall.

More pounds. More scratching. Then you start to hear grunts of frustration. Followed by more pounding and scratching. Now you're scared. You want to go over and make sure he is okay. Which to your knowledge: he's not. But something tells you you shouldn't get involved. That you should leave him alone. You try to ignore the sounds. Maybe he's just letting tension out of his body.

That's what you tell yourself as you settle down for the evening. The noises continue. They're not in any sort of pattern. Sometimes it goes like, scratch, grunt, pound, scratch. Or pound, grunt, pound, scratch. You really do feel like you should do something, but you still remain stationary.

Then, as you start to head to bed, the sounds stop. Making the silence around you seem foreign. But that only lasts for a second until you hear a loud yell. Like someone in pain. You don't comprehend what happened but you are suddenly running out of your room and slamming your fist into Anti's door. You fidget with the handle but it is still locked.

"Anti!" You slam your fist again. "Anti, are you okay?"

Silence. You hear nothing from inside.

"Anti?" you say in a quieter tone.

Then you hear shuffling. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. And the door suddenly swings open just enough for Anti to step through, then slam behind him. You gasp. Anti doesn't look like himself. Well, actually he looks too much like the Anti you know.