something more ((yandere x reader))

XXIV- acrylics

"Why is he here?" Harlow looked in disgust at Victor. He'd thought it would only be (Y/n) coming to his apartment but his brother had probably figured out some way to shoehorn himself in.

"Harlow..." (Y/n) said softly. "Let's all try to get along."

"I've said it before and I'll say it again. I don't like him." Harlow didn't peel his ice cold gaze away from Victor.

"You're brothers." (Y/n) sighed. "I know that you're going to fight sometimes but deep down you must love each other."

"The reason families love each other is because of shared experience... not shared genes. This rich boy doesn't know shit about what I've been through!" Harlow contended.

"Can we try to be civil?" Victor suggested, more because he knew it would make (Y/n) happy than for any other reason.

Harlow rolled his eyes and opened the door wider. "Come in, I guess." He muttered, slamming the door once Victor had inched inside.

(Y/n) flinched at the loud bang of the door resting in its frame. "Your neighbours must love you." She joked.

"I'm not the loudest." Harlow stated monotonously. "There's this one couple and no one knows if they're fighting or fucking... or both."

(Y/n) chuckled slightly while Victor just grimaced. "Why don't you complain to the landlord? You can't live with all that noise."

"Because if I complained then I'd probably get shanked in my sleep. I don't snitch, man." Harlow responded, his aggression beginning to show.

"It's not snitching, it's reporting. You're not in jail... anymore, that is. Not that council housing is much better." Victor looked around the apartment with his nose scrunched up in disapproval.

"Victor, that was unnecessary." (Y/n) scorned.

"Yeah, Victor." Harlow added childishly.

In the middle of the room, Harlow had set up two easels with a large canvas on each, he'd also bought some expensive acrylics paints. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have used this sort of equipment but he'd decided to splurge a bit so (Y/n) would enjoy it more.

"Since I was only expecting (Y/n), I only set up two." He glanced at the intruder. "Maybe you should go."

"Victor and I can share, it's fine. Right, Victor?" (Y/n) compensated, wanting the day to go as planned as possible.

"Right." He said triumphantly. "What are we even painting?"

"I set up a still life over there." Harlow said as he began to open up the tubs of paint.

There was a vase of flowers on a table with some books beside it. (Y/n) nodded at it. "I hope you know that I'm absolutely hopeless at stuff like this."

"You're not hopeless. Remember when we took that art class for like a week in college?" Victor grinned.

"Oh god, that was awful! I was so bad, no wonder they kicked us out!" (Y/n) laughed, hiding her face as she thought of the embarrassing yet hilarious memories.

"That professor was hands down the weirdest guy I've ever met." Victor continued. "With all those scarves and-"

Harlow tuned out right about there. He didn't really want to hear Victor and (Y/n) sharing these memories he had no part in. What was worse was how much (Y/n) seemed to enjoy it. Her laugh was like a drug to his ears, but every time she was laughing at Victor's joke it was like a bad trip. That day was meant to be about him, about the both of them just doing art quietly and peacefully, just enjoying each other's company. But now Victor had rocked up and was larking about the place and (Y/n) was eating that shit up.