Something Amiss (Hoodie x Reader)

Twenty One: Needles And Pins

If you'd been able to slap him, you sure as hell would have. You were debating getting up and just walking off, until he spoke again.

"I changed my mind about you, though, you know?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" You leaned towards him now, all previous fear of him going out the window. There was nothing he could do to make this day any fucking worse.

"Normally I would have let you run off. Make my job easier." He meant that day you'd jumped out the library window. He'd went after you, going so far as to anti-kidnap you and drag you back to your home. Now that he said it, you realised that hadn't made much sense either. You'd thought, at the time, that it was just him continuing to make your life a living hell. But it would have been far easier for him to just have you out of the picture. Maybe that was why he'd fucked with you in the first place, you realised; to scare you off as well as have a little fun on the job.

You couldn't stop the question from slipping out, voice softening a little as you processed. "Why'd you bring me back home, that night?"

There was something unsaid, there. Why'd you save my life? But saying that felt like a taboo to you. You didn't want to admit out loud to him that he'd saved you, though it was fact. That felt like one step away from saying you were grateful, and in all honesty, you didn't know if you were. He'd caused you to run in the first place, and you'd now lived only to go on and murder your favourite person. Seemed a bit one sided.

Hoodie inhaled deeply, you realised that perhaps he didn't quite know the answer, either. "Remember the mall?"

Frowning, you recalled the tiny shopping mall you'd escaped to after rolling your ankle on the subway. "Of course." You knew, now, from Harry, that Hoodie had been watching you that entire day. Sending videos of you to Harry just to stop him from calling the police. Where was he going with this?

"I was going to leave you there. Let you go." He spoke slower now, as if the words were difficult to speak. "I watched you give the rest of your money to that homeless girl. And I just..." he shrugged. "I didn't feel like I could let you leave, after that."

You remembered her, barely. The girl with the bruises. That day felt like it had been years ago, details fuzzy.

You couldn't fucking believe this. You'd been so close to getting away. You'd been so close to running, and never looking back back. Harry would still have died, yes, but you wouldn't have had to watch him die. You wouldn't have had to kill him. And all because Hoodie had... what? Admired your sense of charity?

You scoffed at him, unable to find the words to voice your shock. You could only shake your head in disbelief as his eyes once again flickered down to meet yours. Angry tears threatened to spill over.

"(Y/n), come on." You couldn't tell what lay behind his outwardly condescending tone; pity? understanding? desperation?

"That man would have killed you. It's a good thing I followed you."

For who? Him?

The tears finally splashed down your cheeks. Who the fuck did he think he was?

"I wish you'd just fucking left me." In the moment, it felt true. Here you were, scum of the earth, sitting on a park bench with a man who was arguably just as fucking bad, and you weren't even afraid. You'd fallen so very far.

He was only making you feel worse, but he just kept on talking. "Nobody knows what you did." He read right between the lines, as usual. Picking up that you'd rather have died in that alley than live to kill your brother. "That's why I had you lie to the police this morning, (y/n). No court. No trial. They won't waste your time. You can go back to living as normal."