Type: Vocaloid x OC; Yandere
Main Characters: Yuma, Len, Emma (OC)
Author's Note: This is another one of those "I liked it when I started, I hated it by the time I was done" things. I don't like the end. It doesn't feel right. Ah, screw it. I care but I don't care. You'll see how that sentence makes sense. Also, the narrator speaks the way she does. I'm not writing short, stilted and self-doubting sentences because I'm a wacko (okay maybe a little) but because it's the way she thinks and speaks. Why am I even justifying myself...
~~~~~
I had known him ever since we were little kids. We weren't best friends or anything, but we played in the park and were occasionally in the same class. He seemed pretty normal back then, when I was younger. When he was younger.
Sometimes I wonder when it became an obsession.
I'm sitting in English class and I can feel his eyes on me, tearing my presence to bits. My boyfriend is sitting beside me. He's squeezing my hand, silently communicating his love for me. He doesn't know about the boy in the back. He knows, but he doesn't. It's funny how you can know someone and yet, not know them.
That pink haired boy is watching me, I know that. My beloved doesn't. The boy's green, catlike eyes rake my body as he taps his ballpoint pen against his binder. It's black and the pen is red. Why do I know this? I don't know. I just do.
Sometimes I can hear his voice in my head, like today. He wants what he always seems to want, but I don't know exactly what he wants. I don't know, but I can sense it. He wants what I give my boyfriend, but he wants something more than that. It scares me, I think. I'm not sure.
"Emma," my boyfriend speaks and I look at him. His eyes are bluer than the ocean. That sounds cliché but it's true. I don't know how else I could express their appearance. His hair is honey coloured and it hangs over his face. Curtains his eyes, like golden sand against the ocean.
"Len," I say his name. I can't smile because he's looking at me, the boy in the back. I glance quickly towards the teacher. She's writing on the board. Her back is towards the class, towards us.
"You're acting strange again," Len says, cupping my face with his slender, smooth hands. I can tell that he wants to kiss me. I want to kiss him, too, but not here. It doesn't feel safe. For Len, I mean.
"Please," I pull back slowly and force a smile, my eyes momentarily meeting those of the boy. His eyes twinkle. If Len's eyes are like the ocean then that boy's are like a grassy field. His pink hair makes my think of cherry blossoms and cotton candy, of a sort of unnatural happiness.
"I'm fine," I finish, looking at Len again. He smirks and, surprising me, pulls me close and kisses me. His lips are warm and soft and he tastes sweet, as usual. I want this but I don't want this. I could have sworn that I heard something snap.
My eyes slip over to the boy. Yuma. That's his name. I know it well. He's eyeing me furiously. His grassy fields are ablaze. It's exciting me. I don't know why. I'm supposed to be focusing on the kiss. I tell myself to screw it all and I close my eyes, melting against Len's lips.
He kisses me sweetly but it's a long one. I had been dating him for over a year, so it's no surprise that he can read me so well. He doesn't even open his mouth. Our lips are just locked in place. I tug at his shirt and he peels away. My face is as red as Yuma's pen.
"I love it when you blush," Len whispers, "It's so cute."
"I love it when you kiss me," I said breathlessly, "But please, can we not do this in class anymore?"
Len nods and strokes my hair lovingly. "Of course, princess. I don't know what I'd do without you..."
I tell him to quit the sappy talk. Class is almost over and we have to split next period. I have Math and he has History. Yuma has the same classes as me. Something tells me that it's not a coincidence.
The bell rings and we all clamour out of class. Len drops me off at my next class and pecks my lips quickly before leaving.
"See you at lunch," he waves. I wave back. If I had known that I wouldn't see him at lunch, I would have kissed him a lot more. In fact, I wouldn't have let him go.
I walk into class and get into my seat, pulling out my notes and copying down today's homework. Something doesn't feel right, and I know what it is. I spin around in my seat and see that Yuma's not there. My heart pounds. I don't think I'm missing him. I think I'm afraid, and not for me, but for Len.
I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and the teacher obliges. I scamper out of class. I sprint down the halls. Up the stairs. Towards Len's classroom.
Huffing, I stop by his door and peer in. I look like an impolite idiot but I don't care. Len isn't inside. My cheeks suddenly grow very, very hot.
I turn and run down the halls, calling out his name. I pray that he's in the bathroom. I head towards the boys' bathroom, passing through a dark stairwell before. Suddenly, I stop in the stairwell, remembering something. I pull my phone out of my pocket, cursing myself for not remembering earlier, and dial his number. I plaster the device to my ear, panting, my chest heaving, as the shadows blanket me and my fears.
One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four. I want nothing more than for Len to pick up.
Five. He picks up.
"Len?" I whisper, "I'm scared."
"You should be," I hear the voice coming from two different places and only one of those is the phone. The voice isn't Len's, "After all these years..."
I gape upwards and see the silhouette on the stairs, a phone pressed against its ear, catlike eyes glowing, eyeing me. My breath hitches. I drop the phone and run like mad. Another phone skitters behind me. It was Len's but now it's not. I hear footsteps. They're fast and they're coming closer.
"No!" I scream. It's futile, obviously. I don't even know why I screamed.
I throw the stairwell's doors open and dash down the hall. It's lined with lockers but I don't want to take a chance. I arrive at a split. The classrooms are down the left, I think to myself.
But do I really want to go there? I'm such an idiot, of course I do. This person did something to Len and now he wanted to do something to me. I turn and keep running.
Suddenly, two hands grab me and one clamps over my mouth. I scream. He's strong. He drags me back and I flail. It's useless. I like the way his hands feel against me, but I keep telling myself to stop thinking that way.
"Emma," he growls into my ear, pulling me into a shadowy stairwell. I recognize this one as the abandoned stairwell. Obviously, he'd bring me here. I don't even try to scream. Maybe I stopped trying because it was useless. Maybe I stopped because, beyond all my fear and panic, I am excited. Why am I excited? Sometimes we know these things but we don't really know them, right?
He slams my body against the wall and stands inches from me, his fingers digging into the flesh of my wrists. I pant, breathless, exhausted. My heart beats like a thousand drums at the sight of him, the pink haired boy. I knew all along that this is what he wanted.
The way he looks at me makes me feel naked, but I like it. His eyes are alight with anger and fury and...and desire. He lets go of one of my wrists. We both know that I am not going to even squeak, whether it's because I'm afraid or excited.
"Emma, how dare you?" He hisses, his hair falling over his face. I glance downwards at his body. He's skinny and much taller than me or Len. His shoulders aren't broad but they're sharp and defined. Again, I can't explain it any other way.
"Yuma," I only manage to utter his name before he grabs my hair and yanks my head back.
I cry out and he presses his mouth to my neck. I choke on my breath. I smell his cologne. It's hard to describe. Feels like a cold shower, a nice cold shower, mixed with mint and fresh bedsheets.
"Ah...," I moan softly as he bites the soft flesh of my neck. His bite is harsh but loving. I don't know what he sees in me but I feel that it's different from whatever Len saw.
"Nobody is allowed to touch you," he whispers as he continues to bite, "Don't you dare go near another boy again. I swear, I will murder him..."
Tears spill unrestrictedly from my eyes. Now I know that Len is dead. I want to sob in a corner but Yuma won't let me go. He insists on savouring my flesh.
"You're my pet, Emma," he finally moves away and meets my eyes.
I'm lost in his piercing gaze. It's too intense. It leaves me breathless. I want his mouth against my flesh again and at the same time, I want to mourn for Len. I am becoming as sick as this pink haired boy.
"I'm not your anything," I manage to say.
He grabs my face with one hand and I yelp. He presses his body against mine and I try to push back. He's much stronger than he looks. I give up after one try. That's my fault. I could have kept pushing, but I didn't.
"You're my everything," he whispers, leaning closer.
His scent is growing stronger and his gaze is clawing my eyes out. I close my eyes and his lips crash against mine. He kisses me roughly. I don't resist. He sucks on my lower lip and licks the corners of my mouth. I stay still and let him do as he pleases.
"Do you understand?" He whispers, pulling back only slightly. His lips brush mine and I suck in a breath. I don't know why but this feels heavenly. Images of Len begin polluting my mind and I come to my senses.
"N-No," I push him again and he pulls a knife out if his pocket.
I freeze up again and he traces the blade across my cheek. He's gentle at first but he quickly becomes harsher, tracing a long cut across the length of my left cheek. Cold air stings the wound and he licks it.
"Stop," I mumble. He doesn't stop. He snakes his arms around my waist and peppers kisses along the wound, trailing his mouth to my lips again.
"You don't have a say in this," he snarls.
His knife is pressed against my collarbone. He kisses my lips and forces his tongue into my mouth. He moves his tongue skillfully, as though it's a snake. I follow along instinctively, just because it feels so good.
"My darling," he says against my lips. He kisses my nose, my ear, my neck, again and again. He licks my earlobe and collarbone. It's scary but thrilling. I'm fighting with myself. I know it's my fault, but...
We kiss again and again, but I realize that he doesn't like it when I try to take control. That makes sense, and besides, I like letting him do things to me. I like being his. There is something about doing nothing that excites me.
I don't know how many minutes or even hours pass before he drags me away from the school and to his home. I don't really care. He takes me in his arms and his grip is harsh and tight and rough but I love it, and I forget about Len. I let Yuma do whatever he wants because I am just as sick as him. That's really the only way I can describe it.
*booing*
I spent one and a half hour on this. That's fast. I never realized how long writing actually took till today.
I wrote it from four AM to five-thirty AM.