|Ollie| |19| |Social Introvert|| Uni student, aspiring novelist, and resident sad girl. I write fanfiction and original stories. My Current Webnovel: https://tapas.io/series/Teacup-Flowers
Peony is a strange young girl with an even stranger ability. She can see and befriend magical beings. An interesting talent yes, but considering the nation of Lockheim has been at odds with magical beings of all kinds for centuries it isn’t exactly a marketable quality. Peony wants to help provide for her family in some way, however and manages to get a lie her way into a job and becomes the scribe of Cedric, a prolific writer suffering from a degenerative eye disease who shares her affinity towards magical beings.
This is my new web novel, Teacupflowers. Unlike Love Awkwardly I don’t plan on abandoning this one. I love this story and I hope people who decide to give it a read love it too ^^
Scott, a resident klutz, has been in love with Cecile for as long as he can remember. However he doesn’t feel compelled to act on his feelings and writes her love letter without any intention of sending them. When Scott loses some of his letters at school, Cecile’s twin sister Rosette finds and returns sparking a friendship between the two. Overtime, Rosette realizes she has feelings for Scott and like him chooses not to act on them. And so begins an awkward story of unrequited love, the friend zone, and smartass imaginary friends.
This is my web novel Love Awkwardly. I’ve been working on since the summer of 2017 and but it’s undergone a few rewrites and transformations since then. I know it hasn’t been updated in literal months but trust me when I say the next chapters are coming up really soon and it’s about half finished! (yay~)
Anyway it would be really awesome if you could give it a read some time ^-^
The “Incident” With Gakushu |Yandere Karma Akabane x Reader| |pt.2|
Paranoia is a sickness—a chronic ailment of a mind and soul that can no longer comprehend peace. Like any sickness paranoia also takes a toll those caring for the one afflicted.
[Rea]’s family opened their hearts and savings to anything that promised her recovery. Salvation from a red-headed phantom who endangered only her.
“Maybe getting away from everything that reminds her of that boy and ‘the incident’ will help.”
So they sent her to another school. It was a very nice one. Not too many students and close to home. But [Rea] saw Karma’s shadow in the hallways and in the corner of her classroom.
“Has she had any grief consoling since ‘the incident’? No? Maybe that’s what made her sick.”
They went to many doctors—specialists of the ailing human mind. Pills and water became a staple in her diet, but they shared only their side effects and none of their benefits.
Time passed and [Rea]’s family’s long suffering became a handkerchief soaked with too many tears to be useful.
“She’s just not getting any better. There has to be someone else who can help her. We can’t.”
So they sent [Rea] off to a facility for teens who suffer from sickness of the mind.
A large housing facility in the Japanese countryside near the mountains and far out of reach of the anxieties the city—secluded.
It even had a school attached, [Rea] would attend when visions of Karma become infrequent.
And that place became [Rea]’s home for the next year.
“The high school uniform looks good on you.” The therapist said from across the room. He open the blinds and sunlight washed over his tiny office. Sun hit the glass coffee table making the bit of dust on it specks of light rather than filth.
“You think so?” [Rea] asked. The uniform was half a size too big and [Rea] thought it wore her rather than the other way around.
The therapist nodded as he walked over to his chair. He almost tripped on the box of puppets and dolls he kept next to the window.
“Yeah makes you look confident... mature.”
[Rea] smiled she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the door.
Guess, he’s right.
“So, how’s your week been?” He asked crossing his leg with one foot over his knee in that way men do. It could just be his face but he was young for a therapist. Very thin, almost sickly so with long black hair tied in a ponytail which rested on his shoulder.
“It’s the best week I’ve had in a while. I’ve stared school again and made friends. And my family visited for the first time in over a year.”
“Must’ve been nice after not seeing them for so long.”
“It was. Mom was so happy to see how well I’m doing.
Although anything would be better than the state I was in when I got here.
“So am I. You’ve mad so much Progress in just over a year. Won’t be long until they can make weekly visits.”
[Rea]’s heart swelled she smiled and kicked her feet against the couch.
“Can’t wait for that.”
“Have you been thinking about Karma?”
[Rea]’s smile faded.
“Not as much as I used to. I’ve stopped seeing—imagining him everywhere.”
“That’s good.What about the nightmares?”
“Those haven’t let up. Something about them feels prophetic. As if he’s getting closer and he’ll be here any day now.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Maybe it has something to do with the... the incident with Gakushu.”
It took quite a while to get [Rea] to call it that instead of “Gakushu’s murder”. Even saying it now it didn’t sound right.
“Do you feel someone needs to take a blame for that?”
[Rea] nodded.
“And I can’t place the blame on myself so I put the blame on Karma.”
“Karma’s a dangerous young boy I’ll get you that.” The therapist said.
“But we’re not here to talk about him. It’s going to take a lot more than me telling you it’s not your fault—”
“I have to come that myself.” [Rea] finished.
He looked up at the clock.
“There’s a lot to unpack there and you’ve got to get to class. Let’s continue during our evening session.”
[Rea] nodded and showed herself out, the therapist called for her she shut the door.
“You’re doing so well, have a good day.”
[Rea] smiled.
“Well, Gakushu always wanted me to do my best.”
[Rea] banished all thoughts of Karma during the day, but doing so was harder at night. During the day she could busy herself and surrounded herself with people—distractions. At night, {Rea] only had her thoughts to keep her company.
And those thoughts always had something to do with Karma.
She’d stare at the window expecting to see a pair of amber eyes staring back at her. The windows had bars on then and her room was on the fourth floor, but fear and rationality didn’t go hand in hand.
Time passed and though [Rea]’s eye lids grew heavy her heart rate refused to slow down. She sat up and did the breathing excersies her therapist taught her.
Breath in... hold for three... breath out... hold for three.
Breath in... hold for—
[Rea]’s door creaked as it opened. She opened her eyes and turned to the door.
There he stood. Taller after a year and bigger too, more muscular. The room and hall where he stood were pitch black, but his eyes pierced through the darkness—bonfires lit in the dead if night.
There’s a fear that robs you of everything. It pins you down with invisible claws—even a shudder is impossible. And plucks at your vocal chords so every sound that leaves your mouth isn’t a scream or cry for help, but an empty hoarse whisper.
Karma walked into [Rea]’s room, tracking wet foot prints behind him. He sat the edge of the bed. The moonlight from the window illuminated his face—albeit faintly. Splatters of red stained his skin and clothes and he reeked of violence.
“Finally found you. Took longer than I wanted. But were together that’s all that matters.
“H..how.?” [Rea] wanted to say more, to scream to run away but a weak “how” was all she could muster.
“How’d I find you? Wasn’t easy. I learned you went to a mental facility, but they’re all so secretive with their information I took forever to find this one. And the security here is a lot more competent than I thought. Things got messy.”
Karma ran a hand through his hair as if he’d gone through a hard day’s work.
“I’ve missed you… so much.”
Karma reached out to touch [Rea]’s face. She pulled back.
Karma’s outstretched hand turned into a fist. His hand shook as he brought it close to his chest.
“To think... you’d go this far to get away from me... that makes me so...”
Karma dug his nails into his other hand. had he not been a nail biter he’d might have broke the skin.
“No... no. I did a lot of thinking while we were apart. And I get, I freaked you out a little. I’m sorry. And I’m gonna clean up my act from now on. I didn’t even kill that bastard with the ponytail you’ve been talking to all year.”
[Rea]’s blood ran cold.
“God knows I wanted to. Two broken kneecaps isn’t enough punishment for that bastard. He talked you everyday... listened to your problems. Only I’m allowed to do that. You belong to me.”
[Rea] tried to inch off the bed. She’d get up without him noticing and blot for the door.
And that’s what she did, but just before she reached the door, Karma grabbed her pulled her to his chest. The more [Rea] twisted and jerked the tighter Karma’s grip became.
“[Rea]. You’re sick of this place, right? Hell, I’ve been here a couple hours and I already wanna burn it to the ground.”
Karma reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe.
“Can’t have you making noise while we try to get out of here it’ll be so much easier if you’re asleep.”
A scream welled up in the back of [Rea]s throat, but Karma covered her mouth with his before she could let it out.
The kiss was long and stole all of [Rea]’s breath. Her vision blurred from lack of oxygen by then time Karma broke the kiss.
“And in goes the needle.”
Karma made a soft hushing noise as he plunged the needle into [Rea]’s neck The corner of her vision went dark as Karma pecked her lips again.
“Let’s do more of that at home.” He said with a chuckle.
A short story I wrote a few years back. I posted and deleted on a few sights since then. I’m actually really proud of it despite deleting it all the time.
Oliver had a special nickname for his wife. It wasn’t a term of endearment; if anything it was the opposite. Rather, it was a description of what she was; the noise she made when she spoke—an auditory observation.
“Oliver. Where are you—get in here right now. Oliver!”
Shrill. Oliver called her Shrill.
Never to her face of course. He was smart enough to do that much. He had a different nickname he used when he spoke to Shrill.
“Yes, honey?” Oliver said as he got up from the ugly leather chair in his study.
This pusedo-nickname didn’t suit her at all—honey is sweet; Oliver’s wife was not. Perhaps a better nickname would have been “Arsenic” or “Cyanide”, those were the things Oliver would have a craving for whenever he spoke with Shrill.
Oliver entered the living room to see Shrill in her usual stance: arms crossed, eyes narrowed, foot tapping furiously against the hard wood floor.
“I told you, I don’t like coming home to a dirty house. But just look.” She made a sweeping gesture across the entire living room. She was right, it wasn’t neat. The carpet needed to be vacuumed, a thin layer of dust needed to be removed from the T.V stand and bookshelf, and the pile of magazines (that no one ever read) on the coffee table need to be rearranged.
“This is an absolute pigsty! I can’t believe this. I ask you to do one thing while I’m at work and you can’t even do that.”
Oliver took a deep breath, “I’m sorry honey. But you need to understand that I just got back from work too. I’m tired, I was going to—”
Shrill cut Oliver off, she rarely let him finish speaking.
“Oh, you were going to? Yeah well, you’re going to clean this mess up right now.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Shrill uncrossed her arms if only to undo the bun her hair was in.
“After you’re done get started on dinner.”
“But—”
“But what?”
“It’s just that this morning you said you didn’t want me to—never mind.”
Shrill huffed and walked passed Oliver, the room felt significantly warmer when she left.
Oliver picked up the pile of magazines tapped them against the coffee table and set them down again.
“Done.” he said flatly.
Oliver walked to the kitchen and made the only think he knew how to cook to Shrill’s gourmet standards: spaghetti in meat sauce. Once he finished he set three places at the table and went upstairs to call his family to dinner.
He started with his son, Oliver liked to call him Grumpy. It wasn’t a very nice nickname, but Oliver thought it was fair. After all Grumpy called him:
“What do you want, Lazy-ass?” Grumpy said as Oliver opened his door.
“Is that any way to talk to the man who puts food on the table?”
“Mom puts food on the table.”
Sure she does.
Oliver looked at Grumpy. He was wearing his pyjamas.
‘Did—did you go to school today?”
“What do you care, Lazy-ass?”
Guess I don’t. Oliver thought. He sighed. “Dinner’s ready.”
He walked next door to his daughter's room, Sleepy he called her. Sleepy was the nicest person in Oliver’s family, which is no better than being the smartest shmuck. Sleepy’s tongue wasn’t as sharp as Grumpy and Shrill’s, all she did was agree with whatever her mother and brother said about Oliver; even though she knew full well none of it was ever true.
Oliver knocked on Sleepy’s door.
“Dinner’s ready.” He said.
“Coming.” Is what Sleepy would have said, but all that came out of her mouth was a long yawn.
He opened the door a crack. “Call your mother too.”
Oliver went back downstairs and contemplated whether he wanted to eat dinner with his family that night. He took a taste of the spaghetti, it was a bit too soft. Shrill wouldn’t like that. He grabbed a plate from the cabinet.
“I’ll eat in my study.”
Oliver worked one of those generic white collar jobs. The kind that where everybody works at a desk with a computer and nobody's really sure what anybody else is doing. All they know is the work the person next to them was doing—whatever it was—involved sitting at a desk with a computer.
Oliver never liked his job. Not because his chair was uncomfortable, and his computer was slow, or because his taskmaster of boss took sadistic pleasure in working him like a dog. Not even because he seemed to be paid in stress rather than money.
Oliver hated his job because it was inside.
He especially hated how the view from his window allowed him to see a glittering pool of blue in the distance—the ocean. Oliver loved the ocean. There wasn’t a second in his day where he wasn’t imagining he was breathing in moist salty sea air rather than dry, sweaty air in the office, or stale air freshener at home.
He first fell in love with the sea when he was a little boy and his father took him for an afternoon boat ride. The gentle breeze in his hair, the smell of salt water a cool sea spray on his face, to Oliver those were the things that embodied freedom.
“I’d kill for a boat.” Oliver sighed. He let his head rest at an awkward angle; the most comfortable way to sit in his chair.
He sat up.
Maybe I don’t have to. He thought.
Because I think I might already have one.
Oliver lifted the garage door. He’d hadn’t been in the garage since they bought the house fifteen years ago when Grumpy was born. If he remembered correctly there might
be something inside the garage collecting dust under a tarp—something that wasn’t a 2005 Chevy Cruise.
Oliver looked inside and saw—a 2005 Chevy Cruise(it was actually very good shape mind you.) and what he was hoping to find: a small sailboat, big enough to comfortably fit one person. It was also in surprisingly good shape—although a fresh coat of paint wouldn’t hurt.
Oliver walked over to the boat and ran his hands along the side of it.
“How could I have forgotten about you?” He asked.
The boat, of course, gave no answer.
The boat was an impulse buy, from an old man by the harbour who’s sole wish was to be rid of it. Oliver had wanted to take it for a sail right away, but at Grumpy and Sleepy were still quite young at that time and Shrill had insisted that if she couldn’t take a break he couldn’t either.
“They’re grown now,” Oliver said wiping the dust off the stern.
“This weekend I’ll. No tomorrow. I’ll take it out tomorrow.”
The sky was the colour of blood the morning Oliver left. He had made sure to leave early in the morning five or five thirty; the time where fishermen get up and his family would still be fast asleep.
Of course, he wasn’t the type of man to leave without saying anything. He left a note. He also left his phone at home so Shrill couldn’t bother him.
A light breeze picked up, filled the boat’s sails with air, and pushed it forward in a neat line, as though someone had drawn its course with a ruler. Oliver adjusted the sails and sat back down in time to watch the sunrise. Oliver was an avid admirer of art, of beauty in general, but the sunrise he saw that day far surpassed the work of any artist past present, and yet to come.
The sky turned from red to orange as a large yellow ball of light rose out from the water. The waves become a display case for thousands of red, orange and yellow diamonds. The breath the sunrise stole from Oliver was recycled into the wind to propel his boat even farther into the horizon.
“This was worth taking a day off work, taking a day off life rather.”
Just then staying up late preparing his boat for sea, waking up at fishermen’s time, and the sound of the waves gently crashing into one another become a melodious lullaby. Eventually, Oliver laid back in his boat and fell asleep.
WOOSH! CRASH! SPLASH!
Oliver awoke to the sound of wind screaming, and waves beating against the hull. He found that most of his face except for his nose and mouth were submerged in water. The boat had sprung a leak. Oliver stood up, only to rip and smack his face on the mast. The fracture he sustained in his tooth wasn’t vain. He found what he was looking for floating around the mast that injured him:
Duct tape.
He located the leak and patched it up as best he could. He reached up to close the sails, but:
RIIIP!
The wind tore the sails open like paper or stretched out silk. All Oliver could think to do then was deal with the water that was already in the boat. He had brought a bucket along for that very reason. Oliver located the bucket floating about the boat and used it to remove the water.
By the time Oliver had finished the waves died down and the wind quieted. He sighed and said back down, his shorts making a soft squishing sound as he did so.
“Survey the damage.” He said.
He looked around.
“Everything is wet.”
Oliver removed his shirt and shorts and hung them on the mast to dry. The sun and wind speed up the process.
Oliver looked around as he redressed: all his saw was water, no land, no boats, no swimmers; just water. His boat no longer moved in a perfectly straight line, instead, it drifted aimlessly across the azure waves.
Oliver laid back down resting his head against the mast. Somehow it was a lot more comfortable than his chair at work. He stared up at the sky and it stared back him with the same listless gaze.
Oliver spoke to a cloud: “Right about now, I’d be at work. Making spreadsheets, crunching numbers. Then I’d go home, enjoy a few moments rest. Before Shrill comes home and screams at me: “Oliver the living room’s a mess!” even though we both know it’s not that bad.
“Then Grumpy would come home. Not from school, from somewhere. I’d ask him how his day was he’d day: “Don’t talk to me Lazy-ass.” Then I’d eat some dinner I don’t like, go to my study contemplate suicide, and then go to bed.”
A warm sea breeze blew by.
“But this. Floating around in the middle of the ocean, with nowhere to go. This is a lot better than any of that.”
Oliver sighed. It wasn’t a sigh of exasperation or exhaustion. Rather, it was a sigh of contentment.
“The only thing that could make this better,” Oliver said.
“Was if I ended up on that island in the painting in my study. I imagine it’s some kind of paradise. I bet there’s a woman on that island. Would she be nice? Of course, she would.”
Oliver turned to his side to take a nap and noticed a small black object. He picked it up. It was a radio. Oliver reached for on switch. He didn’t expect it to work. After all, it was submerged in water for how long?
Oliver turned the radio on and fiddled with the dials. He heard static on some frequencies and broken voices on others.
“It works.”
“I can call for help!”
Oliver hung his head.
“I can call for help.”
He turned over to his back again and spoke with his cloud.
“So I have two options: I can die here. Or I can call for help and go back to my job, Shrill, and Grumpy. What would be the difference exactly? You can’t really call that living. Hating every second of every day from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to bed at night. If anything it’s worse than dying”
Oliver sat up.
“I hate my life. There’s no sugar coating it. Even so, as long as I live my awful life I’ll get to come back here.”
Oliver looked over at the sun setting on the horizon. He reached for the radio.
“Maybe it’s not so bad if I think about it that way.”
Shrill made Oliver get rid of the sail boat when he got back. It was a shame, it could have been repaired. For weeks Oliver quenched his thirst for the sea by going down to the beach after work. Walking along the shore wasn’t quite the same as drifting across the ocean, but he made do.
While walking barefoot along the shore, Oliver noticed a man carrying a small fishing boat. Oliver asked the man if he was planning on going fishing.
The man shook his head. “This boat’s no good for fishing. I’m getting rid of it.”
“Since you’re going to throw it away, mind if I take it?”
The man placed the boat down.
“Are you sure you want it? The only thing it’s good for is floating around.”
The “Incident” With Gakushu |Yandere Karma Akabane x Reader|Pt.1|
Quick Disclaimer+Trigger Warning: This story is meant for the purposes of entertainment and is in no way meant to romanticize violent behaviour or mental illnesses. This story also contains mentions of suicide so if that or any of the themes mentioned makes you uncomfortable I strongly suggest reading something else. Minor note: [Rea] = “Reader” which is you~
When most people wake up in the morning, there are certain things they expect and certain things they don’t. Normally, sitting across from a handsome, albeit rugged looking detective falls under the latter category.
But ever since what every other adult in [Rea]’s life refers to as “the incident with Gakushu”, normal lost its place in [Rea]’s life.
The detective sits across from [Rea], helps himself to some tea her mother set out. The look in his eye is stern and empty. Like he’s seen incidents like the one with Gakushu and others incidents far worse.
He speaks kindly to [Rea]. He tells her she’s not in trouble.
[Rea] knew that. She’s doesn’t do bad things—Nothing bad enough to warrant a visit from the police that is.
He also tells her what happened wasn’t her fault. He’s not the first one to tell her that. Even if he was that wouldn’t change the fact that it was [Rea]’s fault. Partly. Most of the blame, most of the blood is on certain red-headed devil hands.
And with any luck, [Rea] will make the detective see that too. After all, his entire occupation revolves around reading between the lines, and refusing to take things at face value. If anyone would believe the truth of what happened, it was him.
“What was your relationship with Gakushu?” The detective asks. He sets his cup down.
“He was my boyfriend.” She answers.
“So you two were...” he pauses as if searching for the right word.
“Close,” he finishes.
[Rea] nods.
“Did you notice any changes him his behaviour? Anything that Mae you think he might...”
“Kill himself?” [Rea] asks.
The detective nods. He grimaces
“No. Because Gakushu didn’t kill himself. He murdered him.”
[Rea] has expects the detective to spout the same crap she’s heard the best past few days.
Now, it can be hard for people to come to terms with this, but the healthy thing for you to do is accept it.
But he dosesn’t. In fact he’s wiped away his grimace and a look of intrigue takes its place.
“Who’s he?” He asks.
“Karma Akabane.” [Rea} shutters just saying his name leaves her with a foul taste in her mouth.
The detective takes another sip of tea.
“And Karma is?”
“A friend... or he used to be.”
“And this Karma broke into Gakushu’s home. Killed him and wrote a fake suicide note in Gakushu’s handwriting.”
“Far fetched. I know, but there’s no doubt in my mind. That’s what happened.”
“And what was Karma’s motive for killing Gakushu?”
{Rea} took a sip of her tea.
“For you to understand. I’ll have to start from the beginning.”
[Rea] and Karma. Best friends. Partners in Crime as one might say. They loved getting into all sorts of trouble together. Although, [Rea] noticed Karma’s violence streak. There were times an innocent prank turned into a bloody brawl at the drop of a hat. More over he seemed to enjoy inflecting pain on others. His lips twisted into a cruel smile and the glint in his eyes matched that of a rabid dog.
[Rea] found this disturbing but Karma never beat anyone up that bad and he always stooped his assault when [Rea] told him to.
Still, [Rea] knew his bloodlust would get him into trouble one day... and it did.
A nasty fight with anther student earned Karma a month long suspension and a one-way ticket to E-class.
This meant Karma and [Rea] couldn’t spend time together at school anymore. What with being in different classes and the unspoken rule: treat students of E-class like dirt.
[Rea] do that though. She never acted rude or snobby towards E-class students. Granted, she didn’t treat them nicely either. She adopted a “if I don’t bother them, they won’t bother me” attitude with that class and its students.
She planned on treating Karma the same way. Just at school though. They could still hang out and get into trouble outside of school just like they used to.
And that’s what they did when Karma’s suspension was up. Everything return to to its normal rhythm. Until one day when they were walking home [Rea] asked:
“Why did you beat that guy up? I mean you always beat people up, but you really did a number on him this time. What did he do?”
Karma looked back at her and smiled.
“I heard he had a crush on you. Can’t have that. You belong to me.” He said.
[Rea] felt a cold beat of sweat drip down her back, but she shook it off. Karma wasn’t a stranger to dark humour.
“Haha. Hilarious. Now tell me the real reason.”
Karma stopped walking and turned around.
“That was the real reason. I love you, [Rea]. The thought of you with anyone besides me drives me crazy—no it is crazy. Why would you be with some random loser when you’re meant to be with me and only me. After all unlike them, I’d do anything for you... anything to keep you by my side. Where you belong.”
Everything about the confession… from the dark look in Karma’s eye to the words he used to express his feelings made [Rea]’s blood run cold. She found it hard to want to still be Karma’s friend let alone date him.
“Karma...” she started.
“I’m sorry. I like someone else and... I’m sure he likes me to so...”
That wasn’t a lie. [Rea] always had eyes for the star of the school, Gakushu Asano. To say she was overjoyed when she overheard girls say that he might like her would be a gross understatement.
She never told Karma since she didn’t think he’d want to talk about girly things like crushes.
“Who...” Karma asked in a voice [Rea] never heard him use. Low, loud, and angry.
“Um...”
“Who’s the bastard trying to take you away from me!? Tell me so I can put him in his place!”
[Rea] stepped back.
“I just remembered... my mom wanted me to pick up a few things.” [Rea] lied. She stuttered and tripped on her own words. She barely understood herself.
“Oh... I’ll go with—”
“That’s okay.... you can go on ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow though.”
But tomorrow never came. For the next few months [Rea] avoided Karma like gang green. All his calls became voice mails she didn’t listen to. The walls of texts he sent went unanswered, and [Rea] took a later train home to avoid running into Karma.
She didn’t want to distance herself from him. For the longest time Karma was a person [Rea] felt safest around. Physically and emotionally. She showed of her brash, somewhat unappealing side without fear of judgment, and he’d have her back when they got into trouble. A knight in red armour.
But... after hearing what Karma would hurt someone, not in self-defence but over petty hearsay, rumours, hallway gossip. [Rea] didn’t feel safe around someone who could snap so easily.
She had to left him go... and that hurt him but it hurt her too.
It wasn’t all bad though. She had Gakushu.
He didn’t make [Rea] forget Karma, or replace him—no one could—but he soothed the aching loneliness in her heart. That was enough.
Intelligent, debonair, and a perfectionist Gakushu drove [Rea] to become the best version of herself. Focusing on herself helped [Rea] move on. Plus he had a secret sweet side he only showed around her. [Rea] loved that about him the most.
Everything seemed fine—not great but fine. That was enough for [Rea]... until the incident that is.
They found Gakushu dead in his room a few days before mid terms. A pool of his own blood surrounded him, and his hand a note addressed to all the important people in his life.
Cause of death: suicide.
“At least that’s what everyone thinks.” [Rea] says, finishing her story.
The detective nods
“Makes sense. Son of the principal of an elite private school... top of his class... maybe the pressure got to him and he scrambled for peace—a way out. And to him the only way out was...”
“Death.” [Rea] finished.
“Yes.”
The detective the rest of his tea and sets the cup down.
“But... I’m not convinced that’s true.” He says.
[Rea]’s eyes light up.
“You’re not?”
“Yes. Something about Gakushu’s death doesn’t set right with me. There’s also Karma’s history violent behaviour...Can I ask you a few more questions?”
[Rea] nods ready to tell him anything.
“I have a few more questions.”
“So, Karma disappeared and ceased all contact with you around the time Gauku dead, right”
[Rea] shakes her head.
“It’s true he’s disappeared, but he still contacts me...with letters.”
“What kind of letters?”
[Rea] hugs her shoulders as a her stomach twists in knots and her mouth goes dry.
“Sick letters.”
“I’ve taken them to the police, but without a return address they can’t figure out who sent them...that and they seem to think it’s a harmless prank.”
“Can I see them?”
[Rea] nods and goes off to her room to retrieve the few letters she didn’t throw away or burn. She wanted to get rid of them all, but she figured she keep a few for evidence.
The detective reads through the letters one by one. They’re short and violent. Phrases like: I’m going to smother you. I’ll cut anyone if it makes you love me. You love me. Keep popping up.
None of them are signed off with a name, but they all end with: I’m coming for you.
The detective grimaces. He holds his stomach like he’s about to throw up.
“These are sick...but they’ll help.”
“Thank you so much.” [Rea] says.
The detective rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Thank me when the case is solved.I’ll do what I can to keep you safe, cub.”
[Rea] tilts her head.
“Sorry...that’s what I call my daughter. You remind me of he
The detective stood up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card.
“If you notice anything that makes you uneasy or you see Karma anywhere call this number and I’ll send help right away.”
[Rea] thanked the detective, and he went on his way.
Knowing that there was someone who not only believed her, but was taking inactive to find Karma and make him pay for what he did gave [Rea] that same sense of safety she once had with Karma.
A short obituary. Next to the text a picture of the detective working on [Rea]’s case. Someone found him in his office with a hole in his head and brain matter splattered on the window behind him.
Cause of death: suicide.
Not surprising. His wife left him and took everything and his children refused to speak with him. That’s enough to make most mean look for comfort in the barrel of a gun.
[Rea] thinks the same thing at first, but her body temperature drops when she realized it might be Karma.
He kills himself a few days after he said he’d help me... this isn’t a tragic coincidence not it’s him.
[Rea] decides she’ll leave home that night. It’s not safe in town anymore. She has to go somewhere anywhere where he can’t find her.
She’s only finished packing her bag when she sees a piece of paper on her desk. [Rea]’s blood went cold as she reads it out loud.
“I’m not sure if I can forgive you for betraying me twice. Although, I might if you beg harder enough, but no promises. I’m coming for you be a good girl and wait for me.”
And that’s when it hit her.
He’s coming for me. Doesn’t matter who I go to for help or how far I try to run away... he’s coming for me. It’s only a matter of when... and all I can do hope he doesn’t kill me when he does.
A/N:Tbh I kind of feel like I copped out with the ending and I’m sorry I just didn’t have anymore creative energy to end it better. Too all you Gakushu lovers, sorry that he dies in this fic. But in my defence: nine times out of ten, if it involves a yandere there will be death.
