in which choso, your impassive neighbour from downstairs, started to get involved in your life in a way that felt invasive (x f!reader) (part 3) poll winner: confront him over the attempted break-in
tw: yandere choso; his behaviour in this can be seen as problematic and hounding, he has issues with respecting our unspoken boundaries and he acts creepy during this chapter.
< previous part • start from the beginning
You stared at the space up ahead of you, the unmistakable sound of someone heavily breathing still echoing in your head. The earlier suspicion of Choso possibly being behind the unit gave you pause, because you did not wish for that to be the case, since if he was, then one of the two things had to be true:
That either he had been snooping around and was the one responsible for the mess you had come back home to, or he had seen exactly what happened, which meant he knew something you didn’t.
For whatever reason, however, neither explanation seemed to sit right with you. Somehow, you could not trust him to be the good guy in this situation when you had already felt so much wrong with him before.
You drew in a steadying breath, considering your options. Calling the police might be useless, because if whoever was still lurking around the corner was the aggressor, then you risked provocation. Then again, taking matters into your own hands felt just as bleak. You risked the person around the corner being volatile, but even so, perhaps from the adrenaline, your curiosity won out once more. It was better to confront what was just steps away from you than to wait for the problem to go away—knowing that it likely would not.
Slowly, you rounded the corner with your key held tight in between your knuckles—just in case—as you shakily popped your head around. Before you, there was nobody, but when you flicked your eyes down, your gaze settled over two white-knuckled hands curling over the ledge.
“Ch-Choso…?” you called out, your voice uncertain. It was a gamble.
You heard a breath of relief follow. “Oh, thank goodness, it’s you. Can you help me up?”
You scrambled for a moment before the words caught up to you. Adrenaline was definitely making you act erratically. You wanted to leave him dangling as you called the police, but the way he sounded thankful just then gave you pause.
“Of course,” you said. “I can try. I-I mean, I will try.”
You reached for him carefully, lowering yourself to your knees. Your hands found his own as they were straining against the rooftop, connecting, inviting him to hold desperately against you. His touch was warm, almost alarmingly so, forcing a deep breath of air to gulp down your throat. Despite the unease you felt, however, you threw your weight into the effort, even if it was obvious that your help did very little, and that it was he who put in the bulk of the work in getting himself back on solid ground.
“Are you okay?” you asked, taking a step back as soon as you were able to, unsure as to why you were still being so polite.
Choso collapsed onto his hands and knees, his palms biting into the rough surface of the roof. He forced himself to his feet a moment later, lowering his gaze towards you. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he panted, trying to catch his breath. “Better, now that you’re here.”
In a way, that response should have sounded reassuring because he was associating you as a friendly face when he needed help, but the feeling you had before still ate away at you. You took an uncertain step back once more, if anything, just to create a safe amount of distance between you both.
“I should probably call the police,” you suggested.
Choso took a step forward, eating up the space you tried to enforce. “No, that’s okay.”
His hand then extended towards you, perhaps as a gesture of reassurance, but you stumbled back a step before he could even reach you. Just as you nearly tripped over your own two feet, his eyes narrowed for a brief moment before he forced a neutral expression.
“Is something wrong?” he asked you.
You swallowed at the question, and for a moment, you couldn’t say much at all. Maybe it was Shoko’s voice replaying in your head, putting labels on things that you did not want to acknowledge. The part where he was acting like a stalker was something that crossed your mind maybe a dozen times since you had that one initial interaction with him. The way he treated you when you were drunk, the way your phone blew up when you didn’t come home, and now… this. It all felt so intentional and targeted.
“No reason,” you replied, turning the key over and over in your hand.
You considered your next step. Running towards your apartment was no longer something so viable, because he could definitely intercept you. If you made it inside, then he could easily get inside without much effort, especially with the broken lock. The thought made your breath come out as unsteady and shallow.
Choso watched you for that moment, registering the panic you had barely kept contained, and then, just in that same maddeningly soft way he approached you from the first night, he turned gentle rather than imposing. He took your trembling hands into his and led you back to your unit, guiding you with every step. The act made your stomach pool with dread, because even now, he was making the decision for you.
What was worse was when he sat you down on your bed once more, kneeling over by the busted lock, fixing it without saying a word.
You could only stare at him, trying and failing to piece together what was happening.
When he approached you, though, you straightened up, and he, too, stopped just short of when you tried to create distance again. He looked slightly offended at your apprehension, but then he covered his feelings with a warm smile.
“Ah, right,” he said softly. “I know that this probably doesn’t make look very good,” he added, softening his appearance to make him look harmless. “What happened was… I was trying to chase after someone who I saw messing with your door, but they were more athletic than me, and got away. While I… got myself into a potentially bad situation, nearly falling. It’s a bit embarrassing.”
You gulped thickly. “You tried to… chase after… them?”
Choso nodded, relieved to hear that his lie landed. “Yeah, that’s right,” he said, his voice low. “I’m very glad you turned up, actually. If I had taken that fall, I might have broken my arm or something.”
You nodded along, wanting so hard to believe him, but whatever doubt you had leftover kept on clawing at the back of your mind, forcing a question to slip out of you before you could stop it.
“Are you sure that it wasn’t you who did all of this in the first place?” you blurted out, letting the question hang in the air before coughing out a choked gasp of realisation. Your hand clapped over your mouth to silence yourself further, but it was already far too late.
Something changed in his expression, then, revealing a crack in the careful mask he had been wearing. He let out a short breath that might have been a laugh, but it was closer to a light scoff. The way he was behaving did very little to comfort you, and what was worse, he did not make an immediate effort to deny you. Instead, his gaze only seemed to deepen, fixing you with a look of intense yearning. God, how he wanted you to be close to him—especially right now, when the opportunity was right in front of him—but he forced himself to behave for now, and even then, only somewhat.
“Well, if I did do all of that,” he started, his voice shifting into something conversational. “Then what are you going to do about it?”
You opened your mouth to respond, but only hot air came out at first.
Then, finally, a choked sound left a second after. “C-call the police?” you asked.
“Oh, yeah. You could, but do you think I would let you?” he replied. “I could stop you very easily.”
A dry swallow went down your throat, your eyes darting around the room as you searched for a weapon. Just the keys alone would be enough.
Choso, too, caught onto your observation, mentally logging it that you wouldn’t go down without a fight, forcing himself to mellow before he risked scaring you further. He wanted to keep you where he could see you for a bit longer, if he could help it.
“But that’s okay,” he added after, his tone changing from charged to something almost kind, “because that wasn’t me. I know how it looks and sounds,” he went on, forcing a light laugh, “but it wasn’t. Why would I break my own windows?”
Your breath caught as you momentarily remembered the sight downstairs.
“Oh, right…” you mumbled. “I guess that would be silly of you to do…”
“Yeah, it would be,” he replied, lowering himself right beside you, looking up over where you sat.
You drew yourself back as he spoke, pressing yourself harder against the wall. Even now, you could not shake off the look he had on his face a second ago when the mask slipped. Your hands held on tight around the key, the metal biting into your skin, enough to leave intended bruises from the mounting fear that you felt, but not enough to break your skin just yet.
You thought of something else: if you were to make a break for it with all that you had, then Shoko’s place was an easier route for you to follow than to even think about where the police station was. It was a silly thought, considering how dire this situation potentially was, but you couldn’t think clearly. Hell, even the campus library could have been a viable option, considering that you needed a card to blip yourself into the building at all. The security on-site would probably keep him out, too.
“I’m sorry for accusing you,” you said carefully, keeping your tone as steady as you could, inching towards the edge of your bed as you prepared to push yourself up. “I guess I just feel a bit… claustrophobic. I think I need some air—some space to think—so I’m just going to go and—”
The moment that you tried to leave, however, Choso tensed up, even if his panic was kept under wraps. As soon as you moved, his hand shot out and closed over your wrist, pulling you back with a force that made your breath catch. He stopped himself only after, but by then, he was already so close that his mouth brushed over your ear, his breath warm, his intention to keep you where you were clear.
“You’re going to leave?” he asked, his voice faintly laced with warning.
You swallowed hard, keeping your hand clenched around the key. “Just to get some fresh air,” you repeated, keeping the part where you would bolt as soon as you could a secret.
For a moment, he seemed unable to let go. His grip stayed tight around your wrist, unintentionally hurting you from the pressure. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he murmured, drawing you closer until you could feel the heat of him. “What if the person who wanted to hurt you is still out there, waiting?”
Your heart jumped at the proximity, and it was then that you were almost certain he was the danger he had been referencing. Everything in your gut told you to put distance between you both and fast—just one sharp movement—one punch of the keys in your hands against his ribs. Maybe you could elbow him. Maybe you could kick him where it hurts, because he was definitely crossing a line right now. Your hand twitched around the keys as you stood frozen, caught between fear and the need to get away.
How does this go?:
You manage to tear out of his grip and make it outside at least.
Choso doesn’t let you leave, forcing you to stay, listen, and hear him out.
Next part >
