Upon the Gaze (Ghostface X Reader 18+)

CHAPTER 24 - To Be Deserving

I woke up to the feeling of warmth wrapped around me. When I opened my eyes to inspect the sensation, I saw an arm draped over me. I smiled placidly, as I recognized the scent of Ghostface. I rolled slightly towards him, and watched his sleeping face. We had been laying in my bed, talking about little things, simple things.
He had asked me why I didn't pursue art more as a career, making me feel flattered when he told me I was a talented artist. I explained to him that art to me was more of a hobby, rather than something I felt I could make a career out of. That if it became a career, I was worried it would take the fun out of it. I asked him a couple of questions, pertaining to his own hobbies. I asked hesitantly about his interest in photography. He seemed to know I was edging on the curiousness of his more gruesome photography.
"It wasn't always about the victims." He stated at first. "I loved photography even before all of this. I used to photograph animals, and architecture. And people too, you know, living people. To me, it was always about capturing the moment, and the feeling." He explained. I listened intently, completely intrigued.
"I won't lie to you, I really do enjoy the sensation of killing people. I began photographing my victims to capture the sensations I got from each killing. To me it's comparable to your art work. I get creative with each new victim, and I'm prideful of my work, of course in a sick-twisted way." He laughed slightly explaining that last part. I simply continued to listen, trying not to make any expressions, trying to show him I wasn't judging him while he shared it.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a somewhat uncomfortable sensation with the way he talked about enjoying killing people, but it was fascinating at the same time, the way he compared it to artwork. I felt privileged to be able to have this moment, deep diving into the mind of a true killer. Hell, I could write a book about this, I thought.
His eyes wandered up to mine, and his hand came over to my own, interlocking our fingers.
"I'm a deranged, fucked up person, (Y/n)."
I didn't look away from his cerulean eyes, and gave his hand a squeeze.
"The world can be cruel, can't it? That's what you said to me the first night we met in my room. You and I both know that. I don't want to say I agree with what you do but...I don't disagree either. I tend to have a sort of...misanthropy about myself, I guess." I chuckled slightly at my own words.
"I didn't see a lot worth in living before you came around." I concluded. He smiled at me affectionately. "I don't know how I ended up with such an understanding person, especially with me being a serial killer and all." We both chuckled and I nodded. He unwound his fingers from mine and moved to caress my face. I moved in closer to him, and rolled so my back faced him. He spooned me and before long, we were both asleep.

I sighed peacefully, thinking about last night's exchange, and how he rested with me all throughout the night. I looked over at my clock, it was pretty early in the morning, 7:27 am. I could have laid there beside him forever, if it weren't for my phone ringing. I carefully, but quickly reached for it, silencing the ring, so not to disturb him. The call continued to buzz silently, and I carefully removed myself from his arms. I rose from the bed, and walked out to the hall, closing the door softly behind myself as I answered. It was my mother.

She ranted on about how she wanted- no, needed me to go to the hospital this very instant. I listened to her belittling as I sat at the kitchen table by the window, packing my cigarettes as I patted the box against my knee. She was leaving Denbrooke hospital now, and expected me to make time to see him today.
"Okay, okay mom. I get it. I have a life outside of babysitting the man though. He's got nurses and doctors watching over him, and I can't just drop everything to go see him. I'm barely getting by as it is! I can't skip work for this!" She interrupted me.
"-like hell you can't! Maybe if you would have kept your finances in order, you wouldn't have lost your job and your apartment in the city! Honestly, I may not have been around forever, but I know I raised you better than that when I was there!"
"-when the hell were you ever there!" I yelled over the phone. "You left me there with him! You left us both! And now you wanna pretend like you care!?" I shouted, slamming my hand on the table.
"Don't play pretend mom now like you're just picking up where you left off!"
She tried to retort, but I was set off and couldn't stop myself from releasing what felt like years of pent up rage.
"Why do you suddenly care so much now!? Are you guilty? Feel bad? And for what? Weren't you chasing your dreams when you abandoned your husband and child!?" I didn't even try to hold in my temper or keep the volume of my voice down. My words were filled with pain and anger. Sadly it wasn't entirely directed at her. Yes, I felt abandoned by her, but I felt more anger that she showed more care towards the man she had to run away from than the daughter that she brought into this world.
Suddenly, without a word she hung up on me.
"FUCK!" I yelled, jumping out of my chair and throwing my phone across the room. It hit the wall across from me and upon impact the screen shattered. I waverer back down into the seat, curling up into it. I held my head with one hand as my other arm loomed limply off my knee. I breathed a defeated sigh.
"Are you okay?" I jumped slightly at the voice, then looked up to see Ghostface in the doorway of the kitchen. I felt tears welling in my eyes, but I didn't want to worry him. I wanted to be perceived as strong.
"Sorry...did I wake you up?" I asked, tried to steady my rattled breathing.
"I was somewhat awake when you left the room. I came down after I heard you start to shout." He explained.
"Sorry, sorry..." I said, exasperated, looking down at the tiles of the kitchen floor, then to my shattered phone which I now regretted tossing across the room in such a way. He came over to me, and rubbed my back gently. "It'll be okay." He said softly.
I refused to look up at him, knowing that the tears I was trying so desperately to hold back would spill upon meeting his gaze.
He suddenly lifted me from the chair, and took the seat in my stead, sitting me down in his lap. "It's okay, I've got you." He spoke in an understanding and affectionate tone. Suddenly I couldn't hold back, and I was clinging onto his shirt as I cried. I buried my face into his shoulder, and he rubbed my back as I released the energy of the moment. 
After a while my emotions settled.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked.
I was silent for a moment. I shook my head as I lifted it from his shoulder. After another pause I said, "there's something I have to do today."