Warnings: Threat/violence, Gore, Mentions of sexual content (implicit), Death, Manipulation, Depictions of toxic relationships, Drugs and alcohol abuse, Domestic violence/abuse, Switches between the American and British spelling of certain words, Spoilers for the series 'Stranger Things'
!DISCLAIMER!
I do not condone any sort of Yandere behaviour, it's toxic and incredibly wrong. If you, or anyone you know, exhibit(s) this sort of behaviour - please contact a professional for help.
00. enter: steve "the hair" harrington
"—GET off him, Y/N!"
You blinked, puzzled. "Huh?"
A face—below you; beaten bloody and blue.
Arms—around you; tugging, pulling, yanking.
It took a few seconds to sink in, to register your surroundings and properly digest them.
You were straddling someone, legs thrown over their hips as you held them down with your weight. Your knuckles were red, speckled with the droplets running down their nose... their nose—oh god, their nose—it was crooked, bent in ways you hadn't ever thought were possible outside of movies; ways you hadn't ever wished to come across in the whole of your lifetime.
Did you do that?
Your brows were furrowed. Why were they furrowed? You didn't recall feeling angry before your afternoon nap—if anything, you were more relieved—so why now did you suddenly find yourself on top of this random teenager, who you never even once recalled spending a moment of your life with, while your fist was slathered in their blood?
"Jesus, I get that you hate him but there's no need to kill him!" That same voice from before piped up. "You'll get in some serious trouble."
What the hell was he on about?
There were so many more questions running rampant in your mind but the tugging sensation around your waist finally prevailed, pulling you straight out of your thoughts and, subsequently, straight off that boy.
"Y/N, c'mon. We gotta go before we get in deep shit."
Your head swerved around, finally allowing you to catch a glimpse of the guy who had both of his hands securely wrapped around your waist—albeit you did have to strain your neck a little.
He had brown locks that swooped over his scalp to rest perfectly against the top of his head—smooth and silky with a shimmering sheen coating their surface. It was a unique hairstyle, one that seemed way too... familiar for your liking.
"Ah shit."
His hand reached out, and it was only then that you truly realised how bloody your fingers were; when he grabbed ahold of them and pulled them closer to his face, consequently staining his own hand too.
"You're hurt."
His brows were furrowed and a heavy frown had tugged his lips down, making it appear as though he was concerned about you—but, how could that be possible when you had never once met him in your life? Or at least, you thought that to be so.
He dragged you inside a building, your feet bumping against the rough surface of concrete as you continued to lay limp in disbelief, bewilderment, and utter, utter confusion.
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