Dear Hamlet | YANDERE!GOJO SATORU/READER

ONE: ANOTHER WORLD HIDDEN AWAY.

BOOM.

The door slams shut behind you as you stomp outside, angrily muttering curses under your breath as your mother's shouting echoed behind the door. You swore, she was like the Tower of Babel–everything she said became incomprehensible to you, as if she had discovered a new language just especially for you. Every word she said sounded backwards, as though she was turning it inside out to reverse its meaning, like a sock.

It wasn't always like this, though. Friction had been building up ever since that incident, and it never went away.

You refer to your father's mysterious death as 'that' to minimise it, to take it out of context, to isolate it because it was simply too painful for you to actually accept it. Now his presence was like a dotted outline in your family, to which your mother's new husband filled in poorly. It was like watching a toddler force a square into a triangle shaped hole. It simply didn't work that way.

You lean against the streetlight pole and cross your arms, sighing at the argument you had just had. It was just another pointless argument, but its potency was so venomous that even your step-father couldn't squeeze his way through. It was something about the dishes. Yes, it was something to do with the damn dishes.

You cross the road once the light turns green.

You enter your university campus with your hands stuffed in your hoodie pockets, flinching when the wind razed through your skin like a knife. It was a January morning, so that meant January lemons and apples, with the flavour of winter growing in their flesh. Full of snow and the days dreaming of sunlight.

Your backpack thumped against your back with every step you took towards the library. It was filled with your laptop and your books; typical English majors, with their annotated books and troubled home lives. You walk towards the doors to the library and you're met with a white-haired man leaning against the wall, whose bespectacled gaze meets yours.

"Ah, are you a student here?"

"Yeah, I am," You answer cautiously. "Why?"

"I'm looking for someone named (First name) (last name). You don't happen to be her, don't you?"

"That is actually me," You blink and take a step back when he kicks himself off the wall and walks towards you. "Is there something you need?"

"I know why your father died."

Those words freeze you solid. Your hands realise the January winters and curl into fists in their pockets, and your eyes glaze over with a newfound grief, though it's quickly replaced with curiosity, and albeit, a hint of insanity. You supposed that's how the begrieved felt: utter drowning sadness, with the crisp scent of madness.

You take a step closer to him. He lowers his sunglasses down his nose and stares at you with the bluest eyes you've ever seen on planet Earth. His eyes are framed with snowy lashes, resembling that of the sleet outside.

"Tell me."

"At-at," He wiggles his finger in front of you, and you resist the urge to grab it with your fist to stop it from wiggling. "A lot of context is needed. Follow me."

"How do I know you won't just take me to a warehouse and rape me until I died?" You challenge, and the man chuckles.

"Jagged words coming out of the pretty lady's mouth. What a world we live in," He says. "And you're right. You won't know. But I'll let you on this.

"Your father hid many things from you. An entire world, if I might add."

Your face scrunches up into a frown. "You're implying a mistress or something? Look, he wasn't the kind to cheat."

"Not at all, your father was a noble man."

"You knew him?"

"Of course! Us sorcerers are a minority. Everyone knows each other."

"What?" You echo blankly. The man winks, and brushes past your shoulder. "Hey, wait a moment!"

"I'll see you again, in the future. But until then," He takes his glasses off and smiles at you. "Keep an eye out for me."

You stare at his back as he disappears into the crowd of people. 

'What a weird guy.'