Yandere Bully x Bullied

Chapter 4:

He watched as you made your way through your house. Your hair was dripping wet from being in the shower, and your large t-shirt stuck to your perfectly curved body. You danced around in your underwear, your black headphones creating the perfect rhythm by blasting music. Your mother's car was gone, meaning she was off with another hookup. Kazuto watched your pale feet hit the tile as you carefully stepped back and forth, eating a sweet. He laughed quietly. You always had a sweet tooth, even when you were little. Memories flooded his mind, and he smiled at one in particular. You had taken a bite in a chocolate bar, and he snatched it quickly. You pouted.

“Kazzy! Give it back!” you whined.

He laughed. “Nu-uh! You’ll get fat!”

“Like you? Give it back!”

He laughed again and handed it back to you.

Of course, at that time, you were actually friends. What had changed? Well, he got older, and so did you. You didn’t fit in the same groups. He was a school athlete, and you were a music kid. While he played basketball, you would play the piano. You were different. His older friend, Ota, had started picking on you, so to fit it, Kazuto did too. He felt bad, but the moment he saw you making friends with a boy that played the violin, he became jealous. He had actually killed the kid, but buried him under a lake. Then, he viciously shoved you to the ground and screamed at you. It was a mistake to scream at her the way he did, the way your father did. But, he did, sending you back through emotional trauma. Ever since, he had delicious power. But there was a price. He forever broke friendship with you, leaving you all alone after he killed the only other friend you had. Why would he do that? Red hot jealousy. The violin kid had something he wanted; you.

He still watched you. Your beauty was beyond compare. Your hips rocked to the sounds coming from your headphones. He lifted his camera and took pictures. Of course, he had a plan for those pictures.

No, he would not spread them through school. You were his. He kept them in his room, looking at them and smiling, allowing himself to get lost in your eyes. A picture couldn’t capture your true beauty. However, they did enough until he got to see you the next day. Your name was written all over his room, your pictures taped to every wall. Even his ceiling. He was obsessed. A few pictures were of you biting into chocolate, or enjoying coffee, and some that were more private, those of you changing, of you dancing, of you playing the piano, of you sticking your tongue out for a silly photo. Of course, he had cut the other girl out. He remembered the date for every photo.

No, not that at a time like this. A time he would savor. He could taste your lips on his as you sang loudly to a foreign song. You spoke many languages, another thing that attracted boys to you like flies to a light. He stared in astonishment. Your hair clung to your face, the shirt slowly revealing your collarbone and shoulders. You took another bite of your food, and he snapped another picture. This time, he caught a perfect moment where you were leaning back, your right foot propped up like a flamingo, your collarbone showing, and you biting into a cupcake. He bit his lip and ran off.

He’ll leave you alone tomorrow, too.