ℍ𝕦𝕤𝕜 [yandere x reader]

IV

Something about him made you so uneasy. Perhaps it was his stoic attitude, or the mystery wound residing upon his still-strong leg. Or maybe it was the milky, unblinking stare he rested over you as he waited for a response.

"Harlow." You stated simply, too uneasy to think of anything else to say.

"(Y/N)." He shrugged, confused as to where you were going with this.

"... Cool name?"

He raised an eyebrow, mouth agape a bit as the corner of his mouth raised up and twitched. Then, he laughed. Fairly quietly, however, as though he was still aware of the dangerous things that lurked in the ever approaching darkness. You forced a small chuckle, too, using the few awkward seconds to look around nervously.

"Thank you." He nodded and smiled. The gesture relaxed you considerably, especially after the previous tension experienced. "I'm glad you like it." Then, he turned around and continued to walk through the overgrowth. You followed silently, for the most part. As the sun finally set completely and left everything in shadows, you couldn't help but let out a sound as quietly as possible to yourself in order to make sure everything wasn't a dream. One of the most important rules you had taught yourself was to minimize going out at night. The lack of sun seemed to somehow increase the husk's activeness, and heighten their few remaining senses, though it was cliche. Not to mention, you could hardly see anything. Nighttime was just too dangerous. You kept your eyes locked upon Harlow's ghostly skin, entranced at how coordinated he seemed to move in the pitch black. You must have gotten yourself too entranced, however, as you soon felt tree roots and dirt hit your face as you tripped.

"Are you alright? You should really be more careful." Harlow came over and bent down to help you up, brushing your shoulders off and reaffirming the sting left by the cuts.

"You be careful! I can't see anything, and you're going so fast. Besides, I don't even know where you're leading me." You stood, balancing yourself on the tree root so that you stood slightly closer to his height. In the blackness, he threw a hand up to his face and sighed.

"Right. I apologize." Harlow spun in a half circle, so his back was to you. "Go into my bag."

You hesitated. "I beg your pardon?" He threw his hands out and let them swing down and hit his thighs.

"My bag. Go into it. It's alright."

Slowly, you unzipped the shockingly silent bag and pulled it open just a wee bit. You didn't stick your hand in- instead, you peered in, as if you somehow expected to be able to see a hidden trap within.

"Seriously, come on. It's alright- take it as me deciding to show you some trust, eh?" He quoted your earlier statement and turned his head slightly towards you. "Inner pocket, probably. There's no trap, I promise."

His affirmations calmed that fear you held, and so you felt around for the inner pocket. You had thought the bag to be relatively empty earlier, but now, as you let your fingers map the inside of the fabric, you realized the devious truth of the matter. Everything was attached to the walls of the bag with what felt like thin sewn in piece of felt, in order to give the bag an illusion of being empty and sunk-in on itself. While most of the items were unidentifiable or mediocre- rope, something tacky yet without residue, a small notebook and pen attached- many seemed to knives and sharp objects of different sorts. A familiar feeling blade- probably one of the same make and model of yours which had been stolen earlier- stayed held to the wall by a zipper. Carefully, you unzipped the inner pocket with one hand while slowly slipping the automatic knife out of its belt.

"I found it." You confirmed out-loud to him, hoping he wasn't suspicious.

"Good. You can use it." It? You cautiously pulled the cylindrical, metal object out of the inner pocket- along with the blade. Then, very quickly, you put the knife into your new jean's pocket, and zipped the bag back up for him. He turned around, and held his hand out, gesturing at the thing. You handed it to him without reluctance, scared of seeming nervous about the stolen item in your pocket.