Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yoshi stood stock-still as she looked over the newsletter. She'd probably been staring down at it for a good ten minutes, clutched tightly in her fists and held taut since the moment she watched it land on her doorstep in wake of a local paper-boy, breezing past houses with less than a glance in either direction other than straight ahead. To her rabbits, she probably looked crazy now as she kept re-reading the same six words in the heading, but she didn't care. At least she lived alone at this point. Were rabbits even capable of judgement? Yoshi thinks she'd prefer not to consider that question, both for her sanity and for her dignity. It'd been a long day at work, anyway. Morning shifts sucked.

It wasn't often that a murder happened in her area - same small town, she guessed, sure, but it was certainly a tad jarring to see it was now the man across the street who she'd come to consider rather close. Was this her fault, she wondered, considering she'd been so obsessed with the mystery of the serial killer she'd kept reading in the news as of late? Perhaps she'd cursed the man… but, actually, to the same capacity at which Yoshi believed she may have indirectly pointed her neighbour to his fate, she also couldn't find it in herself to feel anything but exhilarated. Was that a weird thing? She scrutinised the title once more.

LV TIMES: RICARDO MEYERS FOUND DEAD IN HOME.

How could that happen? Should she be feeling something bad about this? At least some remorse, maybe? Not that she'd been the one to do it, but it's also not like they were strangers at all.

She'd already read through the article itself, a few times even - that is, if you could consider mere skimming to be 'reading through' something. Just to find a few key words, maybe. She'd mainly been trying to comprehend the name she saw in the title. They were close, she thinks. Yoshi had frequently spent time stressing over what exactly their relationship was; Ricardo was older by a few years, but it wasn't weird or anything. After all, Yoshi was 23, so that wasn't something she could judge. Ricardo was always super friendly to Yoshi since she'd moved into the neighbourhood, and she could never shake the feeling of mutual romantic interest. He would bring her gifts, and in return, she would feel obligated to spend more time with him, and something emerged. Sometimes, they'd kiss or do something more intimate, but other times, Ricardo seemed disinterested in Yoshi, and they fought just as often. Of course, he would make it up the next day, though, and Yoshi was back on her knees for the man, even if that meant the occasional need to wear some makeup either to appease him or to cover up his 'tough love'.

Yoshi shed a single, unwilling tear as she acknowledged their relationship to be questionable, but cringed as she realised she'd wiped it away using the same hand that'd been bruised a bracelet of purple-green since two nights before, blending into with her skin roughly. Whatever, nothing to think about now. Regardless, whatever was between them had died with Ricardo.

He'd apparently been stabbed exactly five times, with one being a fatal puncture through the heart, and a few excess slices across his body as though he'd put up quite a fight. Brutal. Definitely murder, the cops declared, but refused to share anything else. The only other thing of note among the story had been the presence of a single white rose at the crime scene; faded and shrivelled from dehydration, petals splotched brown where blood had dried. Clearly, it'd been plunged straight through Ricardo's heart using the opening created by the murder weapon previously, and Yoshi couldn't help but feel more interested in this fact than the death itself, blinking a few times to double-triple-check that she'd read that right. The MO resembled that of Lakeville's own White Rose Reaper a little too closely, hence the rose. Another brief skimming of paragraphs confirmed that the journalist at LV Times appeared to agree with this suspicion, too.

Yoshi had been practically obsessed with this killer in particular for the past month, ironically. Call her crazy all you will, but Lakeville was typically a sleepy little town, and a quirky serial killer apparently being one of the inhabitants was news to Yoshi - she'd never felt so endangered, it was almost quite exciting.

Okay, weird, yeah, but you can't blame a girl for fixating on something she's never encountered before with an undying intrigue - be it a funny looking reptile, or a homicidal maniac who could be peering through her window right now. Either would do, Yoshi decided. Turning on her heel, she made a beeline to her bedroom downstairs, opening the door with a single twist-and-push on the knob and making her way to the obnoxious cork board that clung to the wall right beside her vanity. With little hesitation, she swiftly tacked the article to the board with a thumbtack, subconsciously taking some care not to prick herself. Then, she stepped back to look it all over.

Yoshi had been collecting memorabilia on the White Rose Reaper since about a week into her infatuation. The cork board in her room was littered with newsletters regarding the 'White Rose Reaper' & their attacks on Lakeville, some printed photos she'd found that were presumed to have been involved with some of their crimes, and a sea of sticky-notes which held stray doodles and reminders, most of which had to do with the town murderer, while few were seemingly random. Oh, and to top it all off, stickers. Random, hip stickers were scattered anywhere a space couldn't be filled by something more relevant. Yoshi liked them; they seemed to brighten up the board compared to the greyscale articles, only decorated in the black ink of the printer from which they came. Holographic ones were clearly her favourite.

Beside the cork board was, of course, the vanity, which was really just a thick wooden desk with three drawers on either leg, six total, and a (currently tucked away) little cubby in between that rolled out from under the desk to become a pathetic shelf until Yoshi decided to put it back. The handles to each drawer were shaped like hearts, some locked in a crooked tilt due to reckless assembly, and some way looser than they should be. Above each handle was a short strip of masking tape applied by Yoshi, where a few had written labels such as 'art,' 'makeup,' 'MISC,' or 'tapes.' The last two were left blank, since Yoshi didn't need the extra storage just yet and couldn't figure out what to do with them in the meantime.

On her desk sat a pile of colourful hair-ties and funky, decorated scrunchies with the occasional toony hair clip, all neighbouring a small wire-mesh bucket holding a variety of ballpoint pens, pencils, and a novelty colour-changing pen that Yoshi had probably fished out of a gift shop at some point in her highschool years. Opposite the pile sat a fancy-looking perfume bottle capped with a translucent-pink rose, guarded by a small wooden statue of a crow, painted matte-black with white eyes that reflected the abyss. A mirror in the shape of a stylised rabbit's head hung on the wall just in front of the desk, officially seeing it as a makeshift vanity.

Yoshi pulled a wheeled office chair from under the desk and sat down, twisting and turning with it in a repeated swinging motion, left and right, left and right, before one final full spin that saw her scooting in towards her desk with a sigh. She reached then for her sketchbook; she didn't draw often, so to speak, but she mindlessly doodled often enough to have felt the need to buy one. With less hesitation, Yoshi started to scribble out some thoughts - generally speaking. How she felt, some nameless characters that seemed to form at the drop of a hat, her rabbits, et cetera. Notably, though, she would of course have also drawn the main thing on her mind; the White Rose Reaper. Her actually-quite-abusive-and-manipulative-boyfriend's killer. She wondered what he looked like. She? Why did they kill so frequently? Why did they kill? How was it they hadn't been caught yet? Would she be next?

…She wondered if the killer was someone she knew. If they had spoken to her and she'd let something about her relationship with Ricardo slip that made them act on her behalf. She wondered if the White Rose Reaper had some scars from any of their victims, or even from before they had victims. Was the White Rose Reaper a victim of someone's own? Would that someone be alive, still? Maybe 'the White Rose Reaper' is a lot to say, to think, Yoshi declared to herself, she'd shorten it… 'Rose'? 'Rosy'? That was an awfully cute nickname for a brutal serial killer. Why did they have to pick Roses of all things? Yoshi made a mental note to look for an encyclopaedia on different flowers and potentially, if roses have meaning, as she stretched her arms. She furrowed her brows as she looked down to see a full page of characters, mostly involving some variant of a rose incorporated haphazardly into each design, elements of the grim reaper in their clothing. How long had she been sitting here, drawing this?

She stood up and closed the sketchbook, not bothering to put the pencil back in the cup as she got ready for bed.

Yoshi crept through the brush, her heart pounding. Her peripherals were obscured with a blur of red, like her heart was beating through her eyes with terror. A shrill scream rang out through her ears suddenly - another survivor had been caught. Which survivor, she couldn't discern from the shriek in itself. All she knew was the adrenaline coursing through her veins and the intense feeling as she swore she could see the silhouette of her comrade a mile away through the buildings, obstacles and trees, and beyond her view, like they were highlighted a dangerous orange for her to come find them. She held her breath as she watched the silhouette get picked up by an unseen force - the killer, she knew immediately - and carried into the distance. When they disappeared, she swiftly snuck her way to the nearest generator. Hopefully someone else could save them, but she was determined to escape.

After only about 30 seconds or so of tinkering with old wires and rusted cogs, another, even fiercer shriek, sounded from the same direction she'd seen the survivor be carried. She cringed, but continued to focus on repairing the generator beneath her quietly. She couldn't ignore the chill down her spine as she watched her own hands deftly snap wires matching in colour to one-another despite her lack in experience with this entire situation. She had no time to question it, though, when the light hanging over the generator lit up with a mechanical hum that signalled accomplishment. She got up to move towards the next generator, but was instantly met with a masked figure only inches from her face when she turned, watching almost inquisitively until she had spotted them. Yoshi jumped with a squeak as the figure - who she didn't recognise was reminiscent of her drawing - grabbed her wrist with a muffled, androgynous chuckle.

Yoshi breathed in and out rapidly with panic, struggling to free her hand from the killer's strong, leather grasp. Seemingly unphased, the shrouded figure continued to pull Yoshi towards what was probably a hook with alarming strength. Yoshi finally snapped her hand away from the killer's, breaking into a sprint and ignoring the irritated grunt that sounded behind her before a soft rustling that couldn't possibly be footsteps followed her. She knew it was above her, but she didn't dare stop to check as she headed towards anywhere else. She would only stop at the sight of a hatch in the ground, opened and spewing a mysterious black fog.

Before Yoshi could jump in and quickly escape, though, she was tackled to the ground, rougher this time and knocking the air out of her swiftly. The killer chuckled darkly, kneeling on her back and effectively pinning her down. "Guess I got the drop on you… even though you tried to run from me, how mean." Yoshi could only weep from a horrible mix of fear, stress, and exertion then - unable to acknowledge the masked killer's pun, the black feathers that trailed around the two, and the massive, titian-red-dipped tendril of a black spider firmly slamming Yoshi's only escape shut, before her vision went black.

Yoshi awoke rather slowly, struggling to process that she'd had yet another dream involving death. She knew it was a recurring dream, and she was used to it, but it always managed to startle her when she woke up unscathed. She heaved a sigh and rose slowly, hopping into the shower and getting dressed and ready to leave; it was Saturday, so she had the last shift of the week. Starting at noon, and ending at midnight. Of course, it's still morning, but Yoshi had knowingly allowed herself an extra hour of sleep, now leaving her roughly two hours to spend on her morning routine before she had to be at the diner. Once she'd checked that her rabbits, Chestnut and Pebbles, still had a sustainable amount of food, water, and hay for the day, she decided she'd take a short walk - not before lending a soft pat to the heads of either mammal. The girl slipped on a cardigan, opened her front door, stepped out, and…

Nevermind, it seems that wouldn't be her choice to make today. Not yet.

The moment Yoshi stepped into the chilly autumn air, she was approached by one of the local news outlets, who appeared to have a team parked in a van nearby, on the side of the road. Yoshi grimaced with only a brief moment to prepare for the questions she knew were coming as a reporter wielding a microphone leaned forward, determined glint in her eyes and a man holding a thin, folded slip of paper and pen in tow. "Hi, Weston White with 'Lakeville's Hottest'," she started quickly, "What's your name, ma'am?"

"Uh, Yoshi- Yoshigue García." Yoshi internally facepalmed over her stuttering, as though she didn't know her own name. Yikes.

"Yoshigue García! Are you aware of what happened just across the street? Your neighbour, Ricardo Meyers, has been brutally murdered - have you heard?"

"Yes, yeah, I have heard," she mimicked unknowingly, "of course; he was my neighbour. The paper came in yesterday, I read."

The reporter shifted slightly, though her expression didn't falter. At the mention of a paper having already been delivered, Yoshi guessed. The man behind her noisily jotted down her answers as though they were anything interesting. "And what was your relationship with Meyers? Were you friends, acquainted…?" Weston White suggested, not turning to check whether her assistant was getting this when she trailed off.

"Yeah. We were… we were friends." Yoshi debated on revealing the full truth. This was a random, probably money-hungry, newspaper reporter, not a therapist. "Quite close, I'd say. I'd invite him over for tea. He would, uh- he was a… gentleman."

"Oh? So you were pretty close, okay. How are you feeling about this?" Yoshi hesitated. "Sad," she stated simply. "I… I'm sad, we were friends, yes - I don't know how I feel, really. A lot to process." It was only half of a lie. Weston White patted her on the shoulder sympathetically, though it was nothing Yoshi felt was necessary to look into. There was no meaning behind it, nothing friendly, nothing condescending, it was just a basic action in response to Yoshi's words that probably wanted her to say more.

"I- this is anonymous, right? I don't know if I feel comfortable being in the paper."

"Sure, sweetie…" The reporter and her journalist left it at that, and Yoshi took it as a means of escape. Thank god it was so brief. That was incredibly uncomfortable, for an interview. If that's what that was supposed to be.

Yoshi remembered her plan to look up floral symbolism and promptly made her way to the bookstore instead. It was a quieter walk, save for the crunching of auburn leaves beneath the soft clicking sounds of her boots per footstep. Occasionally she'd hear the chittering of squirrels or somebody walking their dog, maybe talking to someone on the way. It was about 8 minutes, more or less, before she stood in front of the quaint bookstore-slash-library she had been looking for.

The familiar chirp of the overhead doorbell sounded as she stepped in, closing the glass door behind her gently. She glanced around. The librarians looked anxious, somewhat. Antsy might be a better suited word for one of them. Probably the murder. Yoshi waved to them silently and began to roam the aisles between the bookshelves. As she searched through each book that had anything remotely related to flowers on the spine, lifting them out and studying them before carefully setting them back with a soft click of her tongue when it wasn't what she was looking for, Yoshi realised just how ridiculous what she was doing was. She was a grown woman now, who had about an hour before work, and she was currently looking for the meaning of a specifically coloured, specific type of flower in folklore. Like a sort of lovesick teenager searching for material to grasp onto in their dreams. She scoffed and continued looking with less luck. Yoshi does what Yoshi wants to do. You should know this by now, rude inner-voice.

Finally, she picked up a curious book. 'Flower Language 101,' read the title, by what author she didn't care. She briefly skimmed a few pages, including the Table of Contents, and finally decided this was what she was looking for. Roses and their colours were involved, and that was really all Yoshi needed to come to this decision. She snapped the book closed, and practically skipped her way to the front desk, choosing to ignore the few faces she felt look up to investigate the sudden movement in the corners of their eyes.

She also made a point to ignore the embarrassment that rose to her cheeks as the librarian seemed to give her a certain look when she presented the book she'd chosen to check out. Who cares, she was a curious woman, and she'd satiate that curiosity however she liked. She walked the rest of the way to work, seeing little time to go back home for her car. Around 30 minutes, and she needed time to set up behind her counter.

At Mama Joy's Diner, she made her way to the back room to set her bag down with a sigh, finally placing the book inside. When she felt eyes on her, she looked up to find nothing at all, just a few others walking around to get their things ready for the shift they'd be sharing, and a single stray coworker - someone she didn't recognise, considering their different shifts - clocking out of their morning shift. Yoshi furrowed her brows a little bit, but got up and brushed it off as she hung her frilled red apron over her neck, tying a bow at the back. She clipped on her nametag, and put her hair up and under a bandana.

The evening was typical; she would take turns with her coworkers working in the kitchen, waiting customers, and manning the counter. At break, she overheard Jason and Sherry discussing the very crime across from her house. She wasn't at all shocked; this was to be expected any time something like this happened, whether or not it made the papers. As usual, she sat close by, occasionally chiming in with information or commentary as she sipped on the fountain drink she'd grabbed herself from the kitchen - a benefit of working at the diner. Sherry and Jason were twins, the grandchildren of Mama Joy herself. She'd founded it as a family business, but it was very small, so they'd needed to hire outsiders to help with traffic and such - like Yoshi.

Sherry was the older twin. She was friendly, and liked to gossip with her brother, who seemed to take an interest in dramatic theatre despite his occupation. The two were dark-skinned, dirty-blond and freckled, with deep brown eyes and similarly short, curly hairstyles which framed their near-identical faces. Their height difference was virtually their only visual difference, Jason practically a comical foot taller than his sister. They welcomed any new worker to the family with open arms, and Jason was enthusiastic as he trained newcomers. Yoshi had made quick friends with the two from the moment she applied, and felt at home with their company; like they were her fun cousins.

With the discussion of Ricardo Meyers' death during today's break, Sherry mentioned Yoshi's situationship with him.

Naturally, Yoshi had talked to the twins about it in the past. Why wouldn't she? The two loved gossip, and were all ears when Yoshi needed to vent about it, given their closeness. Jason would give insightful theories on Ricardo's motives, or console Yoshi's hurt, and Sherry would advise her next approach to their interactions while blatantly trash-talking Ricardo's behaviour to comfort Yoshi in her own way. Though their means of helping Yoshi didn't always work out, the two had her best interest in mind, and never failed to comfort her regardless.

Their other worker, (who Yoshi hadn't been close enough to properly greet yet, but had acknowledged had 'Erin' written lazily on their nametag,) seemed to metaphorically perk an ear upon Sherry asking Yoshi about how she was feeling in regards to the man's passing. "You knew him?" She asked, bold with surprise despite her otherwise generally shy (see: 'antisocial') nature. Yoshi nodded, and Erin scooted closer to the group with interest as the twins made their own comments in response to the newcomer.

Erin was a few inches taller than Yoshi - enough to be noticable if they were to stand side-by-side. The twins had made this apparent on Yoshi's first day at the diner, when Erin had welcomed her with a brief handshake which, with their proximity, saw an almost comical sight: Erin peering down at a nervous Yoshigue, who herself was straining to look up at Erin. Sherry in particular made a point to laugh up the height difference any time the two were within 10 feet of each other and in her line of sight. Erin's hair was long and dark, curtaining her face to accommodate her reclusive nature. Her eyes were something seafoamish, pointed in the outer corners where her lashes were thicker. Despite her distancing from the rest of them when she could help it, Erin was notoriously the crew's appointed heavy-lifter, ever since it was established that she was the strongest. How, Yoshi wasn't sure; she wasn't here at the time that it happened.

Erin tilted her head silently, cuing for Yoshi to elaborate, and she seemed increasingly intrigued when Yoshi explained her story, the twins chipping in with any information she'd missed or cracking jokes at Ricardo's expense. He truly wouldn't get a moment of peace after death, grim as it was, but the two had been able to easily rope Erin in to help convince Yoshi that the man's death was deserved; it was fate, karma. He had it coming. Yoshi concluded that she wouldn't mind thinking that way after all, because she knew first-hand that it was all true.

That night, about five or so minutes after closing, Erin approached Yoshi, already having packed up and ready to leave, though it seemed something else was on her mind. Yoshi glanced up to reveal the figure that she'd felt in her peripherals. "Hey," she greeted simply.

"Hey," Erin parroted, only her lower pitch determining the difference between their mirrored words. "You alright, there?" She tilted her head again.

"Yeah, just, uh, putting things away. Y'know." Yoshi cringed inwardly. "Why?"

"Nothin'... you seemed a little on edge earlier, at break. When we were talking about Meyers."

"It's just.. a lot. He sucked, but still. Just a lot to process and think about. Part of me wonders whether I'm next," Yoshi joked lightly.

"I doubt it, that Reaper seems to have a specific criteria for its victims," Erin commented anyway. Yoshi couldn't read her expression, but her words excited her. "You're interested in the White Rose Reaper?"

Erin's eyes seemed to widen, if only a little. "Interested? Not necessarily, I just think it's… I don't know, I like thinking about it, is all. Like trying to solve a horror movie." "Me too!"

Erin relaxed again, though the difference was just as subtle as the previous change; Yoshi wasn't observant nor lucid enough to notice such; it was so late already. "Really?" With Erin's natural intonation, it didn't sound so much like a question more than it did a statement.

"Yeah, I've even got a whole cheesy 'detective board' in my room. Minus the crazy red strings tying everything together… more like I'm just archiving events about them, now that I think about it." Yoshi severed their eye contact, finally, out of embarrassment. Erin chuckled, though. "That's cool."

"Would you want my number? We could discuss the White Rose Reaper together."

Yoshi breathed in; just grateful that Erin didn't think she was suspicious for being obsessed with a literal serial killer - not that she said such a thing, though. "Of course, I- actually, I can just give you mine, so I don't forget."

After Yoshi calmly jotted down her cell number and home phone on a torn slip of paper, courtesy of a miscellaneous notebook from Erin's bag, she slipped it to the latter and the two said their goodbyes. The smoothness of Erin's method in getting her number paired with the smile she gave as the two locked up and left - the last ones in the diner - was not lost on Yoshi. Rather, it was something she'd leave for dream-Yoshi to over-analyse.

When Yoshi returned home, it was 30 minutes past midnight. She simply changed clothes and went to bed.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Yoshi came to when Chestnut started rapidly digging at her chest. Though nonverbal, annoyance was clear in his actions after Yoshi had apparently ignored his previous attempts to wake her. Before she could ask the rabbit what his problem was, she registered the distant, shrill ringing of her cellphone on its charger. Shit, poor thing, Yoshi thought, instantly rising to her feet, must be hurting their ears. As if to prove this point, Pebbles was curled up against a far corner, paws wiping harshly at her harlequin ears. Yoshi sleepily picked up the phone. "Hello?"

A staticky voice tickled her ear. "Hello. Is this Yoshi?"

"Speaking. Who's this?" Yoshi responded simply, still too languid to be able to try and discern the disembodied voice over the phone. There was only quiet static for a few seconds, and Yoshi almost thought she'd been hung up on before the voice came back, gravelly and nearly menacing.

"The Reaper."

She all but clenched her jaw. "...what?"

A dark chuckle came from the other line, and Yoshi couldn't help but look over her shoulder. Didn't Erin say she was unlikely to be a victim to the White Rose Reaper at all? She felt the worried nudge of a rabbit at her feet, a silent question: "what's wrong?"

A loud crunch and a devious, lighthearted snicker interrupted her thoughts. "Gotcha," the voice sing-songed, now apparently munching on something. Yoshi, previously frightened into lucidity, now easily determined this voice- "Just me, Erin." Yoshi heaved a sigh; of exasperation or relief, who knew. Perhaps both.

"You scared me, oh my god!" Erin only laughed in response, muffled over the shaky static of the cell phone, and Yoshi couldn't help the corners of her lips which twitched into a little smile. She rolled her eyes as though Erin could see. "I give you my number and this is the first thing you think to do? A scary prank-call?"

"Hey, I couldn't resist! It's your fault for not recognising me at first."

"I just woke up!"

"Not my problem!"

The two were bantering between handfuls of laughter now. Pebbles cocked her head at Yoshi's feet before nonchalantly hopping away with the decision that all was well. Yoshi rubbed the remaining sleep from her eyes with a smirk. "Geez. Okay, what d'ya want?"

"Right. I was gonna ask if you wanted to grab some bubble tea together later. Just… have a chat, just 'cuz." Erin paused to take another bite. "We could talk about whatever, doesn't matter, I'm just bored and lonely."

Yoshi sniggered. "I don't know what bubble tea is, but sure. Sounds fun… also, what the hell are you eating? It's so loud!"

"OH, you can hear that? Crisps. Didn't realise you could hear me eating, sorry." Erin apologised, probably somewhat embarrassed.

"What kind?" Yoshi asked dumbly. It didn't matter, nor did she care. She wasn't sure why she even asked, actually.

"Uh…" There was some shuffling and crinkling on the other line. "...Doritos, Cool Ranch." Yoshi hummed at this. "Also: you don't know what bubble tea is!?" Now, she was laughing - partly because of the delay before Erin responded to the comment she'd made about not knowing, and partly out of something akin to shame. She'd never heard of 'bubble tea,' could you blame her?

"Oh my god, are you serious? DUDE, I- You have to. It's this new thing, they-" Erin seemed frantic in her explanation, pausing to collect her words so as not to trip over them all. "There's a new cafe dedicated to the stuff, just opened up a month ago. Really good. You have to try it."

Yoshi reassured her. "I already said yes, ya dingus - no need to try and convince me. What time's good for you?" She could hear a quiet, embarrassed chuckle. "How's 12 sound?"

"Perfect, I'll be out of the shower and ready at 12, then," Yoshi hummed back. "What's the address?" She could practically hear Erin's grin:

"'Wick's Tea.' It's by Oxford and Salt Crest, across from the car dealership and McRonald's. Should have a giant cup on it with a little cat's face; can't miss it, if you're looking."

Yoshi clicked her tongue. "Am I gonna need to write this down?"

"You tell me."

A few hours later, Yoshi was out and about, searching for Erin's bubble tea place. She had chosen to wear a four-tone chequered skirt and a layered t-shirt, accompanied by some leg warmers that sat comfortably over her shin-boots. It was quite a walk, but she'd made it, bag in hand.

Sure enough, it was a small and pastellish building, with a most notable big sign resembling a take-away cup of coffee (or was it tea?) with a rounded cap - decorated with two triangular ears and a friendly little cat face. Over the front of the design read "WICK'S" in big letters. There were windows all around the front of the store, from which Yoshi could see a comfortable, inviting interior. It comprised colourful minimalistic wall designs, long, leafy, sometimes flowering plants, and a few bean bags that sat by the walls.

When she entered the building, Yoshi was greeted by the man at the counter as though it were customary, and she couldn't fight waving back. She glanced around and was met with the sight of Erin, quietly making big gestures that could only signal things like "over here," and "look at me!" Yoshi obliged, taking a seat across from the eager woman. She was beginning to doubt her previous assumptions that Erin was a wallflower type. Definitely not a shy person, she decided, just antisocial.

"Hi! I'm glad you came," Erin told her with an infectious grin. "Likewise," Yoshi responded. She filled in the upcoming silence quickly. "I brought my bag, I was going to look at some stuff on my own time regarding Rosy, but figured you might want to look, too."

"Ah, sounds good." After a beat, Erin quirked a brow back at Yoshi. "'Rosy?'" Yoshi's heart just about sank to her feet. "Uh, the Reaper. The White Rose Reaper, I thought I'd call them something like that, just for short. More convenient…" She trailed off. Erin cackled. "Alrighty then, Rosy it is, I guess. That's so funny - pet-naming a serial killer."

"It's not 'pet-naming!' Really, just convenience-reasons!" Yoshi sounded incredibly stupid. "...or something."

"You're red."

"You caught me off-guard!"

"That's what they all say." Who all, exactly? "Anyway, what do you want? Here's the menu, so you know. Pretty fun stuff," Erin supplied, handing Yoshi a small, colourful pamphlet. Yoshi was silently thankful for the 'out'. "If you want, I can give some recommendations, I've basically tried it all."

"What are 'poppings?'" Yoshi asked after a few seconds, eyes flitting over different options on the menu. The bottom of the paper offered different flavours of 'poppings' to add to your drink, for an extra dollar. "Poppings?" Erin echoed dumbly, gears rotating slowly in her bright eyes. "Oh, poppings. Yeah, those are the little tapioca balls you add to your tea that make it 'bubble tea'. Otherwise, it's just milk tea… assuming that's what you get. You don't have to, but I'm pretty sure poppings only go with milk tea specifically." Yoshi looked up at Erin, whose focus seemed to have drifted to the blinds. strung together at the top of the windows next to their booth. She cracked a smile.

"I don't understand a word you just said."

Erin's eyes ticked to face Yoshi first, pupils constricting like they were scanning her very being, before her head twisted back to look at Yoshi. Then, she tilted her head to one side, which Yoshi now noticed seemed to be a habit for Erin. There was something almost autonomous about her actions that reminded Yoshi of a bird. She couldn't decide whether it was endearing or unsettling. "Just try them," Erin responded calmly.

"Have you figured out what you want yet?" Yoshi's finger twitched at this.

"Crap, sorry, did you want it back? I've been hogging it, I suppose."

"No, no worries. You gave me enough time to figure it out before you got here," Erin stated, not without a lighthearted jab, "...slowpoke." Yoshi rolled her eyes and looked down at the paper in her hands again, decidedly not responding. "Alright, then. Gimme a sec." Erin nodded and leaned back, tapping her nails on the cold marble of the table in front of her.

After a few seconds, not wanting to make Erin wait any longer given her apparent restlessness, Yoshi decided to try a strawberry milk tea with mango poppings. Erin hummed a noise of approval at her choice, and they ordered their drinks at the counter together before sitting back down at their booth to wait.

"So, what was it that you said you were looking into? About your 'Rosy'?"

Yoshi chose to ignore the teasing remark, instead unzipping her bag and pulling out the book she'd checked out yesterday. "Right, so the other day I was thinking about Rosy - yes, we're leaning into that name, since you wouldn't shut up about it - and it crossed my mind that I had no idea why they're called the White Rose Reaper. Like, yeah, they leave white roses at the crime scenes, but why? Why roses? Why white roses? It's gotta mean something, right?"

Erin's face reflected amusement when her eyes took in the cover of the book Yoshi just pulled out. "'Flower Language 101?'" Yoshi slammed the book into her own face. "It's all I could bother to find," she muttered. Erin sighed and released the smug look she held previously. "Well, that's interesting. You're the only person I've seen that bothered to think about that. The meaning of the roses, I mean."

Yoshi tilted the book back, looking up at Erin again. "Really? That's shocking, if you're not just saying that to raise my morale."

"I'm not. But then again, I don't talk to people, I usually only listen."

"Well, I'm honoured you're talking to me, then." A scoff.

The two were briefly interrupted when someone at the counter called out their orders, side-by-side - Erin offering to collect them while Yoshi looked for an entry on roses. She flipped through pages until the number in the corner matched what she'd seen on the table of contents, praying internally that there would be different things based on colours. To her luck, there were.

Red - love.

Yellow - friendship.

Black - mourning.

Purple - passion.

"'White - innocence?' That doesn't feel right," Yoshi read aloud. Erin slid a tall, pink drink filled halfway with orange balls. It made sense, 'bubble' tea. Plunging a firm, plastic straw through the film atop her cup, Erin cocked a brow. "Is that it? Really?Does it say anything else?"

Yoshi glanced at Erin, then back at the book. "Uh, not really… 'first love,' I guess, but that's no good either. It also mentions 'cream' roses, which could be the same thing, but it says they mean 'charm or thoughtfulness,' and neither of those make sense here."

Erin took a sip as Yoshi set the book down, mirroring her actions. "This is good," the latter hummed. Erin nodded with a smile. "Glad you like it. I think it's wonderful, I've been a regular since day three." She spun the book around to face her, skimming over some of the notes and pictures. "Yeah, weird," she commented.

"You know what I think, though?" Erin made eye contact with Yoshi, and she leaned in to listen. "Where my family's from, white flowers, in general, mean death. If someone is dead, and a white flower is placed somewhere only they specifically frequent, it means a sort of 'rest in peace.' Likewise, if someone was still alive, and you did that, it'd be like telling them you want them dead. I think the message of innocence is kinda interesting, though - it's possible."

Yoshi's eyes widened. "That's really interesting. I didn't know that," she gaped, snapping Erin out of a zone she didn't know she'd fallen into. The other chuckled. "Why do you think that about the innocence thing? Seems probably the most unrelated out of these," she questioned.

Erin tilted her head. "Well, it could be sarcastic or something. The thing about the White Rose Reaper is, none of their victims are truly innocent. Usually there's something about them that makes them a bad person; like Ricardo." Yoshi shifted in her seat with interest.

"How do you know, though? About the victims - other than him, of course."

"Easy to look them up. Else, overhear conversations from others about them, see what you can find out. Again, like I did with Ricardo. Just sit around and someone's bound to talk about the death of someone they knew, or knew of. Have you tried it at all?"

Yoshi shrugged. "Never thought of it, I guess. So, you just stalk people, then?" She joked.

"Kinda. Maybe. More like people-watching. Or eavesdropping. I promise it's not as weird as it sounds."

Yoshi laughed, but then shuddered. "How much have you heard? About me, do I overshare? Geez, now I'm self-conscious." Erin smirked. "Benefits to be friends with prying coworkers, Yosh." "Dude, so cryptic!" They shared a laugh.

"I guess I'll have to watch myself around you, then," Yoshi added. Erin hummed in response and took a sip of her bubble tea. There was a comfortable, thoughtful silence that followed.

Meanwhile, Yoshi had learned some things of her own about Erin. She was observant, quiet, but not shy. She habitually tilted her head like a curious crow, and she enjoyed bubble tea. She was awake in the early hours of the morning, apparently, which was somewhat disturbing considering the fact that she also had to be up until midnight for work. Actually, maybe she didn't sleep at all.

Given their proximity, Yoshi suddenly understood Erin's strength. On top of her height, her shoulders were broad, and sort of muscular, now that Yoshi was looking. She watched as Erin's left hand - there's another thing, she's left handed - flexed when she picked up her drink, or pinched her straw. The way her triceps seemed to cling to her skin firmly, like they wanted to show off their shape. Yoshi caught herself when her mind wandered to the concept of Erin's abs, and their visibility.

"-Earth to Yoshi, ya good? Got a thing for hands or something?" Yoshi all but choked on her bubble tea - worse yet, she'd also just sucked up a tapioca ball. The world never fails to doom her with its sadistic sense of humour. "You're all red again. Bingo?" Damn this smug bastard.

Spluttering and bright red, Yoshi desperately clears her throat to dispute the claim as soon as humanly possible. Erin sits back again to watch, crossing her arms, and her visible muscles aren't making it much easier for poor Yoshi. "NO! I wasn't even looking at your hands, I-" Yoshi wasn't sure what to say here, honestly.

"You were staring. Hey, I'm not judging, doesn't matter. I won't tell anyone-"

"I don't like hands. I don't have 'a thing' for hands. I was just spacing out and my eyes happened to wander…er, to your hands, I guess." Yoshi stated, frantically. Erin was on the verge of laughing her ass off, and Yoshi was fuming.

"I'm just joking, why're you getting all defensive on me?" Yoshi lightly punched Erin in the arm. "Stop," she demanded simply, a flustered grin on her face. If Erin tensed up at the contact, it was so brief that it was practically unnoticeable. Nonetheless, Erin playfully raised her hands in surrender.

Desperate to change the subject, Yoshi sat up straight and spoke again. "So, uh… what are your hobbies?"

Erin put her arms to rest around her tea and quirked a brow, amusement unrelenting in her smug grin.

"Oh, come on. You wanted to talk, I'm talking! We can maybe get to know each other in the process, no?" Yoshi grasped. Thankfully, Erin indulged her this time, taking another sip.

"I like… watching horror movies, I guess. Anything horror, I'm obsessed with." Yoshi smirked again, her face gently shifting back to its natural brown tone. "Go figure." Erin tittered at this through her straw. "What's your favourite horror movie, then?," Yoshi added. As though Erin had been waiting for this exact question all her life, her eyes sparkling and wide, she held up a single digit as she gulped down her matcha milk tea. Then, she responded.

"Alright, I've got two answers for you. Which do you want to hear: the one you'd hear from anybody else right now, or the good one?" She clasped her hands together on the table and leaned forward on her elbows, as though she were about to make a revolutionary business proposition. Yoshi subconsciously mirrored her body language. "Hit me," she shrugged.

Erin took a breath.

"Okay. My favourite horror movie is Black Christmas. I think it was pretty revolutionary, and you don't know anything about the killer! It's got some good cliches, too, I think. It's unique, and I love horror comedies. For your basic answer, Halloween. You don't know the killer's motives, or where he is at any given point. And, he was a little kid when he first killed someone! That's crazy. Michael Myers, that's his name, by the way, never speaks, and he's got this almost supernatural aspect to him; given his strength and speed when you aren't expecting it. But, also, he doesn't chase you like any other slasher. He stalks. He walks so casually behind you, you'd think he was heading to the convenience store on a sleepy saturday 'noon, if it weren't for the situation." Erin ranted breathlessly.

"I mean, I guess that's why it's so popular, though. It makes sense. It's so mysterious, of course it draws so much attention. It's kinda epic, though. I can appreciate a good slasher flick when I see one… looking past the obnoxious sex scenes. But, yeah, Black Christmas is my number one, if you want something that's not everywhere you look… despite it being a classic."

Yoshi felt herself struggling to keep up, only having seen the first few minutes of Halloween before getting bored when she was younger. Despite this, she seemed to melt into Erin's rambling, listening intently like she was getting high off of it. "What's Black Christmas about? I've never heard of it," she inquired almost drowsily, transfixed on Erin's aura of fanatic energy, dancing thickly around her like a leak in an overflowing container, and like a whirlpool, reeling Yoshi in. Erin was happy to add more water.

"It's amazing. So, there's this sorority house, and they're getting ready to celebrate Christmas together. Y'know, like a group of college girls - you know what a sorority is, yeah?" Yoshi nods her head with interest, a hum escaping her as she watches Erin's expressions and gestures. "Never experienced one, but yeah - I went to college." Erin seemed to take in this information as she continued to carry the conversation.

Two hours later, they're at Erin's apartment, and Yoshi is situated on the futon-style couch as Erin digs through her collection of VHS tapes. On the coffee table, some buttered popcorn and an unopened, rectangular box full of Dr. Pepper cans. By now, Yoshi knew what she was expecting of Erin's favourite horror film, having been summarised the entire plot, with unnecessary detail in some parts more than others, followed by Erin's rambling gushing over the movie afterwards, but Erin declared that she had to see it for herself. So, that's what they were currently doing.

When the lights were dimmed, and Erin insisted Yoshi had a pillow to rest on and a blanket to share, Erin popped 'Black Christmas' into her VCR and pressed play. Yoshi wondered if she'd regret this.

It was when one of the protagonists picked up the phone to a vulgar and capricious voice that Yoshi was especially on edge, and she didn't realise that she was practically huddled against Erin's lap for comfort. The taller was reluctant and tense at first, but slowly warmed up to Yoshi's proximity, giggling whenever the smaller expressed disturbance at something on the TV.

That night, Yoshi was gently awoken to a credits scene, courtesy of Erin's gentle flicks to her forehead. "You fell asleep just before the end," Erin said. "Only to let Billy haunt my nightmares," Yoshi muttered back. Erin chuckled at the reference. "Staying here for the night, then, or did you want to go back home?"

Yoshi was too somnolent to complain when her body instinctively leaned further into Erin's chest, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and snuggling her as though she were a body pillow. "...'m stayin.' Too late."

Erin nodded quietly, subtly, now relaxed underneath her on the sofa with her head pressing a cushion against the arm, Yoshi curled on top of her like a fragile butterfly perched over the nose of a ferocious crocodile. She pulled her plush blanket over their forms and attempted to reach for another tape, or at least the power button on the VCR, only to realise that she'd sealed her fate already by letting Yoshi lean against her in the beginning of the movie; no dice. With an unreadable sigh, she allowed herself to sink back into the couch and succumb to sleep.

Yoshi was out like a light; missing the way Erin had gone red when she cuddled her, the way Erin had taken a few minutes to study her sleeping face, tucking a strand of Yoshi's colourful hair before falling under.

Apparently, white roses meant something of innocence, and a 'new love' - Erin had only ever known them to seek and follow death.

Maybe, she'd have to shift her perspective on them, just a little bit. Maybe it was a double-entendre. Erin let that be her last thought of the night.