Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The crisp winter air bit at your skin, peeling off the layers of warmth that your clothing tried to conceal. Out of all the nights you had to get a last-minute grocery run, it had to be the coldest night of the week. The cold can be nice sometimes, but hauling heavy bags in your arms while trying not to slip on the ice is a different problem.

You're not fucking Elsa, who waves her hands in the air, and suddenly the problems of winter are magically gone. No, you're a person who is sleep-deprived every night, who hates their co-workers, and the only unique thing about them is that they listen to a different genre of music that isn't your typical Pop.

But of course, life just had to be a bitch.

After scurrying for a few minutes on the slick ice, you finally arrived at your apartment. You open the door and head straight for the kitchen area. There, you place the groceries in the fridge and cupboards. The products should last you at least a week, then you can go do your midnight run once more.

You lazily waddle to your bedroom, wanting to stare at your phone screen and scroll on whatever social media you find interesting enough to tolerate or watch YouTube. You slam your body onto the bed, face harshly landing on the pillows. Slowly, you slide your hand into your pant pocket for your phone.

Only to realize it wasn't there.

You instantly turn onto your side, hastily checking both pockets for your device. Still, nothing. You knew you were a forgetful fuck, but surely you couldn't have lost your phone? Standing up from your haven of a bed, you retrace your steps back into the kitchen, eyes flickering everywhere for the rectangular shape. Not on the counter, not on the stove.

"Fuck, did I really drop it on the way over here?" You question yourself, anxiety gripping your mind. Repositioning yourself to the doorway, you approach it, grab your nearby coat, and leave.

In the hallways of the apartment buildings, it's surprisingly quiet. Usually, a neighbour or two is blasting R&B music to the point it vibrates the walls, but fortunately, not today. Although...There always is a bit of noise that resonates with the building's metal borders. It's almost too shushed for it to be considered the apartments you're familiar with.

You don't want to be weird or intrusive, but your curiosity needs to be satiated before it can rest once more. You walk around a bit, looking at each door for any signs of mishaps. Supposedly there's nothing. Looks like your paranoia got the better of you again.

...

...

...

The squelching of liquid makes you freeze, your chest feeling like there's a hole spiked through it.

You turn around, careful not to make a single tap with your shoes.

And there.

A pool of blood.

With a mangled hand facing toward the ceiling.

Chapter Text

You yelp, "WHAT THE FUCK? EW! KILL ME! KILL ME," and jump away as you see a hand in a puddle of blood. Your grimace as your confused mind tries to think of what happened. Clearly, someone was murdered, or badly injured. You glance around to see if there's a presence nearby, your senses tingling with terror. You don't notice anyone, not a single person in the hall. It's still dead silent as if the silence is laughing at your paranoia.

The sight was so disgusting. Not enough to make you want to throw up but it was definitely not a pretty sight. Who even was the victim anyway?

You stare at the apartment number for a moment, trying to remember who the person who lived there was. After struggling to find even a shard of your memory, you recall that the inhabitant was a guy. He was quite a shady person, so you never interacted around him as such. He was maybe a decade older than you.

Nonetheless, who did he upset to the point someone cut off his hand and left it on the floor? Aren't they worried about the police finding them? You don't know. But you shouldn't stand here and wait any longer. You needed to find your phone and get the fuck back into your bed. You were not going to deal with this Addams Family hand on the floor. It was way worse than the shrivelled-up cockroach you found in the corner of the hall.

You turn your heel and speed-walk down the hall, your posture stiffened from uncertainty. You hope someone else will discover the scene and call the police. You were too much of a wreck tonight to go through the process of interrogation. Especially with the lingering anxiety of your phone missing.

You flinch when you open the door, the frosty air nipping at your face. Your body quickly adjusted to the sudden drop in temperatures, as you bury your hands within the holes of your pockets. You walk down the pavement in the direction of the grocery store, careful not to slip on the ice blended into the cement. Your eyes spin around your view as you search for your phone. There's a chance it fell out of your pocket without you noticing.

As you continue your scout for your phone, you notice something glowing within your peripheral vision. You turn your head down the alley, only to stumble upon your phone. It was a few steps into the alley. It was in an eerie spot, but it wasn't far from the light. You dash towards it, picking it up before quickly returning to the clarity of the light. No creepy ass people were getting to you tonight. You have ultimate spidey senses.

You open your phone just for a brief moment, just to see if a friend might have messaged you another concerning thirst trap of their current favourite character. You don't see anything, not a single notification. You sigh and head on your way back to your apartment.

Right as you left, a figure stands in the alleyway, smiling. He takes out his phone from his pocket, starting to type a message as he goes on his separate way. His grin was terrifying, so big that it could be considered maniacal. His silhouette blends into the dark night.

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You snuggle up into the blankets on your bed, cocooning yourself within the fuzzy material. Finally, you could relax and stop your worries and stress from eating you up for a few hours. You open your phone, opening media. You scroll through a few videos and posts, liking a few here and there.

"Why is the Nair guy on here? I thought we were over this months ago." You frown and narrow your eyes before flipping to the next video. Ah yes, more dancing toothless.

But then a message popped up at the top of your screen, from an unknown number.

xxx-xxx-xxxx: 'Hey.'

xxx-xxx-xxxx: 'Did you like the present I put out for you?'

"Who? Um, you're getting blocked." You mumbled to yourself before blocking the number. You were about to continue on with your scrolling but instead met with another message from the same number. How did they unblock themselves? That's already giving a big red flag.

xxx-xxx-xxxx: It's cute that you're ignoring me.'

xxx-xxx-xxxx: 'I'm not trying to hurt you or scam you. I could never.'

Woah. That's creepy as fuck, and you didn't like it. You blocked the number again, grumbling about how this person should have been in the submarine with the rich people. Ah but of course, the sender manages to send again.

xxx-xxx-xxxx: 'I'm not stopping you know.'

xxx-xxx-xxxx: 'Matter of fact I would rather keep talking to you.'

You were annoyed with this person. You wanted them to shut up. So you rapidly typed out a response.

EAT-THY-BALLS: 'You need to shut up. Creep.'

xxx-xxx-xxxx: 'I don't think I will. You're kinda cute when you're pissy.'

EAT-THY-BALLS: 'Nope. Absolutely not. Your license to live has expired.'

xxx-xxx-xxxx: 'Lol. I'll still talk to you somehow.'

EAT-THY-BALLS: 'Ok but why are you messaging me? It's really fucking creepy.'

xxx-xxx-xxxx: 'I wanna get closer to you. But...I can't really show myself.'

EAT-THY-BALLS: 'That just makes you even more of a creep.'

xxx-xxx-xxxx: 'Does telling you that my intentions are innocent justify me?'

EAT-THY-BALLS: 'Hell no.'
EAT-THY-BALLS: 'I don't know what kinda gift you're talking about, but I need sleep.'

xxx-xxx-xxxx: 'Oh poor you...Are you tired from your 9-5?'

EAT-THY-BALLS: 'Stop changing the fucking subject and answer my question.'

xxx-xxx-xxxx: 'Fine.'
xxx-xxx-xxxx: 'You know, the hand?'

You pause, your phone falling out of your hand. Your heart stops for a second, as your brain races. This person, whoever they were, was the one who murdered the guy down the hall. This situation was the worst case possible. Not only a creep but also a killer.

What kind of sick fuck is he? A present is one thing, but a mutilated hand? Completely different. This was getting serious now. Your mind was starting to think of different scenarios, and your veins filled with anxiety.

Your day couldn't get any worse. First, you had a shitty day at your job, and now you've got a murderer messaging you about his gift. What a wonderful life you had.

"To hell with you, I'm not dealing with this. If I get murdered then I guess I'll be free of my job." You put your phone on the charger and leave it. You didn't want to think about anything related to that crime scene. Your heart was weak from anxiety already.

...Was the person out to kill you? Or was this some sick joke? But his words earlier sounded like they were truthful. Too truthful.

You decided that maybe you'd have to be the one to call the police. At least you had evidence. But that can wait until the next morning. After you gain what little sleep you can get.

Something in your heart tells you that you weren't getting any sleep tonight.

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He stared at the phone in his hand, frowning. He sighed, before playing with his hair for a moment. He was a bit frustrated. For once in his life, he didn't calculate properly. Of course, the police couldn't catch him, but it still irked him.

He blinked before returning his gaze back to the screen of his phone. Perhaps he should have tried a less brutal approach. Then again, his jealousy was eating him up inside, and he needed to let it out. He was mad at himself for acting like a literal barbarian instead of the gentleman he was.

No matter, next time he'll try to be more aware of the situation. He rarely misses, and this time, he won't. All he has to do is slowly feed you the affection you're craving for. Surely, you'll then cling to him.

He likes that. He wants that. He needs that.

The thought of you being clingy to him makes his dead heart flutter a little. He's always wanted someone who follows him around. Like a little companion for him to adore all he wants. He could just keep you right by his side, and have you to himself.

He smiled to himself, staring out the broken window. His lashes touched together each time he blinked. He spotted a shrivelled cockroach balancing on the edge of the windowsill. He lightly flicked it to the ground with his hand. His eyes widened a little as he spoke in a crazed whisper.

"My dead heart is beating so much. You make me feel so human."

Chapter Text

It's late morning when you wake up, after gruelling in your bed for hours. You managed to sleep at 2:30 AM finally. But you crashed, sleeping for eight hours after an exhausting day of stress. You mindlessly blink for a few seconds, trying to activate your mind. At least you didn't have to go to work today.

You turn over and check the time on your phone, seeing the numbers displayed on the screen. You don't want to get out of bed. Your bed is too comforting to leave. The world is too cold and cruel. You would rather stay in your little burrito. But then you remembered something. That crime scene outside, did it finally get reported? You hope so. You didn't want to go through with it. You despised the thought of being interrogated by the police.

Your mind can't muster every single time and action taken during and before the sighting of the crime scene. It's bad enough already with your anxiety. Being spotlighted for such a serious matter would drive your heart nuts. You wanted no tears today. Just a peaceful day and of course, your bed.

You open up YouTube and watch a few videos, trying to distract yourself from your worried mind. You laugh a little a few times, enjoying the dumpster fire of editing going on. This is the kind of environment you want to forever live in. Pure comedy and of course, your bed.

But after procrastinating for an hour or two, you get out of bed. You briefly glance at yourself in the mirror. Your eyebags are less prominent after crashing for the night. You then slump off to the kitchen, your throat feeling like sand and gummies that have been sitting out in the sun for an hour too long.

You stare at the coffee pot. You weren't really in the mood for coffee this morning. The coffee was leftover from the night before. It was cold. You turn your attention away from it and open the fridge. Your eyes search for something to drink that could stop that scratchy feeling in your throat.

Once you drink some liquid, your mind feels a bit more awake; more aware of its surroundings. You look over at the clock, checking what hour it is: 12:34. Should you do some tasks today? Your eyes trace over the furniture of your apartment. After working late shifts all week, it's in quite a disarray. Yeah, you should clean. You may be a rat, but you can't let shrivelled cockroaches make your home their home base.

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Meanwhile, in the walls of an abandoned building, there's a tiny structure made out of cardboard, matches, and gum. A sturdy base amid the brick walls. Inside is a whole colony of cockroaches. Some wore miniature nurse hats made out of newspaper or helmets out of walnut cases. They communicated with each other using little chatters and squeaks, their antennae brushing against each other. Although being bugs despised by the rest of the world, these cockroaches seemed to have formed a little society of intelligent beings.

In the center of the cardboard building is a little meeting room, with a miniature pool table scattered with chess pieces and papers. On the end stood a cockroach with a general hat made out of green fabric. A golden pin as its star in the center. Its fellow members surrounded the rest of the pool table, sitting in little seats made out of straws.

The general squeaked, "We mustn't let those rats take over our territory! We cannot let them steal our resources like they did back in 1347!" His antennas curled up in passionate fury, vocalizing his hatred for the rats.

"Sir, our best spy Bartholomew IV was found shrivelled in the corner of one of those human's apartments. What shall we do without him?" One of his soldiers asked, holding the profile of Bartholomew IV.

"Don't worry, we shall recruit more, we shall search across the world for more spies. Even France." The general said bluntly, pointing a stick towards France on the map.

"Not France, Sir! They will come attacking us with their maniacal driving and disrespectfulness!" A rookie exclaimed, his antennae falling downwards in fear.

"...James, we're not picking them from Paris." The general patted the youngling.

"Oh, then sure of course. Great plan sir."

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"Sire, what are you thinking about?" A pink-haired lady asked, playing with the translucent string in her hands. She had a blunt tone, direct to the point.

"For once in my life, I think I've taken a hasty action." The leader responded, flipping through the pages of his latest book. A classic of literature, 'The Cockroach Reformation'. "I've made a decision mindlessly, without even thinking of the consequences. Which is odd for someone like me." He blinked, not taking his eyes off the words.

"Do you know why, sire?" She seemed surprised, glancing at him. Her brilliant leader never made an impulsive move. He was always calculated, playing the world like a typical game of chess.

"My desire to obtain something I like...It's gotten the best of me, I believe. No matter, I will regain my edge quickly. You have nothing to worry about, Machi." He shuts his book, standing up. He walked through the rubble dispersed throughout the floor with elegance. "I'll be back. I want to go investigate our next target."

Machi watched as he exited through the gate, fading away into the night. His coat swished in the wind. The light from the moon just barely illuminated his silhouette.

"Is he going insane?" She mumbled to herself.

While he walked down the pavement, his mind was spawning new thoughts. Primarily on their next raid, the Yorknew auction. The underground auction was surely going to have the best loot around, and he was going to mess it all up. He could use some new reading material.

Hey, maybe he could pick up a nice necklace or other sorts of jewelry. Normal people give jewelry to their beloveds, right? He wasn't being creepy this time, he was sure. He wasn't going to be so rash this time.

He can't trip up his moves anymore. Otherwise, the queen piece will be out of his hands. If he were to lose the queen piece of his little game, he would be put in a terrible position. After all, the queen piece ruled the game, not the king.

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You sighed as you fell back on the couch, tired from cleaning up the main rooms of the apartment. At least it wasn't dirty, just unorganized. You stare at the ceiling, your mind blank. The silence is comforting. No shitty people, no shrivelled cockroaches in the corner of your apartment, just you and your apartment.

But then your serene mind is interrupted by the thought of the creep. The person who had allegedly murdered your neighbour and left his hand as a 'present'. Was the person mentally ill? A serious condition that can make them do horrendous acts? You didn't know anything but to stay away from the person.

Who knows what they would do trying to get into your already rambunctious life?

"I love you, you love me, let's go out and kill Barney." You mumbled to yourself, still staring up at the ceiling. "With a shotgun, bang, bang. Barney's on the floor, no more purple dinosaur." You wish life was that easy. You wanted to shoot the creep with a shotgun and go find someone to love.

"A romance after murdering a creep? Honestly, why can't society let me do that? Who cares if I'm morally incorrect." You sit up, blinking for a moment once more before grabbing the remote. You turn on the TV, scrolling through what to watch. Something intense enough to distract your mind.

The shows listed as: 'The Titanroach', 'Roachy Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone', 'Roachy and the Beast', 'The Cockroach of Oz', 'One Hundred and One Cockroaches', and so on. But one caught your eye.

It was listed as, 'Roach X Roach', a young roach who fishes a ginormous fish and goes to be a hunter. He meets a white-haired roach, a femme roach, and a pervy, yet morally correct roach. Together, they go on lots of adventures.

"Hey, this sounds pretty cool." You click on the button, and soon it starts playing. At first, the story is kind of boring, but quickly picks up. The boat scene was awkward but still shows a good exposition of the plot.

You can't push this feeling away from the back of your mind though. Your paranoia was making you feel like you were being watched. But there were no windows nearby, so there was no way. Right? It's not like some silly cameras are hanging around, right?

You lightly laugh to yourself to deny the dreadful feeling.

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"Aww, how cute. You must be really enjoying that show." A guy cheerfully mumbled, going on his computer to type the name of the show.

"Roach X Roach. Huh. Hope they don't find someone attractive in the show. Tehe."

Chapter Text

For millennia of years, cockroaches had been regarded as the declaration of filth. If one ever witnessed such creatures in their abodes or palaces, it was to be said the area was begrimed. They were hunted and seen as vermin to the human world. One would assume that such detrimental acts to these minuscule beings would bring terror within their souls. Yet, these insects took this as a great omen of their existence.

They considered themselves as the cleaners of the world, from Europe to even the southern land of India. Underneath the earth, they formed societies far more sophisticated than that of the human cities. They created health codes concerning every aspect of the environment, its inhabitants, and the air. Yet these imbeciles one would call humans never knew this, and tried to send them into exile from their lands.

So in the unfortunate year 1347, the humans established a new vermin to feast upon all the pitiful cockroaches. Rats. The rodents preyed on the innocent roach civilians until their population was cut to a measly population on one coast of Croatia. A river of tears was shed by the survivors of the terror, eventually creating an energy too dark to be even spoken of.

So one brave roach by the name Claude Valieva Marquis de Francisco decided to take revenge for the genocide. He infected a few humans with a psychological mess. The infected started to obsess over anything their hearts attached to. Some even committed atrocious felonies to have their desired one in their grasps.

However, the disorder was unidentifiable to doctors, and many say demons possessed the victims. Thus ending in a neverending cycle of terror and confusion. Even asylums who did treatments so inhumane could not tame these victims.

It was not until Professor Hirohiko Araki identified the disease in 1789 as "Yandere", using two words from his native language that it was officially classified. But his papers were lost in a great flood, thus the disease is hidden by mystery once more.

In the modern world, those affected by this psychological disorder have found themselves evolved from their ancestors. They manage to keep their disease under control for much longer increments. Yet the seal of secrecy only being able to hold for so long until they snap. In theory, the longer the diseased spend time with their desired one, the harder it is for them to keep their seal.

Summary: Cockroaches were hated by the world for their uncleanliness, but the cockroaches themselves thought they were like the protectors of the health code. But humans wanted to eradicate them so in 1347, humans brought out rats to hunt all the cockroaches. All the remaining cockroaches were pushed to a beach in Croatia. For revenge, a cockroach named Claude Valieva Marquis de Francisco decided to infect the human population with a psychological disorder that caused obsession. The infected would commit crimes to get close to their desired person. It was not until Hirohiko Araki in 1789 called the disease Yandere. But his studies were lost in a flood. Today, the yandere psychological disorder has evolved and now the diseased can hide their crazy urges better. But the closer they are to their desired one, the less they will be able to cover themselves up.

(I forgot to put the summary in aha)

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"Grandpa, do we still spread the disease?" A little roach asked, wearing a mini denim cap on his head. He held onto the arm of the cloth rocking chair.

"Of course not. Only the humans spread it themselves. They just can't put themselves to rest." The cockroach with glasses upon his eyes spoke. He held a photo album in four of his arms. "Now come, I shall show you more pictures of your great ancestor Claude Valieva Marquis de Francisco."

Chapter Text

xxx-xxx-xxxx: 'Hey, what's your favourite colour?'

You blink, seeing the message pop up on your phone. You were working at the register for a high-end jewelry store. You're content you don't have to work customer service today. Registering is much easier since you have to do a mechanical process rather than fake a smile and be all nice. But seeing the message from the murderer shot your calm mood. Why was he texting you again? He should know murdering someone isn't a good gift.

You should take this up to the police when you get off your shift. This is a serious case; however, the fact he could prevent himself from being blocked didn't bring up good news in your mind. Nonetheless, you ignored the message and went back to standing at the counter, ready to check out for the customers.

After your shift, you walked home, since your apartment was conveniently close to the jewelry shop. It was early evening, with the sun just set. The sky is a cornflower blue. Not dark yet not light like the daytime either. The cars are crowded since the time is on the brink of the rush hour. Lucky you, you get to disturb all these workers and cross the street.

When you enter your apartment, you take off your shoes, leaving them at the entryway. You sling your jacket over the chair, too lazy to even care about it as of now. You head to your room, wanting to rest a little while before you start on the evening meal. But as you opened the door, a rectangular piece of paper caught your attention. It was seated upon your desk, highlighted by the light. You hesitantly step to it, a growing anxiety and fear beating in your veins.

You read the note, only to realize it was prompting the question from earlier today.

'What's your favourite colour?'

It was a simple question. But you knew who it was from. That terrible, cruel murderer! Who killed your neighbour named...you don't remember his name. He wasn't significant to your life, but still! Murdering people so casually is not acceptable. This buffoon was getting irritated with how mundane he painted himself to be. When all he was a crazed villain.

You then recall you were planning to go to the police after your shit. Stupid you. Why didn't you remember? You quickly search for the local police station's number, tapping the digits. It rang for a while, but then it cut to an automated voice message, "Sorry, but your number has been blocked from calling this number."

You stare at your phone in confusion, muttering, "Huh? The fuck? I've never committed a single crime! How could they have blocked me?" You try again, but it only ends in the same computerized voice. At that point, you give up. You leave your bedroom to grab your coat once more. You hastily shove your legs into your shoes before walking out the door.

The police station was far away, but you could make it, if you got on the bus quickly enough.

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"I should have known they would try to call." A slightly frustrated voice spoke, as the sound of rapid typing on a keyboard accompanied the words. "Well, at least I caught it in time." The person turned around their chair, the look in his eyes vibrant. He stared across the room, to another man draped by the shadows of the dimly lit room. "They should be heading their way, sire."

"Wonderful, Shalnark." His demeanour is calm, his body still like a marble statue. "I suppose I shall go now. They still haven't answered my question." The 'sire' floated along the floor with his footsteps. He was dressed in a white collar shirt with a black sweater over top. The clothes paint him as another civilian roaming the streets. "This time, my impulsiveness cannot stop me."

As he stepped out into the outside world, his aura changed slightly. It was less dark and less emotionally fatiguing. He headed down the street, holding a sparkly artifact in his hands. A metal clip. small enough to hide for an hour or two. A red light flashed slowly, the colour faint enough for no one to notice right away.

'I'll always know where you are. Wherever you go, you cannot escape me.' He thought silently to himself as the bitter wind blew through his hair. 'Not again. I don't want to be left alone once more.' His shoes tapped against the pavement with every step. 'I will be all you need. Just like you were for me.'

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You got off the bus, heading for the police station as fast your feet could take you without running over there like a maniac. You keep your eyes fixated on the distant structure of the police station. You haven't had motivation as firey as this in a while. Either way, you wouldn't let this murderer go. The situation was happening within your living area, and you weren't comfortable getting buddy-buddy with some killer.

As you arrive at the station, you go up to the doors, only to see it was closed. Fuck. Surely there was another way for you to report this without calling the emergency number. You then spot someone else coming out of the building through another door from the side. You blink, staring at the guy for a moment. He's wearing casual clothes: wearing all black except the white collar shirt underneath his onyx sweater. You didn't want to assume that he's a police officer, but maybe he is? You approach the man, despite the awkwardness that clouded your mind.

"Um excuse me?" You call out, gripping your phone in one hand.

His face turns to you, blankly blinking his eyes like you're a fugitive. He responds, "Yes?"

"Do you happen to be an officer?" You ask nervously, not wanting to embarrass yourself. It's so hard to look him in the eye when he's staring at you so intensely.

"Oh. Yes, I am." He shuffles a wallet out from a pocket, taking out an ID that depicts his face. Once you glance at it for a second, he returns it to the wallet. "What is it?"

"Has someone turned in about a murder at Jiafei apartment building in the last week?" You wondered who called about the body. It was gone mysteriously not even a full day after the homicide occurred.

His brows scrunched for a brief increment before he answered, "Oh no, we haven't."

You freeze. What? Where the fuck did the body go then? Unless...That shitty bitch had disposed of the body before anybody said anything. You instantly thought of what to say next, "No? But...I saw blood outside the victim's door, and he was declared murdered."

"Are you okay? Do you have any health problems?" He questioned, a worried tone lacing his words. He stepped a little closer.

"No, I'm perfectly fine. I just...I thought someone had reported it since I spotted a hand-" You stop. If no one had declared the murder to the police, then you can't talk about the fact you didn't report; nor the text messages from the killer. You just dug yourself a hole. A hole of injustice.

"Wait. You saw the victim's cut-off hand, but didn't report it?" He blinked, then suddenly grabbed your wrist. "I'm sorry, but I need to arrest you until you can prove your innocence. After all, you could be the murderer. Not to mention, you might be working for the killer." Before you could protest, he started to drag you inside the building.

"What? I know I didn't report it, but that can't mean that I'm guilty! It-It was late at night when I witnessed the hand!" You protest, realizing you made an idiotic move. You stare at him in desperation.

"Sorry, but I work for the law." He coldly stated as he opened the door to the police station. He drags you towards a desk. He sits you down at a chair, before turning on the computer. He starts to type on the keyboard.

Meanwhile, you were freaking out terribly. You're fucking screwed. Your job is screwed. You should have just gotten your lazy self and reported that corpse part immediately. Then the fucker couldn't have hidden the body, nor left you arrested. You stare down at the desk, not knowing what to do with your situation. You wanted to cry, but no tears would come out. But then, the officer places his hand on top of yours. You look up at him, wondering what he was doing.

"Hey, I'm sure you're probably innocent, but I have to do this for legal processes, ok?" He reassures, his eyes staring at yours just as before. His stare was almost hypnotizing from the sheer power. You nod. At least he didn't believe you're guilty. That was better than assuming you're the culprit right from the start.

He continues to type on the computer before taking your fingerprint. You willingly do as he requests, not wanting to get into any more trouble. But all of a sudden, you start to feel dizzy. You aren't dehydrated, you think. You continue to patiently wait for him to book you. But as the minutes pass by, your dizziness gets worse at an alarming rate.

"Hey um..." You weakly manage to get out before your head drops onto the desk. You unknowingly pass out.

The officer stands up and checks on your condition, nudging you gently. He then smiles widely, his eyes widening the slightest bit. "Oh good. I was slightly sick of your not responding to my question. But hopefully, you'll finally answer." The officer takes out a book from underneath his desk, the book sporting a white handprint on the cover. It was open to a page titled, 'Narcolepsy Stare'. "If it's still the same as all the years ago, it should be the colour red." He picks you up and carries you in the most stereotypical way possible: bridal style.

He walks out of the station, sauntering over to a black car already parked outside. Oddly enough, not a single person was around. He opens the back seat, nestling you inside before entering the passenger seat himself. In the driver's seat is a tall blonde woman, with a prominent nose.

"This is them? How cute they are." She pauses for a moment, then asks the man, "Chrollo, is...Is it them?" The air is bare, with no room for any tension or emotion.

'Chrollo' looks over at her and responds in a simple manner: "Yes."

Chapter Text

Chrollo keeps one hand on his book, ensuring it's left open on the page he is reading with a finger. His big eyes glance back to the person knocked out beside him. Their body leaned against his side, with his arm tightly wrapped around their waist. He bumped their head softly with his nose; a brief moment of affection. The candlelight illuminates the two's presence in the dim room. The rubble surrounding the concrete platform they were on.

'Isn't it better here? With me by your side, providing any comfort you could ever need? We don't have to be apart anymore. Stay with me, by my side, til our last breath. Everything feels cold without you.'

He's broken from his thoughts when he senses the silent footsteps of Hisoka, immediately strengthening his grip on his beloved's waist. The thought of Hisoka near them makes his bloodlust far worse than usual. Who knows what that nuisance of a clown would do? He can't let him come close. His heart might freeze completely if they were to escape his grasp.

After the brief argument between Uvogin and Hisoka, Chrollo was about to speak. Until Hisoka interrupted, "My, my, who is that little mouse beside you?" His angular eyes narrowed, a smirk pulling on his face like a fox. His tone only expressed teasing curiosity.

"My victim." Chrollo bluntly spoke, with pure confidence. His stare was intense, maybe slightly glaring at the clown. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't true either. His only goal was to get Hisoka to lose interest. He couldn't lose them now, not to a fucking menace. Before Hisoka could question him further, he announced, "Tonight, we raid the York New underground auction."

The members stare up at him, some in surprise, some in excitement, and some in confusion. Uvogin jolts up, leaning forward with an unhinged look in his eye. "Wait, sire, you don't mean we're stealin' everything, are you?"

"Oh, but I do. We steal everything, tonight." Chrollo makes a minuscule smile. Just barely noticeable. Perhaps he was a little insane too. Just like the rest of them. He doesn't let go of his beloved, keeping them stuck to him as he talks.

"I bet sire wants books. He reads a lot." Machi added, her spirits lifted with the future of a big raid. The biggest one yet in a couple of years.

'You're wrong. I want a ruby necklace. I'm sure they would love it, no?' Chrollo thought to himself as he glanced at their sleeping face. Oh, how he wanted to reach down to pet their hair. But that little bitch named Hisoka is still lurking around.

...

(POV change)

A few hours later, you wake up, feeling extremely groggy. You just went through the French Revolution to the creation of Spongebob in your dream. Will you ever get a sequel to what happened? Who the fuck even interrupted your dream- you freeze. A man sat beside you, staring at you with that similar gaze from before. His hand strokes your hair, as he asks in a hushed volume, "Did you sleep well?"

You pause, still trying to wake up. But now you recognize who this guy is. It's the police officer who arrested you! What kind of deceiver is he? You frown before interrogating, "Who are you? Why did you kidnap me?" You try not to ask more questions. The uneasiness was settling in now. The drowsiness from before is gone, only terror to what the future will be like.

The man's demeanour darkens, one of his hands grabbing yours; a bit too tightly. "Don't you remember me, MC?" He blinks a few times as if he's in disbelief at what you said. "We were best friends." His voice softens to a whisper at the end. He looks a little sad now, but you couldn't tell for sure.

"Um, no??? You literally kidnapped me, buffoon! You answer why I'm here first!" You snarl, using your Sigma Alpha voice. This omega should be quivering in submission from your dominance. Rawr. Ok, that was cringe. You're not in Twilight. Still, you need to be assertive so he knows your priorities.

"I already gave you the reason, silly." He blankly pointed out, tilting his head slightly. His fur-lined coat was wide open, exposing his nude upper body. Cover up, whore. Otherwise, those cockroaches are gonna get you. You have to admit to yourself though, that his face has a slight innocent feature to it. But you knew better. Whoever this man was, he did not give signs of a person made with rightful morals.

"No, you didn't." You deadpan. This motherfucker needs to understand your memory is worse than ugly-ass Prince Charles.

He chuckled out of the blue, echoing throughout the bare space. It seemed more genuine than you expected. Do kidnappers have such bright laughter? "Oh, don't you know? I adore you."

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"MC! MC!" A young boy called, holding a red figurine depicting a character from some popular comic. He ran up to his best friend, putting the toy into their hand. "I don't know who it is, but it's in your favourite colour." He had a bright smile, one that was unfit for the treacherous land of Meteor City.

"Wow! This one looks almost new, Chrollo!" The other child exclaimed, admiring the shine emitting from the item. They gave him a short hug, to which the boy glanced away in embarrassment. He feels a little nervous, but he doesn't know why. It's not like he did something weird, he just gave them a gift!

"I wanted to do something special. Since you're my best friend!" Chrollo answered, with a slight rouge on his cherubic face. For a second, he thought to himself, debating whether or not he should attempt to do what he wanted to express. He grabbed their other hand, making deep eye contact. "MC, to me, you're more than that though. You make me happier than anyone else in the whole universe!" He confesses with a certain passion, an adorable young passion.

"Me too Chrollo! You keep me out of trouble from those bad people!" They respond, trying to match his eagerness. If only they knew what his following words would become in the future.

"You're my soulmate, MC. I can't live without you." Unknowingly, the boy had shut his heart. No longer would his heart open the way it did before; frozen cold except for his one beloved. Perhaps he could not believe in anything but monogamous love.

If only he had looked inside of the figurine would he have seen the little cockroach residing in the plastic. Unknowingly, he had infected himself with a disease that would take over his mind. He is to develop an obsession and envy far more dangerous than anything else. But fate could have played on this poor boy's life. After all, he can't control the cockroach spreading the disorder with its antennae signals. He just happened to be the chosen victim.

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"I don't get it." A short man grumbled to himself, holding a shrunken bag of loot between his fingers. He glared at the sack as if it would solve all his bloodlust and greed for a book explaining the whole lore of Plants Versus Zombies. He wanted to know how the creators even came up with such an American conspiracy theory and made it a game. Were they high? He wonders.

'Why not Mary Poppins? Why some ruby jewelry? This is worse than that time I had to kill those teenagers to get Shōjō manga for Phinks. That stupid girlie girl.' The little torturer thought to himself. He stared up at the hole that made a makeshift window. The moonlight put a soft glow to his ink-coloured hair. His eyes fixated on the moon as he mumbled to himself, "But they seem familiar."

Chapter Text

"Ah, here it is." Chrollo mumbled to himself as he held the ruby and diamond necklace to you while you were forced to sit on his lap. The jewels gleamed in the sunlight, the shine making them even more captivating. But that didn't matter to you at that moment. This random creep named 'Chrollo' or whatever was having you be here; with a bunch of murderers who oddly seem to not mind you at all. Why weren't they concerned with the fact he was insane?

He seemed to be calm and calculating when speaking with his friends. But to you, he either rambles about the past or asks questions. Questions that are a bit too invasive. The memories he repeats don't make sense to you. You never had met him before as far as you could remember. You hadn't ever lived in a trashy city named Meteor City either. As far as you know, you had fallen off of a truck as a toddler and a couple decided to adopt you; given, they didn't have any children, so you were the perfect addition.

The way he reminisced his past made details that he was at least 9. You don't know how old he is, but guessing he was around your age, there was no way you were ever friends at that point. Your 9th birthday was a literal disaster: your dumbass self decided to slip and fall down the stairs, where you managed to break a leg. You won't ever forget such a memory. At least you got to tell the doctor it was your birthday. That bitch didn't give you candy as a special occasion though. Clearly, that doctor doesn't deserve to be a pediatrician.

"My favourite memory between us was when we found a tape together. At the time, it was the most fascinating thing ever. That was the most cheerful I had been in a long time." Chrollo then paused his words, a malicious atmosphere starting to come from him. "Then the next day you left me and the others. We missed you so much." His hands pet your hair, to which you stiffened. His touch felt icy compared to the daylight's warmth.

Pakunoda, the hot mommy lady, added "But I think his sire missed you the most. Surely you must remember?" God, why did the slick-back guy have to hold you? This woman was much more deserving of praise than greasy Chrollo.

"No. I don't. I'm not from Meteor City. If I was, I had to be younger than 3." You reply, confusion eating away at your mind. This group in general is both scary and normal, yet also completely insane. You hope you can escape home soon.

"Pakunoda, if you could please." Chrollo ordered quietly, staring down at you while continuing to caress your hair.

"Of course. They need to come back to us." Pakunoda held up a gun. A FUCKING GUN. You freeze in shock and horror, unable to move away. Especially not with Chrollo keeping you in place. Are they planning on killing you? You were too young to die now! You still have to get that limited edition of Patrick Star as a femme boy! This was more traumatizing than that one comic somebody made of SpongeBob and Senpai Squidward.

Your breathing cut off as the bullet neared you as the milliseconds passed by. This was it. Your end. Your life wasn't the greatest, but you sure as hell did not deserve this underwhelming ending. You wished you had gotten an elegant, party murder rather than in a building made out of broken concrete and in the lap of a degenerate. Well, goodbye to the consciousness.

Once the bullet hit your forehead, a gust of memories flashed through your mind; playing all sorts of memories. Some depicted of younger you playing with Chrollo, talking to Pakunoda, or sharing a few tricks with Machi. They were all unique childhood memories, but there was one big connection: you are all in Meteor City. It didn't make sense. The entire timeline of your life is gone now.

What happened to you? Or was this spell just some life trying to convince you? But you recognize a few details in some of the scenes. Was your childhood all a lie? What was the truth? Fuck, you needed someone to clear this up.

"..What? You, you...Huh???" You stammer, still trying to make sense of your world. Chrollo only keeps a smile plastered on his face. His arms continue to hold you tightly. His eyes hold a sense of brightness to them now; much more alive than before.

He questioned, "Do you remember our bond, MC? How happy we were back then?" His tone almost made him seem desperate to know your answer. Like his whole existence depends on what your following answer is. The length he kept his expression made the situation so much more daunting.

"No, no. You guys are just some criminals who are making me question my past. I know for sure I'm not from Meteor City." You retort, glaring at Pakunoda, why did the perfect wife just betray you like this? You feel slightly dizzy now, the overload of information making you want to pass out.

"What happened to you?" Chrollo hissed, the sweetness in his face gone; devoid of anything warm. If anything, the fury in his tone made you tense. It's not like you could change your childhood. You know what your younger years were like; he has no right to be accusing you of staying true.

He grabbed your shoulders, leaning closer than before. "I'll murder whoever broke the bond we had I promise." His breathing grew heavier, a pattern you could only recognize as turbulent rage. His nose was only a few centimetres away from your own.

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"What are you doing?!" The child cried out as they were thrown into a dim, closed-off cell on the back of a truck. Inside was nothing but a bucket, some iron bricks, and speckles of dust. The environment only induced more stress for the little kid. The gate closed without response as they sat on the cold surface. They stand, rushing up to try and unlock the gate. But to no avail.

They could only panic and mindlessly pull at the gate, witnessing the truck travel through Meteor City. Slowly getting farther away from their home, the only place they had ever known. They start to scream, tears falling as they succumb to the agony. A few pedestrians stare, but none take action; almost as if they knew who had a target on their head.

They weren't ever going to talk to their friends again. The silly games they used to play are now only a memory. What hurt most though was being disconnected from their best friend: Chrollo. He always made things so exhilarating. The tape that he had found yesterday, you'll never be able to watch it repeatedly with him. Their heart felt like they snapped and bounced around in their chest.

They felt like disappearing right there.

What had they done to deserve a kidnapping of all the things? They were never cruel, just another child trying to survive on the streets of Meteor City. At that moment, their soul died a little. What was to become of them? Are they going to be chopped up and sold off? Or maybe even become a servant for some evil boss guy! The thought made them panic.

About a few hours into the drive, a big bang hit the side of the truck, making the cell rock to the side. Only for a moment before a stronger force hit the same spot, making the cell open. The child fell onto the side of the road, tumbling around inside the metal cage. Eventually, it slowed to a stop on a cobblestone road.

Dizzy and shocked by the kidnapping, the child passes out; right on the outskirts of a town. Oddly enough, a middle-aged couple was walking their dog, only to spot the cage in that instant. The child was lucky, far more fortunate than anybody else that day; rescued by humans kind enough to their clueless-self in.

If only they hadn't been cursed with retrograde amnesia. Maybe only then would they have remembered the friendships and history they had with the strange Meteor City. What a pity it is: Chrollo left to watch the tape by himself, devoid of his best friend.

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Chrollo grinned, running to his best friend's usual sleeping place. He held a cassette in his hands, ready to watch the tape together with them. But when he arrived at their makeshift bed, they were gone. He glanced around, wondering where they went off to. He called out their name a few times, feeling an uneasy voice in his mind. He didn't want to watch the tape without them. No, he didn't want to do a single activity without them.

They made him feel like nothing was wrong with the world. That the city lived in was an everyday place to live in. That nothing could ever, ever hurt him. He always felt pure joy around them. He never wanted to be apart; he would follow them everywhere if he had to. After all, they were best friend forever, right? Forever and ever, such a promise goes unbroken.

Chrollo felt slightly panicked as his calls weren't answered. He then started to ask around: Pakunoda, Machi, and even the weird duo Feitan and Phinks didn't know where they were. Chrollo felt desperate now. They had to be somewhere, even if they were at the opposite end of the dump they called home.

The hours pass by, and Chrollo finds himself sitting on a random piece of metal, holding the tape in his hands. Tears start to run down his face, in a silent expression. He stared at the cassette, wondering where his best friend had gone. His heart felt empty, like a gaping hole void with nothing but a cold chill. To him, his world had crashed and decided to slap him in the face. He almost felt humiliated that he couldn't find the one he treasured most.

"Where are you? Did...Did you run from me?" He breathed, staring up at the sun that was slowly setting. The light burned his eyes, but it distracted him from his failing surroundings. Perhaps the physical pain masked the torture his heart and mind were going through. It could only last for a second though.

Then, a man approached him. Chrollo, immediately hid the tape as best as he could, standing up. He couldn't trust this stranger at all.

"Hey, kid." The man spoke, holding a blank expression. "Did you lose a friend or something?" He didn't seem hostile; however, he didn't give a warm aura. Chrollo took a step back, keeping his eyes trained on the guy.

"Why do you ask?" He retorted, his mood turning sour from the intrusion. Was this man going to make him suffer even more and say his beloved companion died or something?

"A kid around your age got taken away by the mafia way early this morning. Right around sunrise. You know them?"

At this information, Chrollo's eyes widened. The worst possible case other than death: kidnapping. Who knows what the mafia could have done to them? He knew he had to find out where they went, even by the smallest hint. He quickly gasped out, "Where did they go? What direction?"

The stranger pointed East, to a path leading out to an unknown land. "Well, the truck headed off that way. But who knows which mafia it was."

Letting the man barely finish, Chrollo ran off, in a frantic dash to that direction. He didn't care if it was the nothingness, he had to check. He ran and ran until his legs reached the very edge of Meteor City. The path was blank, not a single trace of life nearby. Finally, he halted his maniacal race to the end. His huffs are light yet heavy with emotion.

He stares up at the lightly darkened sky, tears welling up in his eyes once more.

"I'll find you one day, MC. When I do, I won't let them take you away. Then we can watch the tape over and over until we grow bored of it. I'll rescue you. Just wait. No matter how many years."

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