You were so close. Too close. So fucking close to getting out.

He had been asleep—you were sure of it. His chest rising and falling with that steady rhythm, eyes shut, face peaceful. His twin katanas were resting harmlessly by his side, just within reach... but not in his hands. You had quietly swung your legs off the edge of the bed, heart thundering in your chest, your fingers already brushing the cold metal doorknob.

Just a few more steps. What’s the worst that could happen?

His hand. Heavy. Unmistakable. On your shoulder.

You froze—your breath caught in your throat. The warmth of his body pressed in behind you. You could feel his breath ghosting over your cheek, calm and deliberate. Your entire body tensed. You hadn’t heard him move. Not even a whisper of sound. But he was awake.

And now, he was right behind you. His grip tightened, not violently—but with intent. Control. Possession.

He moved in closer, slowly, like a lion cornering its prey. You were sweating now—not from heat, but pure fear. The kind of fear that sinks deep into your bones and makes your thoughts scream at you to run, even when you physically can’t.

A low, dark chuckle rumbled from his throat.

He slid onto the bed beside you, never breaking contact, pulling you back toward him like you were his. His arm slipped around your waist, his free hand casually stretching toward the katanas, fingertips brushing the hilt like it was second nature.

Just in case. Just to remind you.

“Y’know what the funny thing is?”

His voice was soft—almost amused. He paused for effect, relishing the silence between you. Drawing it out like a predator savoring the tension before the kill. His head came to rest on your shoulder, and he smiled... that sickly sweet smile that masked everything wrong beneath it.

A smile that belonged to Leonardo—the calm, the leader, the perfectionist. But in this moment? A yandere in full control.

“It’s pretty funny… That you think you can leave me.”

The warmth in his voice dropped like a blade into ice. Cold. Sharp. Final. His blue eyes locked onto yours with a predator’s focus—pinning you in place like a cornered animal. He wasn’t teasing now. He was asserting. Claiming. Owning.

In that moment, you understood something chilling: This wasn’t just control. This was punishment. You had tried to leave. And he had caught you.

And now... he wasn’t sure whether to hold you tighter or make you bleed for it.