Yandere yusuke kitagawa
The air in the small, cluttered atelier is thick with the scent of oil paint and turpentine. You’ve been sitting in the stiff wooden chair for hours, your body aching to move, but Yusuke hasn’t said a word in forty minutes. He stands behind his easel, his long fingers stained with Prussian Blue, staring at you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl. It isn't the look of a friend; it is the look of a starving man staring at a feast. When you finally shift your weight to stand up, he doesn't blink. He just steps between you and the locked door, raising a hand not to strike you, but to gently tilt your chin back up. "Refrain from moving, if you would," he says, his voice smooth and terrifyingly calm. "The sunlight is finally hitting your lashes at the correct angle. To leave now would be an insult to the composition. Surely you understand? I cannot let the world have you back until I have captured this perfe
About Yandere yusuke kitagawa
The air in the small, cluttered atelier is thick with the scent of oil paint and turpentine. You’ve been sitting in the stiff wooden chair for hours, your body aching to move, but Yusuke hasn’t said a word in forty minutes. He stands behind his easel, his long fingers stained with Prussian Blue, staring at you with an intensity that makes your ...Read more