Finding a Yandere in Reverse World

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual lunchtime chaos, but today felt like stepping into a war zone. My heart pounded in my chest as I scanned the sea of faces, searching for familiar ones. I finally spotted Justine’s fiery red hair and made a beeline for their table. I avoided her earlier, today was kinda stressing me out.

"Jason!" Justine's voice rang out, her green eyes lighting up as she waved me over. Nikki, sitting beside her, gave a shy smile, her dark hair falling over her eyes.

"Hey," I said, sliding into the seat next to them. My gaze shifted to Erica, who was holding onto me like I was her seeing eye dog. Her piercing blue eyes locking onto mine. She looked different today. Maybe it was the way she sat a bit closer than usual, or the protective aura she seemed to radiate.

“I love you.” Erica spoke with a cold face but warm words. Since i’ve gotten back she doesn’t really care so much about her image anymore. She just cares about me.

"I love you too," I replied like it was as normal as breathing.

"Good to have you back, The school was bugging when the news reported you missing." Justine said, her voice gentle but eyes sharp, as if assessing every inch of me for signs of distress. "How are you holding up now?"

"Better," I lied, picking at the edge of my tray. The slice of pizza suddenly seemed too daunting to eat.

"Mom had to make a call to get me in your class," Erica chimed in, her tone casual but carrying an undertone of pride. "She threatened to pull her funding, and that got the job done."

"Really? I Just thought you were skipping in my class at first." I wondered with surprise. Erica’s mom wielded considerable influence.

"Yeah," Erica leaned in slightly, her fingers playing with the edge of my sleeve. "Can't let anything happen to my guy, right?”

"Right," I chuckled weakly, glancing between them. Despite everything, her presence felt like a lifeline.

Erica's fingers intertwined with mine, her touch both comforting and electric. She leaned in close enough that I could feel the warmth of her breath on my ear.

"Hey," she purred softly, her lips curling into a mischievous smile, "Why don't we go find a private room to 'study' in?"

I couldn't help but chuckle, a weak attempt to mask the turmoil still swirling inside me. "Maybe later, Erica. I'm starving," I said, taking a deliberate bite of my lunch pizza. The cheese stretched between my teeth and the crust, a small distraction from everything else.

"Suit yourself," she sighed dramatically, though her eyes sparkled with an intensity that made me shiver slightly. She shifted back, releasing my hand, but not the connection between us.

Justine cleared her throat, drawing my attention away from Erica's gaze. "So, Jason," she began, her tone shifting to a more serious note. "Is it too early to get back to business? Or do you need a few days to readjust?"

Nikki's expression mirrored Justine's concern, both sets of eyes fixed on me with a mix of hope and desperation. They were counting on me, even now.

"Yeah, man," Nikki added, her voice softer than usual. "We really need to bring back our presentations."

I stared at Justine and Nikki, my eyes widening in disbelief. The cafeteria noise faded to a dull roar as I processed their words. A beat passed, then another.

‘Despite signing the NDA, everyone with me on Halloween was in a group chat with Erica. She basically told them everything she learned as it happened, the day I was found. So Nikki, Justine, and even Tara all know about what happened to me to some degree.’

"I was being savagely raped for 2 weeks, and you two are trying to get me back to arbitrating our lunch talks?" I asked, my voice trembling with what sounded like fury. Justine and Nikki flinched, their faces contorting with horror and regret.

But then, as if a switch had been flipped, I wiped the grease off my mouth with the back of my hand and broke into a wide grin. "Then you've come to the right guy. We are so fucking back!"

I start smashing the table with my palms, pulling in the eyes of students at the tables around us. “LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO!!!!!!!”

The tension at the table shattered like glass. Justine's jaw dropped, and Nikki let out a nervous giggle. Erica, however, looked absolutely mortified. Her grip on my hand tightened painfully as she leaned in close.

"Jason," she whispered, her voice a mix of concern and reproach, "it's too soon to be joking about... about what happened."

I turned to her, squeezing her hand gently and giving a small nod. "I know," I murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. "But if I can’t laugh, whats even the point."

Erica's eyes softened, a storm of emotions swirling in their blue depths. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, I turned back to the group, clapping my hands together with exaggerated enthusiasm.

"Alright, ladies, and... well, just ladies," I announced, my voice carrying a forced cheerfulness that was almost painful. "What's on the docket for the lunch brigade today? Nihilism? The ethics of cum?”

Justine, catching on to my desperate attempt at normalcy, straightened up and adopted a mock-serious expression. "Actually," she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully, "I was thinking we could tackle something truly controversial." She paused for dramatic effect. “It’s my belief that all the men that were roofied by Billie Cosby were just after the quaaludes the entire time.”

Erica glared at Justine so hard I think she almost shit her pants.

“Really?” Erica barked at Justine. “You go right to the woman who raped dozens of men today?”

Justine was sweating bullets for offending the former class bully. “Ahh, sorry.”

Nikki more used to Erica’s roughness came in to help too. “Actually I’ve had something I wanted to bring up for a while.”

I turn my head to her and listen intently.

Just as Nikki opened her mouth to speak, Erica abruptly cut her off.

"Wait, I have something I want to pitch," Erica interjected, her voice carrying an unusual note of excitement.

We all turned to look at her, a bit surprised but curious. Erica wasn't usually one to participate in our philosophical debates. At least not honestly.

"Alright, let's hear it," I said, giving her an encouraging nod.

Erica's face scrunched up in concentration, her brow furrowing and her lips pursing. For a moment, I thought she was deep in thought, formulating some profound argument. But then I noticed the slight tremor in her body, the way her knuckles whitened as she made a fist.

Suddenly, a thunderous fart erupted from beneath her, echoing through the cafeteria. The noise was so loud and unexpected that several nearby students turned to stare. The smell hit us almost immediately after, a noxious, pungent odor that made my eyes water.

"Holy shit," Justine exclaimed, her hand flying to cover her nose. "Erica, did you just-"

"No," Erica cut her off sharply, but her face had turned a deep shade of crimson. "I didn't do anything."

I looked at her skeptically, the unmistakable scent of fecal matter wafting around us. "Erica," I said gently, "did you just... shit your pants?"

"Absolutely not," she insisted, but her eyes darted nervously around the table. "On an unrelated note, I... I just remembered something important. I need to use the bathroom."

She stood up abruptly, her movements stiff and awkward. "Jason," she added, her voice strained, "you know you can't leave my sight. Come with me."

“I can’t go into the girl's room, though?” I make a confused face.

Erica looked far more impatient than usual. And I decided I didn’t want to push her since she just had a little accident.

I glanced back at Justine and Nikki, who were both trying desperately not to laugh. "Duty calls," I shrugged, getting to my feet.

As we made our way out of the cafeteria, I could feel the eyes of our classmates on us. Erica walked ahead of me, her steps quick and purposeful, but I couldn't help noticing the dark stain spreading across the seat of her jeans. I walked close behind her to shield her pants from anyone else noticing.

"So," I said as we reached the hallway, "about that 'important thing' you remembered..."

*****

Since Erica shitted her pants, we decided we might as well just call it for the day and skip. I’d be annoyed if this was common, but this is the first time she’s ever pooped her pants in front of me, and I want to be supportive.

As we hurried down the school's front steps, the midday sun beat down mercilessly as if to spotlight our hasty exit. Erica is now clad in loose gym shorts with her pants and underwear in a bag. She trembled visibly in horror at her actions. Her usual confident stride was replaced by an awkward shuffle, her face a mask of mortification.

She changed, but She still needed a shower before I think she could feel truly clean again.

I kept close, trying to shield her from curious glances. The few students milling about the entrance seemed oblivious to our predicament, but Erica flinched at every passing look.

Just as we thought we were in the clear, a woman with poorly dyed green hair and thick glasses materialized before us. Her eyes had a manic glint that set my teeth on edge.

"Excuse me!" she chirped, far too cheerfully. "I'm Anita Scoops. I was wondering if I could ask you two a few questions?"

I blinked, momentarily forgetting our urgency. "Wait, Anita Scoops? Is that your real name?"

Erica eyed me with the passion of an angry god. Her glare could have melted steel beams. Her eyes screamed, "I just shit my pants. I want to go home." The message was received loud and clear.

Anita, oblivious to the tension, pressed on. "It's my pen name, actually. Say, do either of you know Lindsey Carter? I'm doing a follow-up piece on my podcast about her recent suicide."

My blood ran cold. Images of Lindsey's face, contorted in a final scream, flashed through my mind. The weight of the NDA hung heavy, but heavier still was the memory of what I'd done in self-defense.

"No," I said, perhaps too quickly.

Erica, sensing my discomfort, stepped in despite her own distress. "Listen, lady," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "We don't know any Lindsey, and we're late for an appointment. So if you'll excuse us..."

She grabbed my hand, her grip almost painful, and started to pull me away. Anita opened her mouth to protest, but Erica's withering look silenced her.

“Wait, aren’t you that boy that went missing? Where the hell were you?” Anita’s words faded into the wind as we rushed away to deal with the shituation.

*****

It’s been an hour since we got home. I lay sprawled on Erica's bed, my fingers idly tracing patterns on her silk sheets as I watched her emerge from the bathroom. Steam billowed out behind her, carrying the scent of lavender and citrus. Her long blonde hair hung in damp tendrils around her face, and she wore an oversized t-shirt that barely reached mid-thigh. Despite her recent shower, tension still radiated from every line of her body.

Erica's eyes darted nervously to me, then away again as she padded across the plush carpet. "I, uh... I'm really sorry about earlier," she mumbled, perching on the edge of the bed like a skittish bird ready to take flight at any moment.

I propped myself up on one elbow, studying her flushed face. "Erica, it's okay. Really."

She shook her head vehemently, her damp hair whipping around her face. "No, it's not! I... I don't know what happened. Maybe it was something I ate, or stress, or-"

"Or maybe you just really needed to go and couldn't hold it," I interjected gently. "It happens."

Erica's face crumpled, and for a terrifying moment, I thought she might cry. But then she took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "It doesn't happen to me," she insisted. "I'm not... I don't..."

I reached out, gently tugging her hand until she reluctantly lay down beside me. "Erica," I said, meeting her gaze, "other than the smell, which was pretty gross, I actually thought it was really funny."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Funny? Boys hate poop, though? How could you possibly think that was funny?"

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Come on, you have to admit, the timing was pretty perfect. I mean the way you cut off Nikki, who was clearly about to pitch her little heart out.”

A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "It's not funny," she insisted, but I could hear the hint of amusement creeping into her voice.

"It kind of is," I countered, grinning. "Besides, now you have a great story to tell at parties. 'Remember that time I literally shit myself.’”

Erica still seemed a little down, so I decided to lighten the mood. "Alright, if it'll make you feel better... I've actually shit myself four times since starting high school."

Her eyes went wide, a mix of disbelief and amusement dancing in those blue depths. She tried to stifle a laugh, but it escaped anyway, a snort that was somehow both undignified and adorable.

"No way," she managed between giggles. "You're just saying that."

I shook my head solemnly, though I couldn't keep the grin off my face. "Scout's honor. Want me to tell you about one?"

Erica nodded eagerly, shifting closer to the bed. Her earlier embarrassment seemed forgotten, replaced by an almost childlike excitement.

"Okay, so picture this," I began, gesturing dramatically. "It's a Saturday night. I'm in my room, headset on, fully immersed in an intense game of Halo SWAT."

"Of course, you were such a fucking weird boy. Literally could be out there partying, but you're such a nerd." Erica interjected with a fond eye roll.

"Hey, no interrupting the cum man," I chided playfully. "Anyway, I'm in the zone, right? My team's down by just a few points, and I'm feeling that pressure. And then... I feel another pressure. That rumble in my tummy."

Erica leaned in, hanging on every word. The way she looked at me, you'd think I was reciting epic poetry instead of a tale about shitting myself.

"So, being the absolute Einstein 4D chess-playing genius that I am, I decided to try and relieve some of that pressure. You know, multitask a little fart action while I'm lining up a headshot."

"Oh no," Erica whispered, her hand flying to her mouth.

"Oh yeah," I channel a calm kool-laid man. "What I thought would be a harmless little toot turned into a full-on shart. And I mean full-on. It was like someone had dumped a jar of warm peanut butter into my underwear."

Erica made a face, caught between disgust and amusement. "That's... vivid."

"You’re telling me. So there I am, stewing in my own shit, the smell slowly permeating my room. And you know what I did?"

Erica looked confused as if I didn’t live in a world full of choices. “You didn’t just get up and clean it immediately?”

I shook my head solemnly. "Nope. I decided to finish the game."

Erica's jaw dropped. "You're kidding."

"I wish I was," I sighed. "But no, there I sat, marinating in my own mess, desperately trying to focus on the game."

"Well," Erica said after a moment, "Did your team win at least?"

I let out a remorseful laugh. "We most certainly did not.”

Erica burst into laughter, her whole body shaking. I couldn't help but join in, her laughter infectious. We lay there on her bed, giggling like children, tears streaming down our faces.

"Oh my god," Erica gasped between fits of laughter. "I can just picture you sitting there, trying to act all cool and focused while you're literally stewing in your own filth. Did anyone notice?"

I wiped my eyes, still chuckling. "Well, my mom did comment on the smell when she came to check on me later. I just said it was Brooke."

This set Erica off again, her laughter ringing through the room like bells. She clutched her stomach, rolling onto her side to face me. "You didn't!"

"I definitely did," I said. "If you can’t throw your sister under the bus, what’s the point of having a sister.”

Erica howled with laughter, her face turning red. "You are a legit psycho dude. And you suck so bad at halo I’m not surprised at all you lost.”

‘Harsh but fair.’ I think with an annoyed smile.

When she finally caught her breath, Erica looked at me with sparkling eyes. "Okay, spill. What about the other three times? I need details!"

I shook my head, a mischievous smile playing on my lips. "Oh no, those stories are safely tucked away for future emergencies. You never know when you might need a good laugh or a distraction."

Erica pouted playfully, but I could see the amusement still dancing in her eyes. "Fine, keep your secrets. But I'm holding you to that. Next time I'm feeling down, I expect some prime poop content."

"Deal," I said, holding out my pinky. She linked hers with mine, sealing our ridiculous pact.

As our laughter subsided, I found myself smiling softly at Erica. The tension had melted from her shoulders, replaced by a relaxed contentment that made her look younger, more vulnerable. It was a side of her I rarely saw, and I treasured these moments.

"Feeling better?" I asked gently.

Erica nodded.