WARNING! This a rather violent story- Super Yandere and stuff. Anyway, this is a choose your own ending story, so just follow the bold or italicized text that matches your choice. I also uploaded this on quotev, originally, so don't be surprised.
You had to admit, Oliver really could make a mean cupcake. "Mmm... thees ah de-liss-is." you tried to say around the mouthful of strawberry sparkle cupcake.
Oliver grinned widely and giggled in a rather friendly manner. "Aww... don't say that! You're making me blush..."
It wasn't all so bad here. At least you didn't have to worry about things like getting to school on time, doing your homework, doing your chores, eating your vegetables, cleaning your room, getting ready for college or even simple things like dressing up really nice. Here, you didn't have to worry about any of that.
You just wish you really knew what 'here' was. "Hey Oliver?" you began after swallowing your bite of cupcake.
"What is it Poppet?" he asked, smiling at you.
He was always smiling. "I was just thinking... it was really nice of you to... help me... but..." your voice trailed off. What was it you had wanted to say again? You couldn't really remember. It was something important you had a feeling. Did it matter? You felt like it did. You felt that deep within yourself what you were trying to remember was REALLY, REALLY IMPORTANT.
"You know _, when you squint your face together like that, you look really unhappy. What you must be thinking about must be making you really unhappy. You shouldn't think about unhappy things. Thinking about unhappy things are bad for you, you know! Here, try another cupcake. This one's pistachio."
Oliver plucked a light green cupcake from behind the glass counter of his shop and brought it over to you. You shook your head, "No, I don't really want any. Thanks though."
"Alright then." He sounded perky as ever, but in his eyes he seemed a little dejected. It was the only time he ever seemed dejected. Ever since Oliver's cupcake shop had been built here a little over seven months ago, you had always known the man has cheerful. He always had a smile on his face, and always spoke in a light and airy voice. He was very pleasant to be around and he always dressed very primly. But ever since you had come to stay with Oliver a two weeks ago, (had you? you didn't really remember...), you noticed some... things about him.
Oliver was always happy, always smiling unless you told him you didn't want any more of his cupcakes. He never yelled, or became angry or anything. But he would always just seem less energetic. As if he were disapproving of you. Like you had done something wrong. And besides that, he wanted you to always be happy. Which sounds nice at first, but when he meant always, he meant always. Sometimes you just wanted to be upset, but Oliver would never leave you alone if you were. He would always do everything that was in his power to make you happy, or at least make you forget what was making you unhappy in the first place.
Oliver was a really sweet and fun guy to be around but... something didn't feel right. The hair on the back of your neck was on edge, you had goosebumps on your arms, you just wanted to run, you didn't know where, but you NEEDED TO RUN.
Oliver grabbed your arm, "Come along Poppet. It's not so late yet and if you want we can watch a movie together before you go to sleep. Unless you're just completely knackered now?"
He was smiling again. Unnerving? Cute? Oliver reminded you of someone. Someone you knew very well. Who? Suddenly you were smiling, too. "Alright then, let's go."
The two of you headed upstairs above the cupcake shop, into the small apartment where Oliver lived. Where you lived. Where you lived? Did you live there? Oliver lived there. He definitely did. Did you? You didn't know. You had a room here. Or were you staying in a guest room? It was kind of plain. But then again that didn't necessarily mean that it wasn't your room. Maybe it just needed some new paint. Yes that must be it. You just needed to paint Oliver's guest room. Your room. Your guest room. It was kind of foggy.
You shook your head to clear the unclean thoughts. The unclear thoughts. The- you shook your head. That's what Oliver had told you to do whenever you couldn't think straight, or when confusing or scary thoughts entered your head. Count cupcakes, he had said. Anything to distract you from the horrible confines of 0ne's own mind. That was another thing about Oliver.
A few days ago while he was embroidering a new table cloth for his shop he suddenly blurted, "You know what I hate?" You had never heard him use the word 'hate' before. It wasn't like him and it took you by surprise. "Logic. Logical thinking is just like prison, isn't it? It confines you, binds you by rules that you think you have to live by. It boxes you in and binds you down and you can't get free. With logic, how can truly amazing things ever come to take place. Logic is utter rubbish if you ask me. But you know what? I LOVE creativity. Now there's something I love! Creativity just frees the mind. It allows for all kinds of wonderful things to take place. And it doesn't cage you, imprison you or enslave you! It simply allows for new things to happen. It doesn't ever say 'can't'. Isn't that wonderful?"
You liked it here with Oliver, you decided. He was a little... unique. That's right. He was unique. But he was always kind to you and he never hurt you. Not like- ... Like... who?
"Poppet! Poppet, what movie do you want to watch?" Oliver was waving a hand in front of you.
"Oh! Right!" You were supposed to pick a movie. Oliver had a few DVDs to pick from, and there was always Netflix. "Umm... how about this one!"
You pulled out an older movie from the stack of DVDs that were by the television. "You know I can always trust your taste in movies, love."
You blossomed slightly under his praise. You had always wanted to hear him say that, that he could always trust you. Had you? You felt like you had wanted to hear that for longer than you had known Oliver. But it sounded right too- did someone you know... talk like Oliver?! No, that was ridiculous. You just wanted to be trusted and loved, that was all.
"_? Are you alright?" Oliver asked.
You sighed. "I'm over-thinking everything! I just don't... I just don't feel right." You wanted to cry. You felt as if something REALLY, REALLY BAD HAS HAPPENED TO YOU. Tears welled up in your eyes, the movie dropped from your hands. "I-"
Oliver wrapped his arms around you in a warm embrace. "There, there Poppet. It's alright." He was stroking your hair comfortingly, you buried your face into his shoulder. He smelled sweet, like freshly sugar cookies. He felt warm and his shirt felt soft. But you didn't feel safe. Not at all.
You choked back a sob. "There, there. It's all going to be alright. I promise you. I'll take care of you. I'll protect you. I'll always love you. You don't have a thing in the world to worry your pretty little head about. You know you can tell me anything. I won't blame you. I won't judge you. I won't hurt you. Are you hurt? Let worries like that go. I'll always be here. I love you."
You had always wanted to hear those words always. It felt like you had waited to hear those words for a long time. (But not from Oliver. Yes, from Oliver. To hell with where they're from, he said them. He loves you. He loves you.)
"Oliver, I... I love you, too." the words felt strange coming out of your mouth, but once you had said them you were glad that you did. Oliver smiled the warmest, most heart-warming smile you had seen on him yet. It made you feel happy. All of the dark, scary thoughts you had before were pushed away. "Oh, Poppet! You make me happy- so very happy! It's a wonderful feeling isn't it? Being in love, I mean?"
"Yes, it is!" you smiled back and the two of you began giggling.
You were just so happy! So very happy! Why hadn't it always been like this? He kissed you softly on your lips. He had kissed you before- he kissed a lot of people. But he kissed them on their cheek. Only you got this kind of attention. It made you happy to feel special. "Now then, why don't we watch that movie you wanted to see?"
"Okay."
The two of you curled up on the couch together, half watching the movie, half enamored in each other. By the time the movie was over, you were very tired. Oliver saw this, and although it was only ten minutes after nine, he sent you to bed. He went so far as to tuck you in and said, "Good night, _. I hope you have only the very sweetest and most sugary dreams!" He kissed your forehead, and then left the room.
You had felt very warm after he kissed you. But after a few minutes of sitting alone in the dark the warmth started to fade, leaving you with an empty and cold feeling. 'Why doesn't he love me?' you wondered.
Wait... what? Oliver loved you! You knew he loved you. He said so. He showed his love through his actions. He cooked meals for you, took care of you. He told you that you were special. He made you feel like the only other person in the entire world As if YOU HADN'T SEEN ANYONE ELSE IN A FEW WEEKS. It was like IT WAS JUST THE TWO OF YOU, ALWAYS ALONE IN HIS APARTMENT. You smiled. You loved Artiver-
Oliver. You loved Oliver- not Arthur. Who's Arthur? You felt as if YOU HAD KNOWN HIM FOR A VERY LONG TIME, almost as if YOU HAD BEEN BEST FRIENDS SINCE THE SIXTH GRADE. But that was utter nonsense. You loved Oliver and Oliver loved you. You felt as if that had been a rather painful lesson.
You drifted off to sleep after that. You had a very odd dream, You couldn't quite remember it. There was a boy in your dream- and he had looked a good bit like Oliver.
But he wasn't Oliver. This man had blonde hair while Oliver had strawberry-blonde hair. You couldn't see the man's face in your dreams but he was crying and screaming. He was throwing things about as if he was very unbearably upset. It was scary. You felt bad for the boy. Oliver was never this sad. Why was he sad? You didn't know. At the end of your dream Oliver had lifted you up and carried you away. "_!" he called.
You woke up in a cold sweat. That voice- No, no. It didn't matter. That didn't matter. It was almost time. You had to help Oliver get ready for the day.
While living with Oliver you generally had a lot of freedom. Upstairs you could do anything you wanted to, as long as it didn't hurt you or make you unhappy.
Downstairs, though, there were some rules you had to follow. You could be in the kitchen, as long as the store was closed. But you were NEVER allowed in the front part if the store, where the customers were. "There are so many people who can be rude, mean and awful. I just don't want you around those kinds of people Poppet. Oh, I really am sorry, Poppet, I am. But there are people in this world who just don't want us to be together. They want to tear us apart and make sure we'll never see each other again. Please Poppet, make sure no one sees you. Okay? Oh, I love you Poppet. Just for a while, now."
That's what Oliver had said when he first... rescued you. You were so foggy headed at first you were upset by this. But now you were grateful! Oliver was always watching out for you.
Every morning, before the store opened you would help Oliver gather all of his things in the kitchen. He would make breakfast for the two of you, and give you a few snacks to take upstairs in case you got peckish before dinner. There was a kitchen upstairs too, but it was small and very outdated. Oliver's cooking was plenty enough.
You had taken a shower that morning, and put on a nice new dress that Oliver gad given you. It was very soft, and you felt very good. All of the dirty, awful thoughts that plagued you yesterday were all gone! You felt refreshed, and ready to take on a new day!
It was still dark out; you had to get up pretty early because Oliver had to set up for business soon afterwards. If you were tired you could always come upstairs and take a nap later. You just felt so good. Everything was alright and wonderful! You practically skipped down the narrow wooden steps to the kitchen. You would help make breakfast, and be helpful to Oliver, and he would love you, and it would all be okay.
You didn't know what was going on when you walked in the kitchen. The light was on, but Oliver wasn't there. He had always been there before. "Hum... Oliver" Are you up yet?" You called softly. He must have gone to the restroom. It didn't matter. You walked to the sink to grab a glass when you noticed... it.
It was... well... pink. A lot of Oliver's stuff was pink. But you had never seen this thing before. It was huge. You would have blown it of as a wash cloth, or a new sponge or something but this thing was big. It took up both sides of the extra-large sink. To be really honest, it didn't really look like a sponge either. It looked... slick and rubbery.
It looked like a Pon de Ring doughnut, almost. It was… it was divided. Not cut, but there was this middle section; a line going through it. It was a long, giant, pink, slimy THING that had round, spherical sections.
And the smell. The smell was the worst. It smelled like iron. It smelled like iron, and waste, and the most rotten thing you had ever smelled. Thick red dye dripped off and out of the thing. The dye was so chunky and red; you didn't think you'd need much to dye enough frosting fir dozens of cupcakes. The dye was dripping all over the sink. It made you want to cry. It made you feel more scared, more insecure and more hysterical than you had ever felt in your entire life.
You knew you had seen this before. You knew. But it was just so out of place. It was comical, really. Utterly impossible. Just utter rubbish. But could you deny logic? Was this creativity? Which was which? Could you trust your gut instinct? Could you trust guts? They seemed to skip out on people sometimes. Could you possibly be mistaken? Was everything as it seemed? Was this- what was this!?
-It's just a mess. Oliver just spilled some cake batter everywhere and there are chunks if strawberry in it.
-It's a colon. Oh my god, it's a human colon!
You sighed, "Oh, Oliver..." This was honestly such a huge mess. The mixer that Oliver had been using was lyjng on it's side nearby. It looked like all of this mixing had been a bit too much for it.
You stuck your finger in the batter and brought it up to your mouth. The taste was good, but a little overly sweet. You grabbed a handful of paper towels and began to scoop the mess into the trash can. A few minutes later Oliver walked in.
"Oh, Poppet! You don't gave to clean that up. I just went to get changed." he said, walking over.
"No, I don't mind." you licking some of the sweet batter off your finger.
You were a little surprised when Oliver pulled you into a hug and asked, "Did you take your medicine today?"
"Medicine?" You didn't know what he was talking about.
"For your schizophrenia. Oh love, don't tell me you've forgotten again?" Oliver offered you a sweet smile, but it was tinged with worry.
"I... what?" you looked at him weird.
"Here sit down." Oliver pulled a chair out for you to sit in, and you gingerly sat down.
"Poppet, a little over a month ago, you fell ill. You serving some customers like you always did when- well... You said you thought the man pulled a knife out. Turns out he didn't have a knife. But you bashed his head through the main window out front there, anyways. Got a new window now, of course that's irrelevant. It cut his head up pretty bad. He had to go to the hospital. You did too... They were going to arrest you, but you were crying and kept saying you didn't know where you were at or who anyone was- you didn't even recognize me. I was worried sick about you Poppet. I thought that you weren't ever going to be the same.
He grabbed your hand, almost subconsciously. At the hospital, they ran all kinds of tests. They asked me a whole bunch of questions. They thought that you were normally like that. They said that you had schizophrenia. That explained a lot of things. You spent a week at the hospital in the... Mental Health Ward- working with a therapist. But you were back to normal, then. There wasn't a lot to work with.
I had been working with the police and Antonio- err- the guy who's head you bashed in; Antonio Carriedo. Luckily for us, Antonio's an all-around wonderful guy and he says he won't press any charges. If not you could've been taken away for a very long time. Antonio actually said he was kind of used to that kind of thing happening! I offered him free cupcakes for life for being so kind and forgiving."
He paused for a moment, looking to see how you were doing. It seemed surreal; you didn't remember that. But yet when Oliver told you what had happened you had the sickening feeling that he was in fact right, and you had indeed attacked an innocent. It seemed vaguely familiar; the fact that you spent time with a therapist in the hospital.
"I'm sorry Poppet. I should have spent more time straightening things out with you. If I had been a better boyfriend- or even just a better person- I would've been able to see how much you were suffering. I could have helped you sooner and have prevented this whole mess. I'm sorry. Now I can't even let you outside without protesters trying to kidnap you and send you away! Business isn't ever going to be what it used to... But I was thinking!"
Oliver suddenly looked joyful, his eyes glimmered with excitement. Why don't we move to London? I think I've saved enough money to buy a rundown shop there. My brother Arthur- do you remember Arthur? He found the place for us. We can renovate it; we can start over. It will be a new experience. A new day to do better. No one will know us for our mistakes. I know your parents live closer here, but-"
"Say no more, Oliver."
This had been a lot to take in. You didn't know what to think. Could you handle this? Your... dark side had almost been revealed to Oliver. Poor, sweet, little Oliver. He was so naive, so cute. You'd have to be more careful. You remembered now; you remembered who you were. But Oliver didn't need to know that. You protected him. He was yours. And only yours. Antonio and any regulars who tended to get too friendly- well they'd have to learn. You'd just have to be more careful.
"So," you gave Oliver you biggest and brightest smile, "When do we leave, dear?"
"Oh my god, oh my god-" You were going to be sick. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening. But it was. And now you remembered everything.
It had all started with a fight with your long-time friend, short-time boyfriend Arthur Kirkland. Arthur was telling you that you crazy. Well, as he put it you "Needed some help from a therapist." It wasn't your fault! How were you supposed to know that all of those things you saw were fake, or never happened!? You weren't crazy- You didn't need help! Arthur was the one who needed help!
"I don't think your crazy. But I think it's odd that you can see all that stuff- You've never once stayed with my brother Oliver. All that stuff you said about him is true but- it's not normal, love. To know things about him that he's never told anyone but me- Unless... you've been seeing him behind my back?"
That's what really kicked off the fight. Oliver was just a friend- he always had been. You loved Arthur- you always had. You didn't know what to think. He didn't trust you- he never had. You ran off after that- skipping the rest of school and running. You didn't know where you were going at first, but your feet carried all the way to Oliver's bakery. You don't know why- but there you were.
You stood outside the bakery- trying to catch your breath. Silent tears rolled down your face. Why? Why did it always come to this!? Why did he always do that!? You weren't crazy. You weren't seeing things. But worst of all- that Arthur could even think that you'd cheat on him! Didn't he see how much he meant to you? How much you couldn't stand it it you lost him? Didn't he trust you? Didn't he love you?
A few minutes later, you heard the door of the bakery open- and out stepped Oliver.
"Oh, hello Poppet! I thought that was you. Why aren't you in school? Are you skipping out? Don't worry- I won't tell; these lips are sealed!"
As he walked around to see you, he then noticed that you were crying. "What's wrong love? Are you alright?" He pulled you into a hug that you only thought mothers could give, "Poppet..."
You didn't stop crying- you didn't think you could. After a while it began to rain and Oliver brought you inside. A few of the customers gave you weird looks, but you didn't care. There was a girl with red hair who was working the front counter of the store. You didn't recognize her, though. Oliver only stopped for a second to say something to her and she nodded in response.
You were brought back to the kitchen after that and you were sat at a long table that was covered in flour. Oliver offered you a glass of water and a cupcake. You were grateful, but you only drank the water. Oliver sat down next to you and you told him everything.
You told him about the weird dreams, about the strange intuitions, about the weird things you saw. All of it. You even told him about you and Arthur. About how unloved you felt. He didn't say anything, he just sat and rubbed your back slowly.
After you were done Oliver said, "I should have known that it was Arthur that had done it. Don't mind him, Poppet. He's just a little rough around the edges- of course you already know that. Arthur's always saying he wants to be a gentleman, but he just doesn't know how to act around cute girls. Arthur might be a gentleman, but he'll never be a Prince Charming. Sorry, love."
Once you were done you felt better. It was nice to have someone just sit and listen to you. "Thanks, Oliver. I really appreciate it," you said.
"And don't let him make you think you're a loony! He's the loony. He still has his stuffed unicorn from when he was a kid. Did you know that? He still has Uni- Thinks that unicorns and fairies and pixies are real. He doesn't have any room to talk." Oliver giggled, and you joined in.
You weren't mad anymore. Maybe you should go and see Arthur again. He was always wound up with worry about something. "Maybe I should go, then-" you started.
"Ah! Don't go yet! At least try one of my cupcakes. Here," he pulled a blue cupcake out of a cabinet he had. There was only three of it, and it had an odd look to it. It was rather plain- considering Oliver's usual style. "I normally save these for myself, but you have to have one."
"Oh no, I couldn't... I can't pay for it."
"Don't pay for it! It's a gift from me! Just tell me how it tastes- be honest. Your criticism will help me grow as a baker. Please, try it."
Before you could protest anymore the absurdly blue-frosted cupcake was set in front of you. It was almost radiating blue. It had its very own aura around it almost as if IT WASN'T SOMETHING YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO EAT. "Alright then." you said, picking up the cupcake.
The taste- it was everything a cupcake wasn't supposed to be. The first thing you thought it tasted like was rubber tired and industrial workings. You forced yourself to swallow. "Oh, it's uh- well..."
You passed out after that. How could you forget something like that? How could you forget that you were kidnapped!? Your heart was pounding in your chest. Sweat dripped down your face and your hands were shaking.
'I've got to get out of here...!' You bolted to the door that lead to the store front. It was locked. You would've tried to bust it down, but you were out of time. "What's wrong Poppet?"
You spun around. There was Oliver Kirkland, holding the biggest cleaver you had evet seen on your life. His hand was coated with red sticky dye- yes, it was dye you decided- the dye was dripping to the floor.
"You're up early. Why don't you go back to bed? Nothing's going on here, just some cleaning," he smiled, "I'll bring you breakfast later. How does sausage sound?"
"Y-y-you..." You pressed yourself against the door, "You stay away you FREAK!"
"What? What's with the hurtful words, _? Are you upset again? You didn't take your medicine this morning, did you?"
Oliver approached you slowly, but he set the cleaver down on the counter. "You- you let me go! Let me go home!" you screamed.
"What are you talking about? You're home right now. Poppet, this is your home." his voice was soft, but his smile was evil-looking.
"Where's Arthur? What happened to him?" you asked, "Is he made-up, too?"
"No love, I'm sorry about Arthur. After he left him- well he didn't take it very well. Your family got the police involved and everything. You were thought to be missing for a few days, before Arthur spread all those rumors about you. He told the police that he thought you threw yourself off the bridge. You know the one behind the school? He thought you did it out of your love for him. Utter rubbish. The police believed him, too! Your family thinks you're dead, and I didn't even lift a finger to pull any of this. You've all but been officially announced dead- they need a body for that. They held a candlelight vigil the other day, at the school. And to think, Arthur did all the hard work for me! What a chap! He's the one to thank for all of this."
"No... no it... It can't be true!" you were devastated; you were crying, "You're lying."
"Oh, I almost wish I was." Oliver said, grabbing your hands in his, red dye staining your skin. "I love you, Poppet. I'll always be here for you. I'll always protect you. I'll always understand you. I'll never judge you. I'll always take care of you. You're the most important thing in the world to me. I love you, Poppet."
You forgot about the thing in the sink. You forgot about your old life. You forgot about Arthur. Oliver was the only one who mattered to you. He was the only one who mattered at all.
"I... I love you too, Oliver."