A Most Grotesque Display (jobros x fem!reader circus au)

11| Love Letters

A violent throbbing erupted in (Y/n)s ears, beating and hammering as loud as war drums. With each round of slams, time seemed to run by slower, the unrelenting pace of the drumming making her grow sick to her stomach with anxiety. Her mind soon began to tune to static as bile collected in her throat, churning and writhing along her esophagus as the thudding refused to stop.

The ticking of the clock on Bucciarati's walls continued.

This horrid anticipation wasn't the one you felt when you were awaiting something magical, or painfully but patiently listening for news on something. No, this was like when you got caught doing something horribly wrong, and now sit for your turn of punishment.

The floor swayed beneath her unsteady feet, hands barely supporting her against Bucciarati's scarily neat desk as she let her ears follow the slow-paced footsteps track down the hall.

The came closer, and closer, only to stop at the entrance to his room. They didn't bother questioning what she was doing, and she didn't bother looking to see who it was. After a moment, they resumed down the hall, the tacking of their feet only aiding the feverish fear unfurling in her chest like a thorned flower.

There comes another set of feet, their weight light against the floorboards they quickly strutted down, the creaking of wood giving away their mood instantly. She knew who it was, she knew exactly. 

The ticking of the clock on Bucciarati's wall continued, and as it did, she slowly felt herself slipping into insanity.

"You used his puppets arm." He got straight to the point as he closed his door behind him. "You used it with no regret."

"I was saving Hermes, Bruno."

"You were breaking your own rules, and disrespecting our dear friend because you thought it was the only way to save her."

"It was!" She screamed, slamming her hands onto the table in such a manner that it made the pens jump from where they sat. "You don't fucking know what it's like having someone elses hands in your life like that, she could've bled out and died!"

"You were the one that said no one should ever go into Kakyoin's room under any circumstances, and yet there you are, hoarding his own creation beneath your bed like the worst hypocrite known to man!" Bucciarati argued, the frown he had evident in his voice. "I am beyond disappointed in you."

"Leave it to you to make me feel bad for doing what was right! There wasn't any other choice, and we had no time to prepare with her condition, so I did what I could!" The walls to the tent began to bubble and squirm, the faintest of squeaks and grotesque chirping coming beyond what the eye could see.

The ticking of the clock on Bucciarati's wall continued, even as the boards it was hung upon broke into life.

"I know you had no choice, and I wouldn't have blamed you if you had went into his room under those conditions to get the arm, but you had it with you the entire time! You took his shit right after you had asked everyone to leave it all be! You're the bad guy in this situation!"

He was right, and by god, that was the worst part. (Y/n)s throat closed up as her eyes began to sting, the nerves in her face refusing to pull anything but a frown, her words overrun with tiny, broken sobs.

"I-I didn't mean to, I wan- I wanted to see him alive again in so-some way, so I was trying to- to--" Like freshly shot game, she crumbled to the floor, letting her legs buckle beneath her as her body let loose all of the grief it had bottled up, pouring her emotions into her hands to leave them stained with sadness.

"Trying to what, huh? trying to make the rest of us feel like garbage? Trying to show us that--"

"I was just trying to see it move again! I-I just wanted-- I just wanted to think that he might be behind the strings to it, one more time!"

Yes, the whole plan was to let it play imposter to her imagination, have it play pretend with her under the idea that it was Kakyoin in control, and not the spiders so eager to see it at play. However, it was beyond difficult, unlike the little twig doll that she could manipulate with ease. 

Through her unending stress, [The Mind Electric] began to shift, things moving beneath the wallpaper in strange bumps, and the ceiling beginning to crumble to unveil something truly distasteful.

The ticking of the clock on Bucciarati's wall became disoriented among the chaos, the tool struggling to cling onto the nail it desperately gripped in hopes of staying put.

"I just wanted to believe he was there again, I'm so sorry, I just wanted to- to believe he was there--" The lightest of touches graced along her shoulders, a firm, though gentle hand running over her coat and carefully pulling her backward into a soft hug. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry--"

"It's ok, calm down." Through her parted fingers, she found the face of a man she hadn't seen in a long time, or at least, hadn't noticed. Bucciarati; But not the one with the face of a cheating bastard, the face of one that deeply cared and longed to comfort. Yes, she hadn't seen him in quite a long time. "I'm... Sorry I upset you."

The changing of the tent pulled to a halt, and everything once under motion stood frozen.

The ticking of the clock on Bucciarati's wall fell to the other side of the room where its origin ended up through the ruckus. 

"I know you had good intentions, but please, tell me next time." She could feel the rumble of his voice through the chest she had been held against, and between her crying, she somehow managed to speak.

"I will, I promise I will, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be sorry. You're ok." A faint kiss planted itself onto her forehead, her shaky hands scrambling to grip his shirt as she hurried to sob onto his shoulder, one more time.

"Do you remember..." A change of subject would do the two of them good. "...When Kakyoin delivered our love letters to each other?"

A slight giggle replaced the insistent crying of hers. "Y-Yeah, that was nice.. He was so happy to be our letterman."

"Thrilled, even. The proud look on his face when he saw we actually confronted each other was priceless."

"It made us getting together all the better, didn't it?"

"It did, it really did."

(Y/n) calmed herself, and quickly so, which reflected onto the body of the tent that carefully clattered back into its original form. 

Her whispers were mocked by the guilt in her voice. "...I miss those times."

The ticking of the clock finally came to a stop.

"I'm sure it's obvious," he took care to mind the spider on her hat, gently plucking it from where it stood to sit it on his shoulder, "but I miss them too.

Next chapter: And to you, I'd always say yes