Reverie [The Distortionist x reader]

Chapter 21

(Art by teethviscera on Tumblr)

Bending light in a way that shows

The truth that left our friends in awe

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"You didn't come to work yesterday," Kennith comments as you step through the door.

"Mark it as me using one of my break days."

"Already did. It's just that the boss is wondering why."

"..." You turn your head toward the door leading into the office area. "She doesn't need to know."

"Well, you've been secretive lately," he remarks, then shrugs. "But as you say, it's none of my business."

"I'm sorry for keeping you in the dark recently..." you mutter, half-directed toward him.

"Wait, what? Didn't hear you." He looks up from sorting paperwork.

"Nothing. But I have another job for you."

"Oh, do you?" His face subtly becomes discontented and the rustling of paper stops for good.

You walk over to his counter and lean your forearms on it. "The reason you found almost nothing about Izabella is because that wasn't her name anyway. Please look for archives on Annabella Pierre. I promise something will turn up this time!"

"Well... I can't really say no. It's my job, after all."

-----*-----

Sunlight filters through the singular, closed window in your office, making the dust particles become the visible white specks. The typewriter is still set under the beam of brightness, a centerpiece you had so much history with. Approaching it and passing your fingers over the keys, you did something you hadn't done since before Henry arrived at Stia's place - you smile. Going to the shelves, you took a paper stack and set it on the desk. Once you'd rolled in one piece of paper, you settled yourself in and readied your hands.

But what are you going to write? You were done with Christopher's article, so your mind drew a blank. Instead of doing anything productive, you decided just to do something impromptu, like Stia had been when asking you to dance. You wrote about the first word you thought of. Because of the passing thought of your last article, this word was "Christopher".

This topic didn't help as you paused before figuring out what you could write. What could you say about him? Are there any amount of words that can describe your complex feelings for this felon and world-hopper? Bringing your head back to hand over the backrest of your chair, gazing up at the ceiling, you decide to not describe everything you can say about him. That would be impossible. All you need to do is get yourself in the flow, no matter how stupid the writing will end up being. You'll crumple the paper later, because this deserves to be cast away, doomed to obscurity.

You return the page to the beginning to start writing another line of text. The lonely word "Christopher" at the top of the page is soon joined by friends as you quickly hit keys which, in turn, stamp the paper with their symbol. You wanted to start from the beginning of your strange friendship with him, the reason for you meeting each other. Soon, what the page said was the following:

Christopher

The man that murdered my friend who then also became my friend. Playing like children. Despite the barriers between us, literal and metaphorical, we had fun together. I wish to talk to him again despite everything he did. I don't forgive him, yet I don't stop myself from liking the time we spend together. It's something natural, a flow of a river that I can't stop even if I built a dam. It's detached from what he was and who he is, since I'll lose him soon. While we wait, we can build a temporary friendship, playing with carousels and eating false food, playing make-believe that everything is right. I hope that I can see him again when I visit his new home.

You pull yourself back and reread the paragraph. In the recesses of your mind, you feel guilt after what Stia had told you when she decided to be spontaneous. Chris isn't your only option. To honor that, you write another word under the essay about him - "Strateira". Once you'd finished her part, it read as following:

Strateira

An unexpected friendship much healthier than that written above. I feel close to her as we solve the relevant mysteries, searching for answers and payback together. She says I don't need Christopher, and she's right - but I can be with both at the same time. Furthering the similarities, I think I have just about as much time with her as I do with him. I assume she'll leave once the job is done. I'll miss her.

As you write, you come to a realization - Stia isn't from here. She's only here to take care of Annabella, then she will probably leave. You have so little time with her... That time restriction was fine with Christopher since he wasn't exactly the best friend, but Stia could be. For a moment, one fleeting moment... You imagine what might happen if you interfered with the investigation, if you made it drag on forever. Just as soon as your mind's eye revealed it, you purged the idea. No way! If Stia found out, she'd be irate, and even if she didn't, it would weigh on you. Another, smaller reason was that you were also curious about the mystery of what in the world Bella is hiding.

As you berate yourself for even letting the thought pass through your head, light knocks come from the door to your office. "O-Oh, come in!" you answer, scrambling to rise from your seat and to take out the paper from your typewriter.

"Hello, Miss [L/N]," Stella, your boss, said with a smile, opening the door to reveal the rest of her. "Glad you made it to work."

"Hi!" You do a half-bow out of respect for your superior. "What is it?"

"Well, your article about the Pierre case blew up," she says. "Just a visceral crime, and without any motive... It inspired disgust in people, which increased readership. Congrats."

Oh. If you had written any sort of motive in the article, it might have not gotten popular. Well, that was a turn of fate. "Well, that's good!"

"I've given you a bonus for it," she says. You smile before she continues, and you can tell she saw it because she smiles too. She's the type of boss to revel in their employees' happiness. Even if most would see it as stilted, it's better than an unfriendly boss. "But that's not why I'm here. You'll need another topic for an article, correct?"

"Oh, exactly! What do you have for me?"

"Follow me to my office, I'll give you the list..."

-----*-----

Now you were equipped with another boring topic for an article. Though you've proven yourself to be worthy of more complex articles time and time again, you're happy to have some breathers once in a while. On the way to your office, you called Ellen to do the photography once again.

Back in your place of work, you get ready to rid up your desk from your previous writing warm-up. What surprised you was to find that it wasn't there anymore. You looked around for tips as to why that was. There! A reason. The window was open, it might have flown out. You had set it on the table and not left it in the typewriter, after all. And the stack of blank papers were also a little messy. It was decided - the wind did it. It's just as good as if you had crumpled it. Nothing to worry about, since you cannot bear another worry on your overflowing list.

Relieved, you settled into your chair and added another page to the typewriter, ready to type the list of things you needed to do before drafting. It wasn't much, but was enough to occupy your mind, freeing you from the thoughts about Stia and Chris, leaving you content.

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[A/N]

There is a purposeful inconsistency in this chapter. Let's see if you find it, it reveals some foreshadowing ;)

Also, back when I was only hinting about Anna, I said I'd make special content if people got it right, and guess what? People did! I didn't forget, dw. Stay tuned for that