Questionable Choices [Yan!DSMP x Reader]

Chapter 36: Blame

T/W: MC being drunk

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The darkness has fallen over the city and the stars are painted high in the sky, giving off the little amount of light that the street lanterns can't already carry. It's full moon, you see, or at the very least, the moon is close to being full.

Your fingers are still wrapped around the neck of the bottle that you got at the restaurant. Once in a minute, you'll put the opening to your lips and take a sip, even if you're not actually thirsty anymore. In reality, you're just hoping to get more out of it. At first, you felt absolutely fucking amazing, but the longer you are in the same state, the more agonizing it feels. The more tears you believe are going to go down your face. So, the more alcohol you consume – and thus, the drunker you get – the more you can feel good again. But you know that that feeling is only temporary. You know that you'll be ugly when you feel like yourself again, after all.

The world around you seem to be spinning a bit, but it's not an unpleasant experience. In a way, it feels normal. In a way, it feels natural. You feel like you could be standing on the podium of a politician, talking to a whole crowd of people, without feeling that immense anxiety creep up on you. You feel free. Free from the worries that have clouded your mind. Free from the people whose lives you've ruined by leading them down a dark path. Free from yourself: your own worst enemy. For once, nothing can harm you and you can harm nothing. For once, you're in charge of what will happen. For once, you're free from the Hell that you feel like you've been living in for the past days, or even weeks.

You can dance. You can sing. You can fly. Dance like the girl with the red shoes. Sing like the sorrows of Orpheus. Fly like Icarus, only to fall back after that intense feeling of happiness.

Every time you drink, you fly closer and closer to the sun. Every single drop of alcohol means more warmth to fall on the wax of the wings that keep you up. And you know that as soon as you're too close, you'll fall in the seas of your own pain and self-hatred. The seas that you're trying to stay away from. The seas that are the only things that you'll find back down, as they're either ready to catch you or to consume you.

You have no idea where you are. No idea were you're going to. All that you know, is that you don't care. While your mind is lost in a maze that you created yourself, you start approaching the casino of your friend, probably in need of some company from your best friend. It's still open and quite crowded as well. What you expected, as for the room to be way emptier than that it actually is. It seems like people are gambling until they've nothing left this night and honestly, it's only worsening your existence.

Around you are way too many sounds and the lights of the machines flicker too much. The people, hypnotized by the thought that maybe they could get some money, are aggressively pushing the buttons and praying for some reward. It's annoying. It's so goddamn annoying.

Hoping to make this anxious feeling disappear, you drink. The bottle is almost empty, which truly isn't a surprise considering you've not been going easy on the alcohol, but it's not satisfying at all. And before you can do anything about it, every light is too bright and every sound is too loud.

It's too much. It's too much. It's too fucking much.

Your vision is a bit blurry, and you can barely even recognize Charlie when he appears, asking you if you're alright, but you don't care. Because why should you?

"Y/N from the Deserts? Are you alright?"

You make eye contact with the green-looking motherfucker, before looking around the casino. "I want to play a game," you then say, before shoving the bottle of drink into his hands. "And get me another bottle, bitch."