What I never told you (ReaderxDazai)

ICHI

Oh, hearts of the lonely ones

Will you be ready to love

When the time comes?

Your POV

Cling. Cling.

As I lazily step inside that cozy and relatively quiet tavern, the doorbell emits a characteristic sound that teleports me into another dimension free of worries and sorrow. A world where I can stop being the person everybody wants me to be, and I can take a break from my own hectic life.

I sit on one of those crimson red stools and cross my legs, suiting myself as I slowly soak up the atmosphere of the room. The background jazz music, the sweet aroma of old wood, the vivid colors of all those alcohol bottles behind the counter...

After a long, long time, I feel at home. And the thought makes me draw a feeble smile, thinking to myself that there is nothing more I could ask for these days. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes as I engrave the moment in my memory, and, after letting it all out, I catch the attention of the bartender.

The old male smiles at me with nostalgia, as though I had changed a lot during these last three years. Maybe I have. Maybe I haven't. I no longer remember the person I used to be, and therefore, I have nothing to compare myself to.

He comes closer to me and, without saying a single word, he knows what I am about to order. Not having forgotten my own preferences, he places a yellow irregular glass in front of me and, with fatherly love, he begins pouring the liquid of that greenish bottle as if every drop was valued in millions of yen.

"Thanks." I simply state as he hands me the consumption, rapidly vanishing from my sight. Not thinking it twice, I approach that precious and soothing old whiskey to my cut lips, letting it go down my throat as a burning sensation invades my inners. My lips sting due to the alcohol, and I know the coldness of the winter night has taken its toll on me. Nevertheless, deep inside I prefer this temporarily discomfort than the forever thirst for relief that pains me inside.

How... How long has it been since I've felt this... empty? My body is on the brink of losing a sense of purpose, its own identity. I strive to achieve success, to become the woman I am supposed to be now, to meet everyone's expectations. But how come such fate is only making me feel at all sea? Is growing up supposed to numb you inside? Is aging a synonym for 'losing yourself'?

The questions won't easily go away, and as minutes pass, only more of them seem to pop up inside my head, until the point it is exasperating. I press the glass with my right hand, getting lost in the round-shaped ice, struggling to understand what exactly is happening to me. All what these three years have done to me.

You're just... tired, I mentally repeat to myself as I take another sip of that exquisite drink, You just need a small break, so unwind now that you can. Tomorrow morning, you'll be stuck in the monotony of your life again, so stop wasting your spare time overthinking.

The inner conversation doesn't last long and, effectively, I understand a part of me is right. I should make this night memorable before everything returns to normal. Before I have to put on another fake act to fit in and be respected by the rest. Because, these last few years, that's all I've been doing.

But not tonight.

I leave the now empty glass on the counter and, asking with pleading eyes for another round to warm me up, I start looking around.

There's nobody aside from me and my loneliness.

Only the bartender who appears and disappears almost like a mirage, making me wonder if this is real or it's just my personal desires that have become an incredibly realistic illusion. Both could be possible; sometimes I go far, far away, and both fake and real are only severed by a thin line. Nevertheless, this time is not the case.