gentle angel • kousano

VII. you look perfect, you look different

Yosano awoke with only a vague understanding of what had happened.

She remembered waking up and feeling substantially more awful than usual but still going to work. She remembered the way she unsteadily walked there, constantly bumping into things and people. She remembered the way she couldn't focus because she just kept thinking. She remembered the visual and auditory hallucinations that were plaguing her due to a fun mix of her sickness, lack of sleep, lack of food, and lack of water. She remembered the soft but concerned look that Kouyou had given her when she walked into work. Most of all, she remembered how grateful she was that Kouyou never asked. And finally, the last thing she remembered was talking to Ranpo, albeit a very blurry version of him, before the floor suddenly appeared in front of her face.

Most concerning of all of these things to Yosano, though, was the fact that she didn't know where she was.

It was an issue she had with herself. Yosano had discovered that waking up in unknown places, clueless as to how she had gotten there, scared her endlessly. Obviously, she knew that any other logical human would feel the same, but a normal person did not react as intensely as she would.

A normal person would be panicked, yes, but they would first look around, gather information, figure out where exactly they were, if it was someplace they knew of or knew the general area of. Yosano, though, Yosano's brain always went directly into panic mode.

She liked to think that in a fight or flight situation, she would choose to fight, but it was more of a mix of freeze while she would simultaneously fight and flee after the fact, once she was in a place where her mind condemned 'safe,' she would hardly remember the events that took place.

Regardless of the fact that Yosano was aware of how to rationally react to this situation, she was panicking.

Her breaths were at a staccato, and she was certain this was it. She might as well have been dead if her inability to breathe wasn't going to do it for her.

Fuck. She curled up into a tight ball and tugged at the ends of her hair; she was back. She was back, and there was nowhere she could run.

Not to Ranpo, not to Dazai, not to Kouyou.

Not that they would care, she thought distantly; the three of them hardly knew her, much less considered her someone worth saving.

God, what was she going to do?

The tears wouldn't come no matter how badly Yosano wanted them to. She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled harder at her hair, bringing on an intense headache that she couldn't be bothered to dwell on.

Her whole body felt too hot, yet she was covered in chills.

The blanket draped over her shoulders was suffocating, and her clothes felt too tight on her skin.

She was suddenly shocked out of her stupor when she felt a cold hand touch her arm.

Her head flinched toward the source of the cold, and she was met with shocking pink eyes that belonged to a delicate and pale face.

"Kouyou," Yosano rasped out, though with how shaky her voice was, she was unsure whether she was audible.

Kouyou's eyes softened as they cupped Yosano's face. Her breathing was still unsteady, but her wide-blown eyes and shaking hands became less intense.

"Yosano," Kouyou spoke softly and clearly, "what's wrong?"

A distant part of her mind found the question rather silly, especially coming from Kouyou, but it was drowned out quickly by the concern in those bright pink eyes.

Yosano took in a shaky breath and promptly broke down crying. She felt herself collapse into Kouyou's arms and melt into her lap. It felt as though she was no longer panicking and was now just letting out a well-deserved, long-overdue cry.

It felt good, oddly enough—to cry. She felt like a dried-out plant blossoming in a storm.

Kouyou's arms were warm, warmer than the tears that were streaking down her cheeks, but unlike the tears she could have very well been drowning in, Kouyou's arms were safe. Kouyou's arms made the wetness that covered her face feel like a relief rather than a shame, and although she knew that she would have to explain herself later, all she could think about was how comfortable she was at that moment.

Once the tears subsided, she was overcome with intense tiredness, and, despite feeling a bit bad about it, she fell asleep in Kouyou's soft embrace.

ʚїɞ

For the first time in a long time, Yosano awoke from her slumber comfortably.

She was warm, but not too warm, and the body that she was draped over wasn't suffocating or intruding. Cold hands were carding through her hair, undoing the knots that had nestled themselves inside.

It was nice, Yosano thought distantly, as she let out a contented sigh, she didn't want it to end. Alas, at that moment, Kouyou's hand stopped moving, and she looked down at the newly awoken girl still curled up in her lap.

Sighing again, this time for a different reason, Yosano manuvered herself so that she was no longer hald-stradling the girl underneath her and was now comfortably sitting in front of her.

Kouyou watched, eyes tracking her every movement with soft fondness. She didn't move to stop the girl, even if she stiffened slightly, clearly under the impression that Yosano was about to leave.

Once Yosano was situated, she brought her knees to her chin and curled her arms around herself, preparing for what she was about to tell the woman in front of her. She took a steadying breath and finally looked Kouyou directly in the eyes.

"Yosano," Kouyou began softly, already sensing what the girl was preparing herself for, "you do not owe me any explanation."

The black-haired girl rolled her eyes, "Obviously."

She brought her hand forward and placed it in Kouyou's.

"I want to tell you," Yosano whispered.

Kouyou squeezed her hand and nodded, saying nothing else, prepared to listen all the way through, no interruptions until the girl was done.

Yosano steeled herself for what was to come, and she began.

"I was eleven."