hand in unlovable hand | shin tsukimi x reader

prologue

      "My neck burns. Why?  There's something on me. Is that why it's burning?" Faceless people surround you.

    "I think they're scared." Staring at the ground, you try to pull the thing off of you; but you're burning your hands on it.

     "It doesn't matter, I'll tear it off." The sickly pink colored room smells disgusting.

    "I think that's my fault." There's an ear-piercing beeping, which only makes the situation feel more dire. Your thoughts won't stop racing, chastising you for putting others through the torment of being in this room with you - plaguing you with thoughts of confusion and fear.

     You look back around the room, the people are surrounding you; eyes burning into you with the same intensity as the object on your neck. They're chanting almost inaudibly.

    "'Wake up' I believe I'm hearing. Wake up?"

     The beeping gets louder and faster until you feel as though your eardrums could burst. The scene is fading to white until you can't see anything you could before.

     You shoot upright in bed, body and bed-sheets soaked in sweat. The beeping you were hearing was your alarm clock.

    "Stupid fucking thing." You internally curse the object that had induced the nightmare you had just barely escaped. Swinging your legs over the edge of your bed, you slam your hand down on the alarm clock resting on the nearby nightstand.

     What a way to wake up.

     You put your head down into clammy hands and rub your face roughly.

    "Why would I dream about something like that? I guess it doesn't really matter."

     Lifting your head, you run your hands along your bed hoping to find your phone. The side of your palm bumps something hard underneath the pillow, which would only make sense to have been the phone. Grabbing the phone and bringing it to your line of sight, it immediately lights up - displaying the date, time, and lock screen; which is a photo of you and the boy you've been babysitting this past year. The way he dresses doesn't leave much of his face visible, but by the way the corners of his eyes crease, you can tell he was smiling. He's a sweet boy; one you thought of as your own son.

     The time, more importantly, is 9 am on a Saturday. This leaves about an hour and a half to get ready before you have to head to your babysitting gig. You set the phone back onto your bed and lightly push yourself off of the edge of the bed.

     "What should I wear? Probably something comfortable, he always wants to go do something outside." You think of a few cute things to wear as you wander over to the closet. Upon opening the door, you notice there isn't  a lot to choose from.

    "I must've forgotten to do my laundry." You sigh at the inconvenience. Luckily, one of your favorite shirts and a loose, comfortable pair of pants are clean. You pull both items out of the closet and sling them over your shoulder. In regards to shoes, converse seems to be a safe bet for whatever the young boy has in store for the day. Holding the shoes, you turn on your heel and walk a few steps until you reach the foot of the bed. Lifting the clothes off of your shoulder, you gently lay them on the bed then set the shoes down beside the leg of the bed. You quickly swap out your pajamas for fresh clothes before picking up your phone and shoes and heading to the kitchen. 

     It's a little thing, only wide enough to fit one person between the back wall and the appliances. You set the shoes near the kitchen's walkway and make your way to the fridge.

     You bend down and pull the freezer door open. You push a few frozen food items aside to get to a box of waffles. You grab the box and set it on the wooden counter, adjacent to the toaster. You set 2 frozen waffles into the toaster and pressed them down into the appliance.