DELIRIA - YANDERE!CHUUYA NAKAHARA

Nineteen: Folie à deux.

night is rising and your window is rolled down so the swift and dry breeze filters in, pushing your hair back from your forehead and sides of your face. Your chest feels like it's drily thumping in your chest, each pump of the ventricles being felt against your throat.

"Maybe staying in Japan is good for me, now." You finally break the silence. Chuuya blinks, staring at you from the reflection of his window, before he turns to you.

"Hah?"

"I feel..." You pause. "Unburdened. Now that I've told someone what happened."

He baulks at that. "You're telling me you went all those years without telling a single person?"

"Other than Boss, and now you, no one knows," You say. You eye Chuuya in your peripherals. His expression is constantly changing under the dappled shadows of the coming night, shifting like how light plays with the surface of water. You refocus your eyes back onto the road. "I've kept this my dirty little secret for all my life."

"And then you told me," He pauses. "Why?"

"Because what will you do with that information? Will you betray me? Spread it?"

"No." His answer is almost immediate, with a hint of outrage as though those were outlandish things to even have considered. You hum, nodding your head.

"A secret between us," You say. Your voice feels lighter in your throat, as though speaking had cut out the cyst that had been living dormantly in your jugular. That was the self harming aspect of it: speaking cut out pieces of you and laid you out into the open. It dissected you open, revealed all the imperfections you have accumulated all your life. "I must say, I haven't felt this alive since the annihilation."

"So you're going to be staying in Japan?" He asks, hope evident in his voice. On his face is a smirk, an excited smirk, for future events to come. You shrug, a hand on the steering wheel, the other on the joystick. You jerk it to the right.

"I dunno," You say, your voice misty like an early morning air. "I don't know. I'm not sure, really," You turn left. "Do I stay in the country that has betrayed my trust as a youngling? Do I stay in the country that has given me no reprieve despite my sufferings?"

He hums. "You haven't numbed the feelings after all these years?"

"Numb?" You say, almost contemptuously, as if such a remark was a bitter concept for you to swallow. Chuuya watches as your face turns into a mask; a mask of darkness that light cuts through it like a guillotine. "My friend, I have not numbed anything. I live as a young girl, trapped in time."

—

You arrive back at the Port Mafia headquarters in due time, climbing out of your vehicle with a pat to the top of the car as Chuuya follows suit. He stares at you over the top of the car, his eyes glimmering with some foreign emotion that you can't quite decipher, brilliantly shining like glowing hieroglyphics in the shaded hues of the pools of grey-blue.

"I'm going to make damn sure that you can't ever leave," He suddenly resolves. "You won't ever get too far from me."

"You want me tethered to Japan," You say, coolly. There was something rotting to your voice, and Chuuya realises that it was the way you said the word 'Japan': There are grounds to how a word is says, a variety of emotions, and the way you said that word was sterile, like soil drained of all its nutrients, with nothing else to plot on. It was cold, eerie, and wrung from any loyalties. "You want me next to you. Do you want me broken?"

"Aren't you already broken?" He asks, his voice cautious and teetering on the edge of possessiveness. You click your tongue—tsk—and turn your head away from him.