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Your heart raced in your chest, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you fled from the suffocating confines of the venue. The world around you seemed to blur, distorted by tears that streaked down your face, leaving trails of anguish in their wake. The cacophony of the crowd's whispers and hushed murmurs faded into the background as you pushed forward, your heart shattering into a million brittle pieces.
With each step, your hand clutched at the fabric of your dress, the delicate material billowing behind you like a tattered flag of your emotions. The wind, carrying a cool bite, tousled your dishevelled hair, accentuating your disarrayed state. The vibrant lights that had once illuminated your path now served as a haunting reminder of the fractured reality you faced.
"How can I possibly turn in the woman that I am so fucking madly in love with?" The words echoed relentlessly, their persistent refrain reverberating through the corridors of your mind. They were etched into every thought, a haunting melody that played on an endless loop, their weight heavy upon your conscience. Like a broken record, the words spun and danced, their rhythm synchronised with each beat of your racing heart.
Love, as you had learnt, was like a treacherous tempest, engulfing its victims in a whirlwind of passion and pain. It tempted humankind with fleeting moments of ecstasy, only to unleash torrents of heartache and despair. It twisted and contorted, creating a turbulent sea of emotions that threatened to drown the unwary traveller.
You continued running, as Ranpo's words resonated with a bittersweet harmony, a symphony of love and anguish intertwined. And then, through tear-streaked eyes, you caught sight of it—a blacked-out car standing as a foreboding sentinel in the distance. The members of the Decay of Angels, Fyodor, Nikolai, Bram, Sigma, and Fukuchi, stood beside it, their presence casting an eerie shadow over the scene.
Ignoring the looming figure of Fukuchi, who was technically your boss, your eyes honed in on Fyodor, your anger blazing like a wildfire within you. With determination in your stride, you closed the distance, your steps echoing with a mix of fury and desperation. The intensity of your gaze bore into Fyodor's very soul, a silent declaration of your defiance and refusal to be broken.
Fyodor leaned casually against the car, his demeanour exuding an air of calculated calmness that only served to fuel your rage. His lips curved into a smug smirk, a reflection of the power he held over you, the puppeteer orchestrating the strings of your fate. But in that moment, your anger swelled, overpowering the fear and uncertainty that had plagued you.
"Long time no see, [Y/N]," Fukuchi's voice cut through the air, attempting to divert your attention. But you remained resolute, your gaze fixed solely on Fyodor.
Fukuchi's words fell on deaf ears as your feet carried you forward, your steps purposeful and unwavering. You came to an abrupt stop mere inches away from Fyodor, your anger radiating from you like an inferno. The air crackled with tension, your gazes locked in a battle of wills. Fyodor opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, without hesitation, your fists immediately began pounding at his chest, the impact reverberating through the air. With each blow, your voice echoed through the space, a raw symphony of anguish and resentment. Fyodor's smirk faltered for the briefest of moments, a flicker of surprise dancing across his features before being replaced by an inscrutable mask.
