[Fyodor D. X Reader] Birds in the House of the Living

05: Alice in wonderland

[ Content Warning: Descriptions of cutting and stabbing ]

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Your heart swelled. Inside that teenage body of yours was the most nauseating and repulsive beast thriving off its gluttony of life. 

You had yet to find someone; no one can ever satiate your appetite for this life. Life is truly a beautiful thing. Passing it down is only logical. 

Exsanguinate, nail them and watch the crimson red grow. Asphyxiate, choke them and pray that your grip leaves a harsh mark. 

All yours, all the solemn message to others that you've lived and had something to claim. Let their vessel be a story that you once lived, lived through them, and lived enough to affect them; positively, or negatively, does not matter.

Condemn, and be condemned, dominate, and then submit. Your greed was something far more complex than a greed of materialistic things. You want the moon, and the sun, the stars, all of them. All the men, the women, the saints, the twelve disciples. More blasphemy, more sin, then repent; fast as long as your religion persisted for you to cleanse of it all. This life would have been worth nothing had you left no reminder of it, wouldn't it?

Algernon — what a great friend he once was. A boy that was once the closest to your heart, the closest anyone had been to figure you out. In the shithole of a town you reside, he was the only person to ever be worth your time. The bond that was formed by living in a post apocalyptic city and contained in an underground facility was something far more twisted than any other.

He was once beautiful. He had some sort of elegance whenever he reached out his hands, or perhaps something more mundane whenever he'd stretch and accentuate his long, thin limbs. Pale complexion and platinum blonde hair none other from his albinic gene.

Everything he was, was sweeped away from your memories and buried to the bottom of it. Unless an outside source toyed and picked upon your subconscious, which is what's happening in this very own moment. A dream? No, it can't be..

How vivid was this for you to not consider it as such?

His body was now tainted with blood. There stood you, profusely stabbing him with the same blade you kept all these years. You stripped him of his life with each stab and slits and strokes, despite being as lifeless as possible.

“I'm helping you, aren't I? I'm deriving everything that you've hated. Isn’t this what you want of me?”

“..My.. You're certainly.. My only best friend..”

He was once beautiful, wasn't he?

What a shame that he's weak already, pathetic. Was this what the geriatric scientists wanted? Is this what those old men were crazy about, that they'd completely neglect your needs and focused more on the important ones? Was this his ability that made him ‘different’ from the mass? 

Indifferent was he now, just like the rest of those without an ability. All he could do was simply embrace you with his weak body and mutter out those weak “I love you’s”. Live, and prove it—his vices, his body, and his soul, is but a mere vessel now to prove your will to live for him. 

“If you wanted to kill yourself, you could've simply asked me. I love you, you know that..?”

“..I love you too [Y/N]. More than.. You can ever.. imagine..”

Layers of fats spilled over his little body as you continued slicing him. Hell, you even unbuttoned his shirt and cutted him vertically, your knife started from his chest bones and stopped at his lower abdomen. Glimpses of yellow-ish white, which were his bones, visible. It was shy, and daring you to cut him even more.