Mico Toronto x reader

Mistki's pool - SKIPPABLE

Tw: in the most humble way possible I guess this could cause anxiety, im not sure though go ahead, also I guess she has like a panic attack or something

So after a while of doing more work, you decide to head home and the scene is quite the same, Mitskis playing valorant or watching Dante's streams, Katherine is asleep while her diary is full of poetry over the 50th guy she liked, and you MIGHT have spent the whole day at the cafe.

So you sit down and turn off the lights, you have the bottom bunk, Li is like asleep on the top,right in front of yours there's Mitski's bed and whatever you can picture it yourself I don't give a shi

So you get in bed, but you can't sleep, the curious thought of well, just being yourself tugs at you a lot. The cool tones of whatever's shining outside does enter the room then passes by, you watch the patterns diffuse onto the wall and the door as you look around the room. To your right, Mitski is staring at you wide eyed. You stare at her back, nothing much is clear in the dark to you except her distinct features, beautiful monolid eyes and a well structured jaw, the cool tones complement her skin with silky black hair falling over the front side of her face, the only thing that sets ordinary from the extra is the expression.

The expression in her eyes is confused, but there's also a sudden wiseness to it, like when you're reading a book and you know what's going to happen on the next page but you can't turn it, there's also fear, like a small twinkle of the light that remained in the fire as the Vestal Virgin stood there, staring into her last hope disappear, almost feeling the suffocation she will feel once she's locked in the darkness, buried alive, the fear of starvation. You come out of the pool of mitski's eyes, ending up in a cave, the cool undertones of the outside world enters her eyes creating a silhouette of dancing women, beautiful figures, beautiful faces and a purity to them, you gasp out of the guilt that you will never be that much of true person, you just hold one of these silhouettes, your pool is shallow, and you are nothing. The silhouettes hum a slow lullaby, you breath faster, faster, faster and spit out the blood, it's not blood, the black liquid that you've spat, it's nothing but your true self, you are nothing more than a nameless black liquid, the ground sizzles as it falls, the silhouettes climb on top of you, over and over and over, their skin burns as they touch you, THEYRE BURNING; the writer is writing slowly, pause, pause everything. Let their skin melt upon you to understand what you are, their burning skin touches yours, " is this pleasure people long for?" You shriek. How can someone so shallow long for death when they are supposed to be bound to the Earth? These words don't have meaning, nothing you say has meaning, you're not a poet, in fact you're not a person.

The cool tones slowly turn neutral as the melting silhouettes slowly burn your bare skin, but their traces are removed as easily as frozen wax. As you sit their near Mitski's pool, breathing heavily, your nails hurt as you scratch the hard floor and your feet dangle in the ever growing pool, the colour reminds you of well, evenings when you didn't hate your father, hate, HATE, is the only thing you know, who are you to feel that you're in love when all you've done is hate? Hate your sister, hate your own self. Who made you like this? A small figure creeps in the distance, it seems like something that has mass, but it moves like thin air as it rests its head upon yours, breathing heavily, holding you captive in no way possible, the writer pauses, letting you stay there. Centuries pass in minutes, you witness everything through Mitski's dark pupils as you lay inside, the birth of the universe, the stars erupting, everything is so tangible but it's not. The heavy breathing of humanity's end, another "apex" species or just another species that we are taught can write apex in a language we can understand, found dead.

Then you wake up

Your tears forming a rainbow film over your eyes, as you use your hair to cover your face, to cover up the thought and the guilt of who you really are.

"I'll just think about that sassy petite 4'11 Filipino singer songwriter instead tee hee!" You think to yourself as you drift of to sleep.