parasite [YANDERE!O.DAZAI/READER]

TWO: THE COMPLETE SUICIDE.

Dazai hums and follows you, into the darkness, where the heart of blackness truly lay: your private room. He closes his eyes and envisions your seductionary tricks: men blinded by lust by your disorderly beauty, lacking the thumbprint of imperfection that binded one to what it really meant to be human. Their jaws agape as they can hardly believe their luck as you laved your tongue over their neck, before cruelly biting down and drinking and drinking and drinking until all was left was a raisin of a person.

You open a door.

Dazai peers inside, through the veil of dust that fell from the ceiling. You pull out a chair for him and sit on the other side of it.

"Take a seat," You say.

He does just that.

"So," You lace your fingers together and place them under your chin. "What could Mr Dazai possibly want from me? I can name so many things. Perhaps he wishes for me to stop killing? Not that I will listen to him. Or perhaps he wishes for an interview with a vampire?"

He chuckles. "Perhaps; there are so many options, are there not?"

"There are."

"I want to know more about you," He says. "People don't think you're real, but I disagree. I think you're the real deal."

"You sound utterly convinced that I truly am what you think I am."

"Do I?" He says. He plays with one of your tarot cards, flicking it from one hand to another, and you swipe them up into an orderly deck.

"Want to see your fortune?" You ask, shuffling the cards with a fluid velocity that came from expertise and time. Dazai smiles.

"Why not?"

You splay out the cards across the table. "Pick three."

His slender, long fingers hover over three cards. You hum and turn them around: La Papesse, La Mort, La Tour Abolie–wisdom, death, dissolution.

"Well, what does that mean?"

"It seems to me you're a smart man. Coming up to this..." You pause. "Grave o' mine to know me. And you seem to already have a view on me."

Dazai lets the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile. "Now, now, I came here to clear any assumptions that might form from the lack of knowing. And besides, I know all about death." He adds, pulling out a red book from the inside pocket of his beige coat. It read: The Complete Suicide.

"What's that?"

"It's a guidebook to a perfect suicide," He says, almost lovingly, as if suicide was his beloved. There's raw honey dripping in his voice at the way he spoke about it, as if it was something he could not part with in this world, as if it was his light in the dark. You quirk an eyebrow. "The perfect suicide! Who wouldn't want to have a perfect suicide?"

You huff through your nose, clearly amused. "Dissolution. Perhaps you will have your suicide."

His eyes sparkle like amber glass. "Really? Can you tell me with whom?"

"Pardon?"

"I wish to commit the perfect double suicide," He says, resting his elbows on the tiny round table and resting his face with both hands. "I wish to wake from this oxidising dream we call a reality and be put to sleep. Oh, to be able to rest from a constant bout of sleepwalking..."

You don't hide your smile as you gather up the tarot cards and straighten them out. "You are by far the strangest man I've ever met. Because of that, I think I'll keep you alive."

"For your own amusement, you deny me death?" He laments. "You are so cold."

"Well, maybe I'll warm up one day," You say.

"Now let's turn the conversation back to you," Dazai says. "You've read my fortune. You know a bit about me. Tell me something about yourself."

You snort. You reach for the matchbox just by your hand and light the candle that rested on the centre of the table, hot acrid gouts of wax dripping like slow water. "You seem like the kind of man who could see straight through people to know them. Humanity must seem like one twisted card trick to you, hm?"

"But you're not just a person, are you?" He teases back. "You're a living folklore. A twisted fairytale."

"That, I am," You say. "How does it make you feel, the fact you're conversing with a vampire? A killer?"

"Are you really a killer? If you're killing for sustenance?"

"Yes," You smile kindly, as if you were talking about the weather. "I don't just kill, either. I hunt. I have fun."

"Do you just wait for people to just stumble here? Or do you have another way of killing?"

"A magician does not reveal all their secrets in one fell swoop."

"Right," Dazai puts up his hands in surrender. "Forgive me."

"Now," You stand up. "I believe you've overstayed your welcome. Come by next time. Or I will come to you. But this is the future: We will meet again."

Dazai stands up, brushing away a sheet of dust that had settled across his broad shoulders. You open the door for him as he walks through it, and it is as if he had a different realm outside of your room: It hadn't occurred to him that your room felt like a closed circuit, with no way out, all exits sealed. But now that he was out of it, he felt like he could breathe and regain his motor functions. He felt warmth beginning to pervade his body once more. He felt paralysed to that chair in that room, waiting for your fangs to penetrate his neck.

A doomed fate for the less fortunate.

A miniscule shudder shoots through Dazai as he walks down the stairs, with you following behind him. He reaches the main entrance doors and notices that the doorknobs were of carved gold, gleaming as though purified yesterday.

"I'll see yo..." His voice trails off when he turns around, and he's met with nothing.

–

Dazai crosses the road when the lights turn green, but he's not even aware that they're green.

His mind is filled with you. Your benevolent smile, a smile that belonged to someone truly who was a monster, completely out of the barriers of what it meant to be human and transcending it; your sweet words that seemed to be crafted out of the sickly sugaryness of candies; your gentle hands shuffling the cards that were so capable of destruction. Lives were stolen from under your touch, your annihilating touch, your explosive desire to hunt and kill. You had never had to run in your life, because death was your friend; death was your partner, and you danced with the devil in that grave-like mansion of yours, hand in hand. 

You were death. To come near you was already a death wish, to enter that cursed room of yours was death incarnate.

He had done his research, but wasn't willing to reveal them to you just yet. But it wasn't pleasant, what he had found; it was filled with blood and wars and blood. He could have seen you go a different route, where your mind snapped at midnight from all the corruption it faced, yet you came out to the other side unscathed and beautiful.

You were so beautiful. And he truly meant it, it wasn't as if he was trying to seduce you into a double suicide; no, you were ineffably beautiful, and it was hard trying to describe you as anything else but that. 

"Dazai!" Kunikida says his name as he enters the Agency office, to which Dazai drags himself out of his thoughts and looks at his colleague. The sun is lowering itself under the horizon, shining a brilliant vermilion light that spilt across the tables and floors and pooled like liquid gold, as if Midas became a God and turned the entire world into a globe of gold; and where the moon will rise and control the tides and by proxy, his strange attraction to you. "Where were you?"

He smiles a mysterious smile. "Oh, just tending to business."