parasite [YANDERE!O.DAZAI/READER]

TWENTY: THE BED.

Dazai sees Sakata exiting your chateau, looking dishevelled and unkempt. The worst thought in existence comes to his mind before he quickly shakes his head out of it. Mustering up a smile, Dazai kicks himself off from leaning against a tree and approaches him.

"I see you've spoken to the dreamy, lovely vampire of this chateau," Dazai says. Sakata looks up from his expensive watch and puts a hand into his pants pocket, where he clenches his car keys. "How did it go?"

"As well as you might think," Sakata sarcastically says, though it wasn't easy to separate it from his voice. Such an elegant, distinguished voice shouldn't have been capable of the cruelty that was sarcasm, yet it showed Sakata's secret upbringing: he had grown up poor, and therefore been both sides of the coin. "Wanted the fang back."

"Did you give it to her?"

"I didn't even bring it with me."

Dazai tuts and crosses his arms over his chest. "I imagine she got very upset with you."

Sakata smiles. A hostile, cold smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Oh yes she did. Threw me to the floor with surprising strength."

"Perhaps deserved?"

"Perhaps. Or not. Whichever side you're taking, it really depends," Sakata says. "Because at the end of the day, the fang is also mine just as it is hers. My ancestral item."

"You're not the British museum. There's no need to say other people's stuff is yours just because you have the power to exert power over it," Dazai says.

"Ah yes, the British museum," Sakata says, with a twinge of melancholy and nostalgia. "My country's pride and joy..."

"...That consists of stolen items and relics."

He waves a hand, dismissing such stupid words. "I must get going. I have a pupil to tutor. Farewell," Sakata pauses. "For now."

"Farewell indeed," Dazai says, watching as the man unlocked his sleek car and crawled into it. He then turns away as the car pulls back, and exits the entrance of the forest with a screech. The brunette scratched the back of his head, wondering if you were in the right mind to reminisce on your conversation with Sakata before entering the forest.

Like always, the rich foliage seemed to close behind him, like a pair of sentient doors. The desire path to your chateau path consists of dirt and wayward footsteps, anonymous in their shape and sizes, as if ghosts had been visiting you. And he wouldn't be surprised if they were, considering how you've taken so many lives. A round sparrow perched on a twig above head, chirping its little heart out, enamouring him with its song not because of its nature but because it reminds him of your own voice. You live everywhere around him; everything has become a little bit more lovelier ever since you entered his life; you were like a gas, permeating and soaking into everything, leaving him behind with a sickening amount of desire churning in his stomach.

He knocks on the door of your chateau. The doors swing open automatically, a bit more violently than usual. He blinks at this, before entering cautiously. The floorboards moan and groan under his footsteps, mould-eaten and dark from the absence of light.

"Hello, Dazai," You say as he approaches your room, and he finds that you're on the floor, your legs tucked underneath your bottom and your hands on the floor. Your hair covered your face so he couldn't discern what sort of expression you held, but from the sound of your voice, it sounded like you were furious. Livid. Confused, even, at the capacity of your rage when you've been so frozen and composed all your life. You finally turn your head to the side and wearily eye him. "Why have you come?"

"Because I wanted to see you," He says. "I always do."

"You always what?"

"I always want to see you. To be with you," He sniffs the room. Underneath the damp scent of death and despair was a pinch of botanical flowers. "Why does the room smell like jasmine?"