"Reflections of a Distorted Reality" | BSD | FYOYAZAI♧Fanfiction

Chapter 3: The Delusion of Control

Fyodor could feel it—the subtle but insidious shift in his own mind, like a whisper in the darkness that he could no longer ignore. The truth, sharp and cold, slithered beneath the surface of his thoughts, but he fought to suppress it. The Book… it wasn’t supposed to affect me like this. I was supposed to be in control.

But deep down, he knew. He had felt the Book’s pull long before now. Perhaps even from the moment he laid his hands on it. He remembered the first time he opened its white, immaculate cover, the way the power inside it had hummed, tempting him with promises of absolute control—over memories, over thoughts, over the very fabric of reality. He had been so certain, so arrogant in his belief that he could wield it, that he could mold Dazai and Chuuya into the perfect players in his grand game.

Yet somewhere along the way, the lines had blurred. The memories he’d created, the illusions he had spun so masterfully, had begun to infect him as well. He could no longer tell where the lie ended and the truth began.

But does it matter?

His mind turned inward, seeking the moment it all began to unravel. He saw himself, standing before the Book, the room dimly lit, cold and silent except for the sound of his breath. He remembered the sensation of something crawling into his mind, soft at first, almost unnoticeable, like a spider spinning its web. But as time went on, that web tightened. It clung to his thoughts, twisted his desires, until even he couldn’t tell if what he was feeling was real or something the Book had planted.

And yet… the memories. The warmth. The connection with Dazai, with Chuuya. They felt real. So real that even now, as Dazai’s sharp words tried to break through, Fyodor couldn’t bring himself to care.

They love me. I love them. That’s what matters.

He knew it wasn’t true. Not entirely. Dazai’s accusations rang in his mind—how the Book had claimed its first victim. And Fyodor knew that victim had been him. He had fallen first, not them. The memories he had forced on Dazai and Chuuya were as much his as they were theirs, a shared delusion that he had once believed he controlled. But now, he couldn’t even tell if it was his own hand pulling the strings anymore.

But why would I fight it?

He blinked, trying to refocus, but his thoughts were heavy, weighted down by the web the Book had woven around his consciousness. He could fight it—there was still time, still a sliver of his mind untouched by the Book’s power. But why? What would he gain? The truth?

The truth was bitter and lonely. The truth was a world where Dazai never stayed by his side, where Chuuya would rather punch him than look at him with that warmth in his eyes. In the truth, they were enemies, never destined for the kind of love and devotion that the Book had promised.

But here, in this world he had created—this lie—they were together. They loved him. And they belonged to each other.

What does it matter if it’s all a lie, if it feels real?

The realization struck him like a hammer, but instead of breaking him, it solidified something deep inside. I don’t care. I don’t care if this is a lie. I don’t care if the Book is controlling me, or if I’ve lost myself in the process. His fingers twitched, recalling the feel of Chuuya’s warmth, the softness of his gaze. As long as they stay with me, as long as they love me, it doesn’t matter.

Dazai’s voice echoed in his mind again, cold and sharp. “You’re not as invincible as you think, Fyodor. You’ve lost control.”

He let out a quiet breath. Yes, perhaps he had lost control. But that no longer frightened him. Control was an illusion, after all, just like the memories he had crafted. He didn’t need control to be happy. He just needed them.

His thoughts wandered back to those memories he had made—their laughter, the feeling of Dazai’s hand in his, the warmth of Chuuya’s embrace. The way they looked at him, trusted him. Loved him. It was all fake, of course. He had forced it into their minds, shaped it with the Book’s power. But now… he couldn’t remember what was real and what wasn’t.

And that was fine.

The Book was too strong, too powerful for him to break free now. Its influence had seeped too deep, but Fyodor welcomed it. It had given him something he could never have in the real world—a life where he wasn’t alone. A life where Dazai and Chuuya were his, bound to him in a way that couldn’t be undone.

He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling. This is the reality I’ve chosen. Whether the Book had made that choice for him or whether he had willingly stepped into its grasp didn’t matter. The result was the same.

“They belong to me,” he whispered to himself, almost like a prayer. “And I belong to them.”

A soft smile crept across his lips, despite the tension in the room. He didn’t care that Dazai was fighting, that Chuuya had been drawn into this illusion just like him. They would fight, resist, but in the end, they would stay. And in the end, that was all Fyodor needed.

Because in this world, they were together.

And that was enough.