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

Chapter 5: The Escape

Dazai’s eyes fluttered open in the dim light of the room. The weight of Fyodor and Chuuya’s control pressed down on him like a heavy fog, suffocating, omnipresent. His wrists ached from where they’d pinned him earlier, and the stillness of the room told him that they were lost in their own thoughts, perhaps even reveling in their twisted illusion. But Dazai’s mind was racing. I can’t win this. Not like this.

The realization hit him harder than any physical blow. There was no breaking Chuuya out of it now, not when the Book had its claws so deeply embedded in him. And Fyodor? He had slipped past any chance of redemption long ago. Dazai had fought this battle in his mind, tried to outthink the illusion, tried to break them free. But now, the time for manipulation, for clever tricks and mind games, was over. The only option left was to escape.

He glanced toward the window, his breath catching at the sight of the heavy snow falling outside. The house was isolated, surrounded by the unforgiving Russian wilderness. The cold seeped through the thin walls, and Dazai knew that without proper protection, it would be suicide to venture out. But he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t stay here, trapped in this false paradise that Fyodor had constructed. If he did, he would lose himself again, just as Chuuya had.

He shifted carefully, silently pulling himself free from where he’d been lying. Chuuya’s soft breaths were steady beside him, and Fyodor, a little distance away, seemed utterly absorbed in his thoughts. They wouldn’t notice, not yet. This was his chance.

Moving quietly, Dazai slipped off the bed, his heart pounding in his chest. His feet barely made a sound as he crossed the room, his eyes locked on the door. His coat was nowhere to be seen—likely taken by Fyodor when they’d arrived. He could feel the chill from outside creeping in through the cracks, but it didn’t matter. He had to try. I’ll freeze out there, but that’s better than staying here and losing my mind.

His hand trembled as he turned the door handle, the cold metal biting into his skin. He stepped out into the hallway, heart racing with the fear of being caught. But nothing stirred. The house was eerily quiet, Fyodor and Chuuya still locked in the illusion that bound them together.

Without a second thought, Dazai slipped through the front door and out into the freezing night.

---

The cold hit him like a wall. The icy air bit at his skin, and his breath came out in sharp, visible puffs. He didn’t even have gloves. He’d left in nothing but his thin shirt and pants—clothes far too light for the brutal Russian winter. But still, Dazai pressed forward, his steps crunching in the deep snow as he made his way toward the tree line in the distance.

Keep moving. Don’t stop. The thought echoed in his head like a mantra, driving him forward. The cold stung at his face, biting into his fingers and numbing his limbs, but he ignored it. I need to get away.

His legs felt heavy, the snow pulling him down with every step, but he forced himself onward. He couldn’t afford to stop. Stopping meant death, or worse—being dragged back into that house, into that nightmare where he wasn’t in control.

But with every step, the cold sank deeper into his bones. His fingers were already numb, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. He could feel his strength slipping away, the edges of his vision starting to blur. He wasn’t going to make it. No… not like this…

The world around him began to spin, the trees and snow blending together into a dizzying haze. Dazai stumbled, his body fighting to stay upright, but the cold was relentless. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his knees buckled, sending him crashing into the snow.

For a moment, he lay there, the world fading into silence around him. The snow cradled him in its freezing grip, and for the first time in a long while, he felt truly alone.

Then everything went black.

---

Inside the house, Chuuya and Fyodor lay together, tangled in each other’s warmth, the air between them heavy with contentment. The illusion, the fabricated memories, had solidified into a comforting reality for both of them. Chuuya had long since surrendered to it, his mind fully submerged in the lie that told him Fyodor was his, that Dazai was part of their shared world.

Chuuya’s fingers trailed lazily over Fyodor’s arm, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “We’re really together now, huh?” he murmured, his voice full of warmth and certainty. There was no hesitation, no trace of the battle that had once raged inside him. He was completely at peace.

Fyodor turned to face him, his fingers brushing a lock of Chuuya’s hair aside. “Yes, love,” he whispered, his voice smooth and tender. “We belong together.”

They shared a quiet moment, a rare tenderness passing between them, their minds locked in sync by the Book’s powerful grip. It was only when Chuuya pulled back slightly, glancing around the room, that he noticed something was wrong.

“Where’s Dazai?”

Fyodor blinked, then his eyes sharpened with realization. His gaze shot toward the empty space where Dazai had been lying. “He’s gone.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, without a word, they rose, their movements swift and efficient. Any trace of confusion melted away as the illusion fully took hold again. Dazai was theirs. They couldn’t let him leave.

---

Outside, the cold was unrelenting, and Dazai lay unconscious in the snow, his body shaking violently from the freezing temperatures. His skin had turned pale, almost blue, as the frost began to creep over him.

Then, two shadows emerged from the house, their forms cutting through the darkness.

“There he is,” Fyodor said softly, his voice calm, but with an edge of possessiveness.

Chuuya’s eyes softened as he looked down at Dazai’s prone form, the sight of him so vulnerable stirring something inside him. “He tried to leave us,” Chuuya muttered, his voice low, a strange mix of frustration and affection.

Fyodor knelt down beside Dazai, brushing snow off his face with almost tender care. “He’s cold. Let’s take him back inside.”

Together, they lifted Dazai’s limp form, carrying him back toward the house—their house. The door creaked open, the warmth from inside spilling out into the cold night as they brought him back where he belonged.