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

Chapter 7: Awakening

A week had passed since Dazai had succumbed to the cold, a week filled with darkness and fever dreams that danced on the edges of his consciousness. He blinked awake in the dim light of the room, the familiar warmth of the bed surrounding him, but something felt off. The silence was heavy, almost oppressive, and as he pushed himself up on his elbows, he realized that the usual presence of Chuuya and Fyodor was conspicuously absent.

His heart raced as he took in his surroundings, the room cloaked in shadows, devoid of any signs of life. Where were they? The last thing he remembered was being dragged back inside by them, but now it was as if they had vanished completely. Panic clawed at his chest; he had no idea where he was or how long he had been out.

This is a mistake. I need to get out of here. He pushed the thought away, knowing it was too early for such notions. But the oppressive silence only deepened his unease. He glanced around, trying to gauge his surroundings, but nothing was familiar.

He struggled to his feet, his body weak and trembling as he steadied himself against the wall. The room spun for a moment, and he took a deep breath, willing himself not to sway. He needed to find something to eat or risk collapsing again. His stomach growled, a loud reminder of how long it had been since he last had a proper meal.

Dazai shuffled toward the kitchen, every step a challenge as he fought against the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him. The house felt vast and empty, echoing his solitude. As he reached the kitchen, he rummaged through the cabinets, his heart sinking as he found nothing but empty shelves. Great. Just great.

Finally, he opened the refrigerator, hoping for something—anything—to stave off the gnawing hunger. There, in the back, he found a carton of milk and a pack of stale cookies. Not exactly a feast, but it was better than nothing.

He poured himself a glass of milk, his hands shaking as he brought it to his lips. The cold liquid slid down his throat, soothing his dry mouth. Next, he reached for the cookies, his fingers weakly tearing open the package. As he munched on the dry, crumbly remnants, he felt the faintest flicker of energy return, but it was fleeting. He knew he needed more sustenance.

The sensation of warmth began to ebb away, and suddenly he felt it—the weight of the Book’s influence creeping back into his mind. The world around him blurred, colors bleeding together as a wave of confusion washed over him. No, not now. Dazai squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against the encroaching fog, but it was relentless, wrapping around him like a vice.

I won’t let it take me. He dug deep, pulling on the fragments of his willpower, the memories of who he was and who he could be. With a final push, he broke free of the haze, gasping as clarity returned, though it left him feeling even weaker.

“Dazai!” The voice cut through the silence like a beacon. He turned, startled to see Chuuya and Fyodor entering the room, their expressions shifting from concern to relief.

“Chuuya… Fyodor…” Dazai managed, his voice hoarse as he fought to stand upright.

Chuuya rushed toward him, arms wrapping around Dazai in an embrace that nearly knocked him off his feet. “You’re awake! Thank god, I was worried sick!” His voice was laced with relief, the tension in his body melting away as he held Dazai close.

Fyodor followed more slowly, a faint smile gracing his lips. He moved closer, his hand gently brushing Dazai’s hair back from his forehead. “We were both worried,” he said softly. “You’ve been through a lot, and we didn’t want to leave you alone for too long, but we had to handle some… necessities.”

Dazai felt the warmth of their embrace, but something inside him recoiled. This is all fake. It’s all a lie. He took a step back, breaking free from Chuuya’s grasp, his heart racing. “I need to go,” he said, urgency lacing his voice. “I can’t stay here.”

“Dazai, wait—” Chuuya started, confusion flaring in his eyes.

“No, you don’t understand!” Dazai interrupted, his mind racing. “You think this is real? You think I can just forget everything? I can’t. I have to get out of here. This isn’t right.”

Fyodor stepped forward, a calmness in his demeanor that was unsettling. “You’re safe with us, Dazai. We’re here for you.”

“But this isn’t where I belong!” Dazai’s voice rose, desperation spilling out. “I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I can’t just—”

“Dazai!” Chuuya’s voice broke through, firm and unyielding. “You need to trust us. We care about you.”

“Caring doesn’t mean it’s real!” Dazai shot back, shaking his head. He felt the walls closing in, the influence of the Book creeping back in, whispering lies and uncertainty. I have to escape. I have to break free.

He turned and staggered away from them, the urge to run burning in his chest. The weight of their concern felt suffocating, their presence a reminder of everything he feared. He didn’t know what was true anymore, but he knew he had to find his own way.

As he pushed open the door, the cold air hit him like a slap, invigorating yet terrifying. He stepped outside, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him, but he was determined to break free from the illusion—even if it meant facing the unknown alone.