Jabberwocky ↠ Dazai Osamu

3 | Dormouse

The invitation of lowering her eyelids couldn't ease the everlasting horrors of the imagery overtaking her mind. The sickening memories of the pain and longing swelled her chest to spill the salty droplets staining her colored cheeks. She would remember the reality of her nightmares as it felt like hot iron sliding through her collarbone, patiently waiting for the right moment to pierce her heart. She would tell those memories, the nightmares to do as it pleased with her body. She wouldn't allow those emotions control her life. That was how she wanted to move on from the loss of the precious fragment that held her heart within the palms of their hand, cradling it like a newborn desiring motherly affection.

The darkness of the sky reflected upon her [e/c] eyes as she watched the still moon. She could feel the crisp weather cooling the sides of her face through the protective glass of the window. The man that was known for his machiavellian gaze had his eyes directed at her hands wrapped around the cup of unsweetened tea. He stood next to her, watching her lips soften from the hot liquid traveling down her throat.

She would claim it would benefit her health by drinking it, but he would humorously grimace how she could drink such a tasteless beverage with no spoonful of sugar. He was about to point out how her serene facial expression would morph into a look of disgust whenever she took small sips. He was interrupted by the vibration of her cellphone placed on the kitchen counter.

[Name] sent him a quick look of uncertainty, almost debating if she should even answer the call. Dazai didn't give her an answer as he leaned his lower back against the counter by the cellphone. He crossed his bandaged arms across his chest, waiting for her to answer the unexpected call. Her warm hands left the cup and held onto the cellphone hesitantly. She read the name of the contact and began to chew the insides of her cheeks in order to compose herself. She needed to act rationally in front of the very stranger who still had to learn more about her.

"Hello?" She answered, distancing herself from him so that he couldn't hear the discussion. She scolded her own heartbeat wanting to burst out of her chest. She could feel her body temperature skyrocketing and coloring her cheeks.

The person on the other end of the phone line was someone close to her, possibly a family member or friend. He could tell by the way her body language seemed as if she were closing herself off from the unspoken emotions she despised. She held the device close to the side of her face, almost as if she feared dropping it by the consoling voice that could startle her any minute. Her index finger rubbed in between her eyebrows, and she shut her eyelids as if she were repeating a soft mantra in her head.

"I am fine. I told you many times there's nothing to worry about," she tried reassuring the person attempting to soothe her. Consolation was unappealingly forced upon those who refused it every single time their bubbling emotions would simmer down like a boiling pot.

The brunette watched the turmoil challenging her psych. Her breathing became uneven patterns, and her knuckles protruded from grasping the cellphone tightly. He could tell she became impatient by the growing tone of the voice on the other line, repeating their worries and engraving them into her. Her sharp tone wavered from remembering the most important person in her life still breathing, still by her side as if they never left in the first place.

"I don't need to be reminded. The funeral already happened. What more do you want me to say?" He could see her facade slowly cracking like fine china. His curiosity perked as he continued watching the way the words forcefully coming out of her mouth constricted her airway.

He very much knew what it looked like for people falling down into the bottomless depths of their pain. He knew what it looked like for people becoming teared apart by particular words their ears couldn't close off. He remembered inflicting that wound onto the captured residents when he was once an executive. He remembered feeling nothing but peaking curiosity at just how much a person could reach their limit.