Bad Kind of Butterflies ♧ DazaiXReaderXDOA

8. Riddles of a Demon

Walking in to the large room, you first admire how spacious it is, walls painted white and nothing but beds against them, a clock on another end, and windows at the very back taking up that whole wall. It was comparable to the living room of a pent house, if not for the location.

A small, round table stands in the middle, on it a chess board with Fyodor and Nikolai playing on opposite ends. In contrast from earlier, Fyodor has his ushanka-hat back on his head neatly, his dark, fur-lined-at-the-top cloak sitting gracefully on his shoulders as well. Gogol on the other hand, was wearing clothes just as dramatically peculiar as usual, the only difference being that his favoured hat sits on one of two queen sized-beds, and his long hair flows behind him undone, free of the red pompom usually bound to it. Behind them, nothing but clouds and sky is seen besides what you assumed were birds every now and then.

They look like kings setting out strategies, if one ignores Nikolai's frustrated expression.

At the sound of the door opening, both young men at the back turn your way, and immediately the clown's face brightens up and his hand knocks over some chess pieces in an effort to wave, an annoyed a Fyodor glancing at the mess but then turning back to you with a sigh.

"[f/n], welcome"

You don't say anything at first, staring in disbelief because of how simply normal and friendly they looked, their steady hearts matching the odd calmness over all of them.

Hearts don't lie...

So why do I feel like there is nothing true or genuine about either of them right now?

Out of habit, you glance at Sigma for instructions or any sort of help, but the manager just looks helpless in the presence of the demon and clown.

Placing the sweetest smile you can, you greet them, waving at Gogol, who quickly lost interest once some birds flew by the window, and giving a nervous look of acknowledgement to the raven-haired man across from him. Fyodor then gets up from his seat as you take a few steps forward, Sigma closing the door behind you and standing to the side as Fyodor approaches you.

Your sweet smile falters as soon as Dostoevsky's purple-ish eyes stare you down and is close enough to get lost in the dark detail of them, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth not going unnoticed by you. He was beautiful, yet something wanted to pull you away from, a gut feeling you long learned to ignore when it came to him. He is something different altogether, and you knew plain human feeling couldn't put in to words what he was to you.

"What's wrong, [l/n]? So quiet...but Nikolai tells me you were everything but yesterday" Fyodor comments after a long second of you lost in your thoughts, in the beats of the moments.

Is he making fun of me?

You open your mouth to speak, but he interrupts you, and your face can't help but flush at his words, though simple.

"Or maybe you can't overcome your shock from this morning...? Your pretty face seemed so scared..."

He's so calm. It's unsettling, I can't read him...but afraid of him? No...

"It wasn't fear on my face"

At your response, the dark haired man chuckles, leaning in so that his hair falls forward with the restrain of his hat along his well-defined jaw-line, the piece of his hair that falls over and in between his eyes adding a shadow to his face that gave it an edge of secrecy, his eyes still seemingly glowing.

"Oh, I know. But you are afraid of something. Don't lie to yourself, little mouse...and don't lie to God"

You try not to shrink away at the sudden superiority Fyodor seemed to force on you with short words, the emphasis in 'God' striking a chord in you.

With you left in an uncomfortable silence, Fyodor steps back, slowly walking back to his chair at the far end, taking a seat and motioning for you to join him. Nikolai now sits on a bed leisurely, happily pulling out the chair for you as you follow without question after Sigma gives you a face of reassurance.

If you don't let them get under your skin, they can't control you more than they already know they can.

You sit down, a suspense looming over you since you still have no idea why you were there in the first place. Looking at Dostoevsky and trying to read his expression, you feel your currently tied up hair fall down with a graceful tug on your elastic without discomfort. You put a hand to your hair and turn to Gogol behind you and he smiles at you with empty affection.

"You look freer with you hair down" he hums, and you shamelessly stare at the long-haired man, until Fyodor starts talking again.

"[l/n], I've always thought you so interesting. You do all you can to not suffer, you've even made your way to us to be saved, yet you insist on suffering anyways. You insist on knowing more than you need to. But, I need you to be obedient."

Obedient?

"I'm not your subordinate though. I've simply agreed to be of service, but Sigma is the one in charge. Of me, at least."

In the background, Gogol laughs, and somewhere inside, it pleases you that someone got a kick out of your response, because for the price of your carelessness, Fyodor makes a face of distaste, and Sigma, who was busy sorting through some papers, looks at you with alarm as soon as you speak.

"Sincere yet still so stupid" Fyodor sighs, and although his tone is one of disappointment and irritation, the light from the window next to him illuminates an intrigued curiosity still lingering.

"Why do you think you're here, [l/n]?"

I have no idea.

He's all over the place, making hints to things while just twisting his words for my reactions.

The worst part is, I wanted to be here in the first place.

You bite your lip and glance outside the window to recollect your thoughts, think of a new strategy for this out of place conversation. It wasn't a strange occurrence for you to not be able to read the decay of angel's emotions or motives, but the longer you sat there, the less grounded and human you felt these men were. All you could hear beating in the distance was your own heart, nervous, adrenaline running...

Why am I here?

You don't realize Fyodor get up until he situates himself right beside you, placing his hands on your shoulder and trailing his fingers lightly along your upper back as he walks around you,causing you to tense up, mind racing at the reminder of what you'd heard about his ability.

One touch could kill me. I don't know enough to be so confident.

"You have been putting your trust in the wrong people. Being compliant should be your strategy, or else your sins will be the end of you"