Bad Kind of Butterflies ♧ DazaiXReaderXDOA

14. Distortion

You have always been impressionable. Since you arrived at Sky Casino, you had searched for someone to hang on to, to give you a reason of why you live. You wanted to live to the fullest freely, but you needed someone to tell you you are right in what you are doing. You always felt like you needed permission.

Of course, a lot of it has to do with your ability.

To feel every slight change in atmosphere created a lack of control of your own thoughts and actions which you are completely aware of. Having someone give you some of the control back was a desire that when offered, you could lose all reason.

In a way, you have lost all reason.

You never had much to hold on to, you really only lived for yourself.

Was that so bad? Meeting Fyodor, you felt selfish. Knowing Nikolai, you felt comfortable with that mindset. Working under Sigma, you felt empty in the way that you had never had so much dedication for something the way he did. Of course there was Dazai who made everything feel ok...but he felt like only a far off memory blurred amongst all your versions of reality.

How long has it been? It can't be more than a few days...

Since you visited Fyodor as his cello sung like a siren's call to you, you had lost all track of time. Every sense had been filled with only him and you never complained. You didn't want to.

Now, you sit in front of the giant window of the Decay of Angel's hotel room, lost in thought as you question your motives, your core interests. Your skin tingled from being played with, your heart slow, yearning to move away but satisfied with its situation. Tilting your head back slightly and closing your eyes, you breathe in as you feel the rays of the sun fall on you, welcoming the little heat it provided.

Am I selfish?

"Am I so flawed, Fedya?" You ask softly, your voice like a timid melody.

Am I so dispensable?

"All of you humans are. But you're different remember? You were chosen by God."

From behind you, Fyodor responds to you with a gentleness to the response, you felt soothed, reassured.

"Right...chosen by you." You mumble, allowing all your worries to fade with his words.

Saved.

I can't be selfish for wanting to live for myself under God, after all. I can't be useless when he takes away the confusion of my own mind.

Your eyes open up and flutter with the re-welcoming of light, your head tilting downward slowly, your gaze falling on your own hands holding each other with care. Studying them carefully, flashes of fuzzy, hot, memories take you over completely, and suddenly you can't separate dream from reality.

Is any of this truly real?

"Why the face little mouse? You get to go back to the casino today." Fyodor tells you with confidence as he moves to stand right beside you, his dark overcoat blowing some pieces of your hair over your face from his movement. At that, Fyodor gently leans over and brushes it away, an affectionate smile playing on his face.

Is that real?

When you turn to look at him, the memories that had been teasing your consciousness become stronger, and you immediately get up from your seat, stepping back as your cheeks burn and you blush from the fluster created in you by heart beating wildly, suppressing a small gasp. You remember so clearly, your hands through his hair, his lips on yours, skin against skin...