Reverie [The Distortionist x reader]

Prologue

(Art by heartskills on Tumblr)

Tears laced with cyanide flow through the cracks of a

Mirror shattered long ago

-----*-----

On a peaceful shopping district paved with cobblestone, the setting sun's rays painted the stores' outer walls in hues of gold and orange. There were all kinds of shops: convenience stores, food markets, restaurants, clothe making and mending shops, perfume shops... One could spend their whole salary there and still have something else they wanted to buy.

Rich men and women strolled the streets with their colorful, flowing dresses and sharp suits. Some had their wallets out, counting how much cash remained in their billfolds. Others were pleasantly chatting with people of the same wealth while bragging about their new jewelry or something of the sort.

However, this blissful moment was shattered by a scraping sound. A young man with hair so blonde it was white, sickly pale skin, and a cheap carny suit was trudging down the street, dragging a badly dented metal bat behind him. The shoppers edged away from him, fearing that he was drugged out. He wasn't, but with the effects he was experiencing... It was almost as if.

His fantasies were seeping into reality. He liked to be completely in reality or completely in his world, not both at once. On days like these, he couldn't tell apart what was and what wasn't. It was like a dream - or a nightmare.

He glanced up at the sky. Such pretty colors... shocking pink and neon green, as well as hints of other colors imperceptible by any normal humans' mind. The colors were constantly in movement to form many different patterns, like a gargantuan kaleidoscope.

He heard laughter. A burst of high-pitched, demonic laughter. He spun around, and a shadow barely escaped his stare. He huffed and went back to walking down the tinted glass road.

The laughter again. Some whispers, gossiping about him. More giggling. He looked around and saw silhouettes fleeting his vision. Some were not even human-shaped; a boy with eight limbs was chuckling alongside a spindly old man. They were two of the only ones that were not afraid of the pale boy's gaze.

"I know it's your fault..." the young man grumbled. He stumbled over to a mirror, clutching his bat tightly. His reflection, a deplorable perception of himself, was grinning malevolently back at him.

His hands itched to move, and he lifted the metal bat an inch up off the ground.

"I have you now..." he laughed maniacally. "Stop distorting my reflection!"

Sharp shards flew at his face as metal met glass. Some got stuck in his cheeks, and his hands were now wet. The liquid was ever-changing colors; all colors that nobody in their right mind would see. The pale man brought his fingers up to his mouth and licked the liquid. It tasted salty. His first thought was tears; the tears of his reflection.

The shadows screamed shrilly. One of them yelled "Don't drink that!"

Why shouldn't I drink it? the man thought. Is it poisoned? It would be something the monster in the mirror would do; lace his tears with cyanide. He stepped over the broken mirror frame and into the mirror. Inside, there was a room with many shadows.

One silhouette was approaching the young man as if he were a wild beast. In its hand, it had a bright blue object; a pair of scissors.

"How dare you treat me like an animal!" he charged at the shadow, swinging his bat. The shadow dissipated, leaving only the unusually-colored scissors and a pool of those cyanide-laced tears.

The shadows shook, and wailing erupted throughout the air around the boy. He covered his ears and dropped the metal bat with a resounding crash. He jumped out of the mirror. Still, the sobs and wails continued loudly. All the silhouettes around him fled like oil would flee from water.

Two of the shadows approached him slowly with batons in their hands. Suddenly, fear coursed through the young man's body. He picked up a long shard of glass coated with the cyanide tears, something he could defend himself with.

He ran away from the baton shadows. The other silhouettes were running away from him, but the edges of his vision were black and cloudy, almost as if the shadows were eating him whole. The shadows prevented his passage.

Completely swallowed by these shadows, he was knocked to his knees, on the ground, wheezing. The darkness consumed his being as he passed out.