Bad Kind of Butterflies ♧ DazaiXReaderXDOA

19. Pretty Little Thing

At the end of the night, you watch Dazai walk away from you, a looming cloud of regret creating a longing, slow rhythm in his heart, your own slowing and absorbing the sorrow left in the both of you as neither receive closure on your situations. You know it isn't the last time you'll see him, but a part of you is saddened as you see his figure disappear amongst the emptying crown, the only thing audible now to you bring the ticks of clocks as you sit on a chair behind the counter, lowering your head on to your arms on the tabletop.

So confusing...

Why do I feel like this? How has everything changed so much under my own nose without me lifting a finger?

You feel your eyelids become heavy, sound all around you blurring together as reality turns hazy and you turn to your subconscious for comfort, too exhausted of all the different fronts you've put up when none of them feel like yourself.

When I close my eyes and the world turns dark, that's when I feel most free.

---

Oh, how you loved the sound of a cello playing on the strings of your heart, heavy breathing keeping you waiting for every movement with anticipation. Even in your subconscious, your mind replays the way his hands trailed down your back leaving chills up your spine, his lips on yours not letting a single sound escape to disrupt the melody playing between you two.

Is it all a dream?

You can't tell dream from reality anymore, especially with him so close, words repeated in your head over and over, eyes blocked from seeing anything but the glow in his eyes. Derived from all other senses, you only hear the sounds he lets you hear, your own voice among them as you repeat only what he lets you repeat.

How long has it been?

When you close your eyes it's all you feel, when you feel the touch of another, it's all you're reminded of as guilt creeps in and whispers in your ears to tell you nothing will save you from those sins.

How does one wake up from such painful ecstasy?

---

You wake up with a jolt, breathing heavily as your eyes are met with the bright blue sky, white clouds all around like cotton, sun rays hitting your face and welcoming you to a new day. You are almost convinced you had woken up outside afloat in the sky, except you are inside, and on a bed that is not yours, and you feel no wind to comfort you. Looking around, you immediately recognize the room as the room belonging to the decay of angels.

How did I get here? Who's bed is this?

You look down at yourself and sigh in relief that at least you still had your uniform on from last night, but it doesn't rid you of your confusion. You don't see anyone in the room, and everything is silent. Dead silent. Not even a heart beat reaches your ears. Swinging your legs off the bed, you stand up and slowly walk towards the centre of the room, allowing yourself to breathe. Staring out towards the sky, silver city underneath, you don't notice the person popping out of nowhere beside you until it's too late.

"Good morning Myshka!"

Jumping in alarm, you let out gasp as you stagger away to the side, eyes wide with temporary fear as your gaze lands on the eccentric man now beside you.