𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓷'𝓼 𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓮 ~ 𝓟𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓶

ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ

TW: mention of bugs and mold, profanity, man being a bitch
｡

𝓘𝓽'𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓪 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓘'𝓿𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓶𝓮.

-𝐹𝑒𝓇𝓃𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑜 𝒫𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝒶

☆꧁༒꧂☆

Victor pulls out a pair of round sunglasses and carefully places them over his eyes. He has always had sensitive eyes, and seeing that for the last few years he lived a pretty nocturnal lifestyle he has gained the habit of wearing them everywhere he goes. He swiftly walks to the cafe in the building adjacent to the one he works in.
It is a sunny morning with the smell of the nights' rain still present in the air. The platinum blonde opened the door to the coffee shop with the bell above the door letting out a soft ring, announcing his presence. The Cafe smells of brewed coffee, freshly baked goods, and underlying tones of summer fruit. The man walked up to the counter where a woman smiled at him and sweetly asked him what he wanted to order.
"I will have black coffee, and a raspberry fruit tart please" he gave his best non tires smile
"Of course, that will be coming right up, you can take a seat wherever you'd like" the waitress answered in the same sweet tone from before and took the right amount of cash from the man's hands.
Paying for the order Victor walked over to one of the tables by the large windows facing the street outside. Shrugging off his coat onto the back of the chair he takes a seat and takes a moment to just enjoy the morning.
Victor smiles to himself, maybe Eeriest was right, he hasn't been out and about for a long time now, and it was taking a bit of a troll on his naturally chaotic nature. Lately he started shutting himself out again, and her being his self proclaimed best friend has been helping him out as much as she can. Usually she didn't look too deep into his life, but she was there for him whenever he needed her, and was more on top of his schedule then the White-ette ever was. Speaking of schedules, Victor pulled out a sketchbook in which he kept the closest thing to notes he could manage. Flipping to a page with a messy chart with dates on it he skimmed over his plans for today. Buy food for his cat, check in with Eeriest about his shifts and... shit... he had training today, he had completely forgotten about it. With yet another sight he rubs his tired eyes and stares at his own cursive loopy handwriting in the page "Training /w Aku".
Victor pulls out his phone from his coat pocket and opens up his messages. Finding the familiar name in his message contacts he sends him a quick text.

(　･ω･)☞ Emo

Victor:
Hey, I know we have training at 12 today but I just got off my night shift so can we move the training for later today

Emo:
Yes, of course, what time would work best for you

Victor:
Does 5 work? 
Emo:
Yes, it would

Victor:
Ok great, see you then
~(˘▽˘~)
Emo:
?

Victor let out a soft laugh at how clueless Aqutagawa can be when it comes to simple day to day interactions. After Dazai left Victor took the young man under his wing and has been training with him as per Mori's request. At the start Aqutagawa refused to accept him, coming off as snappy and plain old rude. He didn't feel like Victor, a commoner that was not even in the Port Mafia anymore should be training him, the mafia's strongest asset. However, after a while he accepted the fact that Victor was there to stay, and there was no way to get rid of him, and some time later he even started to look forward to these training sessions. Victor was similar to his past mentor, but also so eerily different. Unlike Dazai, the White-nette gave him genuine praise and practical criticism. Maybe it was also the fact that his new mentor has become like a makeshift therapist, who was there to pick up the broken pieces after Dazai's leave. Victor knew how to warp the mind in a way that not even Dazai could compare, but again how could he compare to an entity as the mortician

The waitress from earlier brought over his food, and he quietly thanked her as she rushed away to serve other customers. He slowly ate while drawing the scenery outside. He drew the people rushing to work, the trees basking in the morning sun, and captured an amazing drawing of the herbs that were standing right outside the window of the cafe. In times like these he remembered why he enjoyed life, he noticed all the little things that make life worth living, and he poured his very soul into these moments, to forever remember them.

Finishing his raspberry tart, and grabbing his coffee, coat, and messenger bag he headed out of the cafe, waving a 'thank you' to the waiters as he left out the door. Mentally, Victor was already in his little world, going over the chores that needed to be done before training today and planning out his weekly tasks. In his own little world he didn't notice a person walking right past him in a hurry. Victor was snapped out of his world when his shoulder roughly collided with the other persons', sending him flying forward and for his glasses to completely fall off of his face.

"What are you blind? Watch where you are going you imbecile" a rude voice cut through the air as the mortician picked up his glasses and put them back on. Looking up and down he analyzed the man in front of him who was dusting off a tacky looking suit. "This suit is more expensive than you can imagine, you little twat, but what would you know, you're obviously broke" the man proceeded to yell with a scowl on his face. Annoyed out of his mind Victor gave the man another up and down look, but this time it was more sinister.

"Oh really now, how unfortunate, it seems we have a very different definition of 'broke'" Victor brushes off his coat with a look of disgust.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" the man fired back in an offended tone. Victor tilted his head to the side looking into the man's eyes.

"Your very soul is tainted by the tight grip of capital corruption, it's slowly eating you out from the inside out, that want and greed for more slowly rotting away at your soul" the air turned static, as a high pitched monotone noise rang in the man's ears. "You fear the ceaseless watch of those above you, the judging eye of those around you" a sinister smile slowly revealed itself on Victor's face, showing off his sharp canines. "Look down at what you have become, feel that mold crawl up your spine, your body filling up with insect swine" a tingling sensation hit the man's nerves, with fear taking over his body in a chilling vice grip. Looking down at his hands he screams in panic, as his hands are covered in maggots, the little worms crawling in, under, and through his skin. He tries to shake them off but with no avail the worms dig deeper and deeper down to his very soul. He looks up to see White haired male looking, drilling him with his intense gaze, even through the dark round glasses that the mysterious young man wears, the grin and the piercing grey eyes stare into the victim's corrupted nature. Dropping to his knees the man pleads for forgiveness for his rudeness, tears streaming down his face in a pity site. The mortician smiles and chuckles at him in a deep threatening manner.

"Don't let it happen again, or next time it might not be a dream" suddenly the static  disappears, and so does the tingling feeling of worms digging into flesh. The mortician is gone, with the man standing in the middle of the sidewalk in confusion and raw and oh so pure terror

☆꧁༒꧂☆