DELIRIA - YANDERE!CHUUYA NAKAHARA

Fifteen: Suribachi City.

You shake your head.

Was that another dream? You find it difficult to re-calibrate yourself, not when you've been tricked by your own brain into reliving the past; you feel like a chamber, haunted and alone, walking with skeletons in yourself like Bluebeard's secret room. You feel disorientated to the extent you have to lean against the wall and stare down at your shoes; it felt as though you were staring at them from behind your own head. Your breath comes out in pants; you're squeezing your eyes shut and feeling the strain against the sockets, hands clenching and unclenching numbly by your sides. You can feel your throat bunch up like a fist, cocked and ready to shoot out of your neck.

"—rincess?" You can hear someone calling. You look up, and find the face of Chuuya staring back at you. He says something; his mouth is moving, but his words are coming out as beeps and boops. As though they were censored. You blink at him, and stammer over your words.

"Can you repeat that?" Your voice sounds like an echo of what it should be: Cave-like, unintelligible and nocturnal. Your echo implies an enormity of space empty within you, but at the same time defines its limits, and temporarily inhabits your haunted chamber of your past as your words come out garbled in your head. "Can you repeat that?"

"I said," He inches closer to you, and you can smell the faint lingering scent of ash and cologne off his neck. "Are you okay?"

You squeeze your eyes shut and laugh. A hoarse, coarse laughter that brings shivers down his spine from how rattled it sounds in your throat. You lean with a hand on your knee, panting and on the verge of gagging on your own saliva.

"Yeah," You lie through your teeth, clenching the bile down that was threatening to rise up into your mouth. "Yeah."

"You're clearly not," He grabs an arm and hoists you up back straight, his grip firm and steady. "You look off."

"I feel off," You shakingly admit, before violently shaking your head. You look around: This time, you were most definitely in the Port Mafia hallways, with Chuuya before you. "But it's fine. I'll get over it."

"You sure?" He asks, worryingly. You nod.

"Yeah," You say. "Besides, Boss called. I need to go."

"You be careful," He says. His voice is generously dripping with concern, raw pain like honey wax stuck in the dulcet intonations. You nod despite your back being turned.

"I'll try."

You arrive at Boss' room in due time, your hand poised to knock at his door. But before you can do so the voice behind the door calls you to come in; he must have heard your distinctive footsteps: Light, with a sense of foreboding, like a starved panther on its next hunt.

"You took your time, did you not?" Boss says.

"I apologise," You dip your head. "A minor inconvenience happened."

"Oh?" His voice sounds intrigued. Something in his eyes lit up. "What is this minor inconvenience?"

"I..." You pause. "The walls around me turned into my old house, Boss. I was there."

"And what did you experience? What did you see?" He's ignoring Elise's complaining behind his chair about her crayon.

"I saw myself on the TV, being wanted for the murder of my family. The radio was singing Jesus hymns," You deliberate on your words, choosing them carefully and slowly as to accurately paint a picture. "I was sitting in the lovechair that I shot my father in."

"How did it feel?" He sounds like a psychotherapist.

"I wanted to re-enact it," You say. Boss chuckles. A deep noise. "I wanted to repeat it."