DELIRIA - YANDERE!CHUUYA NAKAHARA

Epilogue: Annihilation.

When Chuuya had first spotted you in that bar so many years back, he knew he had to have you. He wanted to pluck you like a pearl from the soft beds of an oyster and slip you into his coat pocket, and leave without a parting word to anyone. He wanted you for himself. Monster or not, he wanted you carnally, bared teeth and bloodied fists. He can't loosen the grip he has on your throat: He wants you to only sing to him and no one else.

But now that he has you in his arms, breathing slowly and occasionally shifting against his bare chest, all that matters is that you want him as well. Just you and him, living and loving under the pale milky moon. Warm, voluptuous air hangs heavy in the air, the connection between the two of you weighing so heavily in the room that the night sighed with romanticism under its hefty weight.

He loves you—what a light word that is. No, there has to be another word for what he has towards you. It isn't just primal lust, it isn't just lovely love: it is an obsession. Obsession to the point of deliria. He has heard your voices in places that shouldn't be there, he has seen you in places, both young and old, hanging around like a reluctant ghost. He has smelt your body scent in the Port's salty air, he has you shattered in all dimensions in his hands, each shard reflecting himself and yourself. Dizzy hurricanes, with an underline of nausea and hunger.

If you love him, it is a weapon. Love is funny like that. Carry and conceal. The laws and morals get blurry when love is involved.

You wake to Chuuya petting your head, burying you closer into the crook of his neck. You let out a huff to indicate you're awake, and he reluctantly releases you from him. You feel sticky and warm from his embrace, as if strings of Chuuya had been glued onto you, forever connecting you to him. Like puppeteers to each other, you were a reflection of him. Face of steel: Look at it and see each other in the steel.

In the sunlight that streaked through the window over your head, spilling over and lighting everything white in its gleam, you looked like an angel of the Renaissance, and yet no Italian artist could accurately portray your beauty onto a meagre canvas. No hand was that skilled to do that. You were ultimately alone in a class, your beauty almost a disorder to him: how did you manage to disrupt the systematic functioning of beauty standards to him? You were now the new benchmark, and no one could beat you. 

"I'm still tired," You whine, stretching your spine out. Chuuya admires the line of your back, shimmering under the sunlight like a crystal chandelier hitting water. "How are you?"

What beauty can there be to mention after you?

"I'm doing fine," He murmurs, his hand reaching out unconsciously to stroke a finger over your spine. You give a miniscule jolt before relaxing. "I want to kiss you."

He looks into your (eye colour) hues and is afraid if he stares at them for too long, he will come out a different man, someone else. You possess that sort of power over him, just like the semi-darkness does to a creature. You turn your head over your shoulder before crawling back into his arms, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

A little peck.

"That's all I get?" He teases, and you roll your eyes. You are now playful, open, and talkative; with reminiscing hints of fear and trauma. "C'mon, princess."

You hover over his lips and brush your lips against his, before dipping your head down. He loses himself in the softness of your lips; he's fucked, he's so fucked because he knows you own him now; you've awaken a beast within him that drinks and drinks and drinks but cannot be satisfied. He will remember every kiss you give him, lips raw with love, and how he gave you everything he had and how you offered him what was left of you.

"You're mine now," His lips drag down the delicate throat of yours, and he can't look into your eyes because it's all he thinks about. "You're all mine."

"I only want you," You admit, you confess. You had believed there was no love story possible in your life, but only ultraviolence and Western history, but love has found its way in, has found a way to break in.

Deliria brings him under. He is like an anaemic person standing too fast: head dizzy and hands shaking with the desperate need for your flesh. He wants to mark you, keep you as his, protect you, watch you grow. 

Be with him.

"Can we hold hands?" You ask, but your hand is already slithering down his forearm like a snake to lace your fingers with his. He clenches his hand so that your fingers are tightly entwined together. You watch him carefully, hand in hand, your love for him like a third eye.

To trust is to let go. He calls your name. It rolls off his tongue like a prayer.

You fall under the lull of Chuuya's voice. You feel annihilated yourself, finding your way out of your own darkness with Chuuya's voice guiding you. Breaking through. Your past smashed to the floor under the bruising bite of his love.

The bedroom is quiet, the warm air surrounding you, asking and giving nothing.

A/N

Finally, Deliria is over!

I took a 3 month break from writing and left this hanging, but trust me, this book was always on my mind, finding and thinking ways to continue and ultimately end it. I do apologise if you were disturbed by the sexual violence presented in this book; and if you were, I really don't advise you to read my other book, The Wild Geese (chuuya/reader/dazai).

I suppose this was a soft yandere fic; i can't do well with hardcore yandere...unless you guys want me to....of course. You guys can tell me to do anything I'll probably write it LOL.

I hope you guys had fun reading this as much as I had fun writing it. Happy reading! :)