viii. how to play dead

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╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋'𝐒 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵: 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥

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     PEELING HER EYES OPEN at sunrise the next morning, Angel finds Chūya still sound asleep beside her, dark circles beneath his eyes and the dried blood still trailing from his ears. With a pained look in her eyes, Angel reaches out and runs her fingers through his long red hair, much preferring when he lets it free instead of tying it up into his usual style. It's almost as long as her's now, and that thought makes a giddy feeling blossom to life in her stomach as she twists a section around her bandaged fingers.

     "Mmm, feels nice," Chūya murmurs, still half asleep as his eyes open a sliver and peer at Angel, one of his hands coming up to caress her cheek. "What're you doin' 'wake so early?"

     "I've got something to do," Angel replies with a soft smile, nuzzling against his gloveless hand. "I'll be back soon, alright? Go back to sleep, my dear demon."

     "Mmm. 'right. G'night, angel."

     Chūya's eyes slip closed and his hand falls limply back onto their bed as his breathing evens out and he returns to his peaceful slumber. The smile falls from Angel's face as she climbs off their bed and rids herself of her clothes from the previous day. Changing into her boots, black dress, and gloves, she forces her hair up into its usual ponytail and, mask in hand, she slips out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her as to not wake Chūya. Ryūnosuke is waiting down the hall, clad with Rashōmon like usual, and his eyes full of pure delight. That's all Angel needs in order to know that Dazai was "successfully captured" by the Demon Snow user, and she allows Ryūnosuke to lead her to where he's had the pair's former mentor imprisoned.

     Without saying a word to Ryūnosuke, Angel slips on her mask and makes her way down the stairs, a skip in her step and a mischievous smile on her lips as the unconscious form of Dazai comes into focus, the lighting down here utter shit but still enough to see him. Humming happily, Angel watches as the man slowly stirs at her presence, golden-brown eyes bleary with sleep as they move to her, but they're instantly guarded when he realises who is standing before him. Well, not that he's figured out who she is behind this mask — no matter how much he's tried over the past weeks, he's still not reached the conclusion he believes fits what he sees and knows. Grinning, Angel pushes off the wall and walks over to him, cocking her head to the side innocently as he glares hatefully at the young girl, making a laugh escape her.

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