d. fyodor x reader x o.dazai | You had been destined to die from the beginning. Through you does she slip, like sunlight through a sieve, settling onto the ruins of future human relationships, thereby destroying any chance of existence. Dead before...
trigger warnings: animal death, mention of suicide.
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"I MADE YOU AND YOU DESTROYED ME."
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You don't leave your apartment for a while.
The fear is horrifying numb—you lie down on your side on the cheap mattress, pressing a pillow over your head, unable to even move a single finger in fear that it would electrify the rest of your body in sparks of chills. You blankly stare at the wall before you. Sometimes your eyes would cross—and then, they would go back to their original position.
Sometimes, on luckier days when your chest felt less heavy, you dragged yourself out of bed to half-ass some assignment before tossing it into the Google Classroom. The piles of books by the desk remained untouched; you had resorted to googling the answers in pure laziness—but it was also because most of the time your mind would be plagued with questions: Had it truly been a slip of the finger? Had the scissors cut the cat's neck? Or had it been some strange phenomena? Or a dream? What if there was a stitch on the cat's neck that you had accidentally opened? What if? What if? What if?
You ignore your friends blowing up your phone.
Your undergarments hang from the cloth hanger. Black lace panties swinging in the summer air. The pair of black stockings look like the curve of a woman's body.
It had been the rain that had persuaded you to go outside. The soft pattering of the droplets against the windowsill, accompanied by a glass of ice water and a loaf of bread. You leave the glass unattended and a fly suicide dives into the crystalline surface. Its legs twitch—in disgust at your reflection merging with the struggling insect, you pour out the contents into the sink and grab an umbrella.
You bite your lip. Should you go back to where that had happened? Not that you would feel any better about seeing the shrivelled, clumped mess of a carcass. But perhaps you could see it as an assurance that the incident had occurred and what enfolded in that bloody mess was not just a trick of the eyes.
The alleyway is just around the corner. The umbrella casts a shadow over your eyes.
What you did not expect to see in that tiny alleyway was a man without one.
You gasp. He definitely heard that. Then, pivoting on your heel, you quickly walk away.
Today was not a good day, and you were definitely not in the mood to talk to a strange, suspicious man hiding in an alleyway.
"Wait! Wait!"
You walk faster. But not too fast. You didn't want to slip and have a concussion.
