Bad Kind of Butterflies ♧ DazaiXReaderXDOA

15. The Weight of His Actions

Your head hurts.

Your bleeding hand stings.

After talking with Nikolai Gogol, your mind is spinning and colours around you seem too bright, the light too strong, and you feel hyper aware of every little detail around you.

My mind feels strained, like someone's been pulling at it for too long...

I need to leave.

I need to put myself together...

Although you know you had been let out to start working again, you walk past the casino without another thought, walking faster with every step, pushing people out of the way if you have to. In the rush of the moment and without any better ideas, you find yourself at the bar area where, to your surprise, it is much calmer. Slowing down your heart rate and breathing, you eye everyone carefully around you for any familiar faces or any eyes watching, and when you don't, you let out a breath of relief.

You have never been a fan of drinking since many customers end up drunk and way too comfortable around you when you deal in longer games, and with their behaviour being often times atrocious, you promised yourself you wouldn't turn into that. Additionally, the thought of losing your sense has always scared you, since alcohol also tended to slur the hearts you could hear together and blurred every moment together so that you no longer had a perception or time or space, your auditory senses mushing together like an out of tune orchestra. You had a high probability of losing any ability to think or properly process anything, more so than others, and you hated thinking of yourself as someone that would stoop so low.

However...

I'm always contradicting myself anyways.

"I'd like to start a tab" you call out to one of the bartenders, taking a seat on one of the many stools in front of all the glittering bottles of booze on display.

Without a second of hesitation, a young woman you never bothered to get to know from your time working at the casino is right on your request, until she does a double take at you and looks you over with a raised brow in question.

"Aren't you supposed to be working, Miss [f/n]?"

"Yeah and?"

"You aren't even dressed for work...does the manager know this? Are you ok? I probably shouldn't be serving you a drink..."

"Your job is to satisfy the customer. I'm a customer right now, so satisfy me. Bring me three shots of Vodka first." You snap, irritability taking over your words.

The woman scrunches her nose at you in disgusted disbelief, muttering something under her breath before bringing you as you asked, eyeing you suspiciously as you stared at the full shot glasses in front of you, your own heart beating anxiously. You know once you begin you give up a piece of yourself to keep going, but a drive of determination in you demands you drink.

The first shot is dedicated to Nikolai, who never fails to keep my tongue twisted for answers.

Without another thought, you take the glass and down the strong liquor, holding back a cough from the sting it leaves down your throat. With your tolerance lowered by your ability, you already feel a buzz running through your body and mind, the vodka laying out the path to the numbing process.

This second shot is dedicated to Dazai and Sigma! Keeping me paranoid and on guard always. Promising me things that aren't true...

Drinking the second shot with less difficulty, you feel all noise around you blink between clarity and a blend of everything in your surroundings. With a small smile, you take the third shot, bring it up to your lips slowly, tilting your head back as you let the vodka slowly enter your mouth and body.