Bad Kind of Butterflies ♧ DazaiXReaderXDOA

25. Pet Mouse

You aren't sure when it is that you passed out, but all you last remember is the horrible pain in your head, millions of hearts beating in your ears except for yours, Fyodor in front of you promising better. The sensations around you had felt so familiar; the way you are promised better after forcing you into a deal, convincing you that in the end it's all for the best, the way your ability has pushed you to the point of physical pain after allowing yourself to be used for the hope that things really would be better should you choose this path...

It had all been like a merry-go-round finally turning the full 360 from the day you were caught by Sigma and met Fyodor years ago, the day you had been so enchanted by the knowledge and authority of the demon and his rats always listening, always watching. Somehow you had gotten looped into all their schemes, and you had done it willingly. Especially the last few days. Running around with Dazai and Nikolai, many things had come into perspective. First, Dazai was everything you wished to believe you could have been, the way he quieted down your world and had you so lost with every word he said...but in the end, you couldn't trust his heart as much as you wanted to. Then there was Nikolai, an enigma even in the decay of angels that had had you wrapped around his slender gloved fingers after dangling the sensation of true freedom you so longed right in front of you. Though he didn't quiet all the melodies hypnotizing you around you, he gave you a reason to dance to their rhythms.

All these factors left your mind constantly wondering, constantly filled with an insatiable curiosity. It all motivated you to play along all the way, affecting your perspective permanently.

In all honesty, all you had wanted was a place where you felt like you had mattered. Sigma had given it to you after finding the refuge in the sky, but Fyodor had solidified it as soon as his cello struck the first string to his song, your mind and body already his, and your heart...well, your heart hardly moved for itself anymore. It served the higher purpose of God.

Now, you were paying the price of following his plans for you; though in your opinion, some prices were worth paying should it satisfy at least one of your desires. After you had talked to Nikolai Gogol, although really it should be classified as more than just a talk with the way he stirred all your insides, Fyodor had caught you and given you the greatest deal you simply couldn't have refused. He had given you a place amongst the angels, and it had included betraying Dazai's trust that masquerade night. It's all you had to do, keep Gogol entertained, get Dazai's phone for Dostoevsky to get information from his organization and put it back with his knowledge, and earn your place.

Remembering now the way Fyodor's kiss had left a sensation in your hand, you are sure you had earned yourself that purpose after being stuck on the merry-go-round ride for years. You had finally found your ticket off.

Now what?

Slowly opening your eyes, the bright sunlight disrupting your waking process, you get up from seemingly the floor, your bare feet touching the cool ground, your hair undone though you still wear the same dress from the other night, your masquerade mask laying next to you. With groan, you get up and cover your eyes from the sun, head pounding, your ability booming every change in heart beat excruciatingly loud. The room you are in looks extremely familiar, but where you were used to seeing beds there was nothing but dust, every piece of furniture gone from the room you were sure belonged to the decay of angels.

"Myshka."

You turn around in surprise, a little jump to your turn as you see Nikolai Gogol standing behind you in a full suit, looking like some government official except for his hair still in its usual braid, the silver of it letting him keep his otherworldly like style, both his eyes visible and glowing like lightbulbs in a room full of darkness. There's an odd somber atmosphere to the clown as he looks at you, like someone that has lost one of the most important games of their life. You don't understand, but then again, you don't understand much of what's going on all around you.