Candy-Coated Suicide | Elf x Reader [NANBAKA]

Chapter 44 - Deadcrush (Pt. 5)

Made 1/1-2/2022

Welcome back! This sure is a long mission. I should probably end it soon.

Fact Of The Day: In the 1920's, the American domestic terror group the Ku Klux Klan had a youth chapter called the "Ku Klux Kiddies." Come on, that's just funny.

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Surely not. But I mean, that's what I want to tell myself, isn't it?

You sighed, closing your eyes to let your head rest on your knees. As much as you knew you shouldn't push it away, the thought of having you give up to rid of these figures was draining. It was enough to gain control of them and constantly deal with fantasy worlds, but now to get rid of all that work?

I don't know. Is that really the only option?

Your heart thumped softly, beating in a rhythmic pace that kept you a little more comfortable. Maybe too comfortable, because you started drifting off to sleep in a matter of a minute or two. You don't know when you became so sleepy, like you ran a marathon just to get behind this wall and stayed up the night before. It was so bad that you could feel tears brimming against the outer corners of your eyes, ready to fall and announce that you needed sleep.

A small rest wouldn't hurt, right? I'll get up before he comes back.

There was definitely more for you to worry about, but your eyelids closed anyways, drifting off into a sudden nap. This should've been the last set of circumstances that you would let your guard down, yet here you were, but- you knew it wasn't because of you.

-

When you woke again, this time was different. Unlike the regular dismal void, you opened your eyes to see your old house.

"What kind of BULLSHIT?" You yelled into your room, looking around.

You almost forgot what it looked like entirely over the months that you've left it behind. Most of it became a fragmented memory, lost underneath the flames it died to. Behind you was your bed, and then you, on the ground in front of it. Standing up, you let the coolness of the tiled floor flood into your feet and the smell of freshly cleaned sheets fill your senses.

This is lovely, actually. Way different than what I'm used to.

The other side of the room was adorned with a dresser and a mirror on the wall, allowing you to stare back at yourself - not that it was something you wanted to do. On side of that was a few posters of your favorite bands and a calender that your dad always insisted on buying every year, even when you didn't use it. You smiled about it, standing up from the floor to walk over to the calender.

You ran your fingers over the paper, flipping the months to see all different photos of space. He thought you liked that: watching the stars, admiring them just how he admired you. The paper fell from your hand as you turned away, drifting towards your closet doorknob. Inside of it was your familiar, ever-so-lost hoodies that you would die to have again and some pairs of shoes you never wore. It was always about buying things, shoving them away, looking at them every now and again, but never using them with your mom around.

You could still picture all the pairs of shoes your mother had, filling up the bottom of her closet until there was no room to walk in anymore. When you were younger, you had fun putting obviously larger shoes onto your feet and walk around, desperately trying not to fall over. Your siblings often joined in, stacking heels on top of each other and slipping them onto their feet too, until the oldest yelled to go put them back.