DELIRIA - YANDERE!CHUUYA NAKAHARA

Seventeen: The Hut.

You're getting in the car with the man that's seemingly in control of your future now, slamming the door shut with a gentle strength so as to not break the vehicle before the engine revs up. You're patting your pockets down to check you have everything: Cigarettes, lighter, car keys, phone. The former would be a crucial bit in helping you talk; you would take refuge in how it made one preoccupied with the cigarette, you would take shelter in the concealing blue smoke that emanated from the end of the cigarette. In short, you needed it to talk.

Talking hurts you. You needed something that made you feel good to balance that out.

You turn the steering wheel harshly and find your way into Suribachi city, the city built on a crater, spiralling down like the circles of Hell. The outer circles were less condensed in terms of buildings compared to the lower circles; an apt simile.

"Did you know Arahabaki caused that crater?" Chuuya says, holding onto the handrail situated over his head. Your harsh driving makes him hold onto his hat with his other hand. You hum in mild interest.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Caused an explosion, and the less fortunate began to build there."

"Cool."

You drive in an otherwise comfortable but stiff silence, starchy and washed out by the setting sun's vermillion rays, mixed with lavender and twinges of red, the sky seemingly weeping blood as its light pooled on the floor and pavements, spilling through the car windows and painting your profile a brilliant cerise. Chuuya tips his head back in a contemptuous and princely manner to catch a glimpse of you, the you who was focused on the road ahead with the other playing with the packet of cigarettes in your pocket. He had a hunch that you were itching for a smoke right now, and his hunch proved correct when you pulled over to the side and pulled a cigarette out. A cold breeze enters the car when you roll a window down to let the smoke out, smashing its wispy fists against the windowpane before being unfurled out into nothingness.

"Thought I should give you some context," You say, cupping the side of your cigarette as you lit it with your plastic lighter.

"Context?" He echoes.

"My family was turbulent," You take a sharp intake and close your eyes. Even when you were revisiting what were the messy grounds of memory did you look impeccably beautiful, Chuuya thinks; he could worship this side profile of yours if you allowed him. "I escaped that turbulence by living in one of the huts in Suribachi city."

"Turbulent." He repeats after you, the word awfully terrible on his tongue, as though it cocked a barrage of punches to the face. He finds himself clicking his tongue at the possibilities: Divorce, emotional abuse, physical abuse, abandonment, neglect...the list went on.

"Yeah. Turbulent," You say the three syllable word as if you were mocking him. "Turbulent would be an understatement. It was a shithole. I came from a broken family. My mom was so placid it was unbearable. You might as well expect more personality from a rock. It was actually sickening."

"Placid as in...?"

"She took everything that happened like a sponge. She never had boundaries," You say.

"A sponge. What about your dad?" Chuuya probes deeper. The bandages are coming off, one by one. You sharply flick your cigarette out the window at that, roll up the window, and don't look at him as you re-start your route to Suribachi city.

"You'll find out."

—

You park your car on the road before the dilapidated city, the revving of your engine dying down as you yank your key out the car. You kick open the door and lean against the side of the vehicle with yet another cigarette in your fingers, gazing melancholically down at the layers of houses and huts.