𝕊𝕚𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤 - { ᴅᴏᴜᴍᴀ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ }

36 - { ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴇʀᴄᴇᴘᴛɪᴏɴ }

Second Person POV:

Several hours pass, and you sleep soundly, with the exception of several snores you let out during your sleep. Douma, however, was a demon, and did not require even a second of sleep. This resulted in him simply staring at your face while you slept. 

It always takes a long time for you to actually wake up in the mornings, so you had quite the shock when you finally opened your blurry eyes to find Douma's rainbow ones staring directly at you from his place next to you.

You practically jump off the bed, shooting your hand out in front of you as a first reflex. The next thing you know, Douma had caught your fist in his hand, and was watching you with a happy grin.

"Good morning, (Y/N)!" The man says cheerfully. In response, you groan, relaxing back on the bed. 

"Douma! What in the world?" You sigh, not even bothering to make eye contact with the man. You open your mouth to complain once more when you pause, observing the familiar surroundings of your childhood bedroom. Your shoulders sink, remembering all the events from yesterday. 

"Oh." was all that came out of your mouth, your tone disappointed and honestly slightly sad. You focused your eyes on the bedsheets, tracing the all-too familiar designs with your finger.

"(Y/N)?" Douma speaks up, and you take a glance at his face, which had a genuine expression of guilt on it. 

"Yeah?" You sigh, not wanting to be depressed. You wish you could forget the things you had seen yesterday, but you couldn't. You wish you could turn back time so that none of this would've happened. 

"Do you want to leave this place? I don't have to be a detective to figure out that this place is giving you really bad memories." Douma sits next to you, placing a cold hand on your shoulder in an unsuccessful attempt to comfort you.

Your lip trembles slightly, your fists clenching onto the thin bedsheets as you blink away the hot tears that gather in your eyes. After a moment of silence and deep thought, you return your gaze to Douma, maintaining eye contact as you give him the slightest nod.

Without a seconds hesitation, he slides out from under the covers and stands up on his feet, pacing over to your side of the bed with silent footsteps. 

"Would you like me to make you breakfast before we leave? I don't know how, but I'm sure there's something in the kitchen I can work with." Douma flashes you an unsure yet confident smile, showing that he absolutely didn't know how to do anything in the kitchen, yet he was willing to try.

At this adorable display, you couldn't help but let the ends of your lips curve up into an amused smile. You stretch your legs and get out of bed, squinting up at the man, who still had the lopsided grin on his face.

You reach your hand up and pat him on the shoulder. 

"I appreciate it, Douma, but I don't have quite as much of an appetite as I usually do, so I'll be okay." You reassure him. It was the truth, you had absolutely no appetite after seeing what had happened to the demon faking your mother's identity.

"Aww, okay." The man says with slight disappointment. He was hoping to get the chance for an attempt to make you a meal, or simply something that would give you comfort to cause you to feel even a little bit better. 

At that moment, he was guilty for exposing your 'mother' as a demon and unintentionally plastering the image of him murdering her in your mind. No, he was not a bit regretful for forcefully disposing of that imposter demon, that demon could've tried, and honestly did make an attempt, to kill you!

The man heads downstairs and waits in the kitchen, taking his seat at the counter, for you to come down when you were ready. In this time, he could retreat into his thoughts of what in the world to do next.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several minutes later, Douma hears the soft thudding of your footsteps on the stairs. He glances up, seeing that you were coming down the stairs. He stands up and walks over to you, a faint red on his cheeks. 

"Hello." He smiles, happy to see you once more. In return, you send him a forced smile, although yours was not the most convincing. He hesitates for a moment, but wraps his fingers around yours. When you don't resist, his posture straightens up slightly in an internal jolt of relief.

"Why hello there." You say, your tone soft. "I'm ready to leave this place and honestly never come back." Your eyes wander to the exact spot that you saw the copy of your mother disintegrating just the day before.

Douma reaches up and blocks your gaze from the sight. He saw the pained look in your eyes when you took notice of that place. He turns your chin to face him, tearing your gaze away from the floor. 

"Don't look back there." Douma says softly, tugging on your hand. He knew that you needed to leave the house, so he would help you do just that. All you do is nod softly, biting the inside of your lip to stop you from saying anything.

From the middle of the room, Douma takes a glimpse out of the window to see whether or not it was safe for him to leave the house, due to the sun - or lack thereof. After confirming that it was night time, the man grins down at you. 

"We'll be at the temple in no time, (Y/N). We can return there and the servants can make you something to eat, okay?" Douma tells you, leading you down the gravel pathway. 

"Okay." You respond, your voice too tired to be anything but blank. You listened to the crunching of the small, gray rocks beneath your feet as a sort of therapeutic noise, which helped calm you down.

Douma, not used to - and not liking - the silence, carries on with the conversation, vocalizing whatever he can think of at the present moment, solely to avoid any sort of uncomfortable silence that could ensue between the two of you. This continues for the rest of the return trip to the cult, with Douma blabbering on about anything and everything and you silently listening to him, occasionally interjecting with your own opinion or thoughts.

Once you finally arrive at the familiar grand building, you stop to stare only for a minute before letting Douma lead you inside, your legs reluctantly agreeing to follow.

The moment you enter the building, you freeze. You squeeze on Douma's hand, staring up at him with fear in your eyes. Something was wrong here, and you knew it. The temple was silent, and not the type of silence you had grown used to during the nighttime hours, but something far more eerie, far more still.

Douma's expression changes into one of morbid understanding, allowing you to decide what to follow through with in your next set of actions.

After several seconds of pure and utter silence, Douma's eyes widen. He manages to whisper one word to you.

"Run." 

The second you sprint out the doors, you see a man's cobalt blue eyes, blank and void of emotion. The hilt of a something dull hits you on the back of the head and your eyes roll to the back of your head, knocking you out cold.

Word Count: 1287