hyacinth - bsd reader insert

11.

"A preposition, you say?"

His eyes were rich with amusement, a deep sea of wine that could have blended into the oak wood of the flooring. Sunset cast a sharp angled shadow dancing across his face, sending his irises alight with a dying fire. Dazai Osamu adjusted his position and sent a gentle smile in (Y/n)'s direction. It didn't help at all.

"You know I've been with Fyodor."

"I can smell a sewer rat when there is one," Dazai pleasantly said, as if they were discussing the weather over two cups of tea poured delicately into tiny cups of china. "I'm sure he's gotten a new motive after you've half-joined the agency. You have some type of power."

"You know it already," they replied, straying close to the open doorway. Dazai let out a chuckle.

"Hold my hands again."

It wasn't a question.

(Y/n) turned their head to the side. "You don't need to confirm anything."

"Yeah, I don't," Dazai replied, kicking his legs back. "I just need the experience to be engrained in your head. Every single emotion of it."

(Y/n) took three strides and grabbed Dazai's hands with a surprising amount of strength. It didn't take long for a wash of red and blue to drape around the two, the sensation of falling—vertigo—buttered over the entire area. Dazai shivered, and they followed suit, yet none let go.

There was a profound sadness etched into Dazai's hands, one stained with regret and also a tiny wisp of terror, anger even. It snapped and writhed in a maelstrom of brimstone and ash and instantly scorched the floor.

Oh god oh hell, (Y/n) thought. This is the pain from an angst backstory. This is the pain from Odasaku's death.

Yet through the whirlpool of emotion there was a thin strand of hope colored blue, one that looped through Dazai's hands and sent a crackle of energy towards (Y/n). It was then they realized the pulsing blue glow of the abilities projecting words and light through the hospital room.

"Just as you can feel my pain, I can feel yours," Dazai murmured, ghosting his fingertips against (Y/n)'s. As soon as the rush came it dissolved, leaving both individuals to silently contemplate till Dazai broke the silence. "Now, with that in mind, what is your preposition?"

A tear slid down (Y/n)'s cheek.

"Excuse me," they muttered, swiping it away. Dazai watched the action with keen eyes, never once straying.

"Well?"

"Dazai, by the end of this, we know one of us has to go," (Y/n) stated, staring at the eggshell white wallpaper. Their expression twisted into something akin to complacency. "I am trying to go back to my old life. I truly do not belong here, just as you believe."

"Something tells me you aren't just some foreigner wanting to go back to their home country," said Dazai.

"Dazai, Fyodor is actively aware of this and his existence is a catalyst to the deadline of this problem." They shuffled against the wall for a better position, popping their neck in a crack. "With us sharing an ability, the world's balance is disrupted. Like I said, one of us has to go—and I'm willing to leave."

"But if you can't leave, then I will have to make you," Dazai concluded.

His eyes were shadowed with a dark, harrowing emotion again.

"Fyodor wants the opposite."

"I am aware. I was aware from the start. So now, (Y/n), what are you going to do to tackle his orders?"

Their head really hurt talking to Dazai. It was like someone on the inside took a drumstick and beat their skull over and over with a booming sequence, a heartbeat amplified too loud for their body. (Y/n) stifled a gasp of pain at the migraine. Dazai was clutching his head, too, although with less pain.

"This universe wants me here," Dazai said. "I'm sure that it has made that clear. Look, your symptoms of overstaying are already beginning to come. Why don't you sit down and relax for a bit?"

"You have to promise," (Y/n) ground out, their voice shaking.

"You're scared and driven with emotion. I can't make promises to that."

"Promise me that you'll help me so I can help you."

"This sounds more desperate. This doesn't sound like you, (Y/n)."

"Osamu, cut the crap and answer me. Promise or not?" They barely had time to collapse into the chair, head positively a sledgehammer on repeat slamming.

"Promise..." Dazai started, gifting a weak smile to (Y/n)'s face, lighting up their pain saturated eyes. Though his expressionless visage kept unwavering as he saw (Y/n)'s eyelids begin to flutter with the sure sign of fainting.

(Y/n)'s hands draped over the chair as they slouched, passing into the void of unconsciousness, the headaches enough to spiral them into the darkness.

"...I'm kidding," Dazai finished. His mouth turned into a downwards sliver. "Promises always end up wrong. I promise I'll attempt to help a poor soul like you, (Y/n), but I think when worst comes to worst, we will freeze."

He turned to face the last dying rays of the sun.

"Besides...that front can't fool me. You're scared of stating it explicitly. You're scared of saying, what if I can't go home and it's too late? And you're implying it, but you're too scared to say it in fears that there would be no turning back, for you want me to kill you. Or, you know it's the 'right thing' to do to save me, a person you seem to know quite a lot about despite us being virtually strangers. You want me to kill you if time runs out to save me. Which, frankly is kind of a waste of time. You won't need that scenario...I hope."

He exhaled. Dazai really needed a cup of water. Whiskey. Tea. Whatever.

"Whatever it takes, then."

He lifted his eyes to face the faraway wall.

"Looks like I have more on the line now, huh, Fyodor?"