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D E V I L ' S P L A Y ! ❝ chapter twelve ❞
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( BLURRY ) — black out mind.
HER MIND WAS A BLACKHOLE, it sucked up Angel's entire body—not even a single bone was left for her. She felt the trembles that quaked through her head; an endless headache that drummed the insides of her skull. Angel tried to recall her tragic one night night stand, but each time her mind tried to search for that memory, there was nothing. It felt as though a lock had chained that memory behind a door, and the key was long gone before she could even find it.
What the fuck even happened? It was a long fever night dream that had puddled into one giant messy work of art. Such colourful images ran through her mind like how her clever tongue got caught up in a heated mess or how her hips swayed to the plastic tune of the nightclub's music, but nothing seemed familiar when it came to the naked stranger on the bed. Angel couldn't seem to remember that faceless man, but what she did remember was one thing. A Marlboro cigarette.
"Hey cutie, hop in."
Angel stood still as she glanced at the man sitting in an obnoxious black Mercedes car. He peeked through his rolled down tinted window and had that stupid annoying smirk plastered across his pretty boy face. Angel had seen his face countless of times hidden behind the silver screen, and other times, on the front cover of a Vogue magazine. He breathed in diamonds and gold like it was nothing but air, and trampled on a pile of money on the red carpet with his red bottom shoes like it was dirt. Ah, and who might that be again? Oikawa Tooru.
"What the—No, I'm busy."
"Get in before the paparazzi sees us."
". . . You wouldn't."
"Sweetheart, wanna try?"
Oikawa cackled a loud laugh as he watched the young woman muttering a curse under her breath. Even so, Angel unwillingly complied to his threatening demands when she made her way to his flashy sports car. The moment she sat inside, her nostrils were greeted by a strong musk cologne and dead leather—in other words, it smelt of a filthy rich man. It was quite nostalgic for Angel. After all, she used to smell this intoxicating scent everyday during her childhood. But the older she grew, the more she became disgusted with this greedy scent. And yet, as hypocritical as it sounded, it was a scent that Angel had desperately tried to cling onto.
"And where are you taking us exactly?"
"You'll see."
When Oikawa said that he would take her to a 'spectacular, mind blowing, phenomenal' place, he was simply referring to a restaurant. It didn't look anything special. Yet, Oikawa claimed that it was a famous restaurant which specialised in their unique onigiri dishes, and seeing how almost overly crowded it was, sounded a little bit more convincing. Angel didn't expect him to eat at such a normal looking place. She would have judged him as someone with a much more exquisite 5 star taste palette that could only be approved by Gordon Ramsay but apparently that wasn't the case.
"And here it is, the famous Onigiri Miya."
Out of all names, Miya, did it have to be a surname that she had happened to detest the most with all her guts? Angel shrugged those despicable thoughts away as she entered the restaurant with Oikawa wearing his face mask, cap and sunglasses—the typical celebrity starter pack. The two of them sat at the far corner, away from the crowds as Oikawa shook hands with what seems to be the owner most likely. But the more Angel looked at him, the more he reminded her of someone.
There was this gut wrenching feeling that made her stomach upset, and the way her mind flashed back to her Professor, made Angel want to gag at the spot. She peered a little closer to see his features. His milky toned skin, broad shoulders cladded in a black uniform sweater and those lazy looking brown eyes that reminded her of almonds. Jesus Christ. Were her eyes deceiving herself? Because the way she looked at him up close with eyes wide open, Angel was almost certain that this was him.
"Professor Miya, what the fuck are you doing here?", she hissed venomously.
"Ah, ya must be talkin' about my twin brother, Miya Atsumu."
Twin brother, was this a joke? Angel couldn't believe what her ears had heard, but seeing the way his hair was dyed in a different shade, perhaps he was telling the truth after all. Angel froze when a sudden thought ran through her mind. It was like the switch of a lightbulb, and as if it was perfectly aligned, she had her once empty mind filled with racing thoughts. If he claimed to be his twin brother, then was it possible that Angel had mistook him for her Professor during her unfortunate, blurry one night stand? Angel wanted to respond back but her breath was abruptly cut short when Oikawa budged into the conversation.
"I apologise for her rude behaviour. She's normally not like this. Anyway, allow me to introduce both of you to each other."
Oikawa cleared his throat before gesturing his hand towards the other man, "This is Miya Osamu, the owner of Onigiri Miya."
Angel blinked, then blinked a couple of more times. She wanted to laugh out loud at this whimsical situation. But something in the way this strange man looked at her with a gaze that held no humour, told her that perhaps he truely was his twin. If fate had already been a bitch yesterday, then fate was certainly the biggest bitch as of now. Fate played with her soul, tugged her around like a puppet hanging on a couple of worn out strings. It was cruel joke being unfolded right before her eyes, and within a split second, she wanted to be gone.
Gone from all this bullshit.
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