Your head hurts.
Your bleeding hand stings.
After talking with Nikolai Gogol, your mind is spinning and colours around you seem too bright, the light too strong, and you feel hyper aware of every little detail around you.
My mind feels strained, like someone's been pulling at it for too long...
I need to leave.
I need to put myself together...
Although you know you had been let out to start working again, you walk past the casino without another thought, walking faster with every step, pushing people out of the way if you have to. In the rush of the moment and without any better ideas, you find yourself at the bar area where, to your surprise, it is much calmer. Slowing down your heart rate and breathing, you eye everyone carefully around you for any familiar faces or any eyes watching, and when you don't, you let out a breath of relief.
You have never been a fan of drinking since many customers end up drunk and way too comfortable around you when you deal in longer games, and with their behaviour being often times atrocious, you promised yourself you wouldn't turn into that. Additionally, the thought of losing your sense has always scared you, since alcohol also tended to slur the hearts you could hear together and blurred every moment together so that you no longer had a perception or time or space, your auditory senses mushing together like an out of tune orchestra. You had a high probability of losing any ability to think or properly process anything, more so than others, and you hated thinking of yourself as someone that would stoop so low.
However...
I'm always contradicting myself anyways.
"I'd like to start a tab" you call out to one of the bartenders, taking a seat on one of the many stools in front of all the glittering bottles of booze on display.
Without a second of hesitation, a young woman you never bothered to get to know from your time working at the casino is right on your request, until she does a double take at you and looks you over with a raised brow in question.
"Aren't you supposed to be working, Miss [f/n]?"
"Yeah and?"
"You aren't even dressed for work...does the manager know this? Are you ok? I probably shouldn't be serving you a drink..."
"Your job is to satisfy the customer. I'm a customer right now, so satisfy me. Bring me three shots of Vodka first." You snap, irritability taking over your words.
The woman scrunches her nose at you in disgusted disbelief, muttering something under her breath before bringing you as you asked, eyeing you suspiciously as you stared at the full shot glasses in front of you, your own heart beating anxiously. You know once you begin you give up a piece of yourself to keep going, but a drive of determination in you demands you drink.
The first shot is dedicated to Nikolai, who never fails to keep my tongue twisted for answers.
Without another thought, you take the glass and down the strong liquor, holding back a cough from the sting it leaves down your throat. With your tolerance lowered by your ability, you already feel a buzz running through your body and mind, the vodka laying out the path to the numbing process.
This second shot is dedicated to Dazai and Sigma! Keeping me paranoid and on guard always. Promising me things that aren't true...
Drinking the second shot with less difficulty, you feel all noise around you blink between clarity and a blend of everything in your surroundings. With a small smile, you take the third shot, bring it up to your lips slowly, tilting your head back as you let the vodka slowly enter your mouth and body.
...and this one is for you, Dostoevsky. All yours.
The blur of sounds becomes conjoined, every movement you make feels delayed, and your smile grows bigger. Ecstatic by the feeling of letting go, you raise your hand for another round of drinks, changing it up slightly every order. You don't bother starting slow, starting with all the hard liquors happily, allowing yourself to get lost in the mush of your brain.
For someone chosen by God, I sure am one hell of a mess...
As the day progresses, you watch bundles of people come and go, every hour you spend on your small stool increasing the amount of eyes staring at you from the crowd, generating ridiculous laughter from you. You yell and tease strangers, stopping anyone's advances but encouraging their curiosity in your state. The skyline light is in a constant change behind you, rays creating a prism-like view of colours in yours eyes, filling up your heart with wonder and awe when thinking is not an option. Music plays ever so often lightly in the background, and everyone's voices echoes like loud tv static in your ears.
Maybe he likes the mess. He knows only I will comprehend his desires...I've given him loyalty, now I just need to trust him.
All these people here don't know his great plan to redeem them all...so many people are stuck in the thought that life carries no purpose...
But that's where they're wrong!
They're all wrong!
We live to sin, sin to live...and I've been chosen by God to rid the world of all those sinners.
The purpose is to serve something greater than ourselves.
He found me to save me.
He's going to teach me how to really live because...God loves me...right?
Fyodor loves me.
I am not trapped in my own cage. That's where Gogol is wrong...where Dazai made his mistake in thinking he was showing me free will.
Yes. I have to numb everything else. I have to...
"[f/n]? What are you doing here? You never gave me a call back!"
What?
You squint your eyes with blurred vision as you try to find where the voice louder than all the rest was coming from, finally spinning around in your stool enough with your hand on the counter to steady yourself so that your eyes land on a pretty brunette with wavy hair.
Eh...Dazai?
"What are you doing here?" You ask, words clearly slurred, turning the question around on him, head spinning as you try to make sure you don't fall face first on him as you stand from your stool with difficulty.
"I never left...and well...I was going to meet someone, but now that I've found you...I have no need!"
Why does he sound so cheerful?
"You should go away. Fly away from this giant cage in the sky. I have found my own keys. You should..um..." you lose your train of thought, placing a hand gently on your temple as you try to concentrate on Dazai's questioning face.
"I haven't finished my job though...are you ok? Are you supposed to be drinking like this?" The detective asks with a lowered voice, taking a hold of your arm as you accidentally lean too far to the side in an attempt to straighten up, staggering sideways.
"It's ok! I hear everything. God has given me a new gift...I can feel him everywhere, all over..." You giggle, placing your free hand over your mouth as you do, face changing to a look of disgust with yourself.
"I let him seduce my mind." You whisper, sudden flashes of a dark room with heavy breathing leaving your eyes wide and heart leaping out of your chest.
Suddenly out of breath, you step closer to Dazai, smiling blissfully.
"Do you know what that's like, Dazai?"
Dazai stares at your for a long while, assessing your poor state physically and mentally before letting a frown decorate his face, eyes narrowing.
"What are you talking about?"
"Always pushing for answers! It's ok to not know everything. You aren't him. You won't rid the world of sin."
"Who's him?"
"I can't tell you. I won't tell anyone..." your smile fades, face staring at the 22 year old blankly, a sudden sadness overcoming you.
"It's just me."
"[f/n]?"
Your gaze drops to your hands now being held by Dazai's against his chest, your eyes filling with tears as you feel the gentleness of his hold, the overwhelming noise constantly bothering your ears calming down as you concentrate on his warmth spreading through your cold fingertips. You feel a comfort you hadn't felt in a while, and every nerve in you tells you to panic, because Dazai isn't the one that should feel safe. You're scared of this pull you have towards him, every thought of Dazai being accompanied by a stronger conflicting one of Fyodor. Eyes brimming with tears, you don't look back up to meet the brunette's expression of pure darkness and concern.
Your heart...I can hear it...so human...so untainted by an obsession with perfectionism...
A bit like the clown..the complete opposite of to whom I belong to...
Do I decide anything? Is everything all decided for me?
"Dazai..." your voice chokes up in your throat as you try to find words to get him to let go of you, to keep yourself away from men who could taint the loyalty Dostoevsky built from the heat of each other's lips.
The liquor in your system keeps you from concentrating on anything for long, dark splotches appearing in your eyes, a headache starting to become prominent, multiple voices and heartbeats whispering in your ears crying at you to listen. A tear falls down your face as for the first time in days you acknowledge the pain in your own heart, the turmoil in your mind. Memories of Fyodor's sweet, devious kisses, him on you pass through your brain creating a throbbing sensation all over. You can hear Gogol's comments, lacing themselves in your subconscious...
Alarmed at your sudden tears, Dazai lets go, looking around the two of you before pulling you in to a hug, burying your face on his chest.
"What are they doing to you?"
Let me go. They're watching. They always are.
I must...keep Sky Casino...safe...