marinbel
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On the table are plates and silverware and glasses, all how Stiles laid it out hours ago when the plan was Chris would be coming home for dinner that Stiles made. Chris takes in the scene before him, the table setting, Stiles’ phone by his arm, the silent fuming on his face, and he sighs, heavy.
“Baby, why are you still up? It’s nearly three am.”
“Don’t baby me,” Stiles snaps and Chris frowns. Yeah, that’s right, here we go. “Where the hell were you? That’s why I’m still up.”
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Stiles feels like he's only being tolerated in the relationship anymore.
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“I’m upstairs with one of the boys,” Hirotsu says once Kouyou greets him on the other end.
“Oh? Which one?”
“Dazai.”
She clucks her tongue, unsavory. She has a favorite and it’s not this one. “Well, what does he want this time?”
Hirotsu pauses. Studies Dazai’s haggard state. The way he leans limp against the pillar like a ragdoll propped atop some child’s bed and pillow, the way even then he’s trying to curl up into himself because surely he’s in pain. Hirotsu has never been in the room for it, but he knows Mori is not kind with him.
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Hirotsu and Kouyou tend to Dazai in the aftermath.
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And then, with a tilt of her head, delicate, curious, “Is there anything we should talk about, then?”
Dazai exhales. Should is such a funny little word. What an endless and entirely unknown depth such a word withholds. Should they talk about Dazai’s obsession with death? Should they talk about how Dazai loves Oda so? Almost equally as strong as the obsession with death? Maybe even more?
Dazai picks neither, to instead be honest about something else altogether. “We should talk about my legs.”
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Dazai's medication side effects are awful. But at least Oda is there to make it better. yuri odazai <3
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The person does not announce anything but, increasingly, Dazai begins to understand his intentions. It’s never quite a telepathy, but it’s as if inaudible words are transferred between Dazai and his figments. And a pit begins to seep into Dazai’s gut.
“I don’t want to,” Dazai says aloud.
“For me, my dear. I would love to watch,” he speaks, but it’s more that Dazai hears it like an echo in his skull.
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Dazai's hallucinations make him.
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“Calm down. I’m not here to hurt you. Not at all. That’s not why you’re here.”
This time, Stiles forces himself to meet Derek’s eyes head on. “Then why am I here?”
Derek does not answer him immediately. No, he lets that question hang in the air a suspended moment. Then, he breaks out into a full grin, splitting his face. “Oh, sweetheart. Don’t you know how good you smell to me?”
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Stiles gets kidnapped. It goes entirely the way he wants it to.
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