#like i WAS a MESS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohhcinnybuns · 9 months ago

Note

In the darkest of night with frights to test your might, I come to you with the most vast sight. It is a collection of words meant to hit close to home, and I leave it in your hands, for I trust that you already know.

‘ i don’t care if you say my name like it’s poison or like it’s a prayer, as long as it leaves your lips. ’ + skk ❤

This one had me thinking for a very long while... and it also had me in my feelings...

But I chose to use this prompt for our beautiful Snowzai. I'll likely keep it and re-work a little later. (T/W: A bitten apple).

Chuuya glances around himself, his body floating in an endless horizon of darkness. Void. Empty. Nothing.

He hovers, wondering what to do, but when nothing comes to mind, he drifts towards nothing, wishing for some life, a sign that will pull him away from this monotoned galaxy to somewhere new.

His dreams were never this empty or grayscale, with nowhere to go. There was an unsettling quiet, only his breathing reminding him that he was alive. He stops to look behind, phases of himself following his hovering body in a zig-zag pattern: his brows furrow, lips in a tight line. He felt lost.

He continues in no direction, yet in every direction, pondering why it leads nowhere and why this dream has yet to bring him home. In every other dream he has had, he’s always within the walls of his castles, the chandeliers lit down the hallways and the tapestries unsettled, pristine, and vivid. He always hears the voice of his loved one singing to him to find him through the ample, golden picture-framed walls that splash the corridors, and yet, it was the most silent it’s ever been before he turned fifteen.

Finally, after hovering in the abyss of nothingness for a while, he hits something cold, his instincts startling awake as he reaches for the sword at his hip. Nothing reaches back to fist him by his shirt, so he knows that whatever he collided with isn’t malicious. He sheaths his sword, curiosity getting the best of him.

His fingers come up before him, reaching into the dark, activating a small object that reflects his face at him with a subtle glow. He holds it gently, fingers skimming the intricate floral metal art that houses his reflection within. However, it does not remain small for long. The object grows… and grows, out of his hands and into its oval shape stretching towards an invisible heaven. It towers over him, imposing an ominous, poisonous aura and crackling with blue whips of power as if lightning had struck from the heavens and conducted into the glass.

‘A… mirror?’ he gasps, the realization that his floating body remained reflected at him. The mirror shines again, a bright light emitting and retreating the darkness behind its blinding light, making Chuuya shield his eyes and look away. It only lasts a few seconds.

The mirror dims slightly, and subtle raindrops echo into Chuuya’s ears, making him perk and glance at the mirror again. Before he knows it, a tilted tower with a lit glow comes into view in the vast expanse of itself.

Chuuya's jaw drops as the mirror reflects at him, himself, wearing his knightly armor for battle - one that Chuuya had yet to wear, with a cape and a helmet in the shape of a sheep’s skull to exemplify his royal position. He had never thought he would need it, yet this was him - staring back at him. He eyes the reflection suspiciously.

Chuuya, in the mirror, remains by a doorway in the tilted tower with a crumbling expression - eyes wide in disbelief, brimming with tears, skin glowing, and hair sticking to his nape from sweat building on his brow. The rain that falls outside mutes the world around him; not even the creaky window pane threatening to fall from its hinges with its excruciating squeak can wake him from his senses.

“What is… this?” Chuuya mumbles quietly.

Watching himself through this out-of-body experience felt like a kick to his stomach. The ether suddenly suffocates him, and his his hands ball into fists at his sides. He had never seen this expression on himself. He was sure he had never made such a face before, and the only person he could think of who could make him look and feel this way was…

The mirror carefully followed Chuuya’s movements and remained steady on his features and nothing else. The Chuuya, in the mirror, steps carefully through the room, treading overthrown and scattered objects: clothing ripped and tossed aside like it had known war with itself, mirror fragments broken and shattered like puzzle pieces, and a bitten, red apple lying passively on its side and just out of reach.

As if finally reaching where he needed to be, he heard his voice speak through the mirror - the one confirmation he did not need to hear.

“Da…zai…,” comes his faint voice.

Chuuya couldn’t take it. The mirror did not show anything beyond what it wanted to show him. He places a hand on the mirror, his heart hammering against his chest at the sound of his lover’s name, wanting to clutch at something to hold him steady in the void. So, he leans against the cold glass, breath caught in his throat as he processes the name. His insides begin to churn. “Da...zai?”

“No…” echoes the voice in the mirror, trailing off as if feeling his other self caving into himself. “Don’t tell me… Hey, this isn’t funny, Dazai. If you're playing, wake up now…” he says hoarsely, but no happy lilt or chuckle is heard within the room. He tries again, a little more forceful this time.

“I’m being serious, Dazai. Wake up right now. I’m not carrying you down the tower if you don’t wake up,” he says in a quivering voice, but still, the deafening silence remains the same. Thunder strikes and the patter of falling drops rings against the drooping shingles of the exterior - the turmoil of the outside resonating with his insides.

Chuuya whimpers, a gloved hand clasping his mouth, his eyes tight while he shakes his head and bites his lip, refusing to believe what is just out of sight. He bites down rough, features forming into a frown. He needed to feel something else, anything else than the emotional pain he was smothered in. His chest constricted, dread seeping into his orifices and muting his lips closed for a long time.

It took him a while to move again, as if having accepted defeat. “Dazai, I...” Chuuya starts again quietly, his armor clinking as he falls to his knee beside a bed with ratty sheets and mud; what was once ivory is now stained in disgusting brown streaks, destroying their once luxurious threads. Chuuya gulps through the words unevenly, and suddenly, a limp bandaged arm falls into the frame.

"..."

“I didn’t care if you said my name like it was poison or a prayer, as long as you said it…As long as I could… hear your voice and your dumb laugh every time,” Chuuya says through clenched jaws, voice shaking as his trembling hands remove his gloves. He reaches out, sweaty palms holding cold, pale fingers limply clasped against his own- immune to his touch, words, and warmth.

“You would… call my name every time you needed me… remember?” he whispers behind brimming tears, hoping for an answer within the stillness of a dimly lit tower, yet no answer of comfort came. All he could hear was himself, the rattling of an unhinged creaking window panel, and the howling winds that roared ferociously against a crumbling tower.

“Did you call for me… this time, too…?" Waves of devastation washed over him as he glanced at his beloved's resting face.

Finally, the mirror shows a fair prince lying on a messy bed, their head slightly tilted to one side, with their eyes closed peacefully. Their hair sprawled idly around them, curls falling over his eyes to shield them from the candle's glow.

Yes, they were at peace.

At least, that's what he told himself; that's what he wanted to believe. He tried to think that the apple he had eaten was as sweet as his nature, kind and warm, and not one that took him away from Chuuya with one bite. The same face that not long ago graced him with bright smiles and laughs. The same love that sought him when they were scared during storms or in need of comfort through his nightmares; the same being that taught him many 'firsts’ and wrote him poetry through midnight letters from sunrise to sundown—the man who held his heart's affection.

Chuuya was too late…Just a little too late.

Chuuya holds his lover’s hand a little tighter, leaning in to touch their foreheads together, brushing aside strands of brown curls that frame their resting features. His ocean eyes brim heavily, streaks finally running down his face as he struggles to keep it together.

“I can’t… Dazai, I can’t. Just please… once more, let me hear it... Let me hear you say my name. Just let me hear you, yeah? Wake up…won’t you? Wake up… damn…it, Dazai.”

He couldn't stop the sobs that managed to rip through his throat, his hand coming to his mouth to quiet himself in silent grief. His form shakes, choking back the sobs that break his heart before a scream rips through him into the night in a plea of desperation.

- - - - - - - -

Wake up…wake up….Chuuya!

Cerulean orbs spring open, his body pulling itself up from his bed, gasping for air filling like it has not known oxygen beneath a casket. His breath shakes, his lip quivering with beads of sweat forming on his brow. The remnants of a nightmare made his mind uneasy, shadows of void still in his vision. He slowly lifts a trembling hand to see it quivering, palm spread open, remembering the chill that crept down his spine as he held tightly the lifeless body he was pleading back to life.

‘A nightmare…No, a premonition…?’ He tries to steady himself, inhaling and exhaling, eyes closing and feeling the sting of tears shed on his lashes. They must have fallen in his sleep.

“Chuu…ya?”

Chuuya’s breath hitches, and his eyes snap open once more when a warm touch slides down his arm, and pale, slender fingers slide into his hands to lock with his own. Chuuya’s gaze drifts slowly to the one sitting next to him, a look of worry and turmoil in their caramel orbs.

His lover’s hair is messy from tossing and turning, and their bodies tense beneath the sheets.

“Chuuya…you’re…” the other man seems to start, gaze searching all of Chuuya’s features for a clue as to what was wrong. Dazai must notice the tears that stain his lover's face as a softness takes over his gaze.

“Dazai!” Chuuya gasps, leaning toward the other and embracing them in a tight hug, exhaling in relief.

It was cruel. It was cruel that he had to witness something so unfair in his sleep. To feel the warmth in the embrace felt almost too surreal, and Chuuya’s trembling does not stop.

His breath shakes against the other’s neck, and his hands pull in his saving grace.

“I thought…” I thought I had lost you, was what he had wanted to say, but in truth, he could not bear to remember the vivid imagery that now plagued his consciousness. So he opts to hold it together instead, inhaling deeply to calm his nerves.

“I had a nightmare,” he says quietly, eyes becoming foggy sea trenches again.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

Chuuya could not tell them. Chuuya could not tell them that this sensation of grief had now embedded into his bones and in the recesses of his mind. Premonitions were not ones to talk about unless they became true, and sometimes, if fate was unkind, they came true anyway.

“I don’t…” Chuuya says, slowly letting go and gazing into his lover’s eyes. He would take this chance to be present and push aside the terror, and love him, feel him, and breathe him.

A gentle hand caresses Dazai's lips, shushing him from following with any more inquiries. The faint glow of the candle on the nightstand masked their worries with cryptic shadows and hanging confusion, but not enough to stir each other away. Vulnerability to each other has always been a weakness, and the pull that brings them closer, makes Chuuya feel like everything is going to be okay.

It was like words didn’t need to be spoken between them. His lover’s lips meet Chuuya's own, soft and gentle, too afraid that the man before him might crumble, and Chuuya feels like he might. The kiss doesn’t deepen but remains slow, gentle brushes of lips and quivering breaths mingling, exchanging silent phrases of ‘I’m here, you’re okay’ and ‘I love you’.

Their heartbeats beat together in the night, under one blanket and a shared bed, telling their story and love without any more deep words needing to be shared. If there was one thing Chuuya could promise after this night, the terror of realizing that whom he cherishes the most could be taken away from him, time fleeting beneath his nose, is that he would never let harm come to his lover.

If this premonition was a sign to warn him of what was to come by the gods in the heavens, he'd be careful. And he'll be ready. The art that inspired it... May we all mourn for our beloved.