#misakixreader

“Baby?” Head lurching forward, you startle from the noise, your mouth moving quickly, eyes wide. 

“Mhm?” You reply musingly, thoughts elsewhere. 

“Do you want to stop? This game isn't going anywhere, we can continue later. I know it’s getting rather late for you.” They swivel their head just out of view, tutting gently at you, eyes slightly furrowed in interest. “And, you're really looking quite tired… I’d rather not kidnap you into continuing my indulgences. Tonight~"  Their words ring out, and as you look back onto your lover's face, switching the window, your jaw puts on a twitching smile.

“NOo! No, nonono, I am one thouussound percent awake, trust me. Stupid time differences aint gonna stop me from doin stuff with you! ” Listening in, you notice how your words are dry, dead, shallow, and as your brain whirs tiredly, you realise just how fake your voice sounds. “I promiseee!” The time continues to tick from above your head: 3:37 AM. 

“Look, I’ll be alright for a while longer. Look how focused I am, look at these focused eyes!!” You bulge them forward, opening them as much as they can, before the screen's bright light makes you startle back slightly. Your partner puts on an unimpressed smirk, drooling sadly at your tired face, your drooping eyes. You wince and look away in response, face flushed. “And look, I'm only 400 points behind you! I’m about to win, I swear!” Your hoarse voice stresses, the excuse fluttering past your lips. 

“Your idea of nearly winning is pitiful…” Feeling the timer tick down in your head, you rush forward,  explosions ringing out through your headphones. Turning a corner, you spot another figure, looking directly in the opposite direction to you. You lift the gun. And pull the trigger. Point blank headshot. 

“OKKKK, wowww. I did not see that freaking coming, how the hell am I supposed to stop that!? I didn’t think you’d actually kill me there, I was so locked in and…” A giggle begins to spiral towards you as you look at them, till. Till it speaks to you.

“Kill me there.” The figure across from you gives a small smile as they speak but as moments pass, the smile slowly darkens. “Kill me.” It seethes inside you. The stare lengthens, the smile slowly becoming less genuine, more tired. More, distraught. It begins to feel like they are no longer looking at you, but through you. "You kill and kill and kill. But it wasn’t enough.” It smiles in the back of your mind . Their gaze bores across your being, a frown appearing across that perfect surface, a crack. And you begin to feel that hole form within yourself. You blink. 

 The emotion you may have felt before is quickly buried by a burning sensation that scrambles itself around the back of your throat before you can even attempt to express any sound. Choking, you rapidly close the game window with a sharp breath, looking down at your hands, which quickly move down to your lap, gaze pinpointed to them. “I remember. I remember their screams. The displaced ichor that you deemed just and fair to pour. It never truly was enough for you. Not until you killed the only one who actually loved you…” Insatiably grasping toward your head, you remove the trapping screams from it, ripping their entrails out of the glowing device and dropping them into the depths. Spreading your fingers out, you shake, jolting your arms up and down as an array of thoughts crash into you. The cluttered room seems to disappear, your hands groping for any remaining foothold. You can almost hear its snarl, watching from the void, which it slithers around in, in purest joy. “Wake up from your falsities and do what you do best.” Closing your eyes, you intake the darkness, reaching limbs trying to squander any final escape. “Kill.” A single noise reverberates, loud and cutting, guttural and desperate. Your breath.   

Love. Oh love. The intense feeling of affection, the invisible connection between things that only the strongest kind of trust and care and want can grow. Love is not always familiar. Nor is it always easy to come by. It takes work, it takes dedication, and it takes having to deal with absolute hellish shit every once in a while. It takes infinite luck. It's the most dangerous thing in this entire reality. 

But how real is it? Is it something you can feel? Or do you hide behind your own veil of falsities to bear the manipulation and abuse? Do you strangle your misled lover while they gaze longingly at you? Are you really that blind to your own destruction? And can someone, some crazed individual, actually love you? 

No. No no no no. How can one love a monster? A harbinger of death and ruin? A creature that lurks in the shadows inside story books, and comes to a sticky end in a detective novel? You are the villain. You are the antagonist. You are the scum that society begs to be rid of. Deserving nothing but failure and pain and sadness. An everlasting, endless void of anguish. You have caused such damage, so isn’t it about right that it should come back to laugh at you?

They don’t love you. They deal with you. They must be, are, horrified by your presence, by what irredeemable actions you have done, willingly and for little reason. For little need. You can't forever spew excuses from your damned vocal cords. You are an aberrated mass of the suffering this world has to endure. Don’t hide behind a false jurisdiction of justice or revenge or desperation. Who can love a murderer? You are and always have been the problem. 

You are the problem. You are the problem. You are the problem. Do the world a single favor, it doesn’t care for you. Give it a shred of kindness for once. Your friends don’t truly care for you. Not only are you responsible for your own actions, but you are just as responsible for the countless innocents killed that you won't permit true justice for. Who are you to decipher their lives? To judge them in a way that mirrors your exact fears? Their deaths are as much a weight onto you as the killer. You are as much the culprit. 

Your family doesn’t even truly know WHO you are. What you’ve done for them, (or you think you have, and not to fulfill your dark desires wiring around within you), the insatiable struggle between you and another soul, is your “way” of supporting your loved ones?! Does that not say something about you? How you are roping everyone and anyone into a monetary massacre, unable to tell them how or why. All you want is for them to be happy, yet all you do is the exact antithesis. When will it be ENOUGH. HOW MUCH MORE BLOOD DO YOU HAVE TO SPILL AND GUZZLE UNTIL YOU'RE FED!? 

They all do not care. They all do not know. They all don’t love you. They don’t love you. They have never loved you, and they never will.                              

I don’t love myself.

         Trembling sound. Quiet whisper. “Misaki.” You barely notice the word and don’t look up, gripping your hands together in silent fortitude, legs shaking frantically. You try to scramble your hands over those pits of reverberated noise, your mumbles of protest drowned out by the tears twisting across your face. The rushing sensation of blood pours through you, a sporadic beating echoing from within your wavering being. You scrunch your body together, a small molded ball of noise, of quivering sorrow. Of hatred and desperation.  

The faint noise of harsh breath comes, a fast pace that plummets and climbs in speed. You don’t need to open your eyes to know what you will see before you. A skittish gaze, a nervous frown, and the familiar sound of pain and distress. A jittering voice. “I love you.” You stare blankly at the screen through your hands, the world blurry behind your glassy eyes, which presents you with a meek, distraught face staring back on the other side. You note how their eyes widen, their mouth shakes gently, behind a wall of false composure. They look scared. As you stare, only half registering, they finally move their eyes, pinpointing them directly into yours, pupils wide. “Please don’t you ever forget that.” They chew their tongue meekly behind thin trembling lips. “So, what’s happening?” Their mellow eyes spin, a white shine reflecting off their irises, black pits scanning across them, like scars. A trickle plummets from them. 

Protect yourself from the flood, do something before you do another thing which you will regret. Tell them the truth. Tell them the truth. “Did I do something wrong, I-” . They squeak, words which you never want to hear seeping out. Ones of guilt. Ones of knowing. Ones of pity and pain and panic. You won't let this hold you any longer. You gulp down the pain that’s been squirming in your throat, your hands cold against your cheeks. You swallow again and again, but the sludge stays glued to your mouth, your breath being devoured bit by bit. You don’t think again before speaking.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks open, the whimper only barely registering to your own ears. 

“I’m sorry.” Within moments you crumple, shimmery tears flaking across your dishevelled features. Head dipping, you exhale, your breath juddering unevenly. Repeat it till you can’t feel anything. Repeat it till you rot. 

 Placing your skittish attention onto the bright screen, you instinctively notice how they have taken off their headphones as well, the background noise of churning metal trundling past a wall, ricocheting against their wobbling voice. Their room, warm and shone with light, buffers against your flickering eye sockets. They breathe in themselves, seemingly composing a thought, a flicker of dread crossing their eyelids, before they bury it deep down , disappearing just as quickly as you noticed it. “It's ok. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.” They hold their elbow in their other hand, balancing it, attempting to look absent minded as they pick through their words. You speak again.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I won't. Not again. You don’t know me, you, you don’t know what I’ve done. So, so, what am I supposed to do? WHAT DO I DO? EVERYTHING SEEMS TO LEAD TO THE SAME ROAD. I just. Look. I, I just can’t do this. I won’t let myself do this AGAIN. I’m supposed to learn from the past, not make the same mistakes.” You choke, hurried lips throwing out a final sound.

“I. Cannot. Do. This.” 

        “You don’t need to do anything.” They sigh, their features turning serious. “Look at me.” Removing your sweaty palms from your cold face, you face your entire body toward them, the rise and fall of your chest mellowing out. “What do you think that I see? Because I see all that I could ever want and need.” They swallow quietly, their own eyes becoming somewhat watery. “You will always do and be enough for me. I know that the world is… a lot… and that you’ve had to do things you're not proud of, but you are not to blame for your situation. What you do is difficult, and I know what you’ve had to go through, but hey, you're still kicking aren’t you?” They look faintly hopeful, tapping each finger rhythmically against their desk.

“Not only that, but really, think about what you have achieved, I cannot even begin to tell you how amazing you truly are. I don’t need anything else other than you as you are. I don’t care about the risks or what you’ve done. We are not in the past Kat. Misaki, nothing ever goes perfectly, but things will get better, and I promise that I'll be with you every step of the way. I’m yours as much as you're mine, and I wouldn't have it literally any other way.”

They rise to gaze longingly at you, the serious tone slowly slipping away before they speak again. “And I promise, you actually sleeping for once is waaaayyy more important to me than another win to my infinite victories over you. Your average win rate is going to plummet to 0% if you continue at this rate dummy, please, go, I’ll still be here tomorrow."

“Well, not when I wake up cause then you’ll be asleep stupid. Time diffs…”

“That’s what you think?! You think sleep is more important to me than being with you??? GASP. I bet you don't even think I love you! I’m just gonna have to shower you with even more kisses next time I see you just to prove it.”

“WHA- YOU JUST TOLD ME THAT SLEEP WAS MORE IMPORTANT THAN STAYING UP WITH YOU. ”

“Shhh shhhh it’s ok, it's ok.” You both grin, studying each other's profile.

“Anyway, I will totally hold you to that. And well, thanks. For that.”

“Anytime. You know that I am telling you the absolute truth buddy?”

“Yeah… I knowwww Daaaaaad.” Adjusting your position, you let out a giggle, finally letting that flood water wash that sticky ichor inside your cramped brain, which blossoms it into action at the sound. And as you laugh together, you see that wonderful surface of joy and happiness, the one that is as much yours as theirs. The one you’ve cradled and kissed and spent months with. That wonderful face. 

Hands fidgeting, you place them up to your eyes, rubbing them. God, you're tired. You steady your hands before inhaling deeply and welcoming back your vision with a newfound, quivering calm. You gently lift your gaze back up to the object in front of you, and you already feel slightly warmer at the sight. Brown irises scan your dark ones, and for a moment you feel as if the barrier between you both doesn’t exist. You can see the way their figure hugs the fabric around them, the way they tilt their head only slightly to their side, studying your face. They beam at you, eyes bright and lively. It’s so perfect. After a few moments, both of you catch each other staring, and they break the silence: “So, ya up to sleepin now?" 

You look down at the floor of your dwelling, swiveling your field of view around the space as if in deep thought. But truly, the deep tiredness that has etched its way across your shaken body has succeeded in claiming its mark to all of it, and you know that you will succumb to its tempting grasp soon enough. The chair beneath your frame is suddenly cold to touch, the soft, foamed armrests becoming icy under your adjusting arms. A gnawing breeze flows through a small open window, its grating nails scratching down the back of your neck. You instinctively grab the edges of the blanket around your shoulders and pull it down lower, across the rest of your outstretched hands and legs. You transition your attention back to the other person, before swallowing up all the dread that’s been choking you. 

                 You whisper silently into the microphone, your voice nearly faltering at the first letter, but you follow through. “I’m ready, yeah…” Breathe in the air, you deserve it. “See ya tomorrow, you insane lovely critter.” Inwardly screaming at yourself with all the energy you have left, you sleepily lean back into your seat, and smile at them. You know that there is much more to say, but the words are gagged in your throat, so you warily give a sheepish smile of gratitude to your reciprocate. They return a knowing sliver of relief at seeing you holding steadier. Hanging on for a last moment, waiting for a last response, your face crinkles in succulent relief as their lips move to say a final farewell. 

“Goodnight dummy. I love you, so you betta sleep well, otherwise imma have to come round and whack some sense into that ugly creature of yours so it knows what it’s fighting up against. Me. But seriously, sleep well Misaki.”

As you get up to go, it hits you. This is real. They really exist. You can recall all of the moments that lead up to this one. This is not the end. This is barely even the start. Things change. Life changes. I am sure of that, I know this. It won’t be like last time. This time it’s different. 

I love them.

 Closing the computer screen gently, you gingerly wander to a mirror. Gleaming off its surface is a bush of hair, which throws glints of colour off into the rest of the room, sparking. As you continue to stare, a chill reaches up your spine, and turning rapidly, you spy “The Open Window”, the night's true final boss. Frustratingly scowling your way toward it, you bonk it harshly on its front pane, pointing an outstretched finger onto its slick surface. “Bad Mr Window”. Closing the trailer's window with a small click, the cold gusts stilled, you sidestep sporadically past piles of clothes, empty pot noodle cups and trinkets, until your body begs for rest.

Finally, you fall backward onto your warm, coveted bed, its worn frame creaking out in protest, but eventually resigning in a familiar embrace. Silently, in the frozen darkness, you adjust your body to lie on its side, feet squeezed up toward your chest like some small little mouse, holed up away from the dangers outside. Instantly, a warm feeling envelops your mind, and you begin to shut down. And as you close your eyes, in the very corner of your flickering area of sight, you can just make out the thing scampering away into the gloom. It’s still there. And it will always be, watching, waiting and whispering. But for now, you're safe, and those aches you once felt have melted away into sleep.

Atop a parapet, a hidden figure stands. Darkness blankets them, hidden from the shimmering spotlights up above. The chilly air bats their jet black hair, red tints outlined in the gloom. Lips curl in a smirk, vibrant eyes spinning furiously as the shape moves silently across the rooftops. Well, as silent as a freezing human can be, given how much weight they’re carrying. As they heave their case along the stone, quick, shallow breaths tumble out of their mouth, excitement catching up with them. They’re here.

  The thin body slinks downwards, crouching just above an open window, peering perilously inside. Suddenly, something comes tumbling downwards into the gaping darkness. The bag plummets forwards, and they stumble towards it, boots slipping on the window's ledge. With a desperate grab and a tug, their gloves clutch the dangling bag from below. Their free hand grasps sharply against the brick, groping for a handhold.

  “Shi-” The word barely escapes their lips before they clutch their hands over their mouth. They gingerly look around, embarrassed. Then they hear a sound. A rustle from inside the building. Turning their head to follow the noise, their eyes widen in worry. Adjusting their bright eyes to the darkness of the mellow room, they scan the furniture. From the carpets, a wardrobe, a desk, they settle their gaze onto the bed. A splayed out body lays under the duvet, guarded by brightly coloured plushies. They chuckle, gently lifting the window higher, winching the bag upwards with their cold shivering hands. With a squeeze into the room, they smile, wandering over to the sleeping figure. Giving her a quick peck on the cheek, they begin wandering elsewhere in the house.

The morning light claws its way into the room, a warm glow showers the shelves of the bedroom. The resting creature below begins to stir, hazy eyes fluttering as they sit up with a yawn and a sudden realization. You place a hand to your head, peeling off a scrap of paper. Your mind spins with confusion. As you read, your messy hair falls over your eyes, your mouth curving into a wide grin, giggling.

It reads: “Heyy baby, was just passing by and I was like freeeezing. Like shivering so damn much. Y’know how cold it can get sitting on the top of buildings for hours, holding a big heavy bag constantly. Anywayy… I might have maybe possibly borrowed a blanket or two… Or three. Hope it’s ok, I'll make it up to you, I promise. I know how much you love that cat one~ Go check the kitchen for some awesome breakfast compensation. From your favourite little assassin. :3”

You stumble out of your bed, sleepily putting on socks and slippers. Wandering out into the corridor, your body tingles with anticipation. The warm fluff from your slippers warms your feet as you trudge through the shaded passage. You arrive at the kitchen, a rich smell emanating around the space, and a knowing smile etches itself onto your face.

There, in front of you on the tabletop, lay 9 semi-burnt chocolate chip cookies. On top is a little note. “Hope you enjoy the very NOT burnt cookies. I already ate one so you know they aren’t poisoned! <3” You smile to yourself, taking a cookie. You know that this day will be a good one.

Notes:

THANK you so much for READING THISSS. This is my second fic ever!!

Thank you so much to the AMAZING NIX who edited and read through the fic before I posted it. You are physically angelic rn.

Thank you Mika_Cant_Write (who can totally write) for giving me inspiration and getting me to actually work on the fic instead of sitting on it like an elephant seal. You really helped alot, you awesome. <3

Their small hands grip the firearm in her hands, its devilish spout gazing out into the horizon, watching and waiting. They grit their teeth as a particularly evil gust of wind comes out from nowhere and freezes her ears off. They watch the streets below from the roof, figures shuffling around, cars trailing over the roads, a hive mind of activity. Their clothes, not suited for the current weather flow around, creating a mini vacuum, enclosing the cold deeper into their already exposed body. They absentmindedly open their phone, no new messages. 

Time passes slowly, the sun setting behind the towering skyscrapers, but not before a quick snap of the wonderful pink sunset. After sleepily uploading it to the server, and reveling in the compliments it brings, they settle down once again on the parapet. A small sigh escapes their lips as the bustling city falls asleep, its nightmares beginning. They scout out the roads nearby, the street lamps glowing below like candles on a birthday cake.

The time is 11:50, and their hands shake in the winter night, police cars blaring in the far distance. A warm atmosphere envelops them from behind, an air conditioning unit whirring into life, pummeling them with a toasty touch. They relax, their body melting into the cement, a little smile spreading across their face, adjusting themselves so that their entire body is exposed to the heat. It's nearly time.

Despite the newfound warmth, their eyes still feel heavy, their limbs drenched in cold sweat. The cold metal in their hands tears them back to reality as they hear a sharp squeak coming from below, a thrum. A stop. As they peer over the top of the building, they spy a taxi pulling up nearby, a small man bundling out, shouting insults at the driver. He jumbles onto the pavement, his rich brown waistcoat dragging against the damp floor, as he picks up a large leather briefcase. Target acquired. As the car drives off into the distance, he starts mumbling to himself, trudging up the street. 

A crack. As he steps forward, his feet come to a halt, for just a moment, before he topples over. His small rimmed glasses plummet after him, as his head hits the floor. Before long, a small flow of crimson seeps out, sluggishly trickling into the road. Job done. 

They stretch, a deep yawn emanating into the dark cloudy sky. As they begin to walk towards the ladder downwards, they hear a small ding. Reaching into their pocket they take out their phone, which illuminates the roof like a beacon. One new message.

<reader>: It all go well?

<hitmeuppp>: yep, as well as it could

<hitmeuppp>: just super duper tired

<reader>: I’m sorry </3 

<reader>: Dinner is ready for you at home baby, I got your favourite for tomorrow’s movie too

<hitmeuppp>: EEEE can't wait!!

<hitmeuppp>: i’ll be home in 10 👍

<reader>: Awesome!! 

<reader>: I love you, y’know that?

<hitmeuppp>: who wouldn’t 😎 

<hitmeuppp>: i love you too