GOD'S FAVOURITE. 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐎𝐧𝐞.

GOD'S FAVOURITE
THE AUCTION.

Warnings for the upcoming chapter: Death and violence (more so than usual chapters) Talks of multiple times of abuse and induced suicide, mentions of grooming, mentions of drugging and human trafficking, and Hatori being...Himself. Overall ahead are dark uncomfortable topics that I must ask you to take a moment to consider before reading. These chapters contain extremely dark themes. Thank you.

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He had dedicated himself to a career that valued confidence and poise...And yet as he stood outside of the club Matsuda's mannerisms had never felt so brittle and he was sure if his hands trembled anymore in the leather gloves then his bones would shatter into pieces.

By the time he had given his ticket to the guard, he had concluded they had already read him for who he really was and his efforts to be a phantom in the background had failed tremendously before he had taken one step in the golden-trimmed doors. 

Why had he come here again? Out of all the times he had disobeyed orders tonight couldn't have been one. Was he acting as out of place as he felt?

If Aizawa and Ide kept their mouths zipped maybe he could've employed more colleagues, though he couldn't deny a part of himself grew relieved that Y/N still trusted him despite the morning's events. Despite the fact he hadn't been an instigator there was no doubt it had been three steps back because of those two.

The wine seemed more expensive than his entire wardrobe and the lavish decorations even more costly than months of his rent added together. 

Though each guest continued to exchange pleasantries and act according to their company he had noticed it felt like an unspoken rule to stick to just that. Everyone repeated the same questions, each smiling and laughing like they had heard an amusing joke before bidding Goodnight and the routine continued when a new party had formed. Women were dripping in jewels and dawning gowns most likely made with the highest quality fabrics and men held them close, whiskeys and wines in hand as they escorted their dates and families around the divine room.

The scenery seemed like an event many would give their lives to observe and yet for the Detective it felt too absolute, similar to the feeling that arose in him when he had swallowed far too much sugar. In theory, it had been a dream of his childhood self, a rose-tinted idea, and yet when it came true all he had been left with was a sour taste in his mouth and a stomach ache.

Yet through the glitz and glamour, the most notorious host of the night had to filter in Matsuda's gaze, a part of him loathed the idea of the evening having to set eyes on him, and sickness settled within him.

Peeling himself away from staring at a painting he had no care about his eyes filtered to the left side of the room, the stage. The door had been ajar and the only thing halting its noises had been the orchestra's tunes, weaving together with the sound of chatter to create an unpleasant sympathy of disruption. He could barely hear his thoughts above it and the alcohol shoved into his hand had hardly helped the process. It was truly dizzying, if he turned one way or ventured the other another party had pushed him into a meaningless conversation, if he put down his glass another had been shoved into his hands. What had started as a process to stay in the shadows had quickly become a mission to even keep his balance.

He had even considered crashing to the floor in a blurred haze before a hand had caught his wrist, yanking him towards the kitchen doors headfirst and shoving him next to the fruit basket and barrel of potatoes.

"What the hell!?" He winced at the volume of his voice, a cloud of smoke filling the area along with the sound of sizzling.

A group of the waiting had cornered him, glaring down at his current state with contempt. "Drink this." A firm feminine voice ordered, the ice water bringing back feeling in his fingers. "You're useless like that. Get him a towel Itsuko."