Work Text:
Cispontine
/ˌsisˈpänˌtīn/
adjective
on the nearer side of a bridge.
"policemen were assigned to each of the theatres, cispontine and transpontine"
+++
Bridges were such beautiful pieces of architecture. They required so much thought for something that seemed so simple, built to hold the weight of everyone crossing them all at once. Some were high, above the water, the sound of cars passing by accompanying the setting sun. Dazai stood on one now, the orange glow from the sky providing a pleasant warmth.
‘If I died feeling like this,’ he thought, footsteps and water and traveling cars all blurring together, ‘it wouldn’t be so bad. It’s not really dying alone, when I’m surrounded by so many people.’
Smaller, less sturdy bridges could be beautiful as well. They were stronger than they looked, and were often old, still standing after enduring so much. Still, he couldn’t shake the fear that they would break at any moment. It was a small, nagging thought that plagued him, even though their existence proved they had already endured far worse than the weight of his frail body.
His eyes were sore from staring into the sun, though the sky had long since darkened. He blinked a few times, suddenly aware of how much the cold stung his eyes. Why was it cold now? It had been so pleasant before, warm and not quite alone. But now the sky was dark and the wind was cold, and everyone had returned to their homes.
Still, he couldn’t pry himself from the cispontine. He wallowed in his loneliness, unable to gather the strength to pull himself somewhere warm. He could go to the bar, or even just go home, but what would be the point of it all? Loneliness was so strange. It was always there, but in moments filled with the sounds of strangers, he was foolish enough to forget that. The feeling always returned, and he was certain that it never left at all. It wasn’t enough to talk at the bar with Oda and Ango, or to sit with Hirotsu, or to badger Chuuya, because those moments would always end. The only certainty was the cold, the growing pit, the feeling that he would never truly be happy.
“Dazai-san?” The voice was slightly raspy – either from the cold or something more severe. It snapped Dazai out of his thoughts; what was he doing here? He repressed any physical reaction, and for a moment, he didn’t acknowledge the boy.
“Akutagawa-kun,” He said, tilting his head slightly so that Akutagawa could see his face. It was shrouded in darkness, the light of the moon hardly illuminating it from that angle. “What are you doing? Did you follow me?” There was a smile on his face, but it held no warmth. Akutagawa shook his head, coughing into his hand softly before speaking.
“No. I wouldn’t invade your privacy in such a way.” His eyes were not quite as dark in this light, a small fleck of white drowning in the holes of black. They squinted slightly, a poorly hidden sign of concern. “Were you planning on…” He trailed off, deciding it wasn’t worth it to pry. Dazai was suddenly reminded of how far he was leaning over the edge and took a step away. It’s not like he wanted to commit suicide while Akutagawa was there anyway.
Because he’d rather do it with a beautiful lady, alone, just the two of them. It wasn’t like Akutagawa couldn’t handle it, he had seen his fair share of death. And if he had come into the mafia unable to see such violence without having an issue, a few weeks with Dazai would have fixed that anyway.
Oftentimes, he seemed numb to his mentors’ training and punishments. He was weak and frail, and still, Dazai’s disapproval was the only thing that even made a slight impact on his actions. No matter what, though, his own impulses got the better of him.
Vaguely, Dazai remembered something from a few months prior. Everything was blurry, he had been on the verge of passing out. Well, actually, death. Akutagawa had dragged him away from the half empty bottle of pills and brought him to Mori, unsure of what else he was supposed to do.
Dazai had been harsher than usual the next day, but Akutagawa did not complain.
“You missed… You were not there for my training today, so I came to find you.” Akutagawa explained, no longer looking directly at Dazai. Why he went out of his way to find his mentor despite knowing the pain he would be forced to endure in every session, Dazai did not understand. He always avoided pain as best he could, adjusting and adapting to ensure he almost never faced it. Akutagawa wasn’t like that, pain seemingly having no effect on him other than the injuries it caused. He never reflected on his actions, never changed his ways.
In that moment, Dazai knew that if he did jump, Akutagawa would probably force him back to land anyway. He was aware of the consequences, but he would do it anyway. It was a mixture of admiration and hatred, Dazai assumed, not wanting his mentor to leave without giving him his approval, and unable to let him die happily either. He suspected Akutagawa would try to kill him one day, but if it were not by his hands, he would force Dazai to remain trapped in his pointless life.
“I did? I must have lost track of time.” He said, finally turning to face Akutagawa fully. “You’ll have to stay later tomorrow, then.”
“Of course, Dazai-san.” The response came without hesitation, as if he had expected it from the start. He listened to every word Dazai said, never voicing a contradiction of his own. Yet, none of his actions reflected his training. It was infuriating, knowing that his lack of control over his own emotions caused so much potential to be wasted.
He wondered if he even needed to be training Akutagawa at all. He knew his method was the best way to get through to the boy, or at the very least, the most effective. Things were much easier when one wasn’t concerned with morals. Would Akutagawa even survive without Dazai? Certainly not.
“Say, Akutagawa-kun,” His voice was slower this time, as if he wanted to make sure Akutagawa would understand every word he said, “Do you think you’d be able to handle yourself without my guidance?” The boy’s eyes widened slightly before settling into something more determined. He hesitated, as if he thought the question was a trick or a test. It wasn’t, not really. Just more information for Dazai to store away.
“Of course I would.” He said finally, a hint of excitement in his tone. It was masked by his uncertainty, and Dazai knew he wasn’t as confident in his answer as he wanted to seem.
Dazai hummed slightly, not saying anything more. He just began walking home, the sturdy bridge supporting his every step. Akutagawa was quick to follow, stumbling slightly over a crack.