Chapter Text
Grief came in waves.
Some days the tide pulled you under. Other days it faded into the background. Unfortunately, mourning didn’t have a definitive end. It popped up when you least expected it.
Two types of people existed: those who handled it well and those who couldn’t cope at all.
Ryuunosuke Akutagawa fell into the latter category.
Six months later, he was still chasing after a ghost. Life moved on without him. While he kept searching for answers, the rest of his colleagues accepted Dazai’s death. They rarely spoke about him, but when they did, he was reduced to a mere title.
Akutagawa wouldn’t stop saying his name.
Mundane things had become triggers. Rolls of bandages. Cheap cologne in the wind. Piano keys. He couldn’t stomach crab anymore — Dazai’s favourite.
Rashomon slipped into the lock, severing all the pins in half. Effortlessly, the door swung open. The apartment was a moment frozen in time. A thick film of dust covered the windowsills. Spiders hung from the light fixtures.
Akutagawa didn’t enter. It smelt too much like Dazai.
He’d only been here once before. Perhaps it should’ve stayed that way.
-
A better subordinate would’ve replaced the mirror. The wall above the bathroom sink was still empty.
Without being asked, Akutagawa had swept up the shards and scrubbed blood off the floor. He even wrapped his mentor’s broken hand in gauze. Dazai stopped caring, so Akutagawa overstayed. Sleepless dreams became nightmares. He begged him not to leave. Dazai promised he wouldn’t.
Abandonment hit harder than any punishment or lie.
-
Grief was funny.
Months before he was dumping shards of glass into the trash can. Now he was raiding the same garbage for clues.
He didn’t find much. Mainly old receipts, used tissues, and occasionally an empty pill bottle. Just before he gave up, a crumpled note landed by his boots. Recognizing the handwriting, he unfolded it and skimmed the contents.
New Regimen (Boss’ orders)
Day One: Lexapro. Why are suicidal thoughts a side effect of an anti-depressant?
Day Four: Shadow Demons returned.
Day Thirteen: Guess science can’t fix me. This was supposed to be the “Happy Pill.”
Day Twenty-Seven: Is it too late for me?
Update: Mori told me
The rest was illegible and scribbled out with a crude drawing.
Akutagawa had asked him why he broke the mirror. Dazai had simply said, “The stranger was staring back at me. I couldn’t see myself.”
Those cryptic words sounded louder than they had before.
-
No corner of the apartment went untouched. He dug through every drawer and couch cushion. Each time he was met with a dead end.
Wandering into Dazai’s bedroom, his eyes bore into the walls. Letting go was failure called by a different name. Unless a body resurfaced, Dazai was still breathing. Because if he wasn’t, Akutagawa was back to where he started: alone with nothing.
His pale face started to flush.
“…Why.”
Beads of sweat formed on his palms.
“Why.”
Knuckles went white from squeezing them too tightly.
“Why?”
Rashomon started to stir within him. That pressure growing stronger by the second, begging to be released.
“WHY?!”
Barbed spikes shot out of his trench coat. Needles rained down from above. They pierced through the windowpane and shredded the curtains. As the concrete walls caved inwards, shockwaves rippled around the room. Only the wooden frame and insulation layers were left behind.
Akutagawa vowed not to shed any tears for Dazai. Not tonight. Not ever. His mentor wasn’t worthy of them.
But God. He wished he could.