Dear reader
{Dear reader
If it feels like a trap, you’re already in one
Dear reader
Get out your map, pick somewhere and just run
Dear reader
Burn all the files, desert all your past lives
And if you don't recognize yourself
That means you did it right}
Chuuya paces his office. Back and forth across the plush rug. It’s been over a week since Dazai left the PM and he’s not worried. Dazai can take care of himself but at the same time… - no no. He’s fine. Anxiety takes hold in strange ways.
What do I do? He wonders.
Feet tripping to the suite where he sleeps most nights now. Into the bathroom, where he hangs his head low over the sink. The hot water steaming up around his face.
{Never take advice from someone who's falling apart}
Chuuya stands in the mirror picking at his skin softly. Splashing water on his face before massaging the foamy cleanser into his cheeks. Dragging his index finger into the crease between his cheek and nose. Massaging between his eyebrows.
Rinsing the foam from his face, his eyes meet the reflection again.
Depersonalization is a weird thing while you’re going through it.
Not recognizing yourself after growing so comfortable in your own skin.
Unsure of the hands touching your own face that feels numb.
{Never take advice from someone who's falling apart}
Chuuya picks up a towel and pats his face dry. Mouth hung agape as he stares into the plush white cloud in his hand.
The white towel reminding him of Dazai’s bandages and how the towels at his house were picked out by Dazai and how every single thing in Chuuyas life has been so heavily influenced by outside forces. Who even is he without others?
{Dear reader
Bend when you can, snap when you have to
Dear reader
You don't have to answer, just 'cause they asked you
Dear reader
The greatest of luxuries is your secrets
Dear reader
When you aim at the devil make sure you don't miss}
“I’m gonna kill that mother fucker” He says into the towel. A groan of frustration leaving his lips, followed by an attempt at a calming breath.
{Never take advice from someone who's falling apart
Never take advice from someone who's falling apart}
Shakily he moves to the liquor cabinet where he keeps his favorite wines.
{So I wander through these nights
I prefer hiding in plain sight
My fourth drink in my hand
These desperate prayers of a cursed man
Spilling out to you for free
But darling, darling, please
You wouldn't take my word for it
If you knew who was talking
If you knew where I was walking
To a house, not a home, all alone 'cause nobody's there}
Chuuya sits slumped in a leather club chair. A bourbon glass full of red wine resting in his fist. Head lolled back and eye lids heavy.
A knock raps at the door.
“Yeah?”
Akutagawa enters tentatively, just barely poking his head through. Clearing his throat before he half steps in the room.
“May I join you?”
Chuuya just looks over and nods, a pout on his face. “Want a drink?”
“You know I do not drink that vile filth.. however I will sit”
Akutagawa sits with his back straight in the chair next to Chuuya.
“Why are you here Ryūnosuke ” chuuya slurs out.
“Your despair” he states plainly.
“It’s that bad?” Chuuya makes no moves to look at him now.
“Mori is concerned” Akutagawa says folding his hands in his lap.
Chuuya cringes and swirls the wine in his cup.
The pair sit in silence for a short time. Neither wanting to confirm how much Dazai’s presence meant to them. Neither wanting to say how affected they are now that he is gone.
But Akutagawa folds, “I miss him” lingers in the heavy tension of the air far too long.
“I know” Chuuya says softly. “Me too”
{Where I pace in my pen and
My friends found friends who care
No one sees when you lose
When you're playing solitaire
You should find another guiding light
But I shine so bright}
Just some Chuuya angst based on a Taylor swift song. This has been plaguing my brain for weeks.
@imafraidoftomorrow
17 notes
·
View notes