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Gin was glaring at him.
Ryuunosuke could easily tell when his sister was upset with him, even if her emotions tended to mirror that of an empty clay slate. But he could tell. The two were sitting at the lonely dining table squished into their apartment, a dinner Gin cooked sitting in front of them both. Their cat was off somewhere in the house, probably sleeping on his pillows again. The food was going cold, but neither of them moved to touch it as a tense silence blanketed them both. It felt cold too, more emotionally than the physical cold Ryuunosuke got whenever his coughs got bad.
“You didn’t eat today. Or yesterday.” Right to the point. Ryuunosuke refused to look up from the plate, his hands in his lap and a blank expression on his face. He didn’t want to see the disappointment and worry on his sister’s face. It would hurt too much for him right now. He was already suffering right now. But, he deserved it, didn’t he? “Higuchi-chan messaged me in a panic when she realized you hadn’t had anything. You didn’t even have a snack. Are you starving yourself again?”
He didn’t answer still. He had woken up that morning in a cold sweat, his nightmares of Dazai’s torture burning into his retinas more than when he had to stare at a bright light for several hours. It was like staring into the sun when he had nightmares, never dreams. He never dreams of Dazai in a good way, blinding and beautiful, but constantly hurting him over and over again no matter how much protection he wore. And the afterimage was bored deep into his mind and refused to leave, coming up as bile and blinding him from his own health.
Dazai never helped his eating habits, he made them worse. Ryuunosuke never self-harmed, he was already sick and dying. Why hurt himself further? If he wanted pain, he would go to Dazai. If he wanted death, he would wait for his lungs to finally suffocate himself. If he wanted comfort, well. Ryuunosuke had no comfort. He didn't deserve any. He didn't deserve the food sitting in front of him, taunting him.
He didn’t deserve the amount of worry Gin had for him. Nothing. Ryuunosuke deserved nothing. Not even the weretiger from the Agency.
Gin was still glaring at him.
“Oniisan, you kn-”
“No.” It was sharp, not in a way when he spoke to his subordinates, but in a way that showed he didn’t believe whatever Gin was about to say. She knew about his constant nightmares, the ones that left his sweating and paralyzed, left him gasping for air his lungs could not supply. The ones that woke him up in the middle of the night, fingers digging into his arms and his body shaking, words pleading for forgiveness stumbling out of his lips without his own consent. She knew about them. She would never know what they were about. Although Ryuunosuke had his suspicions that she knew the contents of his nightmares.
Ryuunosuke never self-harmed, the scars from Dazai and his constant nightmares were enough to remind him of his pains. There was no medicine to help this, and Ryuuosuke would rather allow Dazai to shoot him again than go to Mori about it. Between two greater evils, Ryuunosuke would choose that rat over it.
…
That was a lie, he would rather choose Dazai. He didn’t want to fix his problems, Dazai’s constant mantra of his deserved pain carved itself into his worth, that’s all he believed. Even if the tiny, tiny voice in his head told him otherwise. He never listened to the voice. It sounded too much like a white haired tiger from a certain agency. He didn’t need that voice. It was unnecessary in the world of being a mafia dog. He remained quiet after it. He didn’t want to speak. Gin wouldn’t force him to. But everything about her always made him spill it out in the end. Not everything, but enough.
She knew Dazai had hurt him, everyone in the mafia did. You’d have to be incredibly new, under a rock, or the biggest moron in all of Yokohama, Japan to not know the Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia had abused his subordinate and then left the mafia, leaving behind a broken child. There was nothing to comment on about it. Life continued on. Ryuunosuke fell into a new routine now that Dazai wasn’t there. It still left him scars, carved into his brain.
“Will you at least eat this?” Gin’s voice was quiet. She wasn’t forcing him to. Ryuunosuke looked at the food in front of him. Gin was a great chef, everything she made was wonderful. But right now, looking at the food only made him want to throw up. He wanted to express the amount of damage Dazai did to Ryuunosuke and food. How he was starved, how at some point everything he ate made him want to throw it up again, how Dazai…how. Ryuunosuke decided to stop thinking about it. He didn’t want to vomit on an empty stomach.
The plate in front of him was a simple curry dinner, rice on one side and curry on the other. A common dinner when Ryuunosuke’s eating problems flared and he couldn’t touch anything without getting scared.
Ryuunosuke’s arms felt like lead. He couldn’t move them to at least try the curry. He knew at some point Gin would package it up for Higuchi or Hirotsu to force him to eat later. He could never escape Gin and her food. Even if he wanted to. But even remembering that made it worse.
“I can’t.” he mumbled, he really couldn’t. Some invisible force built up of years of little food and pain becoming a roadblock on his path to fullness. Ryuunosuke hated being full though, it made him feel selfish and sick. Bile found its way to his mouth again, forcing him to swallow down. The rest of ‘dinner’ remained silent.
Akutagawa Ryuunosuke went to bed hungry that night, haunted by memories and a stomach of pain.