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The day, the week, the whole month even, was very Dazai-less; it passed without a single text from Akutagawa’s ex-mentor. Akutagawa got no orders to pair up with Jinko, no requests to buy Dazai’s groceries or run errands for Him. It was peaceful. Empty. Without Dazai Akutagawa served no purpose.
So now, when his phone finally rang with Dazai's name flashing on the screen, Akutagawa held onto it with a shaky hand. Amidst all his fear, excitement, and trembling fingers, Akutagawa struggled to press the right button and answer.
“Dazai-san,” he said desperately. A quiet laugh echoed from the other end of the line. “Where have you been?”
The question slipped out unplanned, harsher than he intended, and Akutagawa couldn’t take it back.
Dazai hummed slowly. “Missed me that much?”
Akutagawa almost dropped the phone. Saying that he’d missed Dazai was like saying nothing. Of course he had. The absence of Dazai was louder than His presence had ever been. And he didn’t have to admit it; Dazai knew the truth. He asked only because He enjoyed making Akutagawa state the obvious.
“Akutagawa-kun, do you want to see me?”
Akutagawa hesitated for a second. Even though he didn’t see Dazai, he could feel him sneering. And even though Akutagawa did not reply yet, he already knew what he’s going to say.
“Yes,”
"Great," Dazai sang. "Meet me in an hour at this address."
He hung up. A few minutes passed before Akutagawa’s phone buzzed with a message. An address. And of course, he would go. He never had a choice. Not with Dazai.
When Akutagawa arrived at the warehouse, the sun was long gone, and the only source of light was a small yellow bulb inside the building.
The warehouse looked hideous from the outside. Many windows were broken and the walls looked ready to collapse at any moment. Inside, the air was thick with dust and each inhale made Akutagawa burn from within. It made him feel nostalgic. He had spent years training under Dazai in similar conditions.
Dazai stood in the middle of the warehouse, appearing to Akutagawa like no less than a god, almost making him drop to his knees by reflex. The dust swirled around His head like a halo. Somewhere in the distance, something collapsed, and Akutagawa thought, ridiculous as it was, that perhaps the earth itself was kneeling before Dazai’s holy image.
Akutagawa’s hands trembled at his sides as he stepped forward. It was a sign of weakness as Dazai always told him. Because Akutagawa was weak. But how could he not be, when faced with Dazai?
“Akutagawa-kun,” Dazai called, His voice shockingly real, human. Akutagawa realised just how long he didn't hear it.
Akutagawa swallowed hard, then shoved his sweaty, trembling hands into his pockets. “You called. What do you want?”
Dazai smiled. “Do I need a reason to call?”
They both knew He did. He was always planning, always calculating His every step. The opposite of Akutagawa who was at mercy of his emotions, working carelessly. That’s why he was never enough for Dazai.
They exchanged a few looks and silence fell between them. It stretched, heavy, suffocating. Seconds felt like hours, millennia. Akutagawa’s gaze flickered across the ruins of the warehouse, searching, pretending to search. For what? A purpose? The meaning of life? An answer?
Dazai had promised him one, long ago. So long it should’ve not mattered now.
Akutagawa knew better now. Knew that Dazai had never held the answer, that He never would. And yet, he was still here. Still waiting after all those years. Still looking up to Dazai.
Finally, Dazai broke the silence.
“Come closer,” He said.
And Akutagawa obeyed. His steps were slow, hesitant. Once he was close enough, Dazai grabbed his chin. His hand was calloused, rough against Akutagawa’s skin, His grip firm, just enough to remind him who was in control.
“You still flinch,” He said with a smirk and let it go. “How pitiful.”
Akutagawa didn’t reply, just looked back at the ground littered with broken glass. Dirty like everything that had to do with Dazai.
“Get on your knees,” Dazai commanded.
And without thinking much, Akutagawa obeyed yet again, prepared for the worst. To be shot dead, to be used, to see what Dazai had prepared for him tonight.
“Open your mouth.”
Akutagawa listened. They had done that a few times when Dazai was still in the mafia, but that was years ago. He closed his eyes as Dazai toyed with His belt.
Something was put on his tongue and it wasn’t what he expected. It tasted bitter and dissolved quickly. A pill. Slowly the world started to look funny.
When Akutagawa woke up, he was lying on a dirty mattress naked. The mattress had red stains that smelled like blood, and his whole body ached in places he didn’t know could ache. He remembered nothing from the last night except the fact that he met with Dazai. That He gave him a pill.
He sat up and counted all the new bruises he had. He was like a painting. A canvas on which the artist vented his emotions. Purple and blue decorated his skin.
For a moment he stared at the wall, trying to connect the fragments of memories in his head. His head throbbed, and he grew so tired he eventually fell asleep again.
Akutagawa was waking up and falling asleep. It became a cycle, and all he remembered was that pill. And Dazai. He was in Akutagawa's each memory now. With the days passing, he slowly stopped feeling like Akutagawa. Whatever it meant to feel like Akutagawa. He wasn't sure if he ever felt like anything other than Dazai’s toy.
Even if he did, it was all in the past now.