Hunter and Prey (Soukoku)

Filthy Mind

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Akutagawa

That face... Hmhmhm... Hilarious, really.
Why had Jinko looked so shocked? Even a stupid boy like him must've noticed there was something between his mentor and the short executive.
They bickered a lot, knew a lot about each other, protected their partner in fights, and did have some kind of understanding of the other's feelings, despite not wanting to admit it...
Hell, no.
He coughed, and his eyes widened at a sudden realisation. This sounded a lot like-
That nasty...
N- No way that's...
However! He wouldn't help finding them. What for? It was better like this, when nobody knew their whereabouts. What if that brat got caught and blabbed?
No, it was better like this.
Akutagawa got up from his arm chair and left his empty cup behind.
If Double Black came back ever again, he sure would be in trouble, though. What had he said?
'Well, because he loves hi-'
'I've seen it in his eyes. Besides, he... He cried when Dazai-san left the Mafia. It was pretty bad. He didn't come to work for a few days, and when he did, he was completely different... Lifeless.'
Akutagawa shivered at imagining how angry Chuuya would be. Why had he even told Atsushi about this?
Atsushi.
He forced himself to go to the bathroom and threw a disapproving look at the shower. This had been the second day in a row he hadn't gotten in it. If he kept avoiding the shower, he would soon start smelling...
But not yet.
When he got back into the living room, something caught his attention. A small piece of paper, neatly folded, laying on his desk as though it belonged nowhere else. He must've overlooked it.
The young man hesitantly picked it up and unfolded it.
It read a bunch of numbers, and some words.
It's... His phone number.
The words:

Nakajima Atsushi.
PLEASE think about it!

Hmpf.
There was nothing to think about.
Akutagawa scrunched the note, but suddenly changed his mind.
He smoothed it out and taped it to his plain white wall. Maybe it would be of use one day...?

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

The high was over.
Dazai took the bandages off his wrist.
White marks were carved on it. Keepsakes from his dark past.
From times when he was too down to cry, when there was no light in his eyes, and the only way to feel something, the only way to see and face the truth and clear his mind, was to hurt himself.
The pain, the physical pain, along with the warm feeling of his own blood running down his skin...
This had never failed to reach him...
Fascinating, yet disturbing...
He swallowed.
His fingers automatically touched the scars and followed them all the way up to his elbow.
That's- No. That's not the way I should behave! I- I've got Chuuya here with me!
He wasn't even feeling that bad. It was just a habit of his to have the urge to make old wounds bleed again. He wanted to reopen what had taken so long to heal. All these years, he had always done just that. To remind him of his mistakes, to punish himself, and to feel the thrill again, maybe.
He'd just done it. Why not?
But now, he wasn't alone anymore. He couldn't slit his wrists, watch it bleed and wait for the end before covering the cuts and continuing his every day life.
Chuuya's just next door.
Chuuya's there. With him.
Everything's fine. (It's not!)
I can't do this. But... I... I have to...
He buried his nails in his leg to stop himself from doing what he knew he shouldn't.
All alone in the bathroom. Who would even notice if he did it? Who would even care?
His trembling hand reached for the scissors. He would stop.
Yes, he would stop soon.
He couldn't die now.
It's not like that was his intention at the moment, he just couldn't resist. A last stop, and then...
The metal blade touched Dazai's skin.
He pulled it. Slowly. Slickly.
With just enough pressure to make the red, flowing liquid leave the capitulating layers of skin which were supposed to hold it back.
And he watched it in a mix of awe and regret and anger.
I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't.