ᴄᴏɴꜱᴘɪʀᴇ; 企む╎ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ ᴏꜱᴀᴍᴜ

𝐣'𝐚𝐢 𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢é

⧼⧾⧽ ⧼⧾⧽ ⧼⧾⧽ ⧼⧾⧽ ⧼⧾⧽ ⧼⧾⧽

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'do not play fatally wounded when within, you are the only one destroying yourself.'
-lethalical

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⧼⧾⧽ dazai, very frequently found himself at the top of old buildings.it was the stale air of the city that rose to these levels that was almost enticing. up here, there was no ideal to prove the male wrong, nor blonde headed control freaks that wallowed in whenever dazai felt pain. up here he was as close to death as he would ever be.

⧼⧾⧽porcelain hands glowed in the cold, stark light of the medical ward. a figure, stooped into the blue plastic chair. they held a cigar in one hand, rings of smoke enveloping them, wrecked breathing and labored coughs strained their damaged throat. a ragged lab coat hung of their shoulders, it looked almost futile. as if a small gust of wind would blow apart the sack of bones and flesh. maybe that was what the figure was hoping for, maybe they only wanted to be the forgotten patient, strapped to an IV until the lights flickered off in their dark orbs. just like the lights that flickered off in the ward.

⧼⧾⧽atsushi would be lying if he said he didn't fear his elders. as kunikida loomed over the boy's lean figure a wave of panic nestled itself within the velvety skin of his stomach, not literally of course. call them butterflies if you dare. the long haired blonde had been scolding the boy for over an hour, saying that if dazai had finally killed himself off it was indeed his fault, as if atsushi would known when the bastard snuck off the throw himself off a bridge, or better yet accidentally walk into an active nuclear zone, 'for fun' dazai had said. both of them smelt like burnt hair for weeks.

⧼⧾⧽whilst kunikida jumped into another tangent, atsushi was able to finally escape the stifling office he had been in. making a quick way down the dusty old stairs, he lifted a gray arm and pushed open the back door. turning around and kicking the black dented metal, finally succeeding in shutting it properly he set off in a direction, having absolutely zero clue with where he was going, and the memory of a dead bird he just hoped dazai would whisk him away from danger if he faced any, that was his fantasy.

⧼⧾⧽the person had stood up from their small chair. the soft mushy white walls of their asylum oozed an almost sickly sap, the glue that held the pads to the rotten boards of the wall, melting and seeping into the ground. now wherever they walked, they just accumulated another layer of glue on their gashed feet. 

they laughed, the sound bouncing off the sodden walls and ringing back into the emptiness of the room. they had been in the asylum for years, even the bloody tally marks that sprinkled the walls could not foretell how long they had been in the room. they had grown ravished, blood frothed from their eyes, nails had been removed from their hands once they arrived at the 'hospital' the doctors said it was to stop hurting themselves, but now without nails the hands were just stubs, stubs that were easy to gnaw on. 

they raised a skeletal hand and lightly touched the skin of their eyelid, finding a stray eyelash they plucked it out, tearing the eyelid as they did. a trickle of blood seeped into the eye, flashing briefly in color before dripping out of the tear duct, tears of blood. one was deep in insanity if it enthralled you. 

the pupil walked up to the viewing window, staring into the glass they could not see through, lights flickered on and off behind them. a whimper emitted from their dry rough lips, before they banged their fists into the glass, screaming.