𝐇(𝐀)𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 | yandere! dazai osamu

14 / 15

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way, (first name)," You spin around, and you can see Dazai behind you. He looked as if he had been there the whole time. Yet you didn't see anything on your phone reflection. He looks upset, apologetic even, and you clutch his coat around you closer. He smiles at that.

"What do you mean?" You ask. Your voice is hoarse, wavering, and thin. Your eyes are watering without you even realizing, and when you try to hold them back, more comes out. You're whimpering now. Your hands are clutching his coat so hard you're sure your fingernails have broken through the fabric.

"Don't you realize?" His eyes flicker down, then back up to your face. He then sighs and closes his eyes. "I've been dead for quite some time," He says. He gauges your reaction very carefully, his arms seemingly lax but you could see the twitch of a reaction sheathed in his muscles.

A note. A tense silence.

"You're fucking lying," You snap, furiously baring your teeth at him. "I've never heard of a ghost being able to bring me food."

"Did you see the pizzaman's face the first day? He looked at me strangely. And he was in his right—I've been dead for years."

You stare at him and cower away from his touch. "But...The food you brought me."

"Did you know crabmeat was my favourite food?" He replies. Dazai smiles, and the brief look of happiness on his face made your shoulders sag. "I haven't lied to you, (first name). I did work with a man named Kunikida. My former colleagues bought all of that for me," He looks sadly at you. Your breath hitches in your throat when he walks closer, your brain beginning to put things together, your brain beginning to deny the true meaning of why he had been so kind to you in the first place.

"Was it you? That did all that?" You whisper, your voice a tone of accusation. "I trusted you with everything. You used that against me."

"I wanted you to trust me," He's an inch away from you. You take a step back, involuntarily tripping over the table edge and tipping over the surface backwards. "The human mind is so fascinating. After prolonged periods of stress, the brain can't physically handle it. I, who hadn't done anything to coax you of any information, let you spill everything to me. You collapsed into my arms after such intense bouts of anxiety." He leans over you and traps you in, his hands by the sides of your head and one leg between yours. You shrink into yourself when he dips his head closer. Brown curly locks cascade down the sides and ensnare you in his claws.

"You made all of that? It was you?" Your voice borders on a sob.

"Please don't cry," He coos. He brings a hand up to your cheek and touches the hot skin. "You're safe now."

You bring your hands to his chest and shove him forcibly off of you. He staggers backwards. You jab a finger at him. "No! That corpse in the locked room! That's not you! You told me yourself; it was Akutagawa! You told me he died of murder-suicide! Stop fucking around!!!"

"That I did," He says. In his hand is the padlock you had dropped earlier. Then, he clicks his fingers—you're in the main foyer now. "Have you not realised? That mentor of that man—it was me. That man in the painting was my friend, Odasaku. I ended my life here, and Akutagawa followed after bouts of murders and serial killing, unable to accept his reality. You found the bottles in the bin. His sister attempted to cure his cyanide poisoning...but failed."

Your bottom lip quivers. Your head hurt, and your body felt exhausted after such horrific stageplays of his instrumented horrors.

"But...But why me?" You collapse and sob into your hands. Your tears are back now, and this time, you feel all energy being drained from you.

"You who was driven out by all facets of the community. You who was diagnosed with depression, you who was demonised for being unable to see yourself as equal to the wretched human beings around you," Dazai says, so fondly and tenderly, that you felt as if he truly did love you. "I finally found myself someone who could understand me. And then I decided...I wanted you to live in this grave of mine, the only dwelling worthy of your presence."

"Go find someone else!" You slap his hand away, shrieking when his fingers slide against your skin. "I don't want you! I'm not your victim! I'm going home!"

"What home?" Dazai asks. He picks up your phone. "Your phone is functional, (first name). Phones are a tricky device. Did you really think it would break after one meagre fall? Phones can't function when there are bouts of strong paranormal activity," He clenches your phone, and with his bare hands, it shatters with a crack stretching across the screen. You can see your own mortified reflection on it. You scramble for it and jump for it but stumble, crashing against him. "What home, (first name)? You've been driven out. Missing. The world thinks you're dead now, and your parents don't want a child whose brain has been corroded by mental illness."

"You're wrong!" You pull yourself out, away from him. "They want me! I'm their child!"

"No. You're my bride. This world is too cruel for you. Someone as kind as you would die out there. Have you ever felt held at all, my darling?" He says and then holds you in his arms, tightly, so tightly, as if attempting to keep you in place. "Please forgive me for this, (first name)."

The chandelier snaps.