Waiting Room

The Failed Star

TW for suicidal thoughts and attempts, please take care of yourselves <3 

.....

Decay, the only description of the totality that became Atsushi. He ran away from all he had known, the love he experienced turned into what he considered a weapon against him. It wasn't that he wanted this, he desperately wished he could return to the place he once considered home. It was fear that overcame him. If it could go back to how it was before, the peace that he once knew, he would return within the moment. It was panic that became the all consuming presence in his mind. The fear of the unknown, what the others now thought of him. More than anything, it was what he dreaded Dazai would do once he returned. Self destruction became his sanctuary, the cradle he resorted to when a moment became unbearable. Recovery would rob him of his haven, the only comfort he believed to be consistent. 

Atsushi spent the days following his outburst hiding. He feared to be found, feared to be known. Fear seemed to be the primary feeling he could engage with. He was too weak now to run, to hide, to do much at all. His legs were failing him, hardly managing to walk from place to place. He found himself crawling at his worst, all energy he had slowly draining after days of hunger. It made him nostalgic, reminding him of the first time he met Dazai. His hunger was far less intentional then, far less tolerable. He longed to be taken back, to have a do-over. His mental state was fickle, reminding him of the days when life felt more simple. Of course, he wasn't remembering it correctly, couldn't if he tried. He was equally terrified then, but that terror felt favorable to what he was experiencing now. It brings him a moment of clarity, only a moment.

"Hindsight is perfect I guess" he muttered only to himself, a whisper only he could hardly hear. 

His mind races towards that first meeting, thinking back to when he saved Dazai from a suicide attempt. It plagued his mind, thinking of that moment so repeatedly that the hunger no longer phased him. He had no other space to think, only reminding himself of that memory.

Suicide.

The only thing that utterly consumed his thoughts. He experienced suicidal ideation before, consistently thinking of what it what be like to no longer experience his anguish. That thinking was fleeting, a familiar stranger that was a known presence in his life. Suicide no longer felt like a stranger he recogized when it passed by. It skipped past the stage of being aquaintences to soley being his friend, the one he had left.

The energy he had left led him to the river where they first met, his legs moving without being able to weigh his options. He couldn't even feel himself walking, his senses numbing like a candle being snuffed, the moments before it completely suffocates. He finds himself on his knees near the water, his legs finally giving up before collapsing to the ground. He thinks of how cruel it is of him to not leave a note. Not a goodbye, not a thank you, only a corpse and memories that would long be forgotten to leave with the ones he had loved so dearly. 

He contemplates what he would have even written. Maybe an apology, a sorry for not living up to what he could have been. Maybe he would point fingers to deflect the blame, turn himself into a comparison to Jupiter.

Jupiter wasn't a star that failed, the sun stole the energy it needed to even become one. There was no opportunity for Jupiter to make it that far, only a personification of the falsehood of hope. He thinks of the sun. His orphanage, maybe his parents, all of those who drained his energy before he even had a chance. Maybe he would mention that.

He finds that all those thoughts were pointless, his hands shaking so terribly that, even if he were to hold paper and pen in his hands, the writing would be unintelligible regardless. He resolves to spend his final moments reflecting, trying to muster up the courage to crawl into the water. He wanted to consider it a brave thing, a necessary sacrifice to better the world. His leg and hand moves in unison, inching closer into the familiar water. He knows the voice that's coming closer to him, though unsure if it is real or only part of his imagination. It vibrates the ground, no longer leaving him to question if it was only a hallucination.

It was only his name, enough for his head to turn around.

"Atsushi!"