《SANCTUARY》 | Bungou Stray Dogs

L' espirit de escalier // Akutagawa Ryūnosuke

It didn't use to be like this.

Once upon a time, the port mafia took you, Gin and Akutagawa in from the streets. It was nothing short of a sweet salvation- not for you, at least- but you didn't know that yet. You wrapped your little clammy hand over Akutagawa's and felt like all was right with the world. He uttered no encouragement or protestation in return. He just studied your face and trailed behind his newfound mentor.

You were in search of a place to call home. He was in search of a purpose to live by. Only one of these would be found where you both were going, and maybe that was the mistake right from the start.

Craving affection, you were served unforgiving torture instead. Dawns for combat, dusks for holding various guns against captives' foreheads. You cried at every whip, every slap, every slice that tore your skin. You screamed and resisted, clamoring for an escape that you knew you'd never find.

Your weak lungs would always be in a spell by the end of the day. That, Akutagawa could sympathize with the most. He used to press his hand against your chest in an attempt to calm you down, even when his own breathing wasn't any more paced. It was no medicine to your persistent coughs, but it stopped you from crying.

Silence was the language you both shared, and it spoke the words you didn't know how to say.

When the tender years of your youth had passed, you had grown a backbone. He, on the other hand, had been stronger than you even then.

Akutagawa let Dazai Osamu's voice break him- bend his bones, blacken his blood, tarnish his dignity. It wasn't progress until the pain kept his eyes open in the dark. Soon enough, he morphed into a monstrosity, all on his own will.

And soon enough, he stopped looking back to see if you were still there.

~

"Boss? Boss Mori, this is agent 3962... L/n Y/n, subordinate to Akutagawa Ryuunosuke. I am in the warehouse with him- he is injured, sir. The enemy detonated hidden explosives, and we've been trapped. Hirotsu cannot be reached. I have no contact with the rest of his squad as well. Hello? Hello, I am requesting back up, please!... He-Hello?..."

Two percent of your battery, forfeited for more unsettling silence. At this point, it didn't matter to you that your calls barely reached the headquarters.

You have known nothing but dust and darkness for nearly half an hour now. If the stacks of cracked cement and bricks still counted as walls, then they seemed to close in. Either that, or the beam from your flashlight was quickly dying out.

You let out a dry cough and turned towards your superior, who was breathless from the onslaught of his own coughing fit.

Akutagawa was stubborn- you would know that better than anyone else. However, no one could ever give him a second glance without missing the malice in his rigid expression. You've seen nobody stronger than him. 'Don't touch me' was the gratitude you recieved after merely asking where the metal pipe impaled him. Three words, dripping with distaste, and you were pushed back into your corner.

This back and forth of work matters was nothing new. You memorized his blunt remarks, the way he holds his chin up and stares you down, the pain that comes with Rashomoun's bite.

You looked Akutagawa over a second time, and a third you wouldn't dare, lest he backhands you. Just because he was a motionless silhouette barely caught by your flashlight, doesn't mean that he was any less your superior.

"H-Hello..." You grew lightheaded as you held your phone up to your ear once more. Sweat began to mat strands of hair against your forehead. "To anyone who recieves the call, this is-"

"Shut up, Y/n," Akutagawa muttered gruffly. That was the first time he spoke since you began your one-sided calls.

His order abated your desire to get him help.

"Yes, sir."

Right after switching the phone off, you carefully retreated to the farthest corner that the rubble allowed you to curl up in.

You realized just how much your throat has tightened, now that you were at rest.

You coughed, and the flashlight flickered. The darkness swallowed you whole for a few seconds, before retreating back behind the crushed boxes and crannies.

The two hours of sleep you run on and the lack of breathable air were easy to blame for the anxiety upsetting your stomach.

Wheezing only gathered more dust in your throat.

You coughed again. And again. And again. You clawed at the ground desperately.

'Is anyone waiting outside? Did my calls reach?'

Everything grew blurry.

'They will come to save him. And if they have more time to spare... Maybe they'll save me. Just an inhaler would help. An oxygen tank.. Would be better...'

A few seconds felt like an eternity, and you were beginning to think that you were really done for this time.

Maybe you were.

'I wonder if you'll ever look back, even just once.'

When Akutagawa stirred, you realized that your wheezing was too loud. Not wanting another beating in this state, you clamped your mouth shut and grimaced.

After a little while more, you were unable to hold yourself up. Your head lolled to the right, hands falling limp at your sides. Through half-lidded eyes, you spotted your companion painstakingly pushing himself up with his arms. You didn't know where he wanted to go; maybe he wanted to jab at the debris for a way out. And you really were perfectly fine not having him pay you attention, so as long as nothing collapses on both of you...

Which was why you were surprised when you felt him grab the collar of your shirt roughly. As if the pain of having the rubble dig into your back wasn't enough, he pressed down on your chest with his bloodied hand. It knocked the air out of your lungs even more.

A small cry parted your lips, followed by a reawakened chain of coughs.

"You're weak."

You were scared to open your eyes because this scene was reminiscent of the aftermath of all the orders you failed to execute. Besides, it's not like you had any strength running in your system to scream and beg for mercy.

You were no longer a child.

"You can't keep up, you could never keep up," he spat. "I can't understand why someone as pathetic as you continues to believe that she has a place where she stands. You are useless to me. Look at you. Can't even breathe, breathe on your own will. You are going to die here, and I don't even need you sink a claw into your neck."

You dared not move a muscle, even if each word cut deeper than the last, coming one after the other like a hail of bullets. It grew more painful to breathe when a wave of tears threatened to pour.

And he wasn't finished.

"Why are you still here?"

Suddenly, you were silent. He pressed his hand down harder.

"Why do follow me?"

You found the courage to open your eyes, right when you were a hiccup away from death. Your heart took one last blow, when you realized that you could no longer see Akutagawa's face.

'I imagine that you're glaring at me. Now that I look at it, you always looked like you were glaring at me.'

You managed a small, trembling smile, as if the years of despair had somehow dulled your ability to do so.

'If that's the case, then nothing's changed at all.'

"Why?" He repeated himself darkly.

You had an answer for that, you always have. His hair was brushing your cheeks slightly, and you could smell the fresh blood on his clothes. Knowing that he was close enough to hear, you tilted your head up and whispered.

"The same reason I held your hand... On the night they took everything from you."

~

It didn't use to be like this.

Akutagawa eased his hand from your chest, when he felt nothing beating there anymore.

Once upon a time, the port mafia took you, Gin and Akutagawa in from the streets. It was nothing short of a sweet salvation- not for you, at least- but you didn't know that yet. You wrapped your little clammy hand over Akutagawa's and felt like all was right with the world. He uttered no encouragement or protestation in return. He merely studied your face and trailed behind his newfound mentor.

He found your phone, left forgotten. Fifteen calls, all unanswered, and six more that did not reach. Muttering something unholy under his breath, he snatched it from the ground and dialed.

You were in search of a place to call home. He was in search of a purpose to live by. Only one of these would be found where you both were going, and maybe that was the mistake right from the start.

He called again. And again. And again.

Craving affection, you were served unforgiving torture instead.

There was only the memory of your rarity of a smile. If Akutagawa tried hard enough, he could carve it into his mind.

If he tried harder to wake you up, maybe you'd do it again.

Dawns for combat, dusks for holding various guns against captives' foreheads. You cried at every whip, every slap, every slice that tore your skin. You screamed and resisted, clamoring for an escape that you knew you'd never find.

Rashoumon did nothing to dig through the metal pipes and blocks of cement. In a fit of frustration, he let out a growl and sent forth all the adrenaline that ran in his veins. It beat his lungs to a pulp, forcing the blood up his throat.

And then his gaze found you again.

Your weak lungs would always be in a spell by the end of the day. That, perhaps, was what Akutagawa could sympathize with the most. He used to press his hand against your chest in an attempt to calm you down, even when his own breathing wasn't any more paced. It was no medicine to your persistent coughs, but it stopped you from crying.

"Y/n."

Akutagawa pressed his hand against your chest for the last time.

A sleeping soul was nothing more than an empty shell. Empty shells he'd see day and night, empty shells he'd leave in his wake... but none quite as unsettling as the empty shell that used to look at him like he was the home she'd always wished for, sleeping so peacefully in the same place she fought a slow death.

"Y/n?" he whispered, and this time he could no longer bring himself to display the same authority that he carried in his voice without fail.

He found his humanity in the worst possible way, and it hurt more than any bullet that Dazai's gun ever spewed at him.

Silence was the launguage you both shared, but it wasn't enough to speak the words you didn't know how to say.

L' espirit de escalier- (n) the feeling you get when you leave a conversation and think of all the things you could have said.

____________________________________
If there's one thing I learned about myself, it's that I fall into a slump and take painfully long to get myself together again.

Here, take some of this angst that I spent valuable homework time on :"3