𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 / bungō stray dogs x reader anthology

𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐝𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 ✧ 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞

May 27th 2020 / i forgot I wrote this /1.4k words / strong language, implied abuse, mental breakdowns

✧ ｡ﾟ✐.*ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* ✎｡:*ﾟ

"Hey are you okay?"

You glanced over your shoulder at Chūya, he was standing a few feet behind you, looking up at you ever so slightly due to the height difference and admittedly his expression initially looked rather bored, though you didn't miss the concern in his eyes. You looked away from him, emotions churning in your gut as you kept your gaze steady, the two of you had left work for the mafia-provide-housing of those of your ranks. You didn't want to go home, going home would mean having to wake up and know that you would be alone.

"Of course I am," you say, surprised at how even your voice is, "I'm doing fine."

Fumbling with your keys you ignore Chūya who's staring at the back of your head with a glare that says 'I-know-you-know-I-know-you're-lying.' You don't want to hear it. You don't want to hear about how.

"Liar," he snapped, "Look I know your upset over the fact that that shitty mackerel left-"

"You don't need to fucking remind me," the words left your mouth in a harsh hiss as you whirled around to face Chūya properly, your perfect calm facade beginning to crack, the mask slowly coming a part only to fall to pieces at your feet as you saw the shock that flashed across his face at your out-burst. You didn't care.

No that was a lie, let him be shocked, let someone else be guilty here, let someone else feel sad that Dazai left, let someone else be in shock and horror and confusion and fear and worry and everything else now. Because you knew that Chūya was fucking glad the person he hated the most was gone. And you didn't fucking care, your nails were digging into the palms of your hands and your eyes flashed dangerously.

"I know you hated him, so don't lie to my face and tell me you didn't, because I know you might. I know you might because I didn't hate him, because I had a reason to care about Osamu unlike you, and I hate to break it to you Chūya but not all of us are lucky enough to have our problems walk out the door to the point where you can just celebrate with a fancy glass of wine."

"Why you-"

But a laugh escaped your lips as you couldn't help but nearly double over in the sudden burst of laughter, Chūya off as you straightened up staring him dead in the eye. Your expression morphing into one of anger as tears pricked at the edges of your eyes. "Of course I'm not fucking fine. How can you expect me to be?"

Chūya blinked, taking a step back as you glared at him, finger pointing accusingly at his chest, it was the first time he'd ever been truly intimidated by you. Yes a high-ranked mafiosos, but as you stood there with such a broken expression in your eyes and angry tears threatening to fall down your cheeks and wash away the splatter of blood left there from work, he couldn't help the genuine fear that turned over in his stomach.

"You cannot expect me to be perfect all the fucking time! You can't expect for me to be able to constantly live up to those impossible expectations you put on me! You can't just expect me to walk into work like everything is fine, you can't expect me to not feel this horrible guilt because some of us are cursed with a fucking conscious, and the fact that the one person who understood left, isn't exactly fucking helping now is it?"

He started at you, backing away, his expression melting into one of passive concern as the realization hit him. Your tone was almost mocking him, and maybe he would've been offended if not how broken you looked and how the words that feel from your lips like shards broken glass, slicing through the thin string of hope that had been holding your friendship together since Dazai left.

"How can you expect me to just go about my life with a smile on my face right now! I am under so much pressure, so much stress, a mountain of expectations!" Your voice cracked and broke, only getting louder as you threw your hands up in the hair in frustration, unsure what to do in your own body. "This, him leaving, it's just a massive fuck you. Any other day I wouldn't mind because it would've happened eventually, Osamu would've left eventually just like everyone else does! And like hell I blame him, it's the fucking mafia of course he would leave. But Mori expects me to take it calmly and to just remain passive towards him despite the fact that he mocked the one good thing I had in my life, dangling it before me before tearing it away in one fell swoop. I lost my best friend and my confident."

Your paused, your hands curling into fists at your side again and again as you tried to collect your breath, your words spilling from your lips in a horrid rapid torrent that left Chūya in shock and horror as he watched his friend, because you were, (you were his friend right?), breaking down in front of him. He had seen Dazai break once before, with a gun in his hand at fifteen as he shot a man dead with far more bullets than necessary, laughter peeling from his lips as the horrible satisfaction of robbing another of life hit him for the first time. This was different, he hadn't seen any cracks your facade before - hadn't noticing the rope that tied your friendship together was so worn and thin that it had barely had a string holding it together - he hadn't noticed that anything was off, he had no idea that you was feeling this way, only for you to suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, shatter like glass and yet it all made some morbid sense.

"And now he expects me to be fucking fine, to not break down, he thinks I'll be able to look him in the eye and move on when how the fuck can I, how can I not look at the bastard without wishing for bloody murder." You gasped, your breathing was becoming more and more uneven as your vision blurred and tears fell from your chin in a bloody mess, your hand strapping open the scab on your left cheek. Chūya reached forward, desperate for you to stop. He wanted it to stop.

"Don't fucking touch me!" You screamed, your voice breaking as you hit his hand away watching in some terrible relief as he looked almost scared of you in that moment. "And don't just fucking stand there either!" your words were breaking slowly, more and more your vision was shifting in and out of focus, and the small calm voice in your head that told you this was dumb and irrational, that you needed to take a few breaths and calm down, certainly wasn't helping.

"Tell me I'm wrong!" You yelled, your voice rising still further, "Tell me that I'm the only one in the wrong! Tell me that our relationship was fine! Because he tore me down some days, whenever we fought it was whatever, I confided in him, that he tore to shreds and I hated it! The unintentional guilt tripping, the fact that I never knew what to say, the fact that I was always lying and masking and hiding and I just..." Your words trailed off into a sob as ugly tears ran down your face mixing with a sob and blood as you tried and failed to wipe them away, muttering a curse softly under your breath as the tears didn't stop and you failed to clean yourself of the mess.

"Hey, now, I..." Chūya tried, reaching out hesitant towards you, but you flinched away at his touch.

"Go."

"What?"

"Look, I know you hated him, and I don't blame you, but I understand him too much to hate him, so I just hate myself. You can go now. Please forget this ever happened. I don't need a reminder of this humiliation." You muttered, finally managing to wipe away your tears and snot.

Chūya dropped his hand to his side, watching in a mixture of shock and, well, he didn't know what it was. Sadness? Worry? Confusion? None of those were right. But all he could do was stare as you walked away, maybe he should've called out to you. Maybe he should've reached out. Maybe then you would talk to him again, because you never truly did after that. No it was simply a series of small interactions where the air tasted of a nostalgic friendship, shame how it had such a bitter aftertaste.