“ there’s nothing — ” punctuated shortly as a ragged cough rips out of his chest without warning, the fuzziness accompanied by a lack of oxygen blurs the edges of akutagawa’s rapidly blinking vision. “ i don’t need anything from you, ” though they both know that isn’t quite true. nakahara’s partner and akuatagawa’s mentor, dazai-san is the only one who can give what he wants, what he needs. the only validation for his measly existence is fulfilling his purpose for his master. a dog chained with a collar until he only knows command and obedience, until freedom is a fever dream and the real world hides behind denial and stoked hatred. it isn’t until the abysmal hue of slate grey eyes spark with another painful squeeze of his weathered lungs that akutagawa is lurching to grab hold of the mafioso’s shoulder where he can balance his ailing body. other hand wrapping itself around his mouth as blood pools under his tongue and stains his pale lips. the weakling shudders under a light breeze, dazai-san’s voice calls him dandelion and steps on him in a memory. obsolete, useless, he is only a weed on the well kept lawn of society.