~~~3rd Person: (Y/n)~~~
It was the next day. (Y/n) hadn't felt like doing anything today. He didn't want to do anything after yesterday. He came back to his office and cried his eyes out. Don't get him wrong, he loves his brother. He does, despite his actions. He had no idea why he was doing this to his brother.
He did know.
His brother caused him misery. His brother was the one who killed their parents. (Y/n)'s eyes teared up at the mere thought of his parents.
(Y/n) recalled the events of yesterday after he left.
~~~ (TW: MENTIONS OF GORE) ~~~
(Y/n) had come back to the Port Mafia with bottled-up emotions. He waited to get to his office before he started bawling. He walked through the long hallway and swung open his office door. He slammed the door harshly and stormed to his desk. He took out his hair and let his shoulder-length (h/c) hair sway in the light air.
He took off his coat and vest, only leaving his collared shirt. He took off the tie he was wearing and hung it on a hook nearby.
(Y/n) buried his face in his hands and started to cry uncontrollably. Why did he have to be the bad guy? He did this to support him and Doppo in the past. He's ruining it. He's gotten power-hungry.
(Y/n) sniffled and removed his face from his hands. He walked to the bathroom attached to his office and looked at himself.
"God, you're a mess," (Y/n) spoke, looking at his reflection in the mirror.
(Y/n) squinted at his reflection and yelled at it, "Why did you do that to your brother!? He's your family, damn it!"
(Y/n) looked at his angry reflection in the mirror. Tears dared to fall yet again. (Y/n) kept on insulting himself while looking in the mirror.
"Why do you blame your problems on everyone but yourself!?"
"You should be nice to other people, not some murdering abomination!"
"Why don't I just leave this place already!?"
(Y/n) stared at himself in the mirror, shook. He didn't know what place he was talking about. Was he talking about the Port Mafia or Earth?
(Y/n) laughed psychotically. He pulled open a drawer in his bathroom. There were various knives he used years back whenever he was a lower-ranked member of the Mafia. He used to conduct "surgery" on his patients, aka hostages.
He would perform surgeries by taking out their organs: mainly lungs and hearts. Sometimes, he moved around brain tissue.
(Y/n) walked out of his bathroom holding a knife used for cutting skin. He closed his bathroom door and walked to the office door. He locked the door and walked to his desk. He rested his right arm on his desk and held the skin-cutting knife in his other.
He started to cut his skin smoothly. He didn't know what he was doing, but he cut off a good portion of his lower right arm. There was a sloppily cut rectangle on his arm. Blood oozed out of the open skin, and the open wound stung to the gust of air.
(Y/n) winced and squinted his eyes in pain. He used to do this all the time to himself: why was it suddenly hurting? Was it hurting because he had a purpose for doing this?
Suddenly, (Y/n) was fed up with himself. He stabbed the knife through his wrist. He swore he hit some veins.
He let out a bloodcurdling scream before getting light-headed. He couldn't move his arm because the knife had also stabbed through the table. (Y/n) stared at his wound with tears falling and welling.
Before he knew it, his head hit the table. Hard.
~~~
That's what happened.
(Y/n) snapped out of his thoughts whenever he heard a knock on his door.
A recognizable voice squeaked, "(Y/n)?"
"Chuuya, I kind of can't unlock my door, or else I'll bleed out more," (Y/n) nervously laughed.
Soon enough, (Y/n) heard clicking sounds coming from the door, so he assumed that Chuuya was lock picking his door.
Much to his prediction, that's exactly what Chuuya did. Chuuya opened the door and closed it. He turned around and saw (Y/n)'s arm pinned to the table and the open wound.
"Jesus Christ," Chuuya rushed over to (Y/n), "What did you do?!"
"I got mad," (Y/n) explained.
Chuuya rushed to (Y/n)'s bathroom and took out a roll of bandages. He ran back over to (Y/n) and took the knife out from his forearm. (Y/n) winced from the pain and let out a whimper.
Chuuya quickly bandaged (Y/n)'s injury before it could bleed out more. Chuuya spoke with a tint of concern in his voice.
(Y/n) lifted his now bandaged arm. He was able to move it around, but it was sore.
(Y/n)'s eyes teared up. He remembered the reason why he fucked up his arm, and he hated himself for it. Soon, tears started to roll down his face.
Chuuya put his hand on (Y/n)'s back, "(Y/n)? You alright?"
"I'm just fine, Chuuya," (Y/n) spoke through tears.
"You're obviously not. You're crying," Chuuya sympathized.
"Just leave me alone," (Y/n) nearly snapped, "I need time alone."
Chuuya immediately left. He walked out of (Y/n)'s office and closed the door.
Was (Y/n) okay? Chuuya was scared for (Y/n).
~~~
Word count: 838 words
Yeah I said be prepared
anyway hope you enjoyed the chapter :]]
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One in the Same ‣-‣ O. Dazai x M!Reader (DISCONTINUED)
Fanfiction(Y/n) Kunikida: the name of our main character. (Y/n) is the older brother of Doppo Kunikida by a year. Despite being the older brother to a guy who works in the Armed Detective Agency, our main character doesn't work there. He's an executive at the...
