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Err

The comfort of a weighted blanket that's the first thing that came to mind for Akutagawa. Next was the unpleasant smell of disinfectant, the way it sterilized everything until it burned the nose with its cleanliness. He loathes this place. Slowly, dark with red spots became the pale white of the ceil. As more of his senses came online, he realized he was in an infirmary. He cursed to the chilled air. He looked to the left; there was a window, the white void, the only thing one could view from the window. Honestly, there was no purpose in having the window there; it was just a reminder of his current predicament. He turned to see someone beside him with a calico cat on his belly. 'Damn, weretiger.' He rolled his eyes at the other, sleeping peacefully. That was when he noticed it. Across from the younger was a man. In particular, the Man in Black with his bandages decorating his body; the only visible part of human features was his piercing eye. He felt his heart quicken. The man was looking back at him as if he could look right through him.

He blinked, and the Man in Black was gone; in his place was Dazai, wearing his rain-colored sweater and tan lounge pants. He was reading his favorite book, and his eyes remained on his person. The way his body slouched in on him in an attempt to make himself more comfortable. The hand that was barely holding up the book in hand slightly dipped, only for the holder to pull it back up. The eyes that didn't even pertain to retain the continents of the book in hand. He looked up to the ceiling.

A sound came from Atsushi that sounded like a groan. The mad dog cursed, 'Fucking Weretiger.' The younger of them all, however, remained asleep. He felt like he couldn't escape him. Forced to watch his pathetic story, watch as he bitched and moaned about every little thing he wished he had. The worst part of it was having to watch his mentor fawn over the tiger boy. Petting and praising him as if his mentor had finally found a god he would be willing to worship. It was a mockery. And even now, while he was in the stupid bed, he was here watching over Atsushi Nakajima. Anger filled his body, and he was expelling it out with every breath. He lost to that. 'Why!' The question clawed at him. The current mafioso knew that Dazai was aware of his consciousness. Dazai was always quiet like a corpse, but he knew Dazai wouldn't remain so.

He started, "I guess you are happy that your pet won?" Akutagawa spits out.

Dazai continued to read his book, seeming more awake despite his exhaustion. "Why would you think something like that?"

There's a pause; the sounds of movement of the people outside the room can be heard. He didn't know what to say. He was in no position to piss Dazai off. He hated being confined to a bed, unable even to move. A thought hit him like a punch to the face. Where was his coat? His eyes roamed the room in search of it then he saw it. In the chair, Dazai was sitting in, a black torn coat hanging on the back. As if to sense his line of thought, Dazai finally started to move, leaving his book on the chair. The detective made his way to the stool next to his bed without his long coat. The man looked even more narrow. He didn't take any space, but the man seemed to be the only thing he could focus on. Gracefully, he sat next to him and looked him in the eyes. It was disorienting to see two maroon orbs instead of the steady blood orb he was used to. Dazai asked again, "Why would you think I would want your loss, Akutagawa?"

Akutagawa swallowed, hoping to push down the bile that formed in his throat from sleep. He didn't know what would be an acceptable answer to the man's question. He didn't know. He gripped at his sheets, trying to think. Dazai tilted his head. Abruptly, he stood up and walked to the door. He had to say something, anything.

"Because your attention is always something you readily give to someone else." His voice came out dry and rough. Dazai continued to the door and, once there, locked the door. The cat that rested on the weretiger moved slightly, but its eyes remained closed. The man returned to his seat in front of him. He leaned on his knees, hunching over.