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“Does it hurt, Akutagawa?” Dazai said in a cold hiss.
There was an angry look in his eyes as there usually was after every minuscule mistake made, but there was something else to it. Something more crazed, more feral. Like a rabid animal inflicting its own suffering onto anything it could sink its teeth into. He was holding the younger man by the collar, keeping him from collapsing onto the ground.
“You’re pathetic. You have no clue what real pain is. You’re a failure. You’ll never be good enough for the Port Mafia.” Dazai hissed through gritted teeth. They were words Akutagawa had heard before, but they never failed to make him feel like an ant being slowly burned to death by a kid holding a magnifying glass. That’s what Dazai truly was. A kid. It was easy to forget with his imposing demeanor and annoying pedantic genius.
Akutagawa found himself unable to speak. His thoughts were swirling and shaky. It was probably the blood loss getting to him. All he could think about was how much he wanted to hear four little words from Dazai: “I’m proud of you.”
That was it. That was what he wanted more than life. He wanted the person that made him feel like nothing make him feel like something. Was that insane? Probably.
Dazai threw him down onto his back again. It hurt, it really did, but he had to keep going. He got to his feet shakily. There was a determined look in his eyes as he did.