#I just like to imagine Akutagawa is a really doting and overprotective big brother okay

[inuko-tan]

☙ And I'll Hold My Breath ❧

Gin has a night terror, Akutagawa helps her through it.

A vent fic written in the early morning to process a sudden PTSD episode.

1485 words

Content warnings for graphic descriptions of a panic attack and self-harm.

I am aware some people ship Akutagawacest so... to clarify, this is not a shipfic. Just Akutagawa being a doting older brother.

Every night is drawn out, strung out, endless, suffocating. The air is never silent, it is tense with terrors unremembered and screams that taste of blood and filth, it crushes the esophagus and pierces the lungs. Chipped nails dug into bruised flesh, fingers trembling with an aimless rage. Lips wet with spit and tears parted in an unearthly wail, an indignant howl at the moon that reflected no light back upon the broken.

Akutagawa Gin was only fifteen.

She lay alone in her bed, her midnight hair feathered out like a halo upon her pillows. Her bedding had been thrown to the floor in a mindless fit, her spine twisting as she tore at her own throat and face. Gin was not awake, but neither could it be said that she was asleep. Trapped in the in-between, aware of her own caustic memories that burned at the inside of her skull, and yet pitifully unable to save herself.

Through some thought she would harbor later on when she was somewhat more conscious, she would ponder to herself where all this pain came from. She could not remember the beginning of her agony, she did not recall the end of her happiness. Scarlet pooled under her nails, she continued to fill the dark room with an endless screech.

Gin hated the dark. For most children her age, such a fear would be unfounded, petty, shameful. Gin knew what lay in the dark. Men with ill intentions, and abandoned dogs that would sink into living flesh simply for the taste of fresh meat- frankly, the two were barely distinguishable from one another, each their own kind of undomesticated animal committing sins for survival. The darkness held dangers that a child could not hope to fend off on their own. In the darkness, she could hear the screams of those long dead and could smell the gunpowder that permeated her lungs like a bloodline curse.

Hot tears stained her cheeks, a build-up of watery mucus choked her breathing until she had no choice but to roll onto her side. Leaning over the side of her bed, Gin’s body was wracked with convulsions and emptied itself onto the floor. Her fragile frame trembled and shook, coiling into herself as she felt a thick bile burn at her throat and splash onto the hardwood floor.

This was enough to tip her over into some state that could be compared to “awakeness”. Gin stumbled to her feet, swaying with all the anxious unsteadiness of a small deer. Her palm pressed into the cold wall, bracing herself against it as she dragged her body to the bathroom she shared with her elder brother. Heavy arms struggled to properly locate the light switch, a few moments of desperately slapping the wall was needed before the light blinded her sore eyes.

Gin met herself in the mirror. Her eyes were dark and reflected no light, glossy with tears. Vomit and saliva trailed down her chin, staining the heavy flannel shirt buttoned up to her sternum. Her hands fumbled as she stripped off her clothing, regret filling her throat as she glared at her spindly body. She abhorred such a reflection. If her body had not felt full of lead, she feared she may have smashed the mirror in a rage.

Her hand darted out suddenly, grasping a razor that sat on the rim of the sink. Her eyes held no focus as she cracked the flimsy plastic against the ceramic, fingertips splitting open as she pried the blades from it. Crimson began to bead up and pour down, pooling in her palm. Her chest was racked with a barking cough as she raised her arm, her translucent skin mottled with purple scars and weeping sores. The cool metal parted flesh so easily, splitting apart like a blooming rose and pouring out her boiling pain. A soft sigh of relief left her lips, the tension bleeding from her aching body.

Dopamine was an addiction. Her flesh broke apart and her mind slipped from itself, marble tiles painted scarlet. A warm nothingness flooded her tiny body, a blanket of depravity to soothe her aches. Gin was unaware of the fresh tears rolling down her jawline, plastering her hair to her cheeks. She was unaware of the footsteps racing down the hallway.

“Gin-”

Her head snapped upright, eyes blown open as she was rocked back into attentiveness. Her brother stood in the doorway, disheveled from a long night of running useless errands for his mentor. His eyes flitted up and down her shaking form, and she could have sworn she saw embers of agony in his own lifeless eyes as he drank in the sight of her weeping wrist. With no words, he slapped the small, bloodied metal from her grasp and gripped her upper arm.

“Ryū- Please stop, that hurts-” Gin gasped out finally, her voice frail as lace. She was met only with a rough grunt, dragged across the cold bathroom. The sound of rushing water hit her ears like knives on a chalkboard, and she couldn’t help but wince.

“Get in.” Ryūnosuke was rarely in the habit of asking things of others, and Gin was aware she had no choice. As his back turned, she tore off her underwear and curled into the scalding hot water. Her knees drew up against her hollow chest, appreciating the comforting burn of the bath. Her brother returned with a cloth, kneeling beside the tub.

Frozen fingertips pressed underneath Gin’s jaw, tilting her gaze towards him. Ryūnosuke held the cloth beneath the gushing water, wiping away the mess from his sister’s face with a tenderness reserved for no other creature. Her whimpers were met with a rasping breath, a death rattle that soothed her frantic thoughts.

Ryūnosuke’s hand drew back as Gin was cleaned to his satisfaction. For a moment, there was no exchange of words, only the rushing water and ambient cry of the city’s nightlife. Gin did not flinch as blood seeped into the water, swirling around her in a grotesque painting of regret. Her eyes fluttered shut as her brother’s fingers combed through her wet hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ear. The moment was savored like a piece of rich chocolate, melting on her tongue and covering the taste of her earlier torment.

“Why.”

Gin shrugged loosely, sinking deeper into the water, “I remembered again.”

“I’ll ask Dazai to stop having me out so late-” Ryūnosuke nearly lurched forward, unable to cover up his concern and suffocate it with his sadism. Gin shook her head fervently, feeling heat creep up her cheeks.

“No, it wouldn’t be good to upset him even more.” She muttered softly, glossy eyes tracing the stains seeping through the bath. She swallowed down an itch in her throat. “I’m sorry that I keep-”

She was cut off with a snarl, Ryūnosuke tugged on her ear, eliciting a puppy-like yelp of surprise, “Gin. You know I hate when you say that.”

“Ryū, what did we do to deserve that?” She pulled herself out of his grasp, her head hung with shame. Her complexion was flushed with a fever and her eyes burned, raw with salt and sore from all the tears already shed.

“Nothing, Gin,” his voice was firm, but her sorrow softened his words. A corpse would feel pleasantly warm compared to his frigid skin, but the way he cupped her cheek was welcomed. She sat, unmoving, paralyzed with exhaustion. She licked her pale lips, and she realized she had begun to tremble.

“When will the pain stop?”

“You know that I don’t know the answer."

His fingers wrapped around her wrist, dragging her hand away from her body before she could tear her nails through her knees. Gin let out a weak breath, a barely audible whimper. Her vision was dizzy, her head felt so light that she could almost believe it would float off into the atmosphere. Ryūnosuke’s voice was once again soft as he brushed her bangs away from her forehead, “Let’s go to bed, little sister.”

His cold lips pressed to her forehead as he lifted her shaking body from the water. If he cared that his clothing had gotten drenched, he was keen on keeping that to himself. The pain that had taken so long to present itself finally radiated through Gin’s torn arm, the loss of blood leaving her feeling ill to her stomach. She let her eyes flutter closed as her temple pressed to her brother’s shoulder, a dreamless nothing to soothe her.

The sun had only just begun to rise when Gin next awoke, the lemonade light of the sky painting her cheeks shades of pink. Her fingertips traced over her body, running over rough gauze wrapped around her throat and forearm. She pushed herself upright, blinking the sleep from her tired eyes.

A chocolate bar sat on her bedside table.