(BTW IM NOT HATING ON NIKOLAI! I FEEL LIKE NIKOLAI WOULD CYBERBULLY OK?)

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You stop answering messages.

Not just his—everyone’s.

The screen lights up less often now, and when it does, your chest tightens before your mind even catches up. Laughter still echoes in your memory, distorted through speakers and broken trust.

You tell yourself it was obvious.

You tell yourself you knew better.

Still, it lingers.

Online, Nikolai’s presence doesn’t disappear.

It mutates.

New accounts. Familiar typing patterns. Excessive punctuation like fingerprints he doesn’t bother to wipe away.

N0tUrCl0wn: “AWWWW DID I BREAK YOUUU???”

You stare at the screen. Don’t respond.

N0tUrCl0wn: “COME ONNN SAY SOMETHING!!! I MISS YOUR VOICEEEE!!!”

Your hand hovers. Drops.

You close the app.

The next day at the Agency, Dazai notices.

He always does.

“You’ve been quieter than usual,” he says lightly, leaning against your desk. “And that’s saying something.”

You don’t look up. “I’m fine.”

“Liar,” he replies pleasantly.

You expect teasing. A joke. Something flippant.

Instead, he crouches beside you so you’re forced to meet his eyes.

“…Did he contact you again?”

You freeze.

“…Online,” you say after a moment.

Dazai exhales slowly through his nose. Calm. Controlled.

“Show me.”

You hesitate. Then hand him your phone.

He scrolls. Once. Twice.

His smile doesn’t change—but something behind it does.

“Oh,” he murmurs. “So he’s still playing.”

You tense. “I should’ve known better.”

Dazai hands the phone back. “No.”

You blink. “…No?”

“No,” he repeats, firmer. “You trusted someone because you wanted to believe people could be kind. That’s not a crime.”

You look away. “He made me feel stupid.”

Dazai’s voice drops—quiet, lethal. “Then he’s already made his last mistake.”

That night, Nikolai messages again.

Freed0m_Jester: “HEY!!! WANNA TALK? I PROMISE I’LL BE NICE THIS TIME!!!”

Before you can even react, another notification appears.

OsamuDazai: “Block him.”

Your fingers tremble. “He’ll just make another account.”

Three dots appear instantly.

OsamuDazai: “Then I’ll block those too.”

You hesitate. “…Why do you care?”

A pause.

Longer than usual.

OsamuDazai: “Because you’re mine to protect.”

Your breath catches.

The next day, Nikolai’s messages stop.

No new accounts. No taunts. No laughter bleeding through text.

You later learn—indirectly—that certain online networks became inaccessible overnight. Accounts flagged. IPs quietly traced. Information passed to people who don’t ask questions.

Dazai never explains.

He just hands you a coffee and says, “You should sleep more.”

Weeks pass.

The anger inside you doesn’t vanish—but it’s no longer feral.

One evening, you sit beside Dazai on the Agency couch, scrolling aimlessly.

“…Do you think I’ll trust someone like that again?” you ask quietly.

Dazai doesn’t look at you when he answers.

“Maybe,” he says. “But next time, you won’t be alone.”

You glance at him. “You really think I’m not weak?”

Dazai finally meets your gaze.

“I think,” he says softly, *“that anyone who survives betrayal and still wants connection is terrifyingly strong.”

Silence settles—safe this time.

Outside, somewhere far away, a clown laughs to no one.

And you don’t hear it.