Akutagawa was just "beheaded" or whatever the hell you call what happened to him, because I don't quite think he was beheaded exactly. But this time, I write what happens next.

Disclaimer: I'm not a manga reader, I don't know exactly what happened, and I don't know shit about Fukuchi that would matter here, so I'm going off what I want. Also I feel like this is cringy so I have no confidence in anything written below 😭

~

Atsushi stands in complete horror, a hand over his mouth, staring at Fukuchi, the reason for this, his pain.

"You really just... murderer..." he says, staring with pain at the gray haired man, who, additionally, stood still himself.

Not at the death, but at the despairing young man who was looking at him with utter rage, and shock, and horrible, trapping, sadness. The white-haired boy ran to the side of his comrade in a state of confusion, nearly tripping over his own feet. He forgot all thoughts of the danger he was in, dropping at Akutagawa's side and grabbing the sleeve of his coat, crying desperately into it.

"NO! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME! Not here, not like this, please," he begged. "That's just not even... I don't fucking know. But you can't go like this. You're too strong. You mean too much to too many people. What about your sister?! What about Higuchi? What about Chuuya-san?! What about Dazai-san?! I know it's hard to tell but I promise he cares. What about... wh-what about me? What do you... How do you even expect me to be able to go on, without you there? I won't, I just can't, I'll die right here before I leave you. I love you too much! I refuse to leave you here. Two dead bodies or none in this room at the end of the day. Fight, dammit. If you don't live I'll let myself die. No, I'll kill myself!"

"You won't be able to stop me, I-" he choked up, beginning to plead brokenly, turning Akutagawa's head gently so that their eyes met. "And you either stay or I'm coming with you! Ryū, look at me. I'm nothing without you anymore. There was when I didn't know you, and when I didn't like you. But this is now, and I don't love life as much as I love you. You can't leave me here, I'll self-destruct. I won't be able to make it, and I would never want to without you. Don't leave. Please, I am literally begging on my knees. I'm right here, please. Can you see me?! Do you even know who I am? Are you... too far gone?"

"Yes," came the low reply, his final words. "Sorry. This time, I was beyond help. Don't kill yourself. Suicide is a sin, in case you don't recall."

"So is murder. Which is perfect, because it means I'll see most of my friends in hell... Let us dance in fire, for we meet again soon," he said, picking up a gun and laying on his lover, before shooting three rounds through his own head, joining their hands forever in eternal sleep.

And to this day, a thousand years later, their worn graves lay beside each other surrounded by those of their friends and comrades, many young, yet impossibly old, couples, dancing in flames.