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Summary
Elisabeth Kübler-Ross is full of shit, Akira thinks.
How can you define grief as five measly stages? How can you define grief at all? Akira shoves his hands into his messy curls and lets out a groan while sitting at Leblanc’s counter.
Grief is not all that simple to Akira. It comes in spurts, in squiggles, in lines, in blobs. It’s not nearly close to linear, and it’s not even close to five stages. Maybe ten. Maybe twenty. Hell, to him, it seems like the stages are endless. He’s stuck in a loop of grievance that shows no pity towards him.
Or, Akira never thought he'd have to incorporate Maruki's lesson on the five stages of grief into his own life.
Bookmarked by Hazeelyyn
17 Jun 2026
