Chapter Text
There was a habit that stood tall and proud in the corner of Chuuya’s closet. It would grin with razor sharp teeth and its rattling breathing was vicious and loud. There was remorse lying on the floor, hollowing out the wood with its tears. It dissolved the concrete and would eventually carve its way through the Earth.
The swarm of flies in his chest made his lungs loveable. It carved out his insides, slithering between his liver and kidneys. Its long, pointed fingers traced over his eyes before gouging them out.
He was blind with blood dripping down his cheeks. There was no salvation in ignoring the way he let Dazai rot. He should have been kinder. Maybe a little older so he would know what to do. Instead, he sat with Dazai across from him, Dazai’s face unnaturally pale and his eyes glassy.
Dazai wasn’t high. It would be easier if he was. If it was just nicotine then Chuuya would rampage every shop and seller in the country if it made Dazai go back to the person he was before. If it was drugs then he could get clean, you can’t get sober from the invisible. Chuuya couldn’t protect Dazai from what he couldn’t see.
The penitence of letting this go on for so long clung to his organs and flipped them over and over and over and over and over and over…
There was penance found in needing to watch Dazai fall apart, as if Chuuya could somehow glue every broken piece back together with just his presence. He couldn’t, he knew it and yet he tried anyway. He repeated the disturbing absolution of every single one of Dazai’s harsh mistakes in the hopes that it would save his life.
Chuuya knew the ending. A part of him always did but he held on. He clung to the false hope he found in Dazai’s flickering light, if he could just protect it from the wind, if he could just feed it oxygen maybe he could turn the spark back into a blaze.
There was a subtle and nonsensical routine that played out every night before Chuuya got too scared to see if Dazai would disintegrate with the touch of a hand to even think of getting near him. Chuuya would wish Dazai goodnight, Dazai would hum softly while staring at the shadowed corner of the room, and then Chuuya would stand in the doorway before finally having the courage to leave.
It was never his decision to leave Dazai. At least that is what he would like to believe. He just had a ritual of sorts that always started with him trying to be better and ended with him going back to his apartment with the same defeated expression on his face.
He should just stop. There wasn’t a point in making promises he couldn’t make reality just as there wasn’t a point in being strong when he couldn’t even save his friend. The recurring failings of his strength left him forcing each breath down his throat.
There was nothing left in an unfunny jester or an indecisive king. There had to be rhyme and reason in the events that happened. And that made Dazai’s crash all the more devastating. Because there were signs. Of course, there were. The smile was void of joy, eyes forever glossed over, skin pale and pulled taunt. Everything was just another thread that led him through his maze of mistakes.
He should have asked more questions, should have pushed more, and given in quicker. It would be easier to go home and forget about the sight of Dazai glaring at the cup filled with water that Chuuya gave him.
Dazai was a dog waiting to be kicked, he was on constant alert and yet filled with the childish hope of being good enough for the people who trained him. Hope beat on Dazai’s chest like a drum and yet Chuuya knew he wouldn’t take the poorly disguised apology. A dog is only as forgiving as its owner’s nature, and Mori wasn’t exactly known for his benevolence.
The creatures Chuuya conjured up in his head cluttered and distorted the moment playing out before him. They blurred the edges and flashed lights in his eyes. He knew the distance between him and Dazai was a deliberate show of mistrust. He dived deeper into the space between them and drowned in the murky waters filled with his faults and Dazai’s misdeems.
They were sitting facing each other, wind pounded on the metal walls, everything was the exact same as Chuuya remembered it from the night before, and the night before that, and the night before that. Weeks had gone by with them facing each other. They rarely spoke, and even when they did it was Chuuya trying to start a conversation and Dazai answering with short clipped sentences.
Dazai treated Chuuya like a stranger, he stooped lower and lower every time each in an attempt to get Chuuya to leave. It didn’t work, it never did. That didn’t stop Dazai from trying. It didn’t stop Chuuya from staying anyway.
There were dust bunnies littering the floor, a year ago Chuuya would have made some cruel joke about Dazai being lazy and a slob. Now that he knew what he did he simply bit the inside of his cheek and ignored it.
Dazai’s arms were crossed above his tucked knees, he looked unusually small like that, huddled up with a need to hide from Chuuya’s scorching gaze. Chuuya hated it, he was stuck on all the little things. The sighs and gasps, the flinches and smiles, he memorized Dazai’s outline. It was burned into his brain with the heat of his anger.
He was doing fine. Just fine. His head ached from months of barely sleeping, worry ate away at his resolve, and with every minute passing he could feel himself sink deeper and deeper into the pit of his regret.
When he was the loneliest he would miss the Dazai that would throw casual smirks and daring smiles his way, he missed the light in Dazai’s eyes that would flicker and falter but would never truly leave. No, it didn’t leave through time, it burnt out through Chuuya dousing it in water day after day.
Chuuya’s recklessness caused the tightness in his chest just as it caused Dazai to lose what vitality he had left. He couldn’t take back the things he said, he felt them stab into his heart and tear through his tissue. The mistakes he made were just tallies added to a never-ending list of reasons why Dazai was the way he was.
The habit he held onto like a lifeline, his constant need to push everyone away made him hurt the one person he wanted to stay. He would give anything for Dazai to look at him with warmth instead of indifference. A small part of him wanted to give in to Dazai’s stubbornness and leave, that selfish, idiotic part of him wailed and wailed but he could never listen to it again.
Chuuya had a habit of never saying what he needed to. He would say it, he could say it. He really should. Maybe it would reset them back to being two helpless idiots who couldn’t tear their eyes away from each other. Or maybe it would end with Dazai hating him for the rest of time. Chuuya decided months ago that he couldn’t live without Dazai at least tolerating him so he would never say the secret that trickled into every breath and heartbeat.
Dazai took up Chuuya’s entire being, everything that made him feel was slowly wilting away and it was terrifying. Blood rushed through his body, his skin prickled against the chill air. He was alive and breathing and he hated it so much more than he should.
Dazai was Chuuya’s partner, nothing more and nothing less. So why did the space between them hurt so bad? Why did every word Chuuya tried to use to explain the heat in his cheeks and the raspiness of his voice seem wrong? It was disgustingly difficult to ignore the hammering of his heart when Dazai was only a foot away looking dangerously pretty in the dim lighting of the container.
The night was always confusing, it held onto secrets and brought forth feelings that betrayed Chuuya’s senses. He wanted to know if Dazai was fighting the same confusion when he looked at Chuuya with that look on his face. The look that told Chuuya that he would never get to truly understand the waves of Dazai’s emotions. But oh, how he wanted to try.
Every time Chuuya left Dazai alone he dreamt of him, he could feel Dazai’s touch on his skin even though weeks had passed without them even having a real conversation. Crawling back just to feel Dazai’s presence had become Chuuya’s new pastime. He was practically a lap dog, just out of reach but always there.
Chuuya would never know peace as long as he knew Dazai. That fact haunted his every movement, did he really want to live like this forever? The answer was yes, he would do anything for Dazai, he would make a thousand mistakes and sit through the storm. He clung to the dim hope that if he stuck through everything he could somehow make everything right again.
“Why are you still here?” Dazai’s chipped voice trickled through the air and swallowed Chuuya’s heart.
What a stupid question. Chuuya would always be wherever Dazai was, he would never bring himself to leave Dazai alone for longer than a week. Even when they were apart Chuuya couldn’t stop thinking about him. He couldn’t stop Dazai from infiltrating his every thought and movement.
It wasn’t that Chuuya’s entire being depended on Dazai, it was more that Dazai had become so ingrained into every decision Chuuya made that they were forever intertwined in Chuuya’s mind. He wasn’t a mindless zombie but more of a teenager hoping for his best friend to get better.
“Because you’re my partner,” Chuuya smiled grimly, he could see Dazai’s eyes flicker up to study him, “And I can’t let you do this alone again.”
In truth, Chuuya didn’t know if he was helping by staying. Maybe Dazai just needed space or some alone time to process what was going on. But Chuuya would never be able to live with himself if Dazai was suffering and he wasn’t there to help.
His selfish compassion ate at him. He was supposed to be the strong one, supposed to be the crass one, but looking into Dazai’s eyes he could see the hidden strength bubbling just below the surface. Dazai didn’t want to die, he just wanted a reason to live.
Dazai’s wide eyes bore into Chuuya’s soul, he let Dazai stare with nothing more than a soft smile gracing his lips. It was small, it was simple, it was surprisingly sweet. Dazai’s pupils were dilated and his eyes glossy. He tore his eyes away from Chuuya with a soft laugh.
Chuuya’s cheeks burned and he was suddenly all too aware of the space between them. He wanted to lean forward and run his hands through Dazai's short dark hair, he wanted to look into Dazai’s eyes as he whispered the secrets he kept from even himself.
“I suppose that is just like you,” Dazai’s tone was light with a subtle hint of joy finding its way to the surface.
Chuuya felt his eyes water and his heart flutter, “Yeah, I guess it is.”
Maybe things wouldn’t ever be the same, maybe Chuuya ruined everything before he even got the chance to understand it. But it didn’t matter, at least it didn’t matter more than that look on Dazai’s face that both reassured and soothed Chuuya’s worries and fears.
Dazai might always be sad, he might always be empty and destroyed and maybe it was all Chuuya’s fault. But Chuuya would study the stars just to recite their stories back to Dazai even if they fell on deaf ears.
Chuuya would rewrite the universe if he could keep the light in Dazai’s eyes, even for a moment, a mere second would be enough. He would cross every continent and swim across every sea if it meant that he could keep Dazai by his side forever.