Work Text:
It was as if the world were ending.
Emotions did not cater to Dazai. Not in that moment.
Pooling with nothing more than void; filling with not much less than self-deprecation.
It was if the world were ending to Dazai Osamu.
Not that it was uncommon for it to be like that.
He often would look at his future in the form of a knife. He questioned on a regular basis why that object that hadn’t been able to end his life on the numerous amount of times he tried, haunted him vividly night and day. On the endless amount of attempts he had made, the fact that he was still on this plane of existence proved he had yet to be successful in his endeavours.
Which was unfortunate.
That was due to the fact that some days were worse than others.
Today, for whatever reason, just happened to be one of those days. One of those days where living was almost unbearable. Where it was such a struggle that it didn’t matter whether he had to work or if it was his day off, because on those days, life became a mere illusion of happiness that showed itself truly as the ultimate disaster.
Memories of moments shared with those he has known throughout his life, as per usual routine on these days, poured and clouded within his mind, filling his mild with absolute regret.
Times where under no circumstances, bearing no reason, he could not adjust to those who needed him to. Where he couldn’t ring an audible apology for being the way he is. When he had no excuse for his jokes pertaining to his utter self-anguish.
These moments were born of loneliness.
Loneliness was second nature to him, it was something he had always known. Between his natural tendency to push others away and the paranoia that follows a life of corpses, loneliness was part of his daily routine. On the good and the bad days.
One of the first people he thought of was Kunikida Doppo . His partner, his coworker. Life had never given them a title to make clear what Dazai and Kunikida were to each other.
Times when coffee was shared among the two, or tea, they called dates. To Dazai, he addressed them as petit outings where pain became irrelevant. Within the vast vicinity of Kunikida’s presence, the psychological phenomenon known as pain simply didn’t exist.
In days, even years past, when pain became too much to bear, Dazai would seek salvation in the presence of Kunikida.
Not shedding a tear, but bearing his true self into the sleeves of his colleague’s jacket, Dazai trusted him the most. Trusting anyone else, that was the cause of his fears, his anxiety.
Defined by the lack of a stark jawline, that was his current fear.
Kunikida almost never allowed Dazai to indulge himself when it came to his craving of an end.
Outside of that vicinity, Dazai was alone.
So, inevitably, he was left alone to think. To think of despair, to think of hope.
To think of a means to an end.
“I have to tie those ends one day.”
That was what he told himself on a regular basis.
With a turn of a knife, and the smirk of a lip. His fingers encircled the kitchen knife that resides within his pocket. Pads sliced and bled as they brought the device up to his neck. A neck usually engraved with bandages, but at this time, with nothing more than scars.
The other hand, bearing a pen, wrote on a sheet of paper a goodbye in words unspoken, yet understood.
One of these days, you will reach your ideals.
He never wanted to be saved.
That was just an illusion.
With the twist of a knife, he murmured, closing his eyes to feel the metal scrape against his neck, a major artery directly linked to his brain. Then to his Adam’s apple.
“Just not today.”