Work Text:
Death, death, everywhere.
No matter where Dazai looked, there were corpses - littering the ground, the streets, painting the cobblestone a deep red. Blood, oozing from bodies, seeping into the cracks within the cement. Blood, lingering in the air; a metallic scent, one that he could never get rid of.
A total massacre.
This was surely going to end up in his nightmares tonight.
"Mission complete," Dazai speaks into the receiver, though it's more of a whisper. "Return to Mafia headquarters."
Dazai turns around, his jacket flowing freely behind him as he leaves the bloody scene.
He really needs a break from all this.
Dazai hadn't bothered to bring an umbrella to work with him today. He never needed one.
He's drenched to the socks when he opens the door to his apartment.
"I'm home."
A ginger-haired man resides on the couch, a book spread over his lap.
"Welcome home."
He's tired and exhausted. All he wants to do is sleep and never wake up to the rays of the sun. But nightmares plague his mind, taunting him from the darkness. They're wretched, just like the corpses he's seen today.
Instead, Dazai makes his way to the male, collapsing next to him. He's sure Chuuya won't mind his soiled clothing. To much of his relief, Chuuya doesn't ask him about his day at work or why he came home so late. Chuuya simply places a warm hand on Dazai's head and brings it down onto his lap.
Dazai lets him.
"Rough day, huh," Chuuya's voice is soft and melodic compared to those screams and shouts Dazai's heard for the past hours. Dazai doesn't say anything as Chuuya places a comforting hand on his cheek, cupping it.
"Read for me, Chuuya," Dazai says, his voice ragged and raspy.
Chuuya hums, his fingers traveling to Dazai's hair, untangling the brown locks matted with blood and rain.
Despite the heater's grumbling in the distance, Dazai can make out Chuuya's voice clearly when he speaks.
"O expectations, stale and dismal airs,
leave this body of mine!
I want nothing anymore but simplicity,
quiet, murmurs and order.
O acquaintances, grantors of dark disgrace,
do not wake me again!
I will endure my solitude,
arms seeming already useless."
Dazai closes his eyes, enjoying the blissful feeling of his lover's hand through his hair; a form of reassurance, of unspoken words - It will be okay.
"O eyes that open doubtfully,
open eyes that stay motionless for a while,
ah, heart, that believes in others more than itself,
O expectations, stale and dismal airs,
leave, leave this body of mine!"
The feeling of sleep tickles Dazai's mind, then consumes him completely when his body relaxes and his breathing slows down. He hopes the nightmares don't get to him tonight.
"I enjoy nothing anymore but my wretched dreams."
Then again...
Maybe he takes comfort in them more than anything else in this world.