Chapter Text
Dazai, inherently, is a selfish man. This doesn’t come as any surprise. He was selfish from the minute he came into this world and he was certain that he would remain unwaveringly selfish until the bitter end. He never believed he would find love so his own desire, so corrupt and malevolent, took the front seat in every step he took. Even when he did something in the interest of another person, the underlying issue always circled back to what he wanted, what he wished for. The world existed solely for his own benefit, that’s how he’d lived since the moment he could think. There was never anything wrong with this in his mind, what problem could there be with taking what he wanted when he wanted it?
A big problem, apparently. When he laid eyes on Atsushi he didn’t really know what to think. He was dense and altruistic, a complete opposite of Dazai. A narrative foil in the most obvious way possible. Somehow where he found himself drowning in his own narcissistic nature, Atsushi couldn’t find a single egocentric bone in his body. It was probably a bad sign that Dazai’s first thought on Atsushi’s character was that he was somebody worth corrupting. The selfless thing to do, the thing Atsushi would likely do if he was in such a position of power, was to let things be. Let Atsushi grow and become someone who deserves to live the way he craves so much. Though as is well established, Dazai is not such a selfless person.
Atsushi was very unsurprisingly easy to please. Something fairly par for the course of an abused orphan with clear abandonment and self worth issues. Any bone Dazai threw and Atsushi was eager to go fetch it. The boy wasn’t exactly stupid, Dazai would never be the one to make that claim, but gullible wouldn’t be an inaccurate word. It was perfectly fine though, Atsushi wouldn’t be Atsushi if he didn’t wholeheartedly trust Dazai no matter how many times he ended up being broken. It was easy to test the waters, something as simple as tickling could be such a good indication of character. It was somewhat comical when Dazai requested Atsushi to lift his arms up, he did it every single time without fail. After the fifth time of Dazai tickling him every single time he complied, he contemplated that maybe Atsushi really was an idiot.
That wasn’t exactly true, though. There was a specific reason tied to the fact that Atsushi never complained nor did he voice his dissatisfaction with whatever evil plan Dazai came up with to mess with him for the day. He’s sure of that by now, Atsushi is well aware that when Dazai requests him to put his hands up that he’s going to get playfully albeit mercilessly tickled in return. If the blush that spreads so prettily across his cheeks is any indication at least. So the question was always, why? Why would Atsushi allow himself such vulnerability? It could be his need to please, or it could be that he’s simply too insecure with himself to object. Likely both. And the odd fact that Atsushi really did just trust him no matter what.
Somehow Atsushi found himself always at the weird corner of being both strong willed and pathetically weak. It was a struggle Dazai couldn’t find any familiarity with. Even in his will to die, he never really found himself weak in that regard. Atsushi however always became so terrified of the burden he placed on everyone simply by existing. He believed himself to be selfish for breathing. It was somewhat off putting that even Dazai’s suicidal ideation was rooted purely in his own selfish desires, like every part of his life was. Neither of them believed they should be walking this earth, but just as in every other aspect, where Dazai was a monster of egotism, Atsushi was nothing but selfless.
The first time Dazai kisses Atsushi, it’s easy to tell he’s uncomfortable with it. His entire face goes red and he stutters so innocently that it was his first kiss. Dazai hadn’t asked him beforehand and even when he can feel Atsushi shake with anxiety, he kisses him again. Much like the tickling, Atsushi does not fight. If Dazai had a hypothesis, it was that he likely didn’t feel he had a right to. No matter what leaps and bounds he made in his journey of confidence and independence, there was the simple fact that Dazai was the face Atsushi would always attribute to saving his life. With someone whose thoughts were so intrinsically linked to whether or not they deserved to even be there, who was he to deny the person who he owed such a thing to? After weeks of Dazai sneaking stolen kisses behind closed doors and in empty hallways, Atsushi doesn’t even hesitate anymore.
It’s a slow but effective process. Atsushi bristles with every new form of contact, as if he’s waiting to get hit for it. Effects from the orphanage, Dazai guesses. Someone like Atsushi would have never felt such physical affection before, a light touch from someone else is a monumental occasion for him. One day, when Dazai’s kisses finally slowly reach down the boy’s neck, Atsushi attempts to push him. Dazai has refused up until now to inform Atsushi on the state of their relationship, and honestly Atsushi hasn’t asked. This is a boundary of someone unsure, who doesn’t exactly get the context of what is happening but isn’t so clueless to have no understanding. So Dazai lifts his lips off Atsushi’s throat and hears the soft sigh of relief. But such a thing is short lived when he whispers into his ear, “Atsushi-kun, is that any way to treat your boyfriend?”
Dazai knows for a fact that neither of them had communicated about this. Thanks to his own keen efforts for the conversation to never reach that topic and Atsushi’s nativity, it’s never even been brought up. So Atsushi’s eyes widen considerably, and Dazai thinks it’s cute. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to speak, maybe object, so Dazai decides he’s not going to let him. His lips slot over Atsushi’s and interrupts the dissent before it can even be voiced. When Dazai trails down this time, sucking on the flesh there and earning small involuntary moans from Atsushi’s throat, he doesn’t meet resistance. He doesn’t push his luck much further, but the sweet sounds coming from Atsushi are rewarding enough.
It was always obvious that Atsushi had been pushed his whole life. There’s no comfort zone to invade because there wasn’t one created in the first place. Even those small bouts of resistance here and there are short lived, barely notable. All it takes are honey filled words and empty promises and suddenly the fight drains from him. The first time he touches Atsushi is much like the first time he kissed him. It looks like it’s too much too quickly for him, in fact, he looks scared of such a big step. But Dazai kisses his temple, and explains to him how patient he’s been with Atsushi, and that he’s been good lately, so he should let him have this one thing. And Atsushi lets him have more. Even though he’s scared, he doesn’t fight and Dazai praises him afterwards. It’s his biggest weapon in this fight to consume with such greed.
When he started this whole thing, Dazai had told himself he wouldn’t change for Atsushi. He cared about the boy, of course, but he wasn’t special. He was just like those others he’d wooed and sweet talked into bed his entire life. But maybe he was just kidding himself when he thought like that. Of course Atsushi was different. There might not be an exact reason he was clearly just different than the rest, but he was. Maybe it was because he apparently didn’t get tired. At the apex of these sorts of things, eventually the other person realizes they’ve been deceived or taken advantage of. They throw a big fit and Dazai walks away knowing they had every right to kick him out of their lives. Even the weak and stupid ones that he couldn’t care less about. But at the point where this apex always happens, Atsushi doesn’t throw a fit.
That’s when a thought comes across Dazai’s head that perhaps, Atsushi’s known he’s been strung along this entire time. Dazai will fight to his last breath that no matter how dense he can be, Atsushi really is no idiot. No matter how much stress Dazai had put him through, Atsushi still smiles at him and gives him reassurance, as if he’s the one being hurt in this stupid game he’s devised. When Dazai slits his wrists in Atsushi’s bathtub, the boy reacts with the same amount of vigor every single time. True and earnest concern lights up inside of him and with worn and tired eyes, Atsushi patches him up every time. “I’m just thankful you’re here.” Sometimes those words make him feel sick enough to vomit. Atsushi is simply thankful that he gets to be near Dazai. Someone as rotten and infested inside as him, and Atsushi is thankful for it. It’s because he doesn’t know any better, which makes him even more bitter.
He wants to blame Atsushi for it all. Afterall, he always looks so painfully aware when Dazai lies directly to his face. He’ll blink and then smile, then softly agree even though that is a lie in and of itself. When Dazai comes home late smelling like sex and deliberately not trying to hide it, Atsushi smiles. He wraps his arms around Dazai and acts like he’s anything but a monster. No matter how many times he does it, no matter how broken Atsushi looks, it’s how things are. He can see it in Atsushi’s eyes and the way he wraps his thin arms around himself, the question on the boy’s mind asking if he’s just not enough. The answer in his head is that of course he isn’t. It was drilled into his head at an early age that he’s unlovable, and Dazai has never been the one to tell him otherwise so explicitly.
Dazai doesn’t even like sleeping with those other people anymore. It doesn’t give him that same rush it did before in his other relationships. Atsushi pays attention to him like he’s god’s gift to earth, so it isn’t like this is even a proper scream for attention. Atsushi is enough. That’s Dazai’s answer to the question, if he were asked it directly. He doesn’t like the way the boy looks so hurt and dying all the time and that it can all be traced back to Dazai. Everything about Atsushi is perfect to him, but somehow he can’t just stop. He shouldn’t keep that stupid promise to himself that he wouldn’t change for one kid he picked up off the ground. The promise itself was flawed and selfish and was idiotic to make in the first place. He retracts his thought before, Atsushi had never been worth corrupting. He was worth the love he deserved. Atsushi deserved to live.
He wants to tell Atsushi that he’s going to change, because he’s the one person worth changing for. Even though they’ve never spoken about the issues aside from a soft and broken “It’s okay.” whispered on those nights Dazai felt weak, he knows Atsushi will understand what he means. He comes home early that day, because he’s practically bouncing off the walls with his epiphany. It was Atsushi’s day off anyways and he’s sure the boy will be elated to see him home so soon. He was always grateful just to be blessed with Dazai’s time, it’s been that way since they first met eyes. Dazai expects the smell of dinner when he walks through the threshold, but it doesn’t smell like anything.
The lights are off, and more notably, Atsushi’s shoes are nowhere to be seen. The entire place seems still and quiet. Dust filters through the sunlight peering in from the open door. Though, Atsushi himself had explained this morning that he was going to take the day to clean the apartment. When he walks further in, it’s apparent that nothing’s been touched since Dazai left. His trained eyes take in every bit of the rooms as he walks by. The dishes from breakfast are still in the sink, and the trash hasn’t been taken out either. The apartment isn’t exactly dirty, since Atsushi works hard on making sure there isn’t a mess to clean up in the first place. This is all just… odd. He doesn’t bother calling out to him, it’s obvious that Atsushi isn’t home right now. Though Dazai isn’t exactly sure where he could be, usually there was an unfair amount of reporting on his side of his every move.
He takes out his phone, calls the boy’s number. He’s sure that he’s being a hypocrite right now, if Atsushi called him every time he didn’t know where Dazai was, he would likely be told that he was being paranoid or annoying. But he already said he was going to change, and that could start with right now. He makes the decision that whatever Atsushi says he’s doing, Dazai won’t get mad about it. But the call goes immediately to voicemail. The message was made a long time ago, likely when he first got his phone, Dazai can tell because the Atsushi in this message is not the one Dazai knows now. His voice is ecstatic and bright, Dazai can picture the bright and genuine smile to go along with it. He misses it and it twists something inside of him when he realizes that he can’t remember the last time Atsushi smiled without looking like he was in pain.
He doesn’t answer the next three times and he gives up. This isn’t normal for Atsushi at all, and the idea that something bad happened to him gnaws at Dazai’s stomach. He had plenty of enemies, in fact they both do. Anyone could have decided to hurt him and caught him off guard. But he hasn’t heard anything in terms of ransom or demands in exchange for Atsushi. Nothing came up at work either. Considering their job, if Atsushi was kidnapped they’d know within an hour. But nothing looked out of place here, no one had informed them, and most of all his shoes were gone. It was likely Atsushi left the house of his own accord. Why? They didn’t have to grocery shop for another day at least, and there wasn’t any other business that Dazai knew of.
He calls some of their coworkers after an hour has passed with no sign of Atsushi. They all give variations of the same answer. No, none of them know where Atsushi could possibly be and none of them have seen him the entire day. He doesn’t hear anything until 5 hours have passed since he’s gotten home and it’s already night. The entire time was spent pacing their small apartment back and forth, waiting for the telltale sound of the door opening and Atsushi informing Dazai that he’s home safe and sound. Probably apologizing profusely for being a burden, for worrying him. The new him will embrace him and tell the boy everything is okay, he just wants him to be safe. When his phone rings he hopes it’s Atsushi.
It’s Kunikida. He doesn’t answer it because whatever he has to say is officially deemed unimportant. Dazai is getting ready to leave the apartment to turn Yokohama upside down to find his missing boyfriend himself when the phone rings once again. It’s Kunikida once again. Out of pure frustration he answers and begins with a smart quip. Kunikida doesn’t bite back, doesn’t start their usual bickering like they always do.
“Atsushi is gone, he quit. He spoke with the president about his resignation an hour ago. There’s a note for you, he specifically requested for you to come to the office to pick it up after he left.” Kunikida’s voice is dry and he immediately hangs up. Dazai is glad because for the first time in his life he has no idea what to say. First he laughs. Like he’s heard a funny joke for the first time in his life he bends over laughing. It was so goddamn hilarious that he just couldn’t stop until he was tearing up. He collapsed backwards on the wood floor, it stung his back. All he could do is laugh and remember how much it sucks to be alone.