Work Text:
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Your bags fall to the floor dramatically, making your coworker snicker. Or maybe he’s laughing because you’re this worked up? You envy his ability to not freak out over this, but you want to slap him even more. But of course, you couldn’t. The bastard would probably enjoy it.
“What’s wrong? Do you not want to share a bed with me?”
You roll your eyes, not wanting to indulge him in his clownery, and dial the front desk. Maybe they could save you from him. They pick up surprisingly quickly considering the late hour, making you snap out of watching Dazai struggle with taking his shoes off.
“Uhm, hi, we’re in room 205 and I’m afraid there’s an issue. I’m sure we booked a room with two beds, but you gave us a room with only one bed. Is there anything you can do for us?”
It seems his shoe was tougher than he expected. He pulls and pulls until it shoots off and just barely misses a vase. He, however, was less lucky, and lets out a yelp as he falls on his badly cushioned bottom.
“Okay, thank you anyway. Good night.”
You sigh and sit on the bed, hands in your hair. So, summary: the hotel was completely booked, and you had to share a room, no, a bed with this idiot for the rest of your stay. Dazai jumps up.
“Aww, are you stuck with me? Well, look on the bright side, it could have been worse.”
You raise a brow. “How, exactly?”
“Well, you could’ve had to share a room with Kunikida. Who knows how early he would force you to get up…” he says, shuddering.
“That sounds worse for you than it does for me, I think.”
He shoots you a mischievous glance and opens his suitcase. To your surprise (not really), everything was just thrown in with not a single thought behind it.
“Folding is a waste of time if I’m going to wear it anyway.”
Well, can’t argue with that.
He somehow was able to unearth his pajamas and made his way to the bathroom. You sighed again. This man is exhausting to deal with, and you were now completely unable to catch a break? It feels like a nightmare.
After a while of pondering, you hear the door open.
“Jesus, Dazai.” He looks at you, a bit surprised at your exclamation. “Do you seriously sleep with those bandages on?”
His laughter rings through the air, a bit too loud to feel genuine, and while he seems to be enjoying himself, his eyes settle on you for just a second, showing the calculating stare that he usually reserves for only the hardest of cases. Maybe to see if you are buying his little show.
You let out a sigh at the absence of a proper reply, and grab your pajamas. “Don’t come in, I’m getting dressed.”
“But what if someone attacks you in there? I can’t let someone as beautiful as you die alone!”
You huff and turn around, locking the bathroom door behind you. Well, tonight is going to suck.
It’s not that you don’t like him, Dazai is a fun coworker you love working with. He’s clever and you respect him a lot, but sleeping in one bed together? That’s a few steps too far. Who knows what tricks he might play on you? What if he’s a clingy sleeper?
You don’t want to be here.
And the truth is, he don’t want to be here either. He’d much rather be at home right now, maybe drinking a little too much and simply sitting around, wasting time until he finally gets exhausted enough to be able to fall asleep. He’d rather be anywhere but here. Not because of you, or well, not because he hates you.
He hates the way you make him feel. The way you somehow manage to make him consider being vulnerable with you, even though he’s convinced his feelings are just a bother to everyone. To you. He’s so afraid of being open with you, even though he so desperately wants it.
————————
The hotel room is completely dark when you open your eyes. You hear something next to you, but it takes you a minute to recognize it as the sound of pages turning. You drowsily smack your arm on his book, too tired to think about what you’re doing. The man next to you laughs and closes his book. Wait, how was he reading in the dark?
“Ah, you’re awake.”
You grumble and stretch a bit to wake yourself up. A quick look at the alarm clock tells you it’s 4 am. Why couldn’t you just sleep through the night and have it be over? Why did you have to wake up?
“Why are you up?”
He inhales sharply, but doesn’t answer your question. You keep quiet, not willing to brush it off or change the subject. If he doesn’t want to talk, you’d prefer to go back to sleep. Slowly, you sink back into your pillow, ready to go back to dreamland…
“I guess I can’t sleep.”
You felt his eyes on you, gauging your reaction. For some reason, that short sentence carried a heavy weight, and you could feel it. It was just the tip of the iceberg, but he was comfortable enough to tell you. You were aware that if you fucked up right now, he’d close off and never be honest with you again. Thinking of a reply was harder than it should have been with such an innocent little sentence. Pry too much, and he’d laugh it off again, crack a joke and the rare, honest moment would be ruined.
“Do you want to hear a bedtime story?”
It seems you caught him off guard, but after a moment of silence, he started chuckling.
“Please, do go on.”
You clear your throat.
“Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a lonely boy. The boy didn’t want money, power, or a love story out of a fairy tale.”
“Isn’t this a fairy tale though?”
“Shut up and listen. Anyway, what the boy wanted most was a friend, but he thought his sadness was a burden to the people around him. And so, he goes to look for a mask which, according to the legends, makes you appear like the best version of yourself around others. But there is one problem. The mask is guarded by a fierce, fire-breathing dragon, and the boy is not a good fighter.
So, he decides to look for help. He’s embarrassed by his motivation, so he never tells anyone. Eventually, he finds a girl with some fighting experience, and they venture out to look for the mask together.”
Dazai yawns.
“So, they find the mask and live happily ever after?”
A slap finds its way to his chest.
“Yes, they found the mask. But the moment he put it on, he felt something was wrong. All along, he just wanted someone to listen to his heart, but pretending to be someone more pleasant only made it harder for him to share his truest feelings. Deep down, he was still that same, lonely boy. The girl wanted to help him, but because of the mask, he couldn’t open up to her. The boy got what he thought he needed, but by doing so, lost what he actually wanted and already had.”
“This is the most depressing bedtime story I’ve ever heard.”
“Well, maybe it’s not too late for him. Maybe he can throw the mask away and get the girl back.”
“Maybe,” he says as he sinks into a deep sleep. You smile softly.
“I hope he does.”