Work Text:
Fuck, he thought as he stretched this new particular wound. How he ever managed to get so beaten is beyond him, but personally he blames it on the extreme coughing fits. Curse his stupid terminal illness.
Akutagawa, in a state of extreme blood loss, and not knowing what to do, goes to the apartment of the responsible man who usually does in situations like this. Albeit, only after reaching the window to his apartment’s living room does he remember said man is gone on a two week long mission, one week and a half now, in a completely different country, but he doubts he still wouldn't be allowed inside. Chuuya has made it very clear that he can come in whenever, and Akutagawa still knows where the first-aid is, and Chuuya even left his window unlocked. So yeah, he still allows himself in. But he still remains blissfully unaware of what is inside, even as he ever so slowly opens the window.
Dazai was having a peaceful day for once. Unusual, he knows, but he was basking in it. Chuuya and the other agency members were teaching him that not everyday had to be so chaotic and eventful, he grew to enjoy the calmer days as they started to slowly increase in his life. So there he sat, reading a particularly good book that was not his suicide book on his couch, well, Chuuya’s couch but he lives there too, so— but he is interrupted by a weird thudding noise outside the window. He studies it, eyebrow raised, he wonders what’s causing it. Could someone be trying to break in? What kind of idiot– except as he gets a closer look at the figure, it looks familiar, so he goes to the window and opens it only to be greeted by his old student’s shocked and visibly bloody—wait, blood?— face.
“Akutagawa?”
“Uhh,” the younger boy stammers out, “D-dazai-San, I, I only came here because I didn’t really know where to go, and I wasn’t really expecting-“ he started rambling, “what are you doing here?”
He takes in the mafioso’s battered and distraught form, closing his eyes and fighting back a headache, “God, it’s like two in the morning, boy,” he sighs out, massaging his temple.
Said boy lowers his head, muttering a quiet “I know.”
“What even happened,” the brunette dared to ask.
Akutagawa didn’t really know what to answer, I can’t possibly disappoint Dazai-San like this! But he came here for a reason, he sighs and relents as he looks up and sees Dazai’s questioning glare. He knew he couldn't lie or get out of this one, so he simply answers–
“Ah, well, you see, Dazai-San. I was on a mission, and then due to technical difficulties with my body–” it turned into a full blown ramble, “accidents happened, it’s best I showed you.”
And so he jumps in through the window, making Dazai react quickly and back up a few steps in order to give them space, he winces from the sudden movement. The blood on his blouse underneath the jacket, and leaking through his sleeves onto his hands, and bruises on his face, along with the first all over him now visible, and in Dazai’s line of sight, the man only briefly takes in his appearance before sighing. His hand is still placed on his face, and he still looks like he’s fighting off a particularly nasty migraine, causing Akutagawa to wince once more, but not from his open wound.
After hearing Dazai mutter an exasperated-sounding ‘oh my god,’ he decided that was the last straw and to ask if he should leave. He could deal with his own wounds at his own home.
“What? No,” he exclaimed, before breathing in and replying a little calmer, “I’m not going to kick out an injured person I invited in,” he said, “and definitely–especially not you!” And Akutagawa didn’t know what to make of the words, or what to say. So he stood there, dumbfounded.
“Bathroom. Sit and wait for me. Now,” Dazai commands, pointing towards the aforementioned place. Akutagawa only nods before slowly making his way to it, making sure not to aggravate his wounds. He waits there patiently, sitting on top of the lidded toilet, only for a minute before Dazai makes his way towards him with a med-kit, and oh , Chuuya must’ve moved it because he swore it was in this very bathroom last time.
Dazai sat down in front of him, opening the kit, he looked back and forth between the mafioso and the medical supplies briefly, before finally breaking the awkward silence, “right, well for me to treat you, you kind of have to,” he motioned towards Akutagawa's jacket, which would probably be dyed red had it not been black by now, “but only if you’re comfortable, with the expense of your, y’know, life.”
“I know, I know, I’ve done this before.” Akutagawa slowly took off his jacket and started unbuttoning his blood-stained blouse, all the while Daai just sat there, preparing the supplies he was to use.
It was a bullet wound, so Dazai put on a pair of gloves and used a set of tweezers to help pull out the bullet still lodged in his waist, Akutagawa still had some other cuts and bruises, but they’re not as bad so they can focus on those later. Akutagawa winced only twice as Dazai pulled out the bullet, and managed to avoid wincing altogether as Dazai cleaned off the wound and applied disenfectant. Really, he couldn’t find himself able to react at all, buried too deep in his thoughts, and he had two main questions on his mind.
Why was Dazai here? It was obvious that something was going on between Dazai and Chuuya, and most Port Mafia members knew they were living together, but that was before Dazai’s betrayal—and sure, there had been some speculation that recently they had reconciled and started living together, it was just that–speculation. Although, Akutagawa had his own two cents on the topic, and even as he chose to ignore a book on the shelf he knew Dazai used to enjoy reading on the shelf, a cup that looked strangely like the one Dazai would always drink his black coffee from during early morning training sessions in the kitchen, or even Sake bottles hidden in the back of the fridge when Chuuya asked him to fetch him a bottle of water that one time he was invited to Chuuya’s apartment, all appear In his apartment— he didn’t even like Sake, or novelists from post-World War Two!— he had realized that that was likely the case. He had no comment on that.
That wasn’t his biggest concern. His main concern was about what Dazai had said earlier. Definitely not me. Especially not me. What was so special about me? Does Dazai-San still care about me? Did he ever care about me? Is he just starting to care about me? Or is this just some obligation.. god, it was frustrating. He didn’t know what to think as a million thoughts rain across his head, and–
“God, could you stop thinking so hard? I can practically hear the internal-dilemma,” Dazai groaned, pulling Akutagawa, and he couldn’t help but stare as Dazai stitched up the wound with only the accuracy and perfectness of a man who was personally trained by a doctor who’s only lost patients’ demises were planned. Although, knowing Dazai, it seems the last few years have caused his skills to get rusty. “It’s unnecessary to think so much,” Dazai continued, effectively pulling Akutagawa out of his mind once again in the last five minutes.
“S-sorry,” he muttered out. Dazai only hummed and they returned to thoughtless, awkward silence as Dazai finished up his stitching.
“M-may I ask you a question?” Autagawa asked, bravely breaking the silence.
Dazai froze, facing down in a way that hides his expression. After a few hesitant seconds, he finally looked up a smidge and replied, “If it’s about why I left, I think I made it pretty obvious, and there was no factor that included you for why I left nor anything you could’ve done to stop it.”
Akutagawa nodded, “I know, I can finally see clearly now,” and that seemed to make Dazai twitch the slightest bit, but he ignored it, “I want to ask you something completely different.”
Akutagawa took the silence from Dazai, as his mentor pulled out the gauze and started wrapping it around his waist, to ask his question, “why me?”
“You’re gonna have to be a little more specific than tha-”
“No,” Akutagawa cut off, maybe a little more sharply than he had to, “no I don’t.”
Dazai let out a sharp exhale before responding, “you had an endless amount of potential,”
“That I apparently failed to live up to,” he continued coldly, maybe colder than he had to, but years of frustration that was bottled up is now drizzling out, and he’s trying his hardest. This is a strained conversation, but he needs to know.
Dazai sighed, “maybe Chuuya had been the better choice of a mentor,” and that was the boiling point of this whole conversation, ‘cause if Akutagawa wasn’t frustrated before–
“All I wanted was to be recognized by you!” He exclaimed, “I just wanted you to see my growth and to be proud of me!”
“Careful, Akutagawa,” Dazai warned, “you wounds.” But Akutagawa paid no heed, he really was always bad at listening.
“I just wanted to be good enough, why couldn’t I ever be good enough?” He was all but yelling now, but he didn't care at that point, not when he was finally being heard by Dazai, who stared at him, gaping. “Why didn’t you ever acknowledge me? Why did you treat me that way!?” And that is when he stopped, because that seemed to be Dazai’s breaking point, because he swore he saw a terrified expression before Dazai completely dropped it a millisecond later, in favor of a completely unreadable face, covered away by the bangs that seem to be oh so good at hiding Dazai and the honesty of his emotions, whenever he genuinely felt bad.
“I, D-Dazai-San,” he tried, but Dazai, in a soft voice that he swore he never heard before, and he wondered just how few people actually had, cut him off.
“No.” And he couldn’t find himself able to continue to speak, allowing Dazai to continue. “I was horrible, to you, to everyone, for so many years,” he says with such genuinity that he wonders if this is actually Dazai. “I don’t understand people like you, Akutagawa, how could you ever still look up to me the way you do?” Except it was Dazai who looked up at him in that moment, genuine confusion graced his features.
“Dazai-San, it’s because I-”
“It’s because you’re grateful?” he asked, coldly, “because I’m amazing and powerful ? Or because I terrified you?”
“Yes, that! Exactly! I’m grateful to you for taking in me and my sister and giving us a chance! It’s because you’re one of the greatest people I’ve met! You’re powerful and you’re so smart, your brain is terrifying.”
Dazai was gaping at him, “no! What part of what I said don’t you understand? I was horrible to you! Why do you still think the world of me? Why do you always look at me with such adoration, like I’m a god in your eyes?” And, oh , Akutagawa thinks he understands now. Dazai-San doesn’t think the same of himself. Dazai-San doesn’t feel the same way.
“Fine, I’ll lose all respect for you,” he fake-compromises, “if you tell why you looked at me with such disdain, why you treated me the way you did. It will make me lose all respect for you, if you tell me why you did what you did knowing what I know now.”
And Dazai shrunk, the equivalent of how a child would when being told off by an adult.
Akutagawa is not blind, so he continues to prod, although hesitantly because what he is about to say requires the utmost sensitivity if he is right , “Is it because of the Boss?”
And if Dazai was gaping before–no he was horrified—Akutagawa will take the time now to say once again, he is not as blind as everyone thinks— so, no, he did not need an answer.
Dazai guiltily looked down, like a child who was caught stealing from the cookie jar, and it did not fit him.
“I..” his ex-mentor started, “I was scared.” And now it was his turn to be dumbfounded. “Scared of you, scared of me, scared of..” of Mori. Akutagawa stayed quiet, hoping his mentor would confide more. What does he mean by scared of me?
“You were.. You reminded me too much of myself,” and now if Akutagawa was shocked before—”And at the time I had a deep-seated hatred towards myself, always have, still do,” he said, smiling grimly.
“Dazai-San..” Akutagawa muttered, he no longer had such a shocked expression on his face, no, he was listening intently. Dazai was confiding in him, was talking to him— actually talking to him —this was an opportunity he wouldn’t throw away.
“I didn’t want you to turn out like me, so I had hurt you, maybe even took out some of my anger on you, and screwed you up, screwed you up like h-how,” Dazai continued, although reluctantly. This must be a lot for him, “how Mori screwed me up, and for that,” Dazai looked up to the boy he was still bandaging. “I am so sorry.” Akutagawa gaped at the man before him, had Dazai-San just apologized? No, no no no, that is not what he wanted to hear!
“Dazai-San–!’’
“I know,” he chuckled, matching his grim expression, “pathetic, aren’t I?” He had finished with the bandaging and was just sitting there, refusing to meet his old mentee’s eyes despite how badly the ravenette wanted to.
“Dazai-San–”
“Now you can hate me, forget about me, oka–”
“Dazai-San!” Now he had his mentor’s attention, “please, listen to me.” He took the silence as a signal to go on, “I am nothing like you,” he said, resolutely. “I am not some child prodigy, nor the reluctant right hand of his boss,” he said, ignoring the man’s wide-eyed, childlike expression, ignoring the fact this man never got to be, ignoring how his words might hurt, because to any other person this might have seemed cruel, but to them these are the most comforting words one might say, “I am not someone with so little loyalty, so little conviction to live, who constantly seeks and wishes for death—no, I am the Port Mafia’s ‘Rabid Dog ’ and the leader of the Guerilla Attack Force,” he said, as Dazai just listened, not making a sound, “I am not your mentee, but your ex-mentee, I now work under Chuuya-San, the strongest martial artist of all of Yokohama, not the Port Mafia’s Demon Prodigy, “he finished, “I am not you.”
I am not a lost, hurt child, not a boy who was forced to grow up too quickly, although we were both accustomed to loss and death at a young age, we are not the same. I am not him. Akutagawa stared at the brunette kneeling in front of him, his head was down and Akutagawa could no longer read his expression. His ex-mentor stood up, and out of old habit Akutagawa quickly followed suit, but as soon as Dazai had stood, he collapsed onto Akutagawa, burying his face into the crook of his neck as he caught him. Akutagawa allowed him, despite initial reluctance. Dazai shook in his grip, minutely. Akutagawa knows to respect this kind of vulnerability, he knows that , because although they are not the same person, they still have some similarities that they cannot deny. They both struggle with vulnerability.
“Dazai-san,” Akutagawa ignored that the shaking man in his arms was his ex-mentor, was Dazai-San , he ignored that this was the same person who betrayed them for unspeakable reason, that this was the man who up and left, not because him, nor because Chuuya, or Mori-San, or that Sakaguchi Ango, and he could’ve denied that Sakunosuke Oda’s last wishes and continued on with his life even though the mere thought of it makes him sick to his stomach, no. Dazai left of his own volition. And they all had to respect that. They had to respect that this was a different Dazai, maybe even a truer Dazai. So respect that he shall.
“I am not a selfless man, I am selfish. I could never be like you. You, who can be both so selfish and so selfless at the same time. I am not the kind of man who can find that one person I’d do anything for, to feel so guilty if they were to die,” he continued, as he chose to ignore how the brunette in his arms started whimpering, allowing him to see this weak version of him. Ignoring the fact this was a man who was born and raised from hate, watered with it and bathed in blood, and learned, believed , that was the only way to nurture others, to love others. Ignored how it had been that way until he found that one special person, those few special people. Ignored how the connotation of that had meant everything to himself.
“Akutagawa, I am so sor-”
“That is not what I want to hear,” Akutagawa said simply.
“Then what do you want to hear?” Dazai asked, quietly.
“I want both of us to be free from this guilt, and these shackles,” Akutagawa answered, like it was the simplest thing in the world.
“Well, I’m proud of you, Akutagawa-Kun, I really am,” Dazai said, hugging said ravenette, and burying his face on the top of his head, effectively leaving said boy in a stupor.
“D-Dazai-San—”
“It was never only how powerful one was, how how many people they could kill, or how strong who they killed was,” Dazai explained, “I valued common sense, intelligence, and rational over all,” he breathed out, “but I also valued those who were pushed around and shoved into the dirt, those who experienced hell, and yet—still had the power to go on, was able to keep that light inside burning bright.” Akutagawa’s breath hitched.
“You have made me proud, Akutagawa-Kun, you should finally feel proud of yourself.”
“Dazai-San,” Akutagawa spoke, “you should know you are so much more amazing than you think you are,” Dazai blinked, “really, you are not as bad as you, or maybe even some other people make you out to be, I’m sure Chuuya-San feels the same.”
Dazai and Akutagawa’s relationship is a misunderstood one. Perhaps, in a different life, in a different setting and under different circumstances things could’ve been a little better. But if it took Dazai freeing himself and seeing the light for this to finally happen, then truthfully, none of them mind.
“Dazai-San,” Akutagawa finally broke the silence.
“Hm?”
“Let’s be friends,” he shocked Dazai once again, “please, let’s just let go of the past, let’s just forget, you don’t have to be my mentor anymore, just,” Akutagawa pleaded, “forget.”
Dazai smiled into the hair of the young boy in front of him, “okay, let's. I promise to be better.”
———
——
—
When Chuuya returned to his apartment after a two week long mission, he didn’t expect much, but he definitely didn’t expect this.
“ ‘m home!” He called out, just in case his partner was here, as he threw his jacket onto the coat rack by the door. As he walked deeper into the apartment, he heard noises from the kitchen and decided to check it out.
“No no, Akutagawa-Kun,” Dazai scolded with a teasing tone, “you don’t mix so fast, you do it like this!” Dazai started demonstrating, using the spatula to mix the dark brown batter in a slow, circular, folding manner as— is that Akutagawa!? —watched intently. Chuuya could only stare in shock, eyes comically wide.
“Oh, I see, thank you Dazai-San.” Dazai only smiled, nodding in response.
“Mhm, no problem!”
Turning away from.. whatever that was , Chuuya took in the state of the kitchen. There was flour and batter all over the place, and trays and trays full of what looked like failed attempts at brownies, it was an absolute mess, and wait—
“What the fuck happened to my kitchen!?” Chuuya yelled, earning the attention of two culprits.
“Eh? Oh, welcome back, Chibi,” Dazai welcomed, voice saccharine, “I was teaching little Akutagawa-Kun here how to bake brownies!’’ And Chuuya wanted to wipe that stupid (read: adorable) grin off his face.
But something he also wanted to do, was know why Dazai-fucking-Osamu was teaching Akutagawa Ryuunosuke of all people, how to bake. Actually, he forgot about all of his initial rage in favor of utter shock.
“Okay, why exactly are you teaching Akutagawa how to cook?” He asked, voice blank, as he raised a skeptical eyebrow at the taller man.
“Why,” Dazai repeated, with contemplative innocence, putting his pointer finger on his chin, “because that's what friends do of course!’’ He smiled.
Chuuya’s eyes widened comically, “what!?”
Akutagawa looked up at the two from where he was concentrating on mixing the batter exactly like how Dazai did, offering “mhm,” as his only answer.
“Aww,” Dazai, “Chibi’s gone for a few weeks and suddenly he’s missed out on so many things.”
“Huh-!?”
“We became friends the other day,” Akutagawa finally spoke up, “but nothing to worry about, “Chuuya-San, everything is okay.”
“Mhm,” Dazai looked back at the younger boy smiling fondly, in a way Chuuya never knew he could smile at him, allowing Chuuya to forget at his earlier anger to be absolutely dumbfounded once again, “a-okay.”
And so, Chuuya smiled fondly at the two boys. He didn’t know what he had missed, but he knew that it must’ve been a huge healing moment for them.
These boys, he chuckled fondly.
“Hm,” Dazai inquired, “what’re you laughing for?” Both younger men looked curiously at him.
Chuuya shook his head, still smiling, “nothing, nothing at all.”