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Perhaps the slap that sounded wouldn’t have been as jarring as it was if it wasn’t followed by a sniff. If Chuuya felt bad, he didn’t say anything. He just sat there, dumbfounded. If any normal person saw Dazai crying, they would probably pinch themselves and call it a dream; a fucking disturbing one, but Chuuya was not a normal person, hell, it was a stretch to even call him a person at all. He just stood up and walked away. Possibly processing the situation, possibly trying to find a way to get out of it. Dazai wasn’t going to stop him. If he wanted out? Fuck, he was gonna get out. He didn’t want him here, in a bloodied bathroom with a razor that was previously cutting the lines of his sanity through pale, verging on grey, skin in the goddamn toilet that was vomited into so many fucking times that he was sure that gagging whenever he saw a toilet was practically muscle memory by now.
Chuuya ran a hand over his tired face, brushing stubble on the way down to the fiery pits of whatever kept him from punching Dazai. He should hate him, he does. He does hate him. He wants to kick that no-longer-smug-but-currently-silently-sobbing face in. It’s always him, right? Picking up the pieces that Dazai so graciously leaves behind. He wants to kiss those stupid blotchy cheeks, he wants to break them with his bare fist. He wants comfort the dickhead that made his life hell because despite what his physical body says, he’ll always be more human than the monster that lays before him, sucking in shuddering breaths.
He’s fucked up, they both are and they both know that. They’ve both mourned the childhoods they could’ve had so many times that the abstract idea of innocence and purity was completely foreign. Perhaps it wasn’t normal for two fifteen year old to gawk at a child and their mother but hey, who gives two shits in the world of organized crime? They were parasites from the beginning anyways, right? Leeching off of anyone willing to spare the humanity they were missing. Perhaps that is why they worked so well together. Their breaking psychs completed each other. What a fucking cliche.