Work Text:
You know that moment when you know you’ve fucked up—
“You don’t get to ask me questions, Chuuya. I’m the boss. My word is law.”
—and you know it’s not something you can come back from this time. Like waking up from a dream smelling smoke only to realize your house is on fire, the grass is on fire, the town is on fire, you’re on fire—
“Go fuck yourself,” Chuuya says. The shake in his voice teeters near the beginning of a sob. Dazai wasn’t sure this version of Chuuya knew how to cry.
—and although you know it’s just a matter of time before you burn up too, you remember there’s some things in this house you want to rescue first. Like the dog. What kind of monster kills the goddamn dog?—
“This is all for the survival of the Port Mafia and ability users at large. Isn’t that what you’ve been fighting for all this time?”
—But the dog is already burning, and you’re watching with matches and gasoline held in each hand. Caught sludge-handed. Not much you can do about that.—
“No. I didn’t do it for some shitty, hollow principle like that. I did it—” And this is one of those moments where you know what’s going to happen next but are powerless to stop it before the tragic conclusion. Like a car crash off a cliff and you’re double strapped into the passenger seat.The funny thing about self destruction is that it’s always been a team game. “—for you. Stupid motherfucker I am, right?” And, yeah. Stupid motherfucker you are for following a man that sees nothing but the dirt before his own empty grave.
—So you do your best to scrub the oil off your hands on anything not yet burning; hope your flammable hands don’t become a weapon before a savior. The dog is nipping and yelping at the flames on his back, and you’re ready to carry him out—
“What good have I ever done for you? Why would you do anything for me?” What he’s trying to get out of this question, he’s not sure. His guilt is telling on itself to the principal and praying for an execution. The court he's confessing to can’t give out the punishment he deserves. It never learned how.
—but the dog somehow knows that you’re not walking out of this burning house with him. He knows. So when you bend down to push him towards the window, he uses the only tricks you’ve ever taught him: sit, lay down, rollover. That training was branded in bone; there’s a fight here—
Chuuya didn’t answer his question. Instead says, “You can’t just throw me away now that you’ve gotten bored, or don’t need me, or whatever reason you thought up in your fucked up mind. I won’t let you abandon me after all this.”
—but this place is your grave. You knew that before you even bought the house. Had the number four engraved under every fooorboard and flowers planted out front. It should be a general rule not to invite others into your casket, and especially animals that never learned to fucking run—
“You’ve reached your maximum potential under my management already. It’s time you grow somewhere else.”
—and the worst part is that you never broke the dogs leg or starved it for trying to flee. You didn’t have to do any of that. You just had to convince it that life without a leash wasn’t a life at all.—
Chuuya moves into his space, cornering him against the wall with the desperation of a dying man. And he is. “What can I do to fix this? You can’t leave now. I won’t fuckin’ let you.”
—You made yourself the sole pillar of support in this thing’s life, and now your crumbling to dust. This beast is falling to hell with you, and you’re trying to catch him even as your exploding to pieces—
Dazai’s trapped against the wall with two arms caging him in, close to his skin (atoms away) but never touching. That, too, was trained; Chuuya knew touch only came after permission. It was a boundary Dazai said he set to protect Chuuya. To put distance between them this time. He’s not sure who it was really protecting. “You don’t ‘let me’ do shit, Chuuya. There’s nothing to discuss.”
—and it’s futile. How do you explain to someone that you’ve seen them die thousands of times in hundreds of brutal ways? How do you explain that this bonfire won’t be the last and maybe he’s always destined to burn the both of them alive—
“I have let you, Dazai. I have. You know it too.” Dazai knows Chuuya will survive this. No matter how much tragedy his soul incurs, there’s always been something distinctly human in the way he finds in it in him to survive. To endure. He knows it’s different this time, and that he made it so much worse, but Dazai has faith that Chuuya will always find a way to be super-human where he is sub-human. He will survive this, Dazai believes. Because he has to.
—To break the core of someone’s soul, the fabric of who they are, should be impossible. To achieve such a feat wouldn’t make you a demon; it would make you the devil.—
Chuuya broke the boundary between them to crash their lips together and unconsciously dragged his hand to press above Dazai’s beating heart. Dazai was sure one day those nails would sharpen to pinpoints and he’d rip the organ right out of his chest.
This Chuuya had been much more persistent on having a sexual relationship with him than in other timelines. He thinks it might have been a psychological need to bridge a gap. In this world, Dazai was all Chuuya had and the only standing human connection he allowed himself to make. Dazai had made an effort to be distant— needed space from his guilt. Chuuya needed that conditional closeness and was desperate to cross it in any way he could figure out how. Sex was more of a tool for Chuuya to reach through the smokescreen into Dazai’s heart than it ever was for gratification. Desperately grabbing for something that wasn’t there, and he was a monster for letting him try. So here Dazai was, for the first time, trying to be something more than a beast.
Dazai remembered a time where he slept in Chuuya’s bed through the night, and woke up to find Chuuya more alive than he had ever seen him. The redhead leaned over him and was twirling Dazai’s hair between his fingers, and his face was complimented with a soft smile he hadn’t seen in decades. Practically glowing in the morning sun and watching in a starstruck awe as Dazai opened his eyes. Chuuya considered it a gift, but Dazai only passed out Pandora's boxes and bombs. A devotion the size of the moon and a dying planet to orbit around; they weren’t making it out of this. And that scared him— terrified him— enough that he retreated further into himself and away from Chuuya after that. Dazai pretended not to see the tremor in Chuuya’s hand as he resisted from trying to reach back through that void in his chest. Dazai pretended the kisses he received were lazy and not yearning. Dazai had been pretending a lot of things about this universe’s Chuuya.
—So what. You conditioned the dog to be at your beck and call and that life doesn’t exist outside of you. You never told the beast this cage has doors you had never bothered to lock. You are begging this thing to save its own life and run until it gains back the life you took from him. You’re begging. You don’t ever beg, but it’s still not listening—
Dazai pushes back into the kiss and nips on Chuuya’s lips until blood was all he could taste. Because he needs Chuuya to remember this. This can’t be love if all you can taste is metal in your mouth and tears on your face. Tears. Dazai pulls back from the kiss even as Chuuya attempts to follow him to look at the wet tracks shimmering on his face, but Chuuya’s eyes aren’t wet. They are wide and in shock. He reaches up to feel them running across his skin faster than he can catch them. Dazai is the one crying.
—and you kick the dog away from you and towards the window because Come On! Survive You Fucking Mutt! But the dog fights back and now you’re both just ripping each other apart. You’re beating a broken beast and he’s killing a dead man.—
“You need to leave.” Chuuya knows his game now, has known it for years. Dazai likes to kick when he’s down and just keeps kicking. What he doesn’t understand is that this is out of his own mangled version of love and desperation. He doesn’t know Dazai manufactured a fucked-up mind out of both of them. He wishes he could apologize and it mean anything. He wishes an apology would taste like anything more than black blood pouring out of his lungs and between his teeth.
—And you’re ripping the fur out of its back in hopes of making it less flammable to your fire. By ripping this creature apart you are trying to teach him a new trick—
“I won’t let you do this to yourself or to me.” Chuuya’s voice cracks over the last syllable. It’s strange that he can hear the ice cracking under his feet.
—But you forgot you taught him violence is love. He feels closer to you now than he has in the years wasting away in the open grave.—
“I love you. Stay.”
—He loves you and look what you’ve fucking done.—
Dazai laughed but his mouth feels like it’s made of cotton and tongue made of lead. “You don’t know what that word even means.” He doesn’t say I love you too. Even Dazai’s cruelty has limits, and he’s dragging his fingers along the edges of them.
—Is it too late to get them both out of here? The smoke has filled his lungs and Dazai’s not sure there’s a real chance of survival anymore. Oda’s death lit a spark that exploded the moment it hit the gunpowder lining his smile.—
Chuuya captures his lips in another kiss before wiping the tear tracks off Dazai’s face. There’s no hitches or pauses in his voice as he whispers, “If you leave me here. I’ll burn the whole fucking planet to dust. I’ll kill every person in the shitty, cursed town.”
—And so you did it. You broke the soul of a beast so resilient millions of tragedies were never enough to bleed him out. Congratulations. Who knew that you were the only being that had what it takes to gut a god and walk away?—
He can’t remember the rule about shooting a horse with a broken leg, not right now. But he can feel the gun pressing into his hip and his fingers are twitching with the need to bury a bullet in flesh.
—And you’re walking away.—
“You were always better than I was Chuuya. I’m sorry for doing this to you and not having the strength to see it through.” He pauses, and breaks the limit. “I really do love you.”
—He’s followed you here. Why not go out in a blaze of glory? You’re both on fire.—
“Stop fucking talking like that! I can fix this! Please let me fix this Dazai, please. You’re a fucking monster. Just stay. You’re a monster. I love you. Just stay. ” And Chuuya’s hand is pushing harder against his sternum. A little more pressure and maybe it’ll crack open to his heart as one final gift.
—Exploding into flames, you watch as your skin blisters into ash.—
Dazai reaches back and puts the gun to his own head. Chuuya hesitates before reaching for it, that No Touching trick hitting his brain before logic does. The split-second he gains from it gives Dazai the time he needs to put it in place.
—But all you can think is: I’m glad I planted those flowers out front.—
And he pulls the trigger.
—Daffodils were always his favorite.