Chapter Text
Dazai’s pen scratched against the paper.
This handwriting was loose and messy, but Dazai doesn’t write like that.
Chuuya gawked at him, but he paid no mind. He doesn’t know where his mind is anyway; it ran away during it and is refusing to come back. Dazai watched himself from the screen in his head; he watched himself scribble his signature and write reports. He watched himself shoot a man, and he watched himself begin to walk away after he turned down drinking with Chuuya.
The screen cracked.
The screen cracked, and it forced Dazai back into the walls of his skin. His mind came back to lock him into the cell. All his eyes saw were brown wooden floorboards. Dazai allowed everything to remain fuzzy as Chuuya yelled at him; his ears rang to protect him from the unideal sounds. His vision swayed from side to side as Chuuya dragged him up, allowing Dazai to press against him. Hot breath met Dazai’s scalp, but he didn’t move. He was trapped in this statue, and his mind had run off again. The fuzz flew away like a swarm of startled birds as Chuuya threw him onto the couch. Chuuya spoke over the now quiet ringing,
“What’s wrong with you?”
The skin on his lips was sewn together and he couldn’t find the strength to pull them apart. His eyes peered up at Chuuya and fuzz acted as a happy voice,
“Nothing, Chuuya. I’m actually doing quite well today. You see, I won at my game and-”
“Dazai… enough. You can’t keep lying to me. It’s almost like you want me to leave you.”
A small feeling in Dazai’s head agreed, but he did not act on it. Chuuya pushed Dazai’s legs to the side and sat on the couch,
“Now, tell me what’s wrong.”
Dazai mirrored Chuuya and sat up; his entire mind pressed him to lie again, to assure Chuuya nothing was wrong because nothing was wrong. Dazai is fine, not good or bad just fine,
“I’m serious. Nothing is wrong right now.”
It is strange how someone can be so out of touch with themselves. Chuuya grimaced,
“Dazai, you know what’s wrong.”
But, he doesn’t! Dazai truly doesn’t know what’s wrong. A normal day has been taking place. Yesterday, he woke up, went to work, messed with Hirotsu, went to Mori’s office and-
Oh.
“Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,” Dazai practically sang as Chuuya looked at him funny. Something has forced up his eyes, and he sees.
“Mori.”
“Mori?”
Dazai hums. Chuuya repeated himself and was answered with silence.
“What happened?”
“Do you really want to know?” Chuuya pressed,
“Yes, I do.”
His eyes attempted to pierce through Dazai’s soul (like Dazai did to him) but were forced out by the wall surrounding Dazai. He was completely alone, and no one will ever dare try to change that. Maybe Chuuya will.
“No, you don’t,”
Chuuya opened his mouth, but Dazai spoke quickly,
“I can’t tell you. I can’t tell.”
“No. No, you can’t keep lying to me,” Chuuya wrapped his arm around Dazai, pulling him close. He pressed his warmth to surround Dazai’s stiff body in warmth for once. Dazai shifted in response to surround himself in the warmth. His mind continued to scream no, but those thoughts came out as a choke.
“I can’t tell you.” Chuuya remained patient,
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know… Because I don’t know how you’ll react,” the small voice confessed. A bundle of emotions rushed to Chuuya’s head: fear, sadness, and shock.
‘Does Dazai know what I feel now?’ He questioned himself.
He wanted to take a stick, place it in Dazai’s head, and fish him out. Chuuya wanted to pull Dazai out of his mind, lift him up, and never let him be alone again. Of course, he couldn’t, and that made his heart ache.
“How do you want me to react?”
“I don’t know.”
The silence was loud.
Dazai wanted to scream to yell, “I don’t know, I don’t!” Over and over again till his tongue bled and blood from Chuuya’s ears dripped onto his forehead. He doesn’t know why he didn’t. Instead, he banged his head on Chuuya’s stiff shoulder before allowing it to rest there. “I don’t want you to react because I don’t want to tell you at all.” Despite the brittle voice, the words were equivalent to a stab in the heart.
Chuuya pushed Dazai’s head off his shoulder, who tried to keep it there and sat face-to-face with him.
“You’re telling me. If I have to see you mope around for another day, I’m going to lose it.” Dazai’s eyes panged, and Chuuya seemed to read his mind,
“Yes, you are. Now talk.”
Dazai wanted to collapse, “He…uh, he-”
Chuuya looked at him expectantly,
“No. No! Stop forcing me.”
Chuuya’s eyes almost fell out of their sockets. For the one second Dazai raised his voice, it still shocked him. Chuuya listened to the ache in his hands and stole Dazai’s body from the depths of his mind. Dazai allowed himself to succumb to the touch; it wasn’t so bad when Chuuya touched him. He pressed against Chuuya limply who pressed against him tighter than before.
Dazai wanted more clothes; he wanted to bundle himself up to where he couldn’t feel the top layers of the clothes. Chuuya begged him now,
“Tell me. Please. I won’t treat you any differently.”
Doubt and exhaustion clouded his mind,
“You-” his vision went fuzzy again, “You’ll-”
Despite the struggle, his mind did a favor. To lift him up and place him in a calm lake, allowing him to stay afloat. Chuuya let out a breath in response, picking up Dazai’s unconscious head and placing it on the other side of the couch. Allowing Dazai to curl into himself and push his legs into Chuuya. Chuuya sighed in disappointment as he turned on the TV.
He remained in oblivion for a few days; until he saw Dazai limp out of Mori’s office with puffy eyes and a disheveled appearance.
Then, he realized.