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Dazai was tired.
It was a bone-deep exhaustion that managed to weigh him down to the depths of the earth's core. It was as if he was drowning in the deepest parts of the ocean, and there was no way out. He couldn’t tell which way was up, and creatures of every nature circled him like prey.
Dazai hadn’t been able to sleep for two days. Ever since Monday night, he had been locked away in his shared room with Chuuya and felt trapped.
It wasn’t an involuntary incarceration; Dazai knew Chuuya wanted him to leave more than anything. He knew it wasn’t a malicious need; Chuuya just seemed overly anxious recently. Dazai knew it was because of his sudden episode, but he had no idea how to fix it himself.
The curtains in the room had been closed ever since he had tried to fall asleep that night after his attempted suicide. His mind had been screaming at him to keep some type of light on, but it caused him agonizing pain behind his eyes whenever light was introduced to the room.
So even though his thoughts were filled with vile images and extreme paranoia, there was absolutely no way he would keep a light on. Dazai knew that Chuuya had experienced dealing with him like this; sudden mood swings and irrational fear. Dazai knew exactly what was going on, too.
But it didn’t mean he was going to acknowledge it.
He felt Chuuya shift beside him in the bed and tilted his head to the right. Even though the lights were off and their blackout curtains were closed, a tiny sliver of sunlight peeked through, hitting Chuuya’s features perfectly.
Dazai’s eyes trailed over his tousled, orange-doused hair that curled around the pillow like a cage. His arms were splayed above him, and his hands crossed over each other as they squished themselves against the bed's backboard. His mouth was slightly parted, breathing coming out in quiet puffs. Dazai could see how lax his eyes were, Chuuya seemingly in the most peaceful place he could be.
Dazai knew Chuuya couldn’t dream, which always made him wonder what he experienced when sleeping. Was it complete serenity? When his eyes closed and his mind shut off, did he encounter the greatest bliss one could possibly imagine?
Dazai could never truly picture what that type of ecstasy could be. His nights were plagued with images of horrid things, things he wished never to remember again. It was as if his mind wanted to stir up his past to the widest extent, subjecting him to countless horrors Dazai had thought he had forgotten long ago.
Those depths that he constantly sunk to called to him like a siren. It lured him down, promising that blissful eternity that welcomed him with open arms. He could imagine himself in Chuuya’s head, thinking, feeling, and sensing nothing as he began his everlasting fate of complete nothingness. Not even the creatures at the very depths of the sea could get him now; they couldn’t circle him with repulsion as they schemed his demise.
A groan from beside him drew his gaze once more, and he watched as Chuuya lazily pulled his arms down to his chest. His lips slowly closed, and his eyelids began to shift, signaling that it was around the time of his wake.
Dazai watched in complete silence and a bit of awe as Chuuya’s eyes sluggishly opened, head instinctively turning to his left. The two immediately made eye contact, and Dazai let out a small breath.
Now, Dazai knew that his mind could play tricks on him and convince him of things that were entirely untrue, but he still had no idea how to fix the thoughts swirling through his head. This meant that only an hour ago when he had decided to cease his never-ending agony of attempting to fall asleep, he found himself staring at Chuuya with a strange sense of dread. A voice sat beside him and whispered into his ear countless faux stories of how Chuuya would never wake up again and that Dazai was watching his dead body. He hadn’t even thought to remember that his partner was breathing.
Watching Chuuya’s eyes part and his gaze land on Dazai seemed to draw that paranoia out. It was as if there was a miniature fisherman on Chuuya’s shoulder that would cast his tiny, copper hook into Dazai’s throat and wait until that charcoal black fish would take the bait. It was a simple procedure, and Dazai barely noticed as the man slowly winded his hook and pulled the fish out, preparing a nice dinner for whatever family he had.
“Dazai?” Chuuya groaned, bringing his hand up to his face to rub his eye. “Did you sleep?”
Dazai wanted to glance away, but he felt entirely enraptured with Chuuya's dazzling azure eyes. He could feel a small thrumming in his chest that he hoped wasn’t the charcoal fish eggs hatching. Dazai was tired of that paranoia shifting in his gut.
He shook his head the tiniest amount and pretended not to notice the disappointment in Chuuya’s eyes. He wanted to ball up his fist and send it through the glass window behind him, but he was too tired to move.
Chuuya shifted onto his side and propped his head up with his elbow. Dazai could never understand how quickly he managed to wake up. It was as if the morning sun was weaved into his very core. It could easily explain how bright he always was.
“So you haven’t slept since Monday night?” Chuuya asked, eyes boring into Dazai’s own with an intensity that always seemed to splinter Dazai’s walls. It felt like a piercing pain in his heart while always managing to have that same conflicting feeling as slicing his wrists did. It was unnerving noticing the minute similarities between his need for pain and obsession with Chuuya.
He didn’t want to think of it.
Dazai’s eyes roamed to the ceiling. He traced the cracks weaving their way above him, making an intricate design that Dazai constantly tried to figure out. He knew there was a pattern, something that kicked-started in his brain every time he tried to find it because it always seemed to draw him back in.
“No,” he muttered with slight hesitation. The sheer weight of this conversation was crushing his chest. All Dazai wished was to go back to when he was peacefully observing his partner's face.
Chuuya sighed and brought a hand up to Dazai’s hair. Dazai immediately flinched, although he had not a single clue as to why. Chuuya yanked his hand back as if he had reached too far into Dazai’s throat and had been bitten by that charcoal fish. Dazai could practically feel the confusion radiating off of Chuuya, but he knew his partner would realize it soon enough.
It was rare that Dazai had realized it in the first place. He was convinced it was due to the countless times Chuuya called him out on it, though.
He flicked his wrist, signaling he was fine, and Chuuya brought his hand back to Dazai’s hair. The effect was immediate; as fingers began to thread their way through his embarrassingly greasy locks, his eyes fluttered closed with a certain feeling of peace he hadn’t felt in far too long.
He found himself only feeling this way when he was with Chuuya. It was as if he was addicted to the man. Nothing compared to what Dazai felt when he was with him.
Dazai could practically feel the gears shifting in Chuuya’s head as he attempted to assess the situation. At times, his hands would still, as if he was deeply lost in thought. Dazai didn’t particularly want him to come to a conclusion; he was perfectly fine with wasting away in the nearly pitch-black room for the rest of eternity.
Dazai’s hand found itself reaching the place where Chuuya’s lone one lay. He hesitantly placed his own on top of it and slowly intertwined their fingers as if going any faster, and his wrist would be bitten off.
“Dazai,” Chuuya began, his hands tightening around Dazai’s, “Is this another episode?”
Dazai simply shrugged, acting as nonchalant as possible. Although, he could feel every intricate sense in his body, and it was practically driving him insane.
“You’ll have to be more specific.” His voice sounded hoarse. Dazai wasn’t sure why, although his rapidly increasing fatigue could be an explanation. His eyes never opened, and he was entirely content with keeping them shut till the end of time.
“You flinched when I got near you, Dazai.”
That was the simplest way to put it, was it not? Because Dazai never truly flinched. He wasn’t human enough to. A metal body created out of gears and mechanical parts couldn’t flinch at the slightest of movements. It couldn’t feel a deep rotting in its core that feared for its partner’s life, terrified that he wouldn’t wake up merely because he was a deep sleeper.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Chuuya ticked his tongue in annoyance before pulling his arm out from under him. He let himself flop into the bed but continued his calming ministrations on Dazai’s scalp.
“Do you need me to go through those bullshit questions again?”
Dazai could feel his heart thrumming in his chest, and there was a slight ringing in his ears. He couldn’t tell if this had been apparent throughout his drawn-out night or if it just started. That charcoal fish in his gut was back, making his stomach churn. All he wanted was to claw at his skin until he could get it out.
“I’m not going fucking crazy,” he muttered, squeezing Chuuya’s hand. His eyes were beginning to hurt, and a light pressure was at the front of his skull.
“Dazai, I’m not calling you crazy. Just because it has psychotic in the name doesn’t mean you’re going insane.”
There was a second of tense silence, and Dazai knew he wasn’t breathing. He could feel calming circles drawn onto the back of his hand, although he wasn’t sure if it was helping.
Chuuya sighed before squeezing his hand back. “Can you open your eyes for me?” He sounded so patient; it made something twist deep inside Dazai’s core. It felt as though he was going to pop.
Dazai slowly opened his eyes, panic hitting him in intense waves as he realized his vision wasn’t working. However, it was only a second before it quickly cleared. The hazy spots seemed to dance away at the low light peeking through the curtains.
His gaze drifted over to Chuuya, and he scowled at his satisfied expression.
“You were squeezing your eyes too tightly.”
“I know that now,” Dazai grumbled. He squinted at the bright light, and even though it spurred a light headache to hatch behind his eyes, he was suddenly thankful for the ability to see.
“How bad is it now?”
Dazai suddenly sucked in a breath as he felt his heartbeat increase. He would have controlled it as quickly as the irregularity appeared, but a stern look from Chuuya had him rolling his eyes and looking away with what one could consider an attitude.
He could easily put it on a simplified number scale and call it a day, but he knew Chuuya wouldn’t settle for that. It was a complicated process with this type of episode, and given how extreme Dazai’s paranoia could get, it made complete sense that Chuuya was attempting to gauge the situation.
Though, Dazai was too stubborn to focus on the logical side, which spurred moments like these.
“I’m not crazy,” he muttered again, throwing his hand over his face. “Stop fucking asking me about it.” His voice sounded muffled, given his arm covered it, but he assumed Chuuya had heard enough.
“Dazai, it can’t get as bad as it used to. I’m not fucking doing that again.”
“Who said it would get worse?”
Chuuya shifted once more beside him, and Dazai peaked out from under his forearm to watch him. He frowned as Chuuya pulled his hand away from their intertwined grasp. He observed him sit up from the bed and throw his legs over the side before resting his hands on his lap.
“Where are you going?” He asked, although he wasn’t entirely sure if Chuuya was planning to move. There was a high chance he would sit there forever and slowly freeze into a statue. At that point, Dazai would potentially be too tired even to notice.
Chuuya immediately proved him wrong when he stood up. He stretched his arms over his head and let out a deep groan before adjusting his sleep shirt. “I was going to make breakfast,” he replied, shuffling over to the door.
Dazai couldn’t bring himself to track him any longer and let his head fall back into the pillow. He waited for the door to click shut, but it never came.
“Are you coming?”
Dazai frowned as he glanced at Chuuya again. He was standing with his hand on the door handle, eyes filled to the brim with impatience. Dazai could practically see how it poured down his face and steamed the entire room.
“I—” Yet, Dazai couldn’t find himself finishing the sentence. His mind seemed to have short-circuited as every thought got whisked out of his ear and fizzled into nothingness alongside the steamy impatience. He propped himself up on his elbows and tried to force a word out of his mouth, but his tongue felt dry.
There was something chaining him to this bed. It was that same thing that had him convinced Chuuya was dead in his sleep, that deep-rooted paranoia that swam around in his gut, taking on the form of a little charcoal fish. The fisherman on Chuuya’s shoulder was sleeping now, apparently already overworked by Dazai’s churning stomach.
Chuuya had a knowing look in his eyes, and it drove Dazai mad. It made him want to lunge at his partner and rip his eyes out. He could imagine himself completely tearing up his face, making him completely unrecognizable.
Dazai forcefully brought his hands up to his face and dug his fingers into his eyes. “Stop looking at me like that,” he whispered, falling back into the pillow. The room around him was ripping into his vision like a machete through a thicket of grass. There was a distant buzzing coming from the kitchen that bounced around in his head as it echoed through his ears.
“Dazai, just tell me how bad it is,” Chuuya murmured, and Dazai could distantly hear his footsteps getting closer. He could almost imagine the light vibrations on the floor channeling through the bed and shaking his body.
“Just shut the fuck up.”
Dazai truly hated feeling like this. It felt like all his carefully crafted masks were tearing at the edges, giving Chuuya a perfect angle to stare into his true self. He hadn’t spent agonizing years analyzing the dozens of people around him and assessing situations to weave intricate strategies into a coherent plan. He didn’t become a perfect manipulator and master actor, only to become subject to a “psychotic depressive episode.”
That’s what Chuuya called it. Dazai knew he wasn’t crazy. He was fine. Dazai knew something was wrong with him, it was obvious, but psychotic? It wasn’t true. Chuuya had no idea what he was talking about.
Yet, Dazai knew he had to sedate Chuuya’s worry somehow. He knew his partner wouldn’t relent until he was honest, and Dazai found himself folding quite quickly to those sincere eyes.
“Maybe a seven,” he muttered, turning onto his side. He felt the bed dip beside him and tried his best to ignore the arms wrapping around his waist.
This type of touch was still entirely new to him, and he had no idea how Chuuya managed to adapt to their relationship so quickly. He still felt physical nausea whenever someone made contact with his skin. However, Chuuya was slowly worming his way under Dazai’s bandages, gradually nestling deeper until Dazai wouldn’t notice that uncomfortable thrum under his skin.
Chuuya’s head nuzzled into the crevice of Dazai’s neck, breath drifting past Dazai’s face and sending goosebumps down his neck. “That’s bad, Dazai.”
“Who cares?”
“I do, you idiot.” Dazai could picture Chuuya rolling his eyes as his hands tightened around his waist. “Do you need me to do anything?”
Dazai didn’t know. He felt as though his mind was simultaneously racing at a mile a minute and becoming muffled by a hazy fog. He could feel honey seeping through the grooves of his brain and coating the edges of his skull, and he had the overwhelming urge to take a saw to his head and cut the top of it clean off. The angels and demons from Monday night were silent, and Dazai had an irrational fear that they had drowned in the honey.
“Tell Kunikida-kun I’m dead,” he muttered, grabbing Chuuya’s hands with his own. It was an awkward position, being significantly taller than his partner while trying to be the little spoon, but they always made it work. “Do you think I can use this as an excuse not to do paperwork?”
Chuuya scoffed from behind him. “You’re the laziest person I know; you don’t need an excuse, you asshole.”
Dazai couldn’t argue with that, so he merely hummed in response. He tried his best to ignore the feeling of the sheets rubbing against his bare feet as he squeezed Chuuya’s hands tighter.
Dazai’s chest felt abnormally tight as he squinted his eyes at the wall. The room felt strangely dull, the floors a sad brown, and the walls covered in intense red. He locked his eyes onto the curtains expertly positioned over the window, given they were the only dark color in his sight.
That feeling that dragged him down to the earth’s core and into the deepest parts of the ocean was back. He could almost imagine himself choking on the water as he slowly drowned, lungs burning and mind blurring. The monsters that subsided at the bottom with him were circling him with hatred. He could feel eyes sticking to his skin and threats swirling through his mind.
“Dazai, talk to me.” Chuuya’s voice wormed its way through his muddled mind. That fisherman that sat on his shoulder was working extra hard as he attempted to pull Dazai out of the depths of his own mind.
Dazai attempted to curl further into himself, but Chuuya merely shifted with him. He could feel his hands and Chuuya’s digging into his stomach, and part of him felt nauseous at the pressure.
“I feel like I can’t breathe,” he whispered, his eyes blown wide. It was such a sudden development that it felt like he had been punched in the gut. He tried to suck in a breath, but his chest stuttered, and as he gasped for any semblance of air, an abrupt wave of dizziness crashed over him like an overarching wave attempting to drown him.
As Dazai shot up in a panic, Chuuya followed him again. Chuuya grabbed Dazai’s shoulders and maneuvered him, resulting in Dazai sitting cross-legged on the bed, facing his partner.
Chuuya had an alarmed look on his face. “Dazai? What’s happening?”
Dazai pulled his hands away from Chuuya and brought them to his chest. He had an overwhelming urge to rip open his shirt and claw at his chest until his lungs were fully displayed to the world. His head was pounding so intensely that it felt like it would explode.
Hands grabbed his face, and he was forced to look at Chuuya. He couldn’t process the panicked look on his face, the only thing on his mind being that he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to say something, wanted to snap at Chuuya for worrying about him, yet the words wouldn't come out.
“What can I do? Shit, Dazai, focus on my breathing.” Chuuya grasped the hands clawing at Dazai’s chest and brought them to his own. “Jesus, have you never had a panic attack before?”
Dazai attempted to glare at him, but he knew it came off as a weak attempt. He could feel Chuuya’s heart thumping against his chest, and even though his breathing wasn’t entirely normal, it was apparently supposed to help.
Dazai gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck your breathing techniques,” he forced out, gasping for air when he went too long holding his breath.
“You stubborn—” Chuuya suddenly let go of Dazai’s hands, and an overwhelming emptiness washed over him. He was about to open his eyes to ensure Chuuya was still in front of him, but he suddenly felt a sharp sting against his cheek.
The absolute shock that abruptly shot through his skin made his eyes pop open, and he sucked in a deep breath. He first noticed the complete panic-stricken expression plastered onto Chuuya’s face.
“Oh god, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”
Dazai let out a stuttering breath, which was followed by a sudden laugh. His hand slipped away from Chuuya’s chest, and he let his head fall slack as his eyes slipped closed. He quickly fell into a fit of giggling, and he gripped his shirt tightly.
“Dazai? Are you okay?”
Dazai drew in his sudden fit and took a deep breath. He slowly sat up and let his gaze land on Chuuya’s, his eyes lidden with fatigue. “Yes, I’m fine,” he muttered, waving his hand dismissively.
It was strange how quickly this film was placed over his mind. It somehow perfectly outlined his brain, coating it with a thin layer of oil that diluted the strange feelings trying to claw out of his ears.
Chuuya was looking at him with an unreadable expression, although his eyes held a glint of worry dipped inside. Dazai felt the need to get off the bed, specifically away from Chuuya, but his body wouldn’t listen to him.
Somehow, Chuuya seemed to notice his exhaustion and heaved a weary sigh. “Just—just lay back down, Dazai. You haven’t slept in days, and even I don’t want to deal with this shit right now.”
Dazai grumbled as gentle hands pushed his shoulders down, and his head hit the pillow. The absolute whiplash he felt made a numb sensation rush through his body and swarm into his mind; he had simply no idea how Chuuya felt.
“You slapped me,” he stated, eyes blank as he stared at the ceiling.
Chuuya settled in next to him and slowly pulled the sheets up to his chest. Dazai watched him then carefully stretch it over to Dazai, presumably cautious about upsetting him. Dazai didn’t understand his discretion but wouldn’t complain; it seemed Chuuya wouldn’t back down even if Dazai brought it up, so he decided to ignore it.
“I’m sorry.”
Dazai furrowed his brows, shifting his gaze over to Chuuya. His partner seemed genuinely apologetic, which Dazai couldn’t understand. Their relationship's casual physical abuse was regular for both of them, even. Dazai would admit that he reciprocated it just as much and even more.
“I don’t really care, actually. It fixed it.” Dazai merely shrugged, watching as Chuuya rolled his eyes. “What?”
“That’s not how you're supposed to respond. Are you fucking dense?”
“Really,” Dazai scoffed, rolling onto his side, “okay, Chibi, tell me how I’m supposed to respond.”
A temporary silence settled over the room as Dazai watched Chuuya’s facial expressions shift as if trying to figure out what to say. Dazai distantly wondered how late in the day it was and if he could avoid eating today if he prolonged this conversation.
“Damn it, Dazai , that’s not what I meant, and you know that.” Chuuya seemed to copy Dazai’s body shift, rolling onto his side and propping his shoulders up into the mattress. They were now staring at each other, eyes both swirling with a similar type of energy that neither found themselves being able to describe any time soon.
“What did you mean then?”
Chuuya frowned, cutting off a sigh that attempted to empty from Chuuya’s mouth. “Are you okay now?”
Dazai still felt a dull buzzing in his chest that swarmed his heart like bees. He could still feel a pulsing behind his eyes that threatened to explode his head. There was sharp tingling running skating across his skin, doing elegant twirls like a professional as they danced over his shivering limbs.
Dazai kept his eyes locked with Chuuya’s, and he sent him a small smile. It wasn’t sincere, and they both knew that; maybe Chuuya knew it far more than even Dazai could. He wanted to get lost at sea in Chuuya’s eyes, and for some strange reason, Dazai felt he would be entirely calm if he were to drown in Chuuya’s core.
Yet it was strange that Dazai could never wrap his head around the center of humanity and even the melancholy world wrapped around him; Chuuya was something so much more than either of those simple-minded things.
“I’m fine,” he replied nonchalantly, attempting to shrug a shoulder. Although it looked rather ridiculous, given his position propped up on his arm, it came out more like a twitch.
Chuuya quirked a brow at him, and Dazai immediately understood that he had been caught in the lie. Although it meant nothing; neither of them would elaborate because Dazai had expertly attached a certain weight to Chuuya’s over clarifications; a weight that would easily sink the rescue ship that Chuuya was perched on, searching desperately in the vast expanse of what was a bottomless sea.
It meant that if Chuuya truly tried to save him, he would fall into the same depths as Dazai, and they would die together. Despite Dazai’s fascination with a double suicide, he would honestly rather keep Chuuya alive for at least a while longer.
Chuuya was something magnificent that should never be subjected to the horrors of the sea, and Dazai would spend the rest of his life trying to deceive him out of attempting to fish Dazai out of those depths.
“If we’re both missing another day of work because of your lazy ass, I’m making you cook dinner tonight,” Chuuya announced, suddenly letting his head flop back into the pillow. A small puff of fuzz exploded from it, and Dazai watched with suppressed amusement as Chuuya began choking on the particles.
Dazai casually let himself copy Chuuya’s movements as he relaxed into the bed. He could hear Chuuya muttering something under his breath but ignored it in favor of getting comfortable. He tried to calm his heartbeat, discreetly bringing his hand up to his chest to track the muffled beats.
A hand unexpectedly grabbed his own and brought it between him and Chuuya. He closed his eyes as his hand was gently squeezed, one of their subdued acts of affection that neither would ever bring up.
Dazai tilted his head down at Chuuya, who was inching closer to him. He rolled his eyes as Chuuya’s other arm suddenly wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer to the middle of the bed. Chuuya let his head rest in the crook of Dazai’s neck, his breath brushing against Dazai’s neck, sending tiny shivers throughout his body.
“I don’t know how to cook, though,” Dazai whined, bringing his hand up to the back of Chuuya’s head. “Chuuya’s the one who learned how.”
Chuuya scoffed. “I’ll show you then. It’ll be a way to counteract your laziness.”
“But I don't want to.”
“Shut the fuck up and close your eyes.”
Dazai frowned with a slight hum as he let his eyes drift to the ceiling. The duo’s intertwined hand had gravitated to Dazai’s chest, allowing them both to feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. There was a small hum somewhere in his core that threatened to cut off his air and stall his heart, but the presence of Chuuya somehow managed to keep it down.
After staying awake for over three days, Dazai quickly felt the effects begin to hit him. He had been blissfully unaware during the late nights of thought that attempted to rot away at his mind, but being dragged into a serene scene with his partner urging him to sleep immediately made him feel sluggish.
Dazai knew he couldn’t fight his eyes fluttering closed even if he tried. Some part in the back of his mind was severely paranoid about the unavoidable nightmares that would wrap themselves around his brain like barbed wire.
Yet Chuuya’s calming presence beside him seemed to numb that anxiety. Even though he detested waking up with Chuuya’s worried eyes staring down at him after realizing he had been thrashing in his sleep, something deep inside his core felt a subdued sense of comfort whenever his eyes landed on those deep, cerulean blues.
“I love you, Dazai,” Chuuya whispered into his chest, the words sifting through Dazai’s increasingly lethargic thoughts.
“I love you, Slug,” he replied, his voice slurring over the words. He heard a quiet sigh beside him, and suddenly, he felt a blanket of warmth wash over him as sleep quickly spread through his mind.
Dazai knew he would wake up, paranoid about something bordering the line of insanity, and Chuuya would give him that somber look that somehow made Dazai’s nerves pop out of his skin. He knew he would find himself stuck to the bed once more and that the detective agency would have to wait for his return for at least the rest of the week.
Yet he found himself sinking deeper into this temporary security that could very well be false. He could imagine it all being ripped away from him in no less than an hour.
Even still, those three gently spoken words of love that filled his brain with fondness made him feel as though he was basking in the afternoon sun, flowers splayed out around him, and bees peacefully buzzing overhead.