Work Text:
Seven is a special number. It's the only lonely number. It can’t be paired. I am the only one that is seven.
-
It seems like it’s the borderline speaking.
I feel sick. I sound so sick.
Remember when we laid on your bed tangled on each other listening to Cigarettes After Sex. A tandem, we became one-wheeled.
Maybe memory is all the home you get.
Even though I could talk to you about everything, I chose to talk about nothing.
The time between night and day, that’s what we are.
It smells like you in here. I hate it. Your voice is stuck inside my head.
You can never be everything to another human being.
You’re on my mind. I’m all lost. Whether I was inside or outside, I walk into the walls and stumble on my own legs. It’s like I was staring at the ceiling 8 hours a day (and I was). My days feel that empty, even when I have something to do.
Like I’ve said before, every day is the same though the content of the day differs. I own a habit on of fidgeting with my fingers when I’m feeling anxiety or some else uncomfortable emotion.
I lost something on the way, and though I went to look for it, I never found it again.
Honestly, I kind of miss the neglect.
I sometimes wish that you’d abandon me. But if you did, I'd only think about dying. How contradictory.
I didn’t have much in life, but I had you. But what about now?
What kind of relationship is between a liar and a liar? Is it based on trust?
Forgetting about our mistakes and our wounds isn’t enough to make them disappear.
Imperfectly perfect. That's what you were to me. That’s what we were. Now there’s only me left.
My lips are all bitten up, not by you but by my own anxiety.
I’m stuck on a rollercoaster of emotions; I can’t get off this ride.
“Love is not supposed to feel like drugs.”
Nothing is as sad as the ending of an illusion.
-
I’m lying on the bed. Feet hanging. I can feel the hunger inside of me. When was the last time I ate something? When was the last time I opened my curtains, saw sunlight?
I bring my hands to my face, covering it. I tried to scream but I have no trachea. I tried to cry, but I have no eyes.
When was the last time I even cried? If I cried, I would cry from an identity crisis, because of the wish to be nonexistent. If I could cry, I would but I can’t, and it makes me frustrated. I can’t vent everything sensibly in human language because I can only talk so that everything would be quiet and be quiet because I can’t talk.
I hear knocking on my door. I’m too tired to answer it. But they keep on knocking, bothering me.
I finally get up, dragging my feet to the door. My door doesn't have a peephole, so I can’t see who’s there. I slowly open the door, revealing a short, redheaded man.
Fuck.
What am I supposed to say? Hey, remember me? I’m the one you broke, but I still wanted you? Back then, I didn’t know how to love, but I wanted so badly to be loved.
He looks me in the eye, inspecting my appearance.
“You’ve changed, Dazai.” Was the first thing that comes out of his mouth.
I can feel anger, resentment, anxiety bubbling inside me.
“A lot has changed me.” He looks like a surreal being.
After four years, what are you supposed to say? After absolutely no contact between us whatsoever.
“Can I come in?” He gestures towards my apartment. Like I even care anymore.
I open the door so that he can slip inside. I go into the living room, crashing on the sofa. Head between my hands, legs pulled to my chest.
He takes his shoes off and quietly wanders into the room. He sits beside me.
“Why are you here?” I hear myself ask. I’m trying to focus on my breathing, counting 1...2...3...1...
Chuuya looks into my eyes, locking his gaze with mine. “I wanted to see you.”
I sigh, taking a deep breath in before beginning.
“So, what’s between us? When everyone else is questions it too, but you deny it from yourself, and you make me hate myself for maybe having feelings towards you.” I shift my position so that I’m facing Chuuya with my body.
“I feel like you’re only playing with me. That I'm always supposed to be the one to wait ‘till you get your shit together although I'm the one helping you.”
“I-” he starts.
“No, let me finish.” I interrupt him.
“You want distance and your own space, but for what? So that you could see if you got feelings or not? So that you can totally isolate them and tell yourself that you’re straight?
I don't want to hurt myself again because I'm already hurting. I know it’s hard for you, but nothing changes if you isolate yourself from it. Then it just keeps on hanging. In the nonexistence. You leave it for your future self. So that it bothers you later.”
Chuuya has broken the eye contact, his gaze pointed to his hands that lay on his lap.
I continue.
“I know that I'm having these selfish thoughts but of course I have them because I'm hurting right now. I don’t know how long I'm supposed to wait. And for what? So that this could happen again? So that I kill myself? So that you do something? If I'm thinking about myself without you, I want to die. But if I'm dying, I'm taking you with me. Hell, I'll take everyone else too so that they don’t feel bad. Wouldn't that be nice? Our own shared heaven.”
I start slightly smiling at the end of my speech. I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I could be popped like a balloon.
Chuuya looks flabbergasted. He doesn’t say anything. He lowers his gaze again. Just keeps on staring at his hands.
I start to get up, when he grabs my bandaged wrist. “Don’t go.” He pleads me.
I stop on my tracks and turn to look at him. I shake my hand off his hold. “Don’t fucking touch me. If you don't have anything to say, you can leave.”
He doesn't move even a muscle in an attempt to get up. I see him starting.
“I came here, because... if you promise to be mine, I'll promise you anything you could ever want.”
My eyes widen and my interest is piqued. “I’ve been staying up all night, thinking about you. How when you laugh, your nose scrunches up. How you look me in the eye with pure emotion, your eyes sparkling with the sunlight. How you fidget with your fingers, when you feel anxious, stressed or overwhelmed.”
He looks me dead in the eye and grabs my hands with his own. His hands are warm. He makes me feel so warm.
“I'm yours. Say that you’re mine.” He breathes in sharply, looking like he’s gasping for air, being all nervous.
I wanted to feel it. The view he saw. The sounds he heard. The air he breathed. To feel those things. He wasn’t ashamed to love me anymore. I let go of his hands and silently pulled him into a hug. Chuuya’s surprised at first, then places his hands on my back.
“I missed you so much.” I whisper into his ear. I tighten my grip around him, gripping like he was my only lifeline. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest.
“I know.” He whispers back. He places a gentle kiss on my shoulder. He lets go, turning to look at me. I see his gaze switching between my lips and eyes. I move closer and place my chapped lips onto his smooth ones. Chuuya leans into the kiss.
I place my hand on his right cheek. I feel like melting. I feel my body becoming putty under his touch. He puts his hands behind my neck to pull me even more into him. I don’t resist. I can feel butterflies flying in my stomach. I smile against his lips.
I pull back, breathing in and out heavily. I notice the color on Chuuya’s cheeks. The softest pink I’ve ever seen in my life. He looks beautiful. I feel my cheeks heating up as well.
I lean onto my hands on the couch, without seeing the worn-out black leather cloth. I see a small mountain of white laundry on the corner of the room waiting for their savior. The withered flowers on the kitchen table are waiting for someone to water them. My hands are waiting for somebody to hold them.
I watch him stand up, gesturing to take a hold of his hand. I comply his order. I take his hand and rise from my seat. He knows my apartment like the back of his hands, and he leads me into the bedroom. He falls on the bed and taps the space next to him with his hand.
I sit next to him and turn to face him. He doesn't say anything, just cups my face with his hands, pulling me closer. I feel his lips brush against mine. I move to straddle him. I can feel his tongue in my mouth, exploring it like it was all new to him. Chuuya pulls me against him, and we fall onto the bed, now me laying on top of him.
The kiss deepens, our tongues almost like fighting for dominance. I put my hand in his soft, copper hair. I pull his hair lightly, earning myself a quiet moan from his mouth. It sends even more butterflies into my stomach.
I break the kiss to look him in the eye. “I missed you so much.”
“I heard you the first time.” Chuuya chuckles. I turn to my side; he matches my movement. We look at each other.
“I meant it.”
“I know.”
Silence descends upon us. I’m too afraid to look away from him, fearing that if I look away even for a second, he’d be gone. He seems to read my mind because the next thing he says is: “I’m not going anywhere.”
I sigh in content, letting my head fall onto the bed.
-
We’re laying on the bed under a grey blanket, tangled onto each other, fully clothed if you’re wondering. I’m resting my head on Chuuya’s chest, my hand and left leg over him. Chuuya’s hand’s resting on my lower back while the other one is in my hair, stroking it slowly.
The room is dark, we didn’t bother to put any lights on. I listen to his heartbeat and breathing. They’re steady.
“You’re staying the night?” I ask.
“If you let me.”
I hum in agreement.
-
I wake up in the morning, still wearing my clothes from yesterday but without a person by my side. This is the moment I'm scared of... when I'm being left alone.
I see a note on my nightstand. I reach for it and take it in my hand.
“Work. See you later?” A smile creeps onto my face. I let myself fall back on the bed, thinking about him.