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It was the 19th June. Again. Dazai had tried to ignore it all day and act like it was any other day, but whenever he opened his phone or work computer the date popped up at him, though other than that it was quite easy to shake it off. Nobody at the Armed Detective Agency knew, except for Fukuzawa, who wouldn't be in today anyways. He'd probably get a wish from him in the next few days, but he did ask him to not tell anyone. It was easier that way.
He didn't exactly like being celebrated, he could go along with it as he always did but on his birthdays he really wasn't in the mood to act that much, and it would require a lot of energy.
He felt so tired.
After smiling and waving bye to Atsushi, he started heading home, though he took the long way. He walked through a long street full of shops, stopping at each one and looking in through the displays. He thought he might aswell buy himself something for his 23rd birthday, but everything was either too expensive or didn't really interest him.
Who was he kidding? Nothing here really interested him. Everything seemed so dull, colourless, cold. Nothing felt close to him or interesting. He felt disconnected from everything, and sometimes he looked into the displays just to look somewhere, not really registering the contents of them.
Seeing all those things made him keep thinking back to when he was younger. How he didn't even really want anything, he just asked for things because it was expected of him. Because making someone upset or angry terrified him at the time. How he never really wanted to celebrate or wanted people over but he still played the part, because that was expected of him. It's what everyone else did.
Everyone else seemed so happy yet he felt nothing but fear. Everyone's smiling faces looked more threatening, and their eyes pierced through him. He didn't understand why everyone was so happy, and he didn't even want to eat the cake. He just did because he was expected to.
It all felt so uncanny to him, but the worst thing about it was how his parents would suddenly act different towards him, like they cared, but then after it was over it would go back to normal again.
He didn't want people to do that. He wanted them to be honest with him, not just change for one day like that. Although it was kind of hypocritical to want, since he was barely ever honest to anyone himself.
He grew up, he got used to how scary people and humanity as a whole was and ever since he entered the port mafia his birthday wasn't celebrated much, and after he left even less (since Mori decided to tell everyone it was Dazai's birthday and be obnoxious about it). If someone happened to remember he'd usually shut them out.
The only person he really liked spending his birthday with was Odasaku, but that couldn't be a reality anymore. And Chuuya, if he wasn't being awful. But he wouldn't easily admit it.
Dazai finally managed to tear his eyes away from the display and kept walking, though he was just dragging his body along. He wasn't really present.
The more he thought about it, he realized that he really did want Chuuya there. But he didn't feel like he deserved it. And Chuuya didn't deserve to have to deal with him right now. He was always in an awful mood on his birthday, and Chuuya, unlike the others would be able to actually tell. Unfortunately.
Chuuya deserved someone better than him in general.
He'd just have to pretend, like usual.
After he stopped at a bakery for a slice of cake for himself, Dazai had arrived at his apartment, which looked worse than ever. There was trash lying around everywhere, even in the hallway which he usually kept clean, used drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, clothes, leftover food, paperwork, anything you could really think of.
Trails of blood.
Dirty bandages.
Everywhere Dazai looked, he had a bad memory of what happened, how it got there. Though it wasn't that versatile – most of it was the same. Either too numb or too emotional. Same thoughts, over and over. Suicide. Discontentment. Meaning. Past. Present. Regrets. And he was all alone each time. In a way, that's what he wanted, though. He would never let anyone else see him like that.
It would hurt too much to do it again.
Dazai took off his coat and hung it and headed to the kitchen. He got one of his nice paper plates to put the cake on. It was his favourite, chocolate. As plain as it was, he never liked any of the fancy cakes his parents got him when he was younger. He just liked something simple and sweet. He spiked his own food and drink just a little before he turned on some mellow music (reminiscent of the tracks they'd play at Bar Lupin) and put in a candle to the cake. He would've put more, but it was all he had left over. Just one sad, pathetic candle. It wasn't even centered correctly.
It somehow resonated with Dazai. It made him feel something through the emptiness.
He, too, was alone. Like the candle.
Sad and pathetic.
And he didn't like to let people in.
Dazai watched the lively flame flicker in the darkness of the room.
He was 23 now. He was still here, despite all his attempts to not be. Against his will. But the flickering flame was still there.
It gave a sense of hope. That he would make it out through all of this, and that maybe those feelings would go away one day. Nothing was forever.
Dazai liked the logic of that. He let himself sit in the hopeful feeling. It was unfamiliar.
Maybe it would be alright. If he focused a little more on the good things. If he spent more time around people. Around Chuuya. If he could just forget everything that happened.
Maybe even he could feel okay.
What stupid thoughts.
Dazai blew the candle out. The room went completely dark again.
Everything worth wanting was always lost the moment he obtained it.
Even if he did become happy, it wouldn't be for long.
And even when he was happy, his usual feelings still lingered at the back of his mind.
It wasn't worth it. There was no point.
Dazai lit a small light on the counter and took the candles out, then he started cutting into the cake. He took a bite.
He's felt this way ever since he could remember, why would it go away? It was engraved in him. And only in him. Everyone else's "downs" would go away eventually. It was just his that stayed.
For years.
Dazai sat down and finally got to eating the cake, the atmosphere of the room heavier than ever.
Dark. Lonely.
The only thing there was the nostalgic music, reminiscent of a long lost reality. Something he also lost.
He wouldn't be alone soon.
Dazai thought the cake would taste nice, not having had this kind in years, but he barely tasted anything. All he could feel was nausea. His appetite really was all gone.
He ate more, to fill the hole, but the pit in his stomach just continued to grow. It was such a crushing, sinking feeling. He just wanted it to stop.
Stop.
Stop.
He wanted to cry, but nothing came out.
Stop.
Then it did. He started to feel lighter.
The pit in his stomach started to close and his mind went all fuzzy. He felt a sudden rush of energy, contrast to his chronic fatigue.
He started giggling to himself. Then laughing.
It was all so meaningless.
He'd always end up back here. Using.
"Dazai," he heard the warmth of a familiar voice behind him. He quickly turned around, his eyes lighting up at the sight.
"Odasaku!"
He ran over to him and hugged him. He felt so happy he could cry. He actually started tearing up.
"You came..! It's been so long–"
"Since last year?"
"Mhm.. I told you to not leave me again for so long."
"I'm sorry."
Odasaku put a warm hand on Dazai's back. Dazai wiped his eyes and composed himself. He wasn't gonna break down like that infront of his old friend.
"Come, let's catch up!" He grabbed him by the hand and dragged him over to the kitchen island, then sat him down.
They talked for hours, laughed, joked around like the old times. The music started feeling more welcoming and warm than anything.
"You seem happier, Dazai." Odasaku looked him in the eyes.
"Or is it just a facade?"
"...I'm not sure myself. It's all the same to me." Dazai's crazed expression faded as he spoke. Was he coming down from the high already?
"Well, I'm glad you listened to me. You really changed."
"Did I?"
"Yes. And you did good." Odasaku reached over and held Dazai's hand.
"..."
What is this feeling?
"It makes me happy."
"..Well then I'm glad..!"
Dazai smiled again. He felt a warmth in his chest that didn't feel artificial.
It felt genuine.
"How has your novel been going?! Almost done?"
"Yes, and I'm publishing it soon."
"Woaaa!! Can I be one of the first readers? I could even get a book with your signature.. Before you become famous."
"You know that's not possible."
Dazai froze.
"..What..?"
"Stop lying to yourself.
You need to let go, Dazai."
Dazai felt his stomach sink.
He felt it again. The pit. The emptiness. The crushing feeling.
"It's been years. You'll only lose yourself."
Odasaku's touch disappeared, and he did too soon after, with an apologetic look in his eyes.
The room went dark again.
Dazai sat there. His heart hurt. So much.
He started frantically pouring himself more alcohol, and dissolved some more pills in the drink. Multiple. He quickly downed it, and waited, hyperventilating.
He didn't want to be alone.
He didn't want this.
Why won't it just stop?
Soon, he felt the rush of energy again. The room started spinning.
He waited.
And waited.
But he didn't feel that surge of happiness again.
Why was nobody coming?
Why was he all alone?
It wasn't meant to happen.
Dazai couldn't think clearly. The inside of his head felt like static.
He put in more pills and poured it down with some more whiskey. He lost track of how many it's been, but he didn't really care if he had an overdose. All the better if he did.
Nobody would find him, and he would hopefully never open his eyes again.
Why was nobody coming?
Didn't he just want to be alone?
What did he really want?
The colours of the room started to distort. His movements started to get really wobbly, and he dropped the bottle of whiskey on the ground while trying to pour himself more. The orange liquid poured everywhere. Dazai stared at it, the shattering sound echoing in his head. Everything was louder than it usually was. He felt everything ten times stronger.
But he still didn't feel happy.
Why wasn't he here?
He just wanted to see Odasaku.
Chuuya.
Anyone.
He didn't want to be alone for one birthday.
But he did.
It was so dark. Cold. Then it started going all colourful again.
Still cold.
Dazai felt himself hyperventilating again. He hugged himself, and started rocking back and forth, tears streaming down his face.
He just wanted Chuuya.
The fake one or the real one?
The fake one. The other would be stupid.
He couldn't see him like this.
He could.
He deserved better. So much better.
Why isn't he here?
Dazai took the last of the pills he had and he started to feel dizzy. His racing thoughts got faster, and he stopped being able to form coherent thoughts. His mind was everything at once. Words mushed together.
He slowly reached over for the knife he used to cut the cake with, shaking. It was an especially sharp one.
He was full of energy. And he didn't want to feel like this anymore.
Perfect opportunity to do something about it. To stop these feelings. If only for a few hours, or once and for all.
No matter how much he took, it would never be enough to cure what was deep inside.
No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't run from himself.
Dazai put the knife to his throat.
Chuuya was getting tired of knocking on the door and ringing the doorbell with no answer, even though he heard loud music from the inside and he just decided to let himself in, using the key Dazai had given him long ago. He was a little taken aback at the state of Dazai's house – it seemed to have gotten worse, but he wasn't too surprised. It was the stinky mackerel, after all. He went in the direction the music was coming from to go and find Dazai. He just wanted to spend one birthday with him without him isolating himself and drinking all day and doing.. Whatever else.
Dazai was slowly closing the distance between his throat and the knife, when he saw Chuuya walk in. He could barely see by now, everything was spinning, but he could see Chuuya. All dressed up, holding a bouquet of roses. And he saw his precious face. The look of shock and immediate concern in his pretty eyes.
"NO! DAZAI– YOU CAN'T–" Chuuya shouted as he ran over and pulled Dazai's arm away from his neck with little force needed. Dazai was just staring at him.
He took the knife out of his hand and threw it far away.
"What the hell do you think you're doing–?? God, how much did you have–?" Chuuya closed in, looking him in the eyes. The smell of his perfume was intoxicating.
Dazai felt a wave of bliss wash over him and he wrapped his arms around Chuuya immediately.
Chuuya was here.
Was he real?
He felt immense relief and bliss. Too much to care.
"Chuuya..! You.. You came.." Dazai choked out, his words slurred.
He passed out in his arms right after. A pathetic sight. But he had a smile on his face.
"...Of course I did, dumbass." Chuuya felt as if he would cry too. He was trembling as he looked at Dazai's limp body.
"Happy birthday."