Work Text:
Dull.
Everything is so dull lately.
Lately? Always has been.
Work, people, his mind, the razor.
Dull, dull, dull, dull.
Even annoying his favorite redhead has been getting boring.
He was just so numb.
His mind has also gotten slow. Like there's a goddamn static noise deafening any thoughts at all times.
Like he's half dead at this point. The numbness is so- so numb.
He felt a small buzz against his side as the noise echoed in the empty, quiet dorm(which resembled his mind by the way). He mustered all the strength left in his aching body to pick up the phone, groaning as it lit up right into his face. (Why was he praying that it's that damn slug-)
(XXX) 416-9014
"See me tonight?xx"
(So it wasn't him)
Dude, why did his one-night stands always think they had a chance with him?
Okay, well it might be his fault for using sex as a coping mechanism, but come on..
Block number?
You will no longer receive calls or texts from:
(XXX) 416-9014
Cancel Block
There we go.
The phone dropped back onto the futon with a soft thump as Dazai turned onto his back instead and opted to drill holes into the ceiling with his eyes. It didn't even have any spots. How boring.
If only he could maybe-
His fingers twitched.
No. He's doing better.
...
.....
......
Yet if only he could just-
It was right there, the key to his boredom...
Just a drawer away.
Calling him.
➳༻❀✿❀༺➳
Ah, well, dammit.
There's nothing we can do about it now, he shrugged to himself as another line of crimson red appeared on his pale, porcelain skin.
At least it's pretty, he supposed. Well, the blood, anyways. It looked so pure, unlike his scarred wrists. Almost too pure. Did he even deserve to have such pretty looking blood? It should be pitch black. It should be a venomous poison that courses through his rotten body.
Suddenly everything felt even worse.
He had to cover this, now. His eyes couldn't bear to see this. His brain couldn’t comprehend that there’s human blood in his rotten veins.
That could never suit his monstrous nature.
His body buzzed with the itch to wash it off, to scratch the blood out of his skin. It didn’t belong there. The movement of his body was almost robotic as he got up and walked over to the sink, washing off the blood. Eyes distant, mind elsewhere.
But where?
Why did it feel like it was gone forever?
Dazai Osamu had no idea who Dazai Osamu was. He had gotten lost in the masks and faces he himself had created.
Where was Dazai Osamu?
Maybe there never was a real Dazai Osamu to begin with. Maybe it was always just Dazai, Dazai-san, Shitty Dazai, Demon Prodigy.
There is no real Osamu.
But shouldn’t all the faces make a full one that could define Osamu?
So why didn’t they?
Why were all the puzzles from various, completely different sets?
Without realizing, his fingernails dug into the bloody, irritated skin. And dragged.
More.
Why won’t the stupid red blood run out?
Where was the venom that coursed through his body?
Another painfully slow drag. The already damaged skin ripped easily, leaving an even bloodier mess.
More.
He had to see the poison.
Or maybe he was desperate to prove there was no poison all this time?
Maybe it was both.
How would he know?
A soft knock echoed through the room, snapping him back into reality.
Dazai cringed at the sight of his long nails all bloody. The sink looked like a crime scene, too.
“Dazai-San?” The door slightly muffled the clearly young, male voice.
Oops.
Maybe trying his best to stay silent wasn’t his brightest idea, but he had to think fast, and his mind was clouded with alcohol and loss of blood.
The other side was silent.
It might have worked.
Knock Knock
…Or well, might’ve worked if not for Atsushi’s tiger hearing.
Dazai sighed internally, trying his best to remember what kind of voice he always used with Atsushi.
Don't come in, I'm naked!”, He called out in a lighter manner.
Did his voice sound alive enough?
“Oh, okay-”,The weretiger answered after a beat of silence. He clearly tried to not sound disgusted at the thought of walking in on his mentor naked, “Kunikida-Kun asked me to come get you since you didn't show up at the Agency meeting.”
Ah, right. There was some important meeting today.
Dazai looked down at his bloody hands, the sink, and the crimson red liquid gushing out of his wounds.
“I’ll be there in 10 minutes, Atsushi-Kun, no worries! Also, tell Kunikida-Kun that if he missed me so much, he should've gotten me himself!” His cheerful and light-hearted demeanor seemed too forced for his liking.
Really, he was getting boring. Always the same lame attempts at humor, so predictable. Ew.
So dull.
“Atsushi-Kun?”
…
Wow, did Atsushi leave already? He was so caught up in his head he didn't hear him leave.
He shook his head, reminding himself he has shit to do now.
➳༻❀✿❀༺➳
Dazai sighed, his eyes flicking over the meeting board with a bored gaze. Resting his chin on his palm, he scanned over the room.
Everyone seemed so focused.
They all were so alive. They all had their personalities. Sure, Kunikida was strict and had a stick up his ass, Yosano was teasing yet always so majestic in everything she did, Kenji was like the sun, Ranpo had a terrible sweet tooth, but they were all real. They all were just… themselves.
So why couldn't Dazai?
Why was he so alone in this whole thing? Can you even call it living if he didn’t feel alive?
Why was everyone staring at him? Why did Kunikida seem more annoyed with every move of his lips as if Dazai just swapped his shampoo with bright pink hair dye?
“Oi, Dazai! Are you even listening?”
Right. He was supposed to pay attention to the whole thing.
Seriously, what was wrong with him these days?
Dazai decided to shrug it off and blame the warm alcohol buzz in his veins, knowing damn well he has come to work intoxicated before and his mind has never been this slow.
Kunikida was still talking to him.
“Ah, sorry Kunikida-Kun! I couldn’t help but stare at the little ketchup stain on your vest! What did you have for lunch? Was it some sort of fast food? I thought Kunikida-Kun hated junk food!-”
“You-”, Kunikida sighed and readjusted his glasses, trying his best to stay sane, “I don’t think that’s any of your business, Dazai. Stop wasting the meeting time and start paying attention.”
Distract.
Ranpo shot him a disapproving glance, but Dazai just shrugged it off with a smile.
He was the hardest to fool, but Dazai wasn’t the one to give up.
He had to keep everyone convinced he was a real person. He had to keep them from doubting whether a real Osamu existed.
He had to make himself superior.