Chapter Text
Chuuya didn’t hate Dazai. It was a stupid and insignificant fact that haunted him throughout their partnership. He didn’t care. He really didn’t. But he knew that Dazai did, that Dazai was running on fumes, and that Dazai didn’t hate him either.
Two diamonds, a rarity in a world full of shattered glass. They fragmented off each other, each emotion a different shade of wrong yet they fit so perfectly in each other’s grasp. Chuuya glared at the metal door in front of him. He wanted to leave, maybe run till he got back to his apartment and away from the port that he swore caused cancer. And yet he stayed, he watched the rain splatter and soak him to the bone.
Dazai was in there, probably catching some disease or another. Chuuya had seen him limping through the darkness. The late night etched through Dazai’s defenses, made him clumsy, or reckless but it didn’t matter, Chuuya needed to make sure the idiot didn’t kill himself before their next mission.
It’s not like he wanted Dazai there, not like he needed him for anything. Chuuya was perfectly capable of completing any mission alone, it would just be… an inconvenience if Dazai were to die before Chuuya could kill him.
Dazai had let Chuuya follow him. It was either that or he had been dumb enough not to notice the figure watching him from around every corner. The water that ran through Chuuya’s clothes was a diatribe of shame. He should just turn around and let the bastard die. It would serve him right, Dazai deserved whatever happened to him. He was a monster, a demon hidden in the body of a sixteen year old boy.
Chuuya was the aftermath of everything that Dazai did. He didn’t want to check on his stupidly selfish partner, he didn’t want to worry about Dazai, didn’t want to be around him longer than needed. They were each other's sadness, at least Dazai was Chuuya’s worst mistake.
“Dazai!” Chuuya yelled, he thought he was louder than the rain but Dazai didn’t answer his call like he usually would.
He should just leave, leave like he knew Dazai would if their positions were reversed. Leave to prove that he still could. Or maybe it was the other way around, stay to prove that nothing Dazai did would ever get rid of the punishment that is Chuuya’s company.
All the best parts of Dazai were still sickening. Chuuya wanted to despise him, wanted to rip his tongue from his mouth so his words were nothing but a mess of pain and hatred. Chuuya really wanted to hate Dazai, he wanted to leave and never come back, maybe wreck Dazai’s life a little before taking everything from him.
Chuuya was ruined by the best parts of Dazai, a helpless smile, a windless laugh. Complete submission and uncontrolled rage, both things would flicker and float in Dazai’s eyes whenever Chuuya got close enough to stare. Something kept him in front of the shipping container, it tied him to the person he disliked the most, backed him into tugging open the door, and let the cool, wet metal wash away his displeasure.
He smelt it before he saw it. Iron cast itself on his tongue and sang a symphony of worry in his lungs. He panicked for a second, a small moment of weakness that left him breathless and shaky. He let himself struggle for a second before completely opening the door and stepping through the rusted doorway.
Red leaked from Dazai’s limp body. A brief look at the room told Chuuya everything he needed to know. That Dazai was a coward and Chuuya was an idiot for checking in on him.
The blood formed a small puddle, nothing life threatening, the slits on Dazai’s arm weren’t deep, they barely even counted as scratches. It was pitiful at best, and disturbing at most. Dazai was no artist, there was no canvas and if Chuuya were allowed to leave he would. He wanted to erase the shameful look on Dazai’s face from his memory. There was no grasp on his arm, there was no anchor in his heart, only a small pebble of guilt in his spine that stopped him from moving away and escaping. He could laugh, Dazai wasn’t the only coward.
Chuuya’s eyes locked onto Dazai’s and he wanted to scream for there was no soul staring back. Dazai’s eyes were thieves, they took and they took and Chuuya was left shaking and breathless. So no, he couldn’t hate Dazai because there was no Dazai left to hate. The boy he thought he knew, the murderer he met, he didn’t exist. He was never there, only a ghost possessing his body was the only remnants of a dazzling smile and warm skin. The Dazai he once knew was dead and Chuuya was left to clean up the mess of his memory.
Dazai stirred, his eyes never leaving Chuuya, his black holes never stopped sucking up Chuuya’s light. There was no honesty left in Dazai so Chuuya had to reach out and grasp at whatever was left of the boy he once called his friend. Chuuya cautiously stepped towards Dazais shivering form sprawled recklessly floor, half propped against the metal wall. He wanted things to be different, maybe smaller, less important.
There were a thousand places he would rather be than in that freezing container but in that moment, his eyes trained on Dazai’s breathing lungs and his beating heart it was almost worth it. Almost.
An aching feeling in his chest bloomed and festered the closer he got to Dazai. Time seemed to slow as his eyes studied Dazai’s arms, there were lines and slashes, millions of scars, stars dotting a galaxy. Insignificant yet so prominent they were impossible to ignore. He wanted to tear his eyes away from the sight of his partner's mess, he wanted to reach out and squeeze the blood from Dazai’s veins.
He could leave. The thought was constant and raging, a rusty nail stuck between his eyes. He was being reasonable, Dazai did it to himself so there was no reason to be careful. He obviously wanted the pain. The small caged bird in his lungs flapped its wings hopelessly, it watched him brush away some of Dazai’s blood with his gloved hands. It breathed as Chuuya heard Dazai swallow, and it died when Chuuya sighed.
Just that small gesture, that simple action caused Dazai’s body to stop trembling. It took the mercy out of Chuuya’s posture and brought him back crashing into his thoughts.
Dazai wanted to die but he was too much of a coward. Chuuya’s partner was a failure at the one thing he wanted most in the world. There was a subtle change in Dazai’s expression that both softened and aged his face. Chuuya hated it.
He wanted to rip Dazai’s skin right off the bone for making Chuuya feel. The dead always seemed to haunt the living and Dazai was no exception. Chuuya wished he would just shut up and die so Chuuya could stop feeling the building pressure behind his eyes.
“You do it to yourself,” Chuuya spoke quietly like the air could be shattered from just a harsh breath.
He regretted the words the moment he said them. He saw the way Dazai recoiled, the way his eyes grew cloudy and untouchable. He should have handled it differently, maybe been gentle for once in his stupid life; but seeing Dazai vulnerable, made Chuuya scared. It made him realize that he knew nothing about his partner, maybe he never did.
Dazai’s life was a thin line between a gift and a tragedy. It was horrible, it was reality. Chuuya hated the way Dazai’s body created an orbit, he hated the way he was sucked into caring about some selfish bastard who didn’t even want to be alive.
The ending of it all was so fragile, so delicate and Chuuya managed to smash it with just five words. He was so gifted in ruining his own life. So talented in hurting the person he wanted to protect.
He wanted to apologize, do something, anything to make the gnawing sensation in his throat go away. He just wanted peace again and Dazai was always taking that away from him. Whether it be through Dazai’s inaction or just existence he always found a way to ruin Chuuya’s life. He was lonely in Dazai’s presence, the other boy's stale body provided no warmth. Dazai’s eyes which were once so hypnotizing now were nothing but rotting.
He wished Dazai would just go ahead and die already so that Chuuya could stop feeling like an exposed nerve whenever Dazai’s haunting eyes caught his. The brown iris of his friend screamed at him, it wrecked his plans to be better than he used to be. Dazai always did have a way of making things worse by trying to be better. The best parts of Dazai ruined the worst parts of Chuuya.
Crouching beside Dazai, Chuuya’s hand grazed Dazai’s wounds, soundless screaming echoed through Chuuya’s mind deafening him. He picked his hand right off Dazai’s skin, it wasn’t worth the struggle to go against Dazai’s need to self destruct, it was a pain to look at him like this.
Chuuya wanted, no, he needed Dazai to be strong. It went against everything he’s ever learned about Dazai to see him this weak, this fragile. Chuuya watched Dazai push himself up. He watched as he shook when he was forced to put pressure on his arms, blood sluggishly spilling from the cuts. Chuuya didn’t do anything but look. He wasn’t there, not really.
Dazai didn’t give him a second glance as he walked to the bathroom to clean the blood off of his hands. Chuuya just stood there, his eyes falling on a piece of paper half hidden under a notebook. He wanted to vomit when he saw his name scratched into it, followed by words he would never get the chance to read. Something about it made his stomach churn, it set his eyes on fire.
Dazai, his partner, his friend, his enemy, he… he- wanted to die.
He actually wanted to die.
There was no foolish joke, no elaborate prank. Nothing to set it right or stop the crushing feeling flowing through his veins. He felt his world shift and he was knocked right off his feet and left with nothing. Dazai walked back out of the bathroom, there was water instead of blood dripping from his hands but all Chuuya could remember was what was hidden underneath the fresh layer of bandages.
He was stupid not to notice earlier, no, he was just hopelessly hopeful and recklessly naive. Chuuya met Dazai’s eyes, they were usually a vibrant brown but in that moment Chuuya could see nothing but a dead man. Dazai’s soul which used to burn so brightly was now dull, like it was doused in water, drowning with no lifeline but the heartache written on his wrists.
Chuuya couldn’t breathe. He needed to get out, get away from the person who did nothing but suffocate him. Dazai stepped toward him, nothing was written on his face, there was no expression or breath and somehow the emptiness of Dazai told Chuuya what he needed to know.
He was cornered, Dazai wasn’t just hurting but he was hurtful. It wasn’t good to be around him. Something about Dazai’s silent composure ate away at Chuuya’s care. He was usually nicer, usually more patient but looking into Dazai’s soul he found nothing. There was nothing left to care for, the Dazai he knew was already dead.
A breath, a second, a heartbeat, and Chuuya was gone. There was no great fallout, no dramatic death that caused the end of Chuuya’s belief in Dazai’s life. No, there was only the dead bird and the forgotten pebble that told the story of the boy he knew and the monster he left behind.