Chapter Text
Dazai’s body was like a hollow shell. A fake, pretend face with a perfectly curated body. Inside, you would find nothing but fragments of a heart that was never there.
His heart stopped beating—stopped being long ago. He just wanted to go home. Dazai didn’t have a home, not anymore.. maybe not ever.
He stood outside on his balcony connected to his dorm in the ADA, smoking a few cigarettes. He didn’t really like to smoke, he never did, it just gave his hands something to do. Dazai desperately wants to die. To not exist. He was supposed to be this brilliant, young, and to live forever. Forever is a lie. Nothing is forever. He’s supposed to be a demon prodigy. His demon prodigy.
Life was useless. Everyone is born into a sad, empty world just to die just like the earth that brought you here. The only reason he’s still here is the guilt. The guilt of who finds his body. Deep down, he hopes it’s someone from the ADA. Maybe they’ll stop, realize oh wow! A man who constantly jokes about suicide actually went through with it! We should’ve cared.
He’s a horrible person, for wishing this upon them. He’s given up a long time ago at being ‘good’. What even makes someone good? Morals were made up standards by humans because they decided some things were right and wrong, but Dazai didn’t have a say in what these morals are. He never understood them. He just wanted to die.
Every day was the same. Wakeup, get dressed, work, go home, sleep. He always liked sleeping, it was like a free trial of what dying was like.
It was peaceful.
Dazai hoped he’d be dead.
He’d almost get his wish that night.
If it wasn’t for an annoying ginger asshole.
—————————
Dazai’s text messages-
M4ckerel: Hey shortass
M4ckerel: Sorry
Slug: What the fuck do you want
Slug: Dazai you bastard
Slug: Waste of bandages
Slug: Hello?
Slug: Dazai.
Chuuya thought this was weird. For Dazai, to text him, and not tease him repeatedly, and apologize? Something was wrong. Prior to reading this waste of bandage’s messages, Chuuya was doing paperwork. He sat on his kitchen table, just reading over the things he had to finish. It was about 12am, and a Thursday. He really didn’t want to be there, and really wanted to just collapse on his bed. Then he read Dazai’s message—and his world seemed to freeze. After a few calls out of confusion, and a few more messages, Chuuya decides Dazai is messing with him. He must be. He is! …Just in case.
Chuuya stands up, and grabs his coat. He’s only wearing some random white shirt that’s too big for him, and black sweatpants. He’s too tired for this bullshit, but if Dazai is fucking with his ass, he’s gotta yell at him.
He ignores his heart racing as he leaves.
—————————
“Dazai? You waste of space where is your ass.” Chuuya calls out somewhat quietly outside of Dazai’s dorm, careful not to wake anyone in the ADA. Of course, no response. He waits a bit, before deciding to just get in another way. He climbs through the back window.. this shitty ass mackerel better not be wasting his time. As Chuuya makes his way inside, he takes in his surroundings. A single futon is on the floor, surrounded by empty alcohol bottles, bandages, and a few pill bottles. Not the cleanest place to say the least.
And then he looks in the bathroom.
And his heart stops.
Dazai’s limp body leans slumped on the bathroom wall, the sink and Dazai’s arm both bloody.
Chuuya stands there, frozen for a good two seconds, before diving towards Dazai.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Chuuya frantically shakes Dazai, desperate to get him awake. “Dazai! Fuck — FUCK!”
Dazai seems to hear Chuuya’s pleas, and his eyes flutter open, only for a minute, and then he sits up a bit.
“…”
"Dazai? Please. Look at me.” Chuuya shakes him gently. “Dazai. Osamu.”
At the name change, Dazai’s eyes look up a bit — and meet Chuuya’s. “I.. what?”
“The fuck do you mean ‘what’, I-…” Chuuya starts, before immediately remembering the amount of blood Dazai is losing. As. They. Speak. “Shit!” Chuuya stands up quickly, a little too quickly and stumbles back, before rushing towards one of Dazai’s cabinets. He scavenges through the cabinet for a few seconds before finding bandages, and immediately rushing back to Dazai. “Give me your arm.” He says.
Dazai looks like a broken porcelain doll, his eyes a void. Nothing can escape his gaze, not even his own emotions. His face remains blank, and he appears to be staring behind Chuuya. Chuuya sits down again in front of Dazai — and takes his arm. He winces at the depth of each slash, his arm appearing to be a raised graveyard of pink, red and white scars. The rows and slashes of pulsing red slush flow out from Dazai’s wrists all the way up to his elbows. He frantically grabs his arm, trying to not be too rough, but knowing he just can’t spare time. He wraps up Dazai’s arm, occasionally taking a glance at the brunette in front of him, shocked at the sight of crystal tears silently falling down his cheeks. After Chuuya is done, he finally can breathe. He slumps near Dazai, his blood stained on his white shirt. Dazai still seems lifeless, and empty.
“Dazai? Are you there?”
“..What?”
“What do you mean what?” Chuuya sits up a bit, assuming Dazai is playing with him, only to be met with Dazai’s confused face.
“What.. are you doing here? Where..” He pauses before looking around for a bit.
“Dazai? We’re in your bathroom. You just lacerated your fucking arms, and almost died.”
“…I did?”
“Jesus Christ. Dazai? What’s wrong with you?” Chuuya asks. Is it the blood loss — ah. That must be it. Dazai appears confused and disoriented, his hair fluffy and extremely fucked up, nearly covering his eyes. His eyes.. pitch black, empty, and dark. His skin pale, and his body freezing. And then, Dazai pauses. He seems to remember, to gather his thoughts.
“I.. Jesus —“ Dazai gasps for air, “Chuuya I-i’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-“
“Fuck- Dazai, calm down” Chuuya scoots closer to Dazai, before Dazai starts shaking.
“I-I” He gasps, and his eyes watering up with tears. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to” He sobs, “You weren’t-“, another sob. He can’t hold himself together, wiping at his tears quickly, “I-I can’t breathe-“ Dazai frantically makes out.
“Hey, hey, hey. Dazai. It's fine. Please just – just copy my movements okay?”
"I c-” The brunette is interrupted by his own sob, before his shaky voice tries again. “I c-cant, Chuuya”, tears seem to be spilling out faster as time seems to move slower. “I c.., I can’t stop–I can't stop crying.” He finally makes out. He just continues to sob when he looks back at the bloody floor.
“Dazai. Look at me.”
Dazai drags his eyes away from the bloody floor–and finally looks up at him. That seems to make it worse however, as his hands and body tremble, and his breathing gets sharper and louder.
"Take a breath in.” Chuuya commands. Dazai tries to follow along, but his breaths keep being interrupted by sobs. The bandaged boy looks back at the floor and curls up in a ball, leaning on the wall. He covers his face with his hands, and tries to breathe along with his partner – he means his ex partner.
“I c-can’t do this” He manages to get out through his jagged breaths.
“It’ll end soon.”
“I hate”. Gasp. “I-i hate this.”
“I know,”
“I h-hate this s-so much”
“I know.”
—----------------------------------
20 minutes. They sit there for another 20 minutes, in the silence once again. The blood on the sink, and on Chuuya’s shirt seem to have a dizzying effect. He can’t look at either for long before feeling sick, sick with the thoughts of what happened. What could’ve happened. And then Chuuya makes up his mind. He sits up, fast enough to stumble backwards, and turns to Dazai.
“We’re getting out of the bathroom”
Dazai doesn’t say a word, simply lets Chuuya help him up, before nearly stumbling out of the bathroom. He lays sideways on his futon, picking at his bandages, while Chuuya watches him, standing in the doorway. “Are you gonna talk to me?”
“I’m sorry.” Dazai suddenly says, replacing the quiet with a horse, shaky voice. “I didn’t mean for you to see me like this”
“Do not fucking apologize to me. Dazai - you could be dead right now!” Chuuya replies, voice almost as shaky as Dazai’s. Almost. “I..” ‘Love you’ his mind supplies, “need you. Soukoku is two people, remember?”
“You’re being awfully nice to me--”
“I’m worried about you. Holy fuck Dazai, you almost died! Please, talk to me!” Chuuya almost pleads.
"..About what?”
“Shit — I don’t know, why’d you try to kill yourself?”
“I didn’t try to kill myself”
“So what the fuck was that, Dazai?”
“..”
“Dazai.”
“..”
“Osamu.”
“I don't know. You should just go”
“No! Because im a sane fucking person whos not gonna leave you here after you almost committed! You slit your wrists---Jesus, Dazai. You scared me.”
“.. You weren't supposed to get here. Why are you here?”
“You want the truth? Fine. Because your text scared the living shit out of me. I’ve never heard you apologize, and I've known you for seven years. For fucks sake. What happened?”
“Im tired. That's all.” He replies. Dazai says it so blankly, as if he was stating the weather. “I don’t want to be here. You know me, Chibi. I’m always doing this, why do you care now?”
“Dazai, for someone whos insanely smart, you’re also insanely fucking dumb. Maybe its because other times you fuck around with me, and youre not actually gonna do this shit, but this time, you bacically stabbed yourself.” Chuuya’s eyes float towards the bandages on Dazai’s arm. “Please. What happened?”
“Nothing.”