Chapter Text
Schizoaffective disorder is a chronic mental illness that combines features of schizophrenia (delusions, hallucinations) and affective disorders (depressive or manic episodes).
There was a ringing void in his head. Mori had left for some important meeting (honestly, Dazai wasn't paying attention to his boss's explanations; he couldn't care less which business partners he was meeting with). Odasaku was on a mission, and Chuuya probably didn't care. And yes, he had no idea where Ango was. The man was always disappearing. He could easily become a good spy.
So, Dazai was lying on the couch in his small office. The lights were dim, and the door was locked. It was hard to tell how much time had passed. The last three weeks had left him exhausted. He worked nonstop and barely slept. The caffeine was definitely helping, even though he didn't want to go to bed himself. Dazai was enthusiastic and eager to take on any task; he'd written so many reports that Mori raised an eyebrow in surprise when he saw it.
"Dazai-kun, I certainly appreciate your efforts," Mori crossed his fingers and peered curiously into his face. "But you're acting strange, should I be concerned?"
Mori eyed him suspiciously and snorted vaguely. It was clear he had no idea what to expect from him, and that certainly scared him.
Mori wasn't the only one who noticed his behavior. Early last week, Odasaku had looked at him questioningly as Dazai spoke passionately about his work (he had to admit, he might have looked obsessed, but he wasn't) and downed shot after shot.
"You know, you should slow down," Odasaku said, still looking suspiciously. His brows were furrowed and his lips were pursed, but other than that, he looked as unperturbed as ever—I don't want to have to drag your drunken body around later.
"Odasaku, you won't have to. I have an important meeting to attend after our meeting. Lately, other esper groups have been throwing a spanner in the works. I need to give them a little threat." Dazai's one open eye gleamed, and a smile played on his lips.
Odasaku sighed resignedly, but Dazai could have sworn that for a second he even looked worried.
In any case, Dazai honestly didn't understand why Odasaku was worried. He felt fine. His head was full of work, and unnecessary thoughts didn't bother him.
And yet, the human body has its limitations. Now, lying on the couch and staring at the ceiling, Dazai felt fatigue wash over him in waves. Strange images appeared in the corners of his vision. Dazai simply ignored them. He had no plans to leave the couch anytime soon; the office was far more comfortable than the container. And if there weren't so many people hanging around this building, Dazai would have stayed here.
Heavy footsteps could be heard in the hallway, as if someone was deliberately pacing loudly. Judging by the sound, the stranger had stopped in front of the office door. Dazai planned to pretend they weren't there. But the door slammed open. The shadows lurking in the corners stirred.
"Hey, mackerel, have you finally managed to relax?" Chuuya approached the couch and looked down at him. "You look disgusting." A disdainful expression crossed his partner's face.
The last time Dazai looked in the mirror (it seemed like it was three days ago. Or maybe four?), he had indeed noticed the changes. His skin had grown even paler, blending in with the bandages. His bangs had grown out and were getting in his way. His lips were chapped, and judging by his sagging pants, he'd lost a couple of kilos. Not that any of this bothered him; while starvation was painful, he still preferred the quicker option.
"Dazai! I can see you're not sleeping," Chuuya exclaimed discontentedly, his voice ringing in his ears, making Dazai wince. "We need to go on a mission. That group is causing trouble again; we need to interrogate some of their members."
"Yes, yes, can't my dear Chuuya handle such a simple task on his own?" Dazai stretched and glanced over Nakahara's shoulder, where a dark shadow peered out. He couldn't see the face, but it seemed familiar. He still needed a break. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm resting."
"I can handle it myself, but the boss ordered us to go together." Where's all your productivity gone? For the last three weeks, you've been running around on missions, and when I call you, you're just relaxing." Chuuya rolled his eyes and sat down on the edge of the couch. "What are you looking at?" he asked more quietly. A wary look appeared in his gaze. He seemed uncomfortable being here. Mori must have sent him here to check on Dazai under the guise of a mission.
"Nothing," Dazai snorted irritably. He found it annoying when people asked inappropriate questions. Most often, it was Chuuya; he had no idea when to shut up. Dazai rarely hallucinated (unless you count the night he tried to overdose on the drugs hidden in Mori's office. It had been locked for a long time, but that had never been a big problem for him).
Usually it was a quiet whisper from behind, flickering shadows. In the worst cases, eyes staring at him from hidden places, blood staining his hands, loud laughter in the distance. Dazai had learned to ignore it. And yet, many noticed oddities (slight twitching, staring into space, constant turning and shaking of the head, as if trying to shake off annoying words).
Mori merely watched with interest and offered more pills. Dazai stubbornly refused. As much as he hated to admit it, Mori frightened him, and taking unknown drugs from him was risky.
Hirotsu pretended not to notice. Koyou glanced warily and then abruptly left. Her gaze was filled with anxiety; she was clearly afraid of him. His subordinates didn't hide their fear; sometimes he heard them whispering about his madness. Ango began the conversation, drowning out the voices in his head. Odasaku invited him to spend the night and carefully took the glass of alcohol from his hands.
Chuuya reacted strangely. Usually, he wanted to say something, but at the last moment, he'd snap his mouth shut and purse his lips. He glanced at him sideways, but Dazai couldn't figure out the emotion reflected in his eyes. Chuuya began speaking more quietly, but for some reason, this actually helped him ignore the non-existent sounds. Perhaps because Dazai had to focus all his attention (which eluded him on days like this) on Chuuya's voice to understand what he was saying. Nakahara led him out of the dark rooms, squeezing his bandaged hand tightly. It was painful, but at the same time sobering.
Hearing the unintelligible words, Dazai asked wearily, "What?" If you haven't left yet, then at least don't disturb me.
Chuuya bowed his head and sighed heavily. "Apparently the mission is being postponed, and I didn't say anything."
"No, let's go." Dazai didn't like Chuuya's tone at all, as if he felt sorry for Osamu, thinking he couldn't handle such a pathetic group.
"I'll feel sorry for the enemy if you lose your cool in the middle of battle. And you're clearly not yourself." Dazai wanted to protest, but a thick hand covered his mouth. He grunted indignantly, but all he saw in response was rolling eyes. "Let's rest today. I'm tired too."
Chuuya turned off the light and opened the window. Fresh air suddenly filled Dazai's lungs, and the street noise was soothing.
Almost immediately, Dazai fell asleep, finding a warm blanket over him the next morning.