Chapter Text
It was dark, too dark. He couldn’t move, feeling like he was submerged in a vat of molasses. The non-Newtonian fluid making it hard to move, only able to feel as he sinks deeper and deeper. Unable to hear properly, everything sounding faint and distant. Anytime he tried to speak or scream or do anything, all he could feel was like there was cotton in his mouth, his throat with a lump in it, like someone replaced his voicebox with a rock. Lungs burning every time he attempted to breathe, as if the dark substance that surrounded him filled them to the brim.
As he sinks deeper and deeper, it gets heavier, harder and harder to do anything, weight pressing on him from all sides, the pressure increasing consistently.
Suddenly it was like two large hands broke into the void, wrapping around him and pulling him out of it. The viscous liquid sliding off with ease as he is pulled back.
The first thing that registers in his mind is the steady and rhythmic beeping of a machine nearby. Then, the soft murmurs of reassuring words hits his ears, causing him to have an odd wave of tranquility wash over him.
The feeling of a warm and large hand engulfing his registers next, the sensation pushing him to try and open his eyes, wanting to know who would be holding him so tenderly, who would be saying such comforting words, towards him of all people. His eyes were heavy and it felt like they were glued shut, trying with all of his strength to open them, unsuccessful as the sound of a different voice shouting distantly registers in his mind.
“Chuuya, please, open your eyes or give me some sign that you are there, please…” the first voice pleaded, cracking on the last word, he slowly realises that the cold liquid dripping on his hand is tears.
He tries everything in his power to do anything, all he can manage is a twitch of one of his fingers. The hand over his tightening its hold, squeezing his, the faint feeling of circular motion being rubbed on the back of his hand in comfort.
The hand is suddenly torn away from his, hearing the struggle of protest from the person as they are dragged away, until all he heard is the beeping.
Trying once again to open his eyes as he feels sharp pricks to his skin, a quiet shuffling heard around him, the beeping quickening exponentially.
Fear. He’s afraid. He recognizes that, no longer having that oddly comforting presence there in such an unknown and vulnerable state, scares him. He doesn’t know what’s happening but next thing he knows, it all goes numb, unable to feel any part of himself.
The beeping continues to increase, an alarm distantly starting to go off somewhere. He watches as the shadows dance behind his eyelids quickly.
Soothing words are whispered right into his ear once again. The beeping starts to slow, the alarm stopping, feeling starting to flood his body once again. The hand from before coming back, engulfing his once more.
As he calms once again, he tries to open his eyes again, hoping he can, the only thought on his mind being that he wants to see who that familiar voice and hand belongs to, longing to see the person that has caused such comfort to be washed over him.
A painful flash of brightness filling his vision before it goes back to seeing the staticky darkness. Trying again, bright white flooding his vision, a hand raising up to shade his vision, making it a bit more bearable to adjust to the room. He closes his eyes as the hand slowly pulls away, the brightness of the room felling like it is burning his eyes, as if someone took a hot stick and stuck it into his skull just behind his eyes, painful and causing pressure to build there. Trying once again to open his eyes, rapidly blinking to adjust.
Looking around he finally sees the source of his comfort sitting in the chair next to his bed, lithe frame leaning forward, holding one of his hands in his own, rubbing circles on the back of his hand, whispering encouraging words into the room.
As his eyes adjust to the light of the room, it registers that it’s his old partner sitting there, eyes slightly red. Looking over him, at his clothing that is messed up, the way his shoulders are hunched over, curling in on himself slightly. Looking over his frame, a hand resting on the others shoulder immediately grabbing his attention, following the hand up the arm, and to the face of none other than Doppo Kunikida, Dazai’s current partner, not only in work.
A deep feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach, making it churn, looking away from both of them. Knowing he has no right to feel this way, as if he has forever lost the one who he loves, the one who was with him through so much, the one who…
Suddenly there was a glass pressed to his lips, confused his lips separate, the glass tilting up allowing a small amount of water to flow into his mouth, washing away the dryness, coughing slightly when it first unexpectedly hits his senses. He drinks more as it flows down his throat, hydrating the desert that was his raw throat, washing the irritation on his throat, clearing it out and making it seem easier to breathe.
The silence that grows more tense with each second that passes was broken by none other than Dazai himself, sounding so upset, so tired, and behind it all was a, failed to be concealed, sadness in his tone. “You… you used corruption… without me there,” the broken way he spoke, the way he tripped over words and had to stop for a few seconds before continuing, throat closing with pure raw emotion, speech growing harder by the second, “you could have… d- you could have… died…”
The response Chuuya gave broke Dazai, “I know” the way he spoke, so uncaring, so blank, so… broken. Dazai choked back his tears, trying to keep the flood at bay, like a dam made of far less sticks than it should be, one singular long but thin stick keeping it all together, so much pressure being applied to it, just not enough to break it quite yet, the possibility of it breaking any second was high.
Dazai chokes out his next words, as if they were forcing their way up, trying to get passed the lump in his throat, the way his throat feels like it is tightening, the burning in his chest bordering on painful. His words disbelieving, as if the things he is putting together couldn’t possibly be true, “then why would you… you didn’t want to… no… Chuuya, did you… want… to die?” The way Chuuya avoided his eye contact and looked down at his hand resting in his lap on the bed told him everything he needed to know. Growing angry as he barked out, “Chuuya, you can’t just throw your life away like that!”
The look of hurt and disbelief that crossed Chuuya’s face, sent a pang of hurt through Dazai. Quietly but clearly spitting out words that were full of so much resentment and hurt, “you no longer have a say in what I do with my life. You lost that right when you left me without a word and blew up my car.”
That was what broke it, the branch snapped, sobs wracking through Dazai’s body, tears spilling over his eyes and rolling down his face, dropping onto the side of the bed. Kunikida gently rubbing his shoulder and back, whispering comforting words into his ear, comforting him, about to speak up to Chuuya, getting cut off by harsh words.
“I think you both should leave…” Chuuya spat out, voice raspy and strained, looking away from both of them, trying to conceal the tears forming in his eyes, stopping himself from reaching out and asking him to stay. The anger and hurt too much for him to handle as he hears their footsteps receding, and finally the slam of the door, plunging the room into an unsettling silence. Wanting to scream and shout in frustration, throat too raw to even speak any longer.
The room feels too small, but also not small enough, heart monitor starting to beep faster as he lays back down, curling up as small as he possibly can, and drifting back into unconsciousness, drowning once again in the dark and thick syrupy liquid of his mind.