Work Text:
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“Happy birthday”…
That’s what people normally said during these days, right? Dazai tilted his head.. and flicked the rim of a whiskey glass that sat in front of him, half full…
Half full and still more meaningful than my life…
Dazai’s eyes drifted up to a cracked picture frame on his desk. There was drawing inside… he’d actually made it, himself. From flickers of a cracked memory. Two men, one teenager. The one in the middle was him, he supposed, in another universe. The one beside him with the roughly sketched auburn hair was… Oda Sakunosuke.. the man he was doing all of this, for. The reason he existed in this horrid universe. And the last man… a traitor. Valued beneath the trash under his shoes. Ango Sakaguchi.
Supposedly, these men had been his best friends. Now one had held him at gunpoint in a bar.. their bar, his mind unhelpfully supplies. Dazai takes another gulp of whiskey to shut those thoughts up. The other man… Sakaguchi.. probably wanted him either dead, or behind bars, as well.
Dazai leaned back in the large, leather, chair of his office, and dragged a hand down his face… and absent-mindedly swirled the remaining whiskey around the glass.
In another universe, maybe… there’s a flicker of something. A memory. Warmth.. laughter… voices… curry… and someone saying… “happy birthday” as they ruffled his hair- which was always a fluffy mess, he hated it. It’s hard to look intimidating when you look like an electrocuted cat. He sighed, downed the rest of the whiskey, and set the glass down a bit harder than necessary.
No longer occupied by the glass, Dazai’s fingers drifted to the red scarf hanging around his shoulders.. he fidgeted with the end of it. It had always felt wrong, heavy in a way it shouldn’t be. Like it didn’t belong on his shoulders.
Honestly.. what was so special about surviving another miserable year. His life wasn’t anything special. He wasn’t worth anything. So many people would be happier if he just dropped dead.
He pushed away from the chair and stood up. He tried to stretch but swayed, and stumbled. Catching himself with one hand against the desk. The room was spinning.. and the floor felt like it was moving under his feet. Dazai looked back at the empty bottle of whiskey laying on it’s side on his desk.. okay. That may have been more than a couple shots.
What did it really matter, anymore…
Dazai tried to take another step… and it immediately felt like the world fell out from under him- everything blurred violently, until a sharp pain in his temple brought him back to what he assumed was, unfortunately, reality. He was lying on the ground, face against the floor. Something warm trickled down his face… blood? When did he- whatever. Probably just hit the desk on his way down, or something stupid.
Dazai closed his eyes. Suddenly standing up seemed like too much effort.
Distantly, he heard a knock against the office door. He definitely wasn’t answering that. Too much work.
A warped voice.
The door opened.
Dazai slowly opened his eyes to see.. his bodyguard, Nakahara, and another faceless guard walking in. Nakahara looked remarkably more upset than usual, as he crouched down and grabbed Dazai by the collar of his suit, dragging him upright just enough to shake him- rude. His head hurt as it was and now he was being rattled around like a fish out of water. And Nakahara was yelling- maybe. Speaking of fish- it sounded like the ocean was in his ears. So he couldn’t really hear Nakahara screaming at him. Maybe if he just closed his eyes…
Darkness enveloped him.
Sweet. Blissful. Darkness.
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“I can’t believe I’m always the one stuck with that idiot. I swear- one of these days I’m going to kill him, myself.” Chuuya seethed as he marched down the hall to the boss’s office. Another, faceless, rank following behind him awkwardly. Clearly not looking to get on either his bad side, or the boss’s bad side. Honestly- getting on either was a death wish.
Chuuya banged his fist against the boss’s door.
“IF YOU DON’T OPEN THIS STUPID DOOR I’M COMING IN ON MY OWN.” Chuuya yelled, he banged again.
No response.
Chuuya tried the handle, it was locked.
Of. Freaking. Course, it was.
Gravity warped in the hallway- and Chuuya kicked in the door.
(Another expense they’d need to add the monthly chart. Again.)
Chuuya looked downright murderous when he saw the boss laying on the ground next to his desk.
“Is he.. dead?” The faceless rank asked, hesitantly.
“No.” Chuuya spat, already stalking over. “He’s blackout drunk and stupid. OI-“ Chuuya had crouched in front of the boss, grabbed the collar of his suit, lifted him off the floor just slightly.. and started shaking him. Violently.
“Wake up, idiot. You’ve got a job to do, in case you forgot.” Chuuya growled.
Dazai’s eyes cracked open, briefly.. glassy.. and absolutely not focusing on anything.
Chuuya shook him harder.
“What were you thinking?! Getting blackout drunk in the middle of the workday- HEY- I’m talking to you-“ Chuuya yelled.
It had zero effect. Dazai’s eyes slipped closed again.
Chuuya sighed, frustrated, and dropped the boss back onto the ground. The faceless rank had hesitantly came over.. and now they were both getting a good look at him.
There was a cut on his temple, steadily dripping blood onto the expensive floor. His face flushed from the alcohol. His mouth was slightly open as he breathed.. a little ragged.
“What should we do?” The faceless rank asked.
“I don’t care!” Chuuya said, throwing his hands in the air as he turned away.
“Take him to the infirmary, or something. He’ll sleep it off, regardless.” With that, Chuuya stormed out of the office.
Leaving a very nervous rank to figure out what to do with his unconscious boss.
Well… infirmary it was.
Unfortunately.. he was going to have to carry him.