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There can be no sad ending (Hang in there till the sun rises)
Where Dazai and Chuuya hate each other, team up again undercover, and become closer and closer. They finally learn to understand each other. But it will be a long road ahead of pain and learning. (Chuuya x Dazai) (Mature rated)
If you had to choose between two Soukoku BSD fics,
Would you choose a Singer/Celebrity AU or a Pirate AU?
Singer / Celebrity AU
Pirate AU
Remaining time: 3 days 13 hours
I can't decide myself. There's a few singer!AUs that I absolutely love but there's also the idea of Pirates!Soukoku and Honeybumi's perfect fic The Tides Pull Us Closer
Hang in there till the sun rises, Chapter 4 Part 1
“Do you need me to carry you?” Chuuya asks.
“Chuuya couldn’t carry me, he’s too small.” It comes out so automatic. It should be from interactions over the three years in the Mafia.
“Do you need me to carry you?” The past echoes in Chuuya’s mind through the years.
“Chuuya’s so itty-bitty how could you carry me?!” Dazai whines lying on the ground and flopping his hands dramatically whilst his broken(?!) leg stays still.
“HAH?! What was that you bastard?!”
Dazai grins up at him. “You’re too small.”
Chuuya kicks him in his side.
“Ow!” And he rolls about like it actually hurt. “You’re so cruel! A monster! A-”
“I’m carrying you whether you like it or not.”
Dazai’s eyes suddenly sparkle, his emotions flipping unnaturally. “You’re so human! So kind. So brilliant! So-”
“Ugh. Your reverse psychology shit isn’t going to work.”
But Chuuya isn’t in the mood to respond as usual. He rings the Agency and lets them know he’s taking him to… to his. There’s nowhere else really, Chuuya doesn’t feel like helping and bringing him back from the edge in some hotel. Taking him to the Agency isn’t going to happen, either.
Because those idiots don’t seem to know that Dazai is serious.And it’s a miracle the Boss knew and decided that Dazai was still useful. Perhaps there was no need at all to overhear his previous conversation with the Agency.
Perhaps Mori has always been monitoring Dazai.
—
Dazai takes in the place with uncaring eyes. His eyes don’t really see anything. He’s there physically but not present mentally. There’s no quips. There’s nothing.
Dazai’s never been here. Chuuya knows that. They were never so close to allow him over. The opposite was never the same. Chuuya had been ordered a few times to drag him into work back before Dazai turned traitor.
Chuuya’s space has always been his: Private and off-limits.
Perhaps that should be odd. It’s Dazai. And when they were partners after Guivre Chuuya half expected Dazai to be annoying and just show up. But he just… didn’t.
Dazai didn’t want to be around him too much. The missions and the many many times they went to the arcade were enough.
And so, oddly, Dazai always complied in this.
Their relationship has always had little room for anything but barbed words, insults. There were cruel jokes that had a chance to severely injure. Chuuya half doesn’t know why he’s invited him here. He’s got another apartment elsewhere in the city. It was another option he realises. But he’s here now. It’s too late to back out. This is a kindness for outside the bounds of their messy, ugly, relationship. It is unnatural.
And there was actually another option. Chuuya didn’t have to take him to the Agency, Chuuya should’ve at most taken him home and left him to his own devices. Chuuya wouldn’t be surprised to find Dazai had come close yet again to ending it all.
And Chuuya would have pretended to welcome the news even though a wasted life has never sat right with him.
But just leaving him at his home, alone with his own thoughts isn’t bringing him back from the brink. It would be against orders even if it’s not explicitly so.
Dazai flops down on the floor of the living room. Chuuya turns around to look at him with a glare and a hesitance. What to do now? The Boss wants him alive and Chuuya’s nothing but loyal.
“Get up. You need a bath.” Because that is what Chuuya would need if he was in Dazai’s shoes.
“You stink, too.” Dazai says lazily, as if they’re just throwing insults like normal. This isn’t like normal, though.
“No, you idiot, it will make you feel better.”
Dazai turns his head to him and looks at him with his dead fish eyes. “Impossible.” is all he says before closing his eyes.
With his eyes closed he looks like a dead man.
There’s minutes where it’s awkward. Or perhaps it’s just him. This is Dazai. He’s seen him bleeding out and near death before.
Chuuya busies himself with getting a drink — non-alcoholic. Who knows what Dazai would do if he got drunk. And Chuuya doesn’t particularly feel like being taunted because he’s a lightweight. He’s long accepted it but acceptance doesn’t mean he likes it. And Chuuya needs to have full control of his actions and movements. If this idiot on the floor does something…
Minutes tick by and Chuuya sits down on his sofa, makes himself comfortable and keeps one eye on Dazai. He doesn’t move.
Chuuya finishes his glass and pulls out his phone to read reports — Anything. And time slips by.
“How are you, lad?” Kouyou had asked after their interaction in the cell. She had known he’d gone to visit him but not that he’d uh set him free. That stupid bastard. “It is not easy to stop a sociopath like him from getting under your skin.”
“He’s the same.” Chuuya had replied. Their interactions had been just like before. Like nothing had changed at all. Like they were still partners. Like they weren’t twenty-two but Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen.
Chuuya had almost forgotten that four years had past.
Chuuya had almost forgotten the sting of betrayal. Dazai had tossed everything he had — his life in the mafia and everyone in it – away. And Chuuya didn’t mean a damn thing. No goodbyes.
But right now there’s a man — a stranger in the form of his ex-partner — that shows him that he’s wrong. Things have changed. Time ticks on. And Chuuya’s a Port Mafia Executive now, Dazai’s a detective and there’s a vast chasm between them.
And Chuuya has to look after this man.
Chuuya decides he can’t just let Dazai make decisions about himself. Not when he’s like this. How do you take care of a severely depressed man? Before Chuuya would have just been there and stayed. That alone doesn’t seem enough now.
It’s been four years. And it turns out that their chemistry may be the same but things are different. They have to be. Dazai’s on the verge of self-destructing and Chuuya is now a stranger.
(He feels like a stranger at least.)
For the Port Mafia he needs to help this man he hates. And so, he gets off the sofa, he squats down and picks Dazai up in his arms. Chuuya’s carried men heavier and less bony. Dazai’s eyes fly wide open and those dead fish eyes stare back at him. But this needs to be done. Dazai can’t wallow in self-pity anymore. He can’t die.
He can’t.
CONTENT WARNINGS: This fic may contain themes that may be upsetting such as suicidal thoughts, self-hatred, etc. Please stay safe.
It is unfortunate that Chuuya’s the only one in this world that can do this.
When he plops Dazai down on the seat in the bathroom, he turns the tap of the bath on. Water runs breaking the silence.
Chuuya needs Dazai to complain. He’s too quiet.
The water slowly runs warm and Dazai is staring at the back of Chuuya’s head. He can feel it. It’s annoying. When the bath is full, his job is done and he plans to just leave him to his own devices. But a thought occurs to him as he’s about to step through the door.
It’s Dazai.
He could find a hundred ways to kill himself in this room.
And so, however much this annoys him and makes him want to puke, he has to look after him. Chuuya has to follow orders.
It feels unnatural to close the door when he’s still in the room. When Chuuya turns around, there’s Dazai blinking up at him from his bathroom chair.
Ah, so this wasn’t in his calculations.
Chuuya smiles at the thought and steps closer. “You’re an ass. I can’t believe I have to look after you.”
Dazai lifeless eyes look away. “There’s no point.”
“And of course you won’t make it easy for me. What? Do I have to act like you’re some lover or something?” Chuuya sneers, wanting a comeback from Daai that is more like the clown than this… This lifeless thing.
“Chuya won’t be able to.” Dazai says, certain. “He hates me too much.”
It is true, but Chuuya likes the challenge.
When Chuuya touches him, he realises that Dazai is so deep in his thoughts that he failed to calculate properly. Dazai isn’t manipulating anything here. Dazai didn’t intend for it to be a challenge. He just said it and then just slipped back into his thoughts.
“What?” Chuuya’s smile is cruel — as cruel as he can make it, as cruel as it should be with Dazai — even though he’s supposed to be helping. He needs to follow orders. But right now there’s a Dazai that isn’t the mastermind. This is just a scarred man he hates.
A Dazai that needs him for once.
Dazai cocks his head to one side examining Chuuya’s face and Chuuuya comes to the realisation that Dazai doesn’t really care what Chuuya will do. How Chuuya will treat him. Those eyes are waiting, uncaring about himself.
Duh.
Chuuya’s such an idiot. Dazai’s in this state afterall — something darker and deeper than he’s ever seen.
Dazai wants to be treated as a disgusting thing because he knows he is. It goes against all of Chuuya to prove him wrong but he must. (And he wants to slap some sense into him but violence right now won’t help, will it?)
And so, the touch becomes gentler and he channels his own former self back before the betrayal and his ever growing hatred. Those times when Chuuya was worried about his partner.
And Chuuya realises those moments happened even when the hate grew — seventeen and eighteen and twenty-two.
“You need to take this off, it’s all…” Chuuya trails off, his attention catching on Dazai’s clothes. He knew, in the back of his mind he knew, but he’d delegated the thought to the back of his mind. These clothes are the same as the last time he saw him. They’re all wrinkled and still damp, too. Like old washed washing just left on a table to fester.
Chuuya looks up into Dazai’s eyes but Dazai’s eyes are focused somewhere — someplace else again. He closes his eyes with great effort like sitting here and doing nothing is the hardest thing in the world.
“Dazai, hey.” Chuuya pats his face. “The bath’s almost ready.”
“I don’t want it.”
“...I think it’ll help.”
“Nothing will help.”
“How do you know if you haven’t tried.”
“I just know.”
“It will make you feel better. These clothes are terrible.”
“Chuuya’s terrible.”
“I’m the only person who gives a fuck right now.” No, Chuuya shouldn’t have said that.
“Chuuya should just go.” Dazai’s voice is soft. “Tell Mori I’m no use anymore. Let me drown in a river. Or give me opioids and I’ll drift off blissfully. Anything’s fine as long as it doesn’t hurt.” Dazai’s voice is hard to make out with the tap still running.
Chuuya turns it off and checks the temperature. More cold. He turns a tap on again.
He turns back to Dazai who’s pulled his feet up on the chair and fully curled into himself.
Dazai could be more manipulative but it appears he has no energy.
Chuuya crouches down and tries to unfold the lanky man. “Oi. Don’t make it difficult. If you don’t undress, I’m doing it for you.”
“Chuuya won’t.” So certain.
“You wanna bet?”
“No.”
And slowly, ever so slowly, Dazai stands and peels away his trenchcoat. Chuuya checks the water temperature again. Perfect..
He turns to find Dazai in his boxers and bandages. “You can go now.”
“And have you drown in here? No.”
“I don’t particularly want you to watch me have a bath.”
“We’re both dudes.”
“And Chuuya’s into men.”
“Like that matters. What? Is this a last ditch attempt to get me off your back? I am not leaving, you hear me? I’m going to give you as much privacy as I can but I am not going to leave this room.”
“I hate you.”
Chuuya cocks his head and smiles. “It’s mutual.”
To Chuuya’s horror Dazai makes his way to the bath and is one foot in when Chuuya drags him back. “WHO BATHES IN BANDAGES?!” (And boxers)
“I DO!”
“NO!”
“What? Some dark secret hidden under those bandages?”
Dazai shrugs Chuuya off in annoyance and plops down in the chair to start unwinding. Chuuya crosses his arms and leans against the wall. He looks away. Privacy.
“What? Am I too disgusting to see?” Dazai says it like it’s true. Like he didn’t just shout about privacy. “I understand completely and it is easy for you to step back, leave me alone. Why does it even matter whether I submerge myself or not? What are you trying to prove?”
Chuuya glances back to find Dazai’s not looking at him and concentrating on revealing the many bruises, scars, and clear skin. Is he rambling?
“Ah, right, but wouldn't that get Chuuya on Mori’s naughty list?” Dazai continues, paying no attention to Chuuya. “It is impossible to look after me. It is best for Chuuya to distract himself with some lover as this body becomes colder and ceases to stop working. I can come up with any plan you want, Chuuya. How would Chuuya like—”
Dazai’s cut off by a slap.
Chuuya’s hand did it by itself. The unease is deep in his stomach. Chuuya feels like he’s going to be sick. No. It wouldn’t be easy to just let Dazai die. He’s Dazai. Chuuya hates him, but he’s Dazai.
Dazai moves his head back to centre and quietly continues to unwrap himself.
“I’m not betraying Mori.” Chuuya decides to say because his emotions are too sweet to say.
“You won’t be.”
“He wants you alive.”
“But you don’t.”
Chuuya looks away.
How could Dazai not know and use it against him?
Dazai eventually steps into the bath and Chuuya finds himself on the seat staring ahead.
—
Dazai looks like an annoyed cat covered in fluffy bedsheets and in someone else’s clothes. The clothes have never been worn and for a lover that never existed. A hope. It’s a shame Dazai is the first to wear them.
Because he doesn’t feel comfortable to leave Dazai alone, he climbs onto the guest bedroom’s bed with a book. He settles down, trying to ignore a fish staring at him.
“If Chuuya falls asleep, he’ll wake up somewhere else.”
Yeah, poking this monster is not what Chuuya wants to do. Who knows what Dazai will do now that Chuuya forced him into doing something. Dazai’s anger has always been immeasurable. “Check your phone. Kunikida will come in the morning to ‘drag you onto a train.’ the briefing will happen when we get to the hotel.” Is all he says.
“We? Ugh. I have to stay with this slug?” Dazai’s tired voice now only barely sounds like his usual tone. It’s an improvement.
And perhaps Chuuya should be scared he angered a sociopath like Dazai. But he’s not. He dealt with him when they were teens, he can learn to deal with him again.
Undercover with this asshole will be a pain.
But a part of Chuuya’s oddly excited. The part that doesn’t want to stay as far away from Dazai as possible.
Chuuya’s emotions, he realises lying here with Dazai slowly falling asleep, have always been complicated when it came to Dazai.
Hang in there 'till the sun rises, Chapter 3: Vacant Eyes
Chuuya is surprised that the Armed Detective Agency gave Chuuya access to Dazai's tracking. He's sure if Dazai found out he'd scramble the access just to spite both him and Mori. Because even if the Agency expressly told Chuuya not to give the access to anyone else — boss or not — they can't really think there was no chance at all that the Boss was overhearing their call… Right? Even Chuuya isn’t sure which goes to show how immaculate Mori is in everything he does.
Chuuya follows the blinking dot on his phone. He could have easily guessed, anyway. He only needed it if he was wandering about or in someplace Chuuya has never been or cared to enter. Chuuya finds Dazai by the river — somewhere he loves to visit. someplace he can stare into space for hours on and — someplace he can jump into whenever he feels like it.
CONTENT WARNINGS: This fic may contain themes that may be upsetting such as suicidal thoughts, self-hatred, etc. Please stay safe.
Today, Dazai hasn't decided to take his "submersion" or at least not yet.
Dazai hears him before he can say anything. "Really?" He asks with a deep exhausted sigh. "You? Is Kunikida too exhausted by me that he contacted the very immoral underworld to take me back?"
Chuuya stops next to him and looks out and tries to picture what Dazai sees. It is nigh impossible. No one has glimpsed inside that head. But oddly Chuuya feels like he’s the only one who has come the closest.
What does Dazai see?
And what a stupid question for his mind to conjure up. It doesn’t matter.
“Because if they’re tossing me out,” Dazai continues. “And leaving me at the deathly darkness of the Port Mafia,” Dazai turns and meets Chuuya’s gaze and the sight would make a normal man freeze.
Dazai’s eyes are dead. Hollow. Completely void of all light, all life. He looks inhuman, something long gone.
Something dead.
He looks like a corpse. The stray strands around his face seem to add to the illusion.
How could this ghost still be flesh and blood?
How could any human look like that?
Chuuya steps to the other foot and looks away from those eyes and out to the river again. Sometimes even he is unnerved by those fish eyes. “I don’t know, have you been exceptionally annoying lately?”
Dazai flops down where he stands onto the grass below. He takes a moment before leaning forward towards the earth. “They’re tired of me.” Dazai says. “Everyone’s tired of me.”
Okay.
This is new.
Or maybe it isn’t? Perhaps this is yet another trick. If Dazai had said it in some complaining voice, it would have been more normal. This, though, hints at another rock bottom. Something Chuuya has only seen glimpses of in the cracks of Dazai’s mask.
“Chuuya, I don’t understand. How can you keep living like you do? Everything is so completely worthless.”
And here comes the nonsense.
Chuuya crouches down and wants to try and piece together what the punch line is. But Chuuya is so completely tired.
“They’re not throwing you out.” He says, the summer wind blows at him. It’s cooling from the heat. His words aren’t meant to sooth. Or perhaps they are? It’s a job. This is a job. He needs to pull Dazai back from the brink. “There’s a mission and they need you.”
“Then why are you here?”
Good question. Maybe because Mori is nosy in things that don’t seem relevant. Maybe because Dazai is still useful and it’s a shame that his personality comes with that brain and that power.
“Don’t you already know? Haven’t you calculated it?”
Dazai leans back with a sigh. “I don’t want to.”
So childish.
Or, perhaps it would be if Dazai had put effort into his voice, that characteristic sing-song. But it’s absent today. Everything is absent today.
Chuuya stands up. “I’ll take you to the Agency.”
“No.”
“Dazai.”
“I killed someone!”
Chuuya blinks. The words seem to echo.
Okay?
So?
This is Dazai, he’s killed countless people. Why does this one matter?
“An enemy?” Chuuya asks, hesitantly, trying to figure out what’s going on, where the usual Dazai is. He wants normality. He wants Dazai to be annoying and hurtful in his words. He wants to swing at him and for Dazai to dance out of the way like he does. This is new. Chuuya doesn’t know how he feels about it.
“A victim.” Dazai answers, staring out at the river, his tone suggesting he knows that Chuuya might not understand. “I had calculated it perfectly. She would live. But then I hesitated.”
Hesitated?
“Afterall,” Dazai continues, gloomy as ever. “Wouldn’t it be kinder to just let her die?” Dazai looks up at him in a kind of sincerity he doesn’t think he’s ever seen from Dazai before.
“So they’re mad.”
“They hate me.” Dazai sums up.
And this might make his job infinitely worse. Dazai has on occasion disappeared in his thoughts, gotten beaten up more, become prone to suicide more, but Dazai has never acted like this before. Or at least not to him.
“Everyone hates you,” Chuuya says almost automatically. They need to keep their routine. They need to stay them. “It’s never seemed to bother you before.” Or maybe it has and Chuuya just hasn’t noticed.
Maybe he’s seen hints of it but never enough to get the whole picture.
Who is Dazai?
They were partners. Chuuya should know these things. Dazai knows him, why doesn’t he know Dazai?
An irrational burst of angst fights to take control of him. Dazai always hides his emotion away.
Well, usually.
Again, this is new.
Dazai stays quiet this time, he looks out across the water. His eyes are vacant, glossy. He’s been dragged back into his thoughts again.
And Chuuya feels completely helpless. How is he supposed to bring Dazai back to semi-okay? Perhaps he should punch him into sense but somehow that doesn’t seem to be what Dazai needs.
Chuuya wants to go home and have a glass of wine. He wants to stare out the windows of his penthouse or go up onto the roof garden. He wants to be somewhere — anywhere — else other than here.
Chuuya has long lost interest in whatever Dazai’s doing. Long healed from the silly sense of betrayal. Scars from barbed wires which had pierced his heart over a disappearance – a disgusting defection - of an annoying partner, an almost-friend, have long healed.
Chuuya has people he cares about.
But still, regardless of his own feelings and however much he doesn’t want to be here, he needs to man up and follow orders.
“Do you need me to carry you?”
.
.
.
Thank you for reading!!!
Next: Chapter 4 Part 1 (Tumblr)
Hang in there 'till the sun rises AO3 Version here
Hang in there till the sun rises, Chapter 2: Concern
Nakahara Chuuya did not even glance at Dazai as he wandered off to gods know where. He had more important things to do. He felt completely and utterly bone-dead tired. Something he was struggling to keep his subordinates and enemies alike from finding out.
He had expected a quip from Dazai as he always would. That bastard always took the chance to get under his skin. He always wanted blood. He wanted to hurt anyone and everyone around him just to feel something. And then he’d wallow in his stupid self-pity and self-hatred.
Yes, when you truly knew Dazai as Chuuya did there was only ever a burning disgust or hatred.
And still…
He had been his partner, someone he trusted more than himself. And that’s a scary thing now, scary still how it was resurrected in the fight against Lovecraft.
Perhaps Chuuya is a dog. Loyal to a fault even to someone who doesn’t deserve it at all.
Chuuya tries to clean up the bodies as quicky as possible. The whole place needs to be scrubbed and the paperwork needs to be sorted out. Some information, of course, needs to end up in the police’s hands but in such a way that they see it as a case that solved itself: everyone dead. Chuuya will make it look like it was just two parties taking each other out. They will forever be in the dark about what’s truly going on.
Chuuya is outside on his balcony watching the sun rise when a stray thought pops into his head: how tired Dazai looked. To be that tired to that extent must mean that Dazai must have taken the worst drugs on the market or not slept well for the last few days.
Part of Chuuya wants to celebrate, his mere presence often makes Chuuya want to punch him until he’s black and blue, but… It would be no good for Dazai to die.
And still even though Chuuya hates Dazai to the core there were times - moments - when they were truly close. That is before Dazai ruined it again and again and again.
Dazai ruins everything he touches in a self-destructive haze.
What an idiot.
If only being with the Agency had done Dazai some good. If only he’s started to see the world in better colours. What was the point of being in the light when he was still the same. Dazai still didn’t care about anything. Not even himself.
Chuuya’s fingers twitch for a cigarette or a vape. But he quit years ago. It was hard, but he did it.
And so, he brings his coffee to his lips.
He should be sleeping - his body is too tired from staying up almost twenty-eight hours straight - but his body and mind have different plans. Chuuya had expected when the darkness of sleep had taken him to wake up ten hours later, but no. A singe hour had gone by until Chuuya was brought out of his dreamless slumber by nothing but his own mind.
He was going to go insane.
He knew first hand what sleep deprivation did. He wouldn’t be his best but he tossed and turned and eventually gave up.
And now he’s drinking his second cup of coffee in the last few hours.
I’ll take a day off…
The thought comes to him suddenly. It’s rare that he takes days off at all. Being in the mafia is a full time thing, but right even though it is far from the worst he’s been he gives in to the urge to just rest.
His mug finishes and Chuuya finds himself climbing into bed again, bringing along a couple of books to settle down with.
Hopefully his thoughts won’t stray.
It is noon the next day, and Chuuya is still taking a break from his duties when a call comes in from the Boss. It’s Dazai.
Now, normal traitors would be viscerated. Dazai stepped away, laughed in their faces and got away with it just because of his stupid brain and his useful ability.
…And now he’s near the river. It shouldn’t be abnormal. Dazai frequently is reckless with his life making a joke out of dying like it’s funny. So Chuuya has no clue why Mori is concerned.
Underneath the long black coat lies a frail child who cannot see past the dark enveloping him.
Or something, I dunno. Deep, dark stuff and all that. I just wanted to draw a piece based off the ideation after finishing the latest BSD light novel :3
Canon-divergence BSD Soukoku fic: Hang in there till the sun rises
Chapter One: Nothing But Despair
Consumed by tragic choices, Chuuya goes on. His sorrow is forever tainted. He had blood on his hands, so much blood that it could never be wiped clean.
And he's older but older doesn't always mean wiser. He has lost friends and allies and he has had to continue on like nothing happens with funerals here and there forever ongoing.
And Chuuya knows that his life will forever be like this. And it's not like he hates it, but in these moments he stands and feels.
And so when the storm comes and this mission arrives and Chuuya makes his way, the rain avoiding his pure gravity, through the empty streets dotted with dead cars, he has to move. The only light is his candle-lit lantern. It flickers and dances. And Chuuya protects the only light. He has to move. He has to do what he always does and just carry on. But he's momentarily paralysed in his mind. Still, his body keeps moving.
There is so much death.
There is so many people to grieve.
He is so tired. And it's not the lack of sleep. It is the exhaustion of both his mind and soul.
Perhaps he should go somewhere quiet. Somewhere he can just sit and watch the city. Somewhere where there's no blood and none of the chaos that he loves.
But there's no time.
There never is.
It's one step in front of another and he just has to carry on. He will be okay. He always is. He will find the energy. He will punch and shout and kick... But not right now. That can wait 'till his bones aren't so heavy. It can wait. He just has to move. He just has to keep moving.
---
There are a number of things Dazai hates right now. One of them is the leak in the roof. Every few seconds water drips onto his forehead. It's unrelenting. It's obsessive. The water doesn't care who it touches. It just does. It will continue to drip drip drip forever more until the storm passes and Kunikida ultimately drags his sorry ass out for another day.
Why not move?
Well, he can’t be bothered to. It would be too troublesome. He also doesn’t want to. He’s quite happy to wallow in his own misery. The coldness of the water keeps him in reality in a way. There’s nothing better to do anyway. It’s dark outside. There’s a powercut and the wind is raging. Dazai hasn't closed his window and he can feel the coldness hit him and toss his hair around. His poor blanket tries to run away from him, and Dazai almost lets it if he wasn't wrapped in it in such a way that it was completely and utterly stuck.
It’s the middle of summer and the weather decided to go crazy.
Dazai thinks perhaps an ability caused it. Or it could be a rare natural occurrence that hasn’t happened at this time of year for years.
Ah, well, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.
It’s dark and there’s water dripping on his head. Atsushi knocked on his door - what? - two maybe three hours ago? Dazai doesn’t know. Time just stretches on and on and on. It could have just been half and hour but it also could have easily been five hours.
No. The power hasn’t been off for five hours.
"Dazai?" Hesitant as Atsushi sometimes is. His knocking could almost be disguised as just the wind. He wants him for something but Dazai doesn't want to get up. He doesn't want to move.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The drips are insistant and for a moment Dazai's attention is taken by it again.
"Dazai?" Atsushi again. But if he needs his help, he's better off contacting someone else. Dazai is useless. It would be better for Atsushi anyway to stay away from him.
Right now, Dazai doesn't think he could clown around and act like nothing is wrong. He will polute any room - any room. He will be walking despair and destroy anything in his path. Everything will crumble and the Agency will see. They will see his hollow eyes and the death that guides him. He is from the abyss. He is inhuman, a monster dancing around and feigning humanity.
Atsushi knocks and calls again.
Dazai doesn't say anything. The room is dark. The lights went out countess minutes ago and he is too preoccupied by the dripping on his forehead.
Yes, his bones are stuck to the futon below him. Gravity forever hates him.
And after a few minutes, Dazai blinks from his haze. Atushi isn't knocking or calling anymore. He's gone.
Dazai is alone again.
He deserves it.
Dazai rolls over onto his side. The water starts dripping into his hair instead. He pulls the covers over himself and curls up. Maybe he can sleep.
He can’t.
His mind is too busy with embarrassing moments on the last case - certain things others wouldn’t find embarrassing but he does. No, he doesn’t mean the classic Dazai clowning - this is something different.
Ah, Dazai doesn’t know how to explain.
This night, day, week is terrible. Everything has been going wrong. Dazai’s been getting shouted at more than usual. Even his cases have been affected. He’s ruined his perfect streak. A death occurred unnecessarily and because the whole office knows that Dazai knows everything with almost omniscient power they think Dazai did it on purpose.
He didn’t.
He’s just tired and messed up.
Surprises can happen to him, too.
Knocking begins to start on his door. Or perhaps it’s just the wind? Dazai curls up tighter hoping that all this could just end. Maybe he could have a heart attack in his sleep. He’d go peacefully and quietly. Actually, does he have any-
“Oi.”
Dazai’s eyes fly wide open and sees his own shadow cast by something - someone - behind him. Maybe he was too deep in his thoughts to notice the movement. Or maybe his subconscious just didn’t care. If he dies, he dies. Even Dazai’s body wants him dead.
“Oi.” The voice - Chuuya’s - says again.
Dazai just pulls the covers over his head. He doesn’t want to deal with Chuuya of all people. The worst of people. A teenage crush turned annoying partner. Chuuya who Dazai confessed to on the same damn day he met him. (He was SO stupid) What’s so good about Chuuya? Dazai hates him. Never wants to see him again. He was less miserable without this chihuahua barking how disgusting he is, how messed up, how ugly, how cruel he is.
Sure, Chuuya is an all-powerful mafioso but Chuuya’s an angel compared to him. Dazai knows. He never forgot. He knows he doesn’t care about anyone but himself. He knows he’d be better off dead. He knows that if he was better - if he was someone else entirely - he and Chuuya would have been friends.
And that…
That makes him hate himself even more.
If only things were different. If only he could pick apart all the bad things of himself and leave only the good - only there is no good. There would be nothing left.
Dazai is scum.
“I know you can hear me, I need you to come with me.”
“No.” Dazai’s throat is dry, he realises. When was the last time he drank something? Maybe if he-
“I don’t care whatever this is. Just move.” And something hard - a foot - slams into his back. Chuuya didn’t hold back.
Dazai curls into himself deeper. “Go away.”
The blanket is tugged off of him, exposing the worthless man underneath. Dazai glares up at the illuminated man standing over him. He holds an old fashioned lantern in one hand, the flame flickers every now and then.
Oh, so it is an ability. Right. If Dazai had tried to use his phone or any torch he would have known that.
Dazai slowly sits up just to bug him. “How much are you paying me.”
“It’s saving the city. I thought a detective like you liked that kind of stuff.”
“Chuuya. Chuuya. Chuuya.” Dazai said, standing up and dusting himself off. He put his coat somewhere - oh! There!
“What?”
Dazai just sighs in response, pulling his trenchcoat on and heading towards the door. He stops for a moment at the door and looks back at Chuuya in the small home. “Aren’t you coming?”
And of course, Chuuya blows up.
The warehouse that Dazai finds himself in an hour later is filled with candle-lit lanterns. Armed guards surround the walls all pointing their weapons at a bunch of men, corpses around them.
Dazai hasn’t seen a worse sight in four years. Ah, the deep darkness where he used to reside.
Dazai stops next to Chuuya and observes the room. So many people. Best not think about whatever Mori’s doing. If he knows and doesn’t act against it, there’ll be more things for people to complain about him. He’s trying to turn a new leaf! He needs to be good! No use finding Mafioso stuff out he can’t change!
“Oi, are you listening?!” Chuuya shouts at him.
“Hm, yeah, I was just thinking of whether the ceiling was too high to put a rope. The one I've-”
Chuuya stands on his toe.
Dazai pretends to crunch his face up in pain but he doesn’t actually mind. Everything hurts anyway. What’s one more thing?
“That’s them. The one in the centre is the one controlling the storm. As for the one controlling the electricity, our information was found to be fake. It could be any of them.”
“Ooh~! A spy in the Port Mafia~? Should you be telling me this?”
“Shut up and just fix the city.”
And he did. Everything just went back to normal. The night was just now more quiet. Too quiet. Dazai missed the rain, wind, and thunder. He decided to walk back home in the now lit streets.
If you had to choose between two Soukoku BSD fics,
Would you choose a Singer/Celebrity AU or a Pirate AU?
Singer / Celebrity AU
Pirate AU
Remaining time: 3 days 13 hours
I can't decide myself. There's a few singer!AUs that I absolutely love but there's also the idea of Pirates!Soukoku and Honeybumi's perfect fic The Tides Pull Us Closer
Is this from the manga adaptation or the The Day I Picked Up Dazai LN?
If the LN is it side A or B? I'm confused because it looks in the style of a manga rather than an image in the LNs. And it also looks like Sango Harukawa's work???
If you had to choose between two Soukoku BSD fics,
Would you choose a Singer/Celebrity AU or a Pirate AU?
Singer / Celebrity AU
Pirate AU
Remaining time: 3 days 13 hours
I can't decide myself. There's a few singer!AUs that I absolutely love but there's also the idea of Pirates!Soukoku and Honeybumi's perfect fic The Tides Pull Us Closer
