Yknow....I'm super sleepy rn, but....minific idea of dazai with a fem s/o who ain't putting up with his flirting. not that I rlly think he would do that, necessarily, maybe he just wants to make her jealous or see how much she cares....but she ain't brushing it off nor amused. Just storms off, cries, won't talk to him for days. It's not just me who likes dazai having to make it up for once, is it....? feel free to ignore this request ehe.
⌯⌲ i'm purposefully rooting through my inbox for stuff that's angst or hurt/comfort because of my mood today and found this. let's skip most of the sad stuff since we wanna make up with him ૮◞ ‸ ◟ ა they're a little toxic here.
"Babe, I'm not gonna argue with you through the door and your friend!" Dazai huffs, side of his fist pounding on the front door of your best friend's apartment, where you have been staying for the past few days. For the first time in your entire relationship, he made you feel insecure, and instead of fighting with him about it, you sobbed. Threw things at him as you packed a bag whenever he tried going near you to stop you. Didn't listen to whatever excuses he came up with to explain away what he had done. And you stormed out the front door, stomping down the sidewalk to hail a taxi that would take you to your friend's. Who is the combative type and was on the phone the entire time adding to the fight between you and your boyfriend. She didn't even know what he had done, she just doesn't like him and tells you every chance she gets to dump him.
"Beat it, bum ass wannabe emo loser!" She shouts back at him, leaving you sniffling on the couch. You haven't stopped crying, fresh tears springing forward whenever you think about it, and hearing her call your boyfriend names doesn't help nearly as much as you thought it would. "She doesn't want anything to do with you anymore or she'd be the one yelling at you right now!" She continues, banging on her side of the door, and you have secondhand embarrassment at the two of them fighting back and forth like this, worried to death one of her neighbors will get sick of it and call up the police. Which is the last thing you need happening to Dazai.
"You're so tough running that damn mouth with the door closed!" He falls for her provocations, completely blinded by his irritation and anger and confusion on the entire situation to not recognize she is trying to rile him up so she can call the police. "Let's see you say it to my face!" His fist hits harder on the surface, making you jump in place, and you furiously wipe at your eyes as you get to your feet.
"Quit pissing him off!" You hiss, jerking her arm to turn her around, and her face is red with fury. "He hurt me, not you!" You roll your crimson eyes, feeling as though you are watching their breakup instead of your own.
"Hey, we are best friends," she folds her arms, huffing some from her prior screaming. "That asshole hurts you, he deals with me. That's how friendship works." She reminds, gearing up to turn back toward the door that he hasn't stopped hitting, you internally worried he'll ram it down if he doesn't get his way soon. However, you grip her shoulder and turn her around again. "What?" She almost whines, the audacity dripping off of her that you can't believe she has.
"Just go away," you scoff lightly, gently pushing her off toward her room - not without her protesting every step of the way until you are having to shove her into her own bedroom and closing the door in her face. She gasps, offended, and instead of following you out, she just pouts on her bed with arms folded. You sigh heavily, scratching at your forehead, trying to collect yourself, but Dazai is still aggressively arguing with himself on the other side of the door, and this is probably the first time you have ever witnessed him acting like this.
A hand rests on the knob, clearing your throat and raking your fingers through your hair, you prepare yourself, readjusting your expression and features to be semi-neutral, put together, as if you hadn't been crying to three or four days straight. He bangs on it once more before you yank it open, standing there with a furious impression, and your brow lifts. "Oh? Was the girl from the market not enough?" You ask, rhetorical, voice pitched. He stands there in silence, eyeing you up and down, his bright red hand slipping away in his pocket. Girl from the market?
"What are you talking about?" He has the audacity to play dumb, but he truthfully doesn't understand what you're talking about. "What girl?"
"The girl! The market girl that was all over you that you were flirting and giggling with and she twirled her hair and you-you touched her!" You rush out, all of the words spilling together, the pain you've been holding tight and close to your chest, about ready to explode. He blinks, giving you a sincerely confused look, whoever you're talking about someone that never got the opportunity to take up residence in his brain quite like they did with yours. "You tucked her hair! You were... You were flirting with her! In front of me! While were together!" You emphasize, actually hating the fact he is pretending to not know what you're saying. He does listen to you though, eyes scanning and bouncing around as people he's seen all his life are flying through his mind and behind his eyes, trying to pinpoint the root of the problem, some girl at the market.
With the both of you acting overdramatic for days, Dazai hadn't remembered what it was that upset you so much, the only thing on his mind being trying to get you back home. Until now, blinking rapidly when he vaguely remembers some girl that bumped into him at the market, made a passing comment that she thought he was cute - and he thought nothing of her until he saw you on the other side, not caring, and for whatever dumb reason, that bothered him. It bothered him that you never seemed worried about others going near him, the potential possibility that you could lose him. It bothered him you weren't the jealous type, not like he is. So, stupidly, he thought that maybe he could try to see if you actually cared about him and your two's relationship, and he flirted mindlessly, meaningless, back with the girl whose face isn't even coming back to him. A blank slate of a person. He doesn't even recall the color of her hair he supposedly touched.
But he remembered your face, the twisted expression as you watched him, and a strange emotion stirred up in him when you both locked eyes, one he didn't experience often: guilt. He has been riddled and cursed with guilt after noticing the heartbreak visible in your tear-filled eyes, and he hated himself more than ever for doing something so idiotic. Something he didn't remember doing because his brain had been shrouded with a thick smog of rage that was only self-induced from his own inability to comprehend not everyone needs to be put through a loyalty test.
"It wasn't..." He starts, lightly shaking his head. "It seriously wasn't like that. I don't want her; I don't even remember her!" He defends, weak, and your eyes roll. "I was being an idiot! You never seem bothered by the idea of me being with someone else, and that bothered me! It's not fair that I have to walk around with you, worried some other guy might come along wanting you and very capable of taking you away from me but you don't have that same fear!" Your brows knit together at that blatant confession, definitely not under the impression this was something he "feared", considering he never made it known outwardly. A hand comes up, gradually, to rest on your hip, staring at him, and your tongue clicks after a painfully long period of silence as you replay what he just said over and over again.
"That's what you're turning this into?" You question, valid, reasonable. "You did what you did because you're insecure? You needed some other girl's attention because I don't give you enough? I don't make you feel like I want only you?" Each new inquiry thrown at him feels like daggers to the heart, and he winces with the end of every sentence.
"I'm not justifying it," he murmurs, suddenly not wanting to yell anymore, not needing to. No long in a place to. "I'm just explaining why I did it."
"Well, it's a shitty explanation and doesn't fix anything," you tell him, point blank, beginning to shut the door on him before his forearm shoots out to stop you. The impact jerks you backward, startling you, and his jaw is tight as he stares at you; you both have a stare down, you waiting for whatever it could possibly be he feels the need to tell you, and him trying to buy himself more time to convince you to go home. "Dazai, just go-"
"I'm sorry," a faint whisper. The words lost to the wind, a last-ditch effort to prove to you he means everything he said before. What were once empty sounds with letter jumbled together int fits of anger and irritation are now laced with sincerity. A man's final hope is the thing he has always avoided saying - no matter if he should have long before this. He swallows, biting down on the inside of his cheek before his lips part. "I'm sorry." He repeats, louder, steady. Your eyes widen in skepticism, disbelief, and you eye him up and down.
"Did you just apologize?"
"Yeah, twice. I can do it a third," you hold up a hand and shake your head, waving him off.
"No, I couldn't live with myself if you dropped dead from your ego shriveling up," you comment, more under your breath, but he hears you and the corner of his mouth twitches. "You must mean it if you're saying you're sorry."
"Like I said, I'm just an idiot," he shrugs, daring to step one foot over the threshold, getting closer to you, and fight with yourself from taking a step backward. "I don't want anyone else but you. Everyone else is a blank slate to me, not knowing or caring enough to remember what they look like. But I can pick your face out in any crowd, even when you're purposefully hiding from me." You sigh, listening to him, knowing deep within your heart and soul he is telling the truth, but you're still hurt - which is understandable.
"I guess I can come home," you mumble, folding your arms but avoiding looking at him directly. "You have a lot of making up to do, though. And I mean a lot. I'm going to think every girl now wants you."
"Don't worry. Apparently, all I have to do is just open my mouth and they run off," he grins when your eyes narrow, now glaring at him, and his head tilts. "Not that I would ever dare looking in another woman's direction, let alone speak to them. I'll wear blackout glasses so I can't see anyone and duct tape my mouth shut under a face mask so I won't talk. And then no girl can see my stunning good looks because I will be in disguise." You lightly hit his chest, the absurdity of it all making a smile finally appear on your lips.
"That's a good start," you agree, letting his arm drop down to wrap around your waist. "Especially the taping your mouth shut. That might be an added bonus for me." He takes the proximity as an opportunity to lean down and place a kiss on your cheek, grateful you aren't running away again.
"How am I going to kiss you if my mouth is inaccessible?" He hums, brows raising as he waits for an answer, but you don't give him one - just another narrow-eyed glare. "You have nothing to worry about. I know you're out of my league." He kisses your nose, engulfing you fully in his arms for a hug, hiding his face in your hair, and your arms follow suit to breathe in his cologne and clean clothes.
"Gross," your friend's voice groans behind you, but Dazai doesn't lighten up to set you free to look at her. "If you're back together, get out of my apartment." She huffs, holding your packed bag in her fist. Her and him share an equally hateful glare, her tongue sticking out at him, and he flips her off. "Get loss before I call the cops." His eyes roll then, leaning down to lift you off the ground and throw you over his shoulder, legs kicking in the air with your protests falling on deaf ears while he reaches to grab your bag.
When he turns to go, careful not to have you hit anything, you are faced with your grumpy friend that you offer a sympathetic but gracious smile, waving goodbye. "Bye. Thank you for letting me stay here."
"Any time," she sighs, waving back and watching you two begin to disappear. "I hate your boyfriend!" She adds, standing in the doorway, and you shrug, dangling in his hold.
"Yeah, I get that a lot, actually."
brought to you by my strange sadness and the tortured poets department.
tag list//: @dazaisfavoritemistake @luanniidae @starr3i @grubluunch
