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The Day the Music Died (Dazai x Reader)

TW: Suicide, suicide attempts, drowning, successful attempt, description of a rotting body, it gets gorey? Idk I'm too numb rn

A/N: here's an a/n I never thought I'd be writing, my bf sewerslide attempt was successful, it was drowning (I'm in my paranoid bag and think it's not and there's foul play) but whatever I feel so lifeless and in all my pain I just started writing this and i think this is kinda me processing what happened but it's like idk i refuse to believe ts. Depression is a real thing, please take care of yourself and reach out, there's people who genuinely care and love you (me typing this like I'm not having acute suicidal ideation right now lmaoo okay hyprocrite)

My works: enjoy

Bye now - Mars ♡

Dazai and you had always joked about him finally having found the beautiful woman for him to end his life with. You always played into his silliness.

Often not knowing what else to do, sometimes you’d be glad Kunikida would smack those thoughts out of his head in the moment, only for the two of you to get home and you to kiss the scars and soft bruises he got from the blonde violent nature.

You knew Dazai was suicidal, you knew he struggled with acute suicidal ideation yet somehow when you heard the news you found it impossible to believe

This had to be some mean elaborate prank on you, right?

You felt lifeless, that was the only way to describe this feeling, knees buckling in on you as you fell onto the floor, sobbing into the phone as Kunikida comforted you as much as he could with over the phone, whilst also confirming they have successfully identified the body despite the body started to swell

No, no, no, no, no, no this was a sick joke. A bad dream? A stupid prank from your lover? You grapple at anything before wanting to accept this could be true.

Slipping into his spare coat you headed down to the agency, determined to prove to them that they were sorely mistaken, that was some stranger and not your Osamu! It had to be.

The ride to the agency was a deafening one, even with the uber playing the radio, you were so caught up in your head, praying to every god out there for this to be false news.

And when you got there, seeing the body bag unzipped just enough for the agency members to see the face of this person who has passed, it was not your lover, it couldn’t be, you found yourself slowly approaching, with shaky knees and trembling hands, tears whelming up in your eyes as if your body knew what your mind refused to acknowledged, let alone believe.

By the time you were in front the person, the scream that escaped your lips was a foreign one, shocking all the members, the president took you into his arms, offering you what little comfort he could

The face that was laying there, motionless, swollen, bangs wet and sticking to his forehead, lips dries from the salt water, chunks of skin bitten off from fishes, body decaying and swollen from the water retention.

That wasn’t your lover. That wasn’t your Osamu, yet the handsome face, even in his rotting charm, was the same one you has kissed nightly, the one that you woke up to every morning as he pulled you back into bed for five more minutes

“Yosano, you can fix this right?!” your voice is shaky and your words come out in one word vomit, tears slipping into your lips

Fighting your way out of the President’s grasps, you flung yourself onto your lover, clinging to his body, cradling his face and lifted his lifeless head to yours, pressing down your forehead against his, “Osamu, please open your fucking eyes” your curse, “Baby, please, pleasee I beg” you sobbed into the corpse as the agency staff pulled you away from your sweet love.

“NOO!”

Kicking and screaming and fighting with whoever touches you to try and hold you back, watching in bitter tears are they took his body away.

The days after files by too quickly, a wake is held every night, the autopsy results comes back, drowning and trauma they said.

Going through the motion of necessary paperwork feel lifeless, you feel like a zombie. You feel angry that you’re in this unbearable pain and this is just another day to the employee. Making the phone calls and breaking the news is worse, you hate the fake pity they all seem to give you.

The funeral passes before you know it, he’s put down into the ground next to Oda and the agency tells you their door is always open for you, each member personally comforts you and offers the same pity, “I’m here if you need to talk”

But you don’t want to talk. Talk and say what? You are overwhelmned by emotions you just start feeling numb at this point.

The most painful days are the ones after. After family and friends have left, returned home, back to work, cases still left to be solved.

But you, you’re stuck in your shared apartment, not knowing what to do, which room to enter first, collapsing on the couch you two often had your afternoon cuddles on.

Sobbingly reaching for your phone and flipping through your photos, only making yourself cry harder. Changing into his clothing, desperate to smell him. Sobbing and chuckling together when you find the remains of his stupid notes from days prior,

“Bella, I ate your pudding, forgive me T^T”

His stupid scribbles about whatever thought he was having, clutching them to your chest and sobbing silently.

What now? What were you supposed to do now? You have spent years getting close to Osamu, trusting him, peeling back his layers, and loving him all the same regardless. Suddenly all your fights felt meaningless and stupid, and all your kisses felt too short.

How would you return to life? Your job? Your friends? They could give you comforting words but none of them knew how much your heart was bleeding for the detective.

Selfishly you are angry at him for not staying for you but logically you know he merely lost a battle he fought very hard on a daily basis.

A small part of you whispers if you weren’t enough to make him want to stay. If all else fails, couldn’t you have just stayed for me?! You selfish man, I love you, and I hate you, and I hate that I love you!

Staring numbly at the photos, his smile so bright it took over his entire face, like sunlight in this terrible terrible nightmare. Quietly making your way into the bathroom and sitting inside the tub, letting the cold water soak you through his clothes, hugging your knees to your chest as you stare at the door, waiting.

Maybe this is a big elaborate joke and he’ll be home in a few with spicy curry and crabcakes, laughing jolly at how good he got you.

You sat in the same position, staring at the door, waiting for your lover to come back.

He has to, right?

How do you confide in people about suicidal tendencies, like "hi youre a great friend but I fear I might not make it through the winter" like ???

#tw sui ideation #sewer slide #mental health #help

i'm not even mentally ill or anything. like i'm not diagnosed with anything i just. want to die

#vent #sewer slide #vent post #sh #sharm