Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If Chuuya could live outside forever, he would. It’s better than living in his mother’s house, and he appreciates the grass and the trees far more than the broken glass, empty alcohol bottles, and dirty lingerie.

His fantasies won’t ever come real though, and he knows that. Now his ringtone is blasting, playing the same rock music that he payed to be put on there a few months ago. To his surprise, it’s his mother.

His mother never wants his company, only needs him to do the dirty work around the house, such as cleaning her bedroom for when a man is coming.

Chuuya is reluctant to answer. He considers what would happen if he didn’t hit accept. He ends up sighing and answering anyway to get it over with.

He puts his phone to his ear and answers, “Yeah?” He says, trying his best to make his voice sound some-what respectful.

His mother starts spouting random curse words, in which he zoned out. She demanded him to come to the house and clean her bedroom and bathroom. Chuuya can hear in her voice that she is drunk—or high, it could be any.

She then abruptly hangs up.

Chuuya’s mother is beautiful, looking quite like himself; She has ginger curls, brown eyes, and a beautifully placed birthmark on her cheek. Chuuya always thought that she had the potential to be anyone she wanted to be, but his mother also had the curse of having a neglectful family, and therefore made her into who she is now.

Chuuya gets up from sitting under the tree and begins walking to his house. He just wants to smoke right now. Maybe he can smoke quickly before arriving at his house.

He reaches in his jean pockets only to find it empty.

“Fuckin’ shit.” He groaned under his breath. Great, now he has to go to his house stressed and in need of a smoke. Chuuya curses himself silently for forgetting his pack of cigarettes in his room.

Chuuya is now walking across a small bridge, a checkpoint to his house. He looks to his left, silently praying the rest of his day will go somewhat smoothly. Though, when it comes to his mother, it never does.

Chuuya stops in his place. The sun is setting, the sky is orange mixed with purple, and the sun is a burning orange. It’s beautiful, and Chuuya just wishes he could just stand there forever just watching the sky— maybe even paint it.

Lost in thought, he almost doesn’t notice his phone ringing. Startled, he quickly answers his phone, expecting his mother’s yelling, slurred voice.

“Look behind you” says the person in the phone—not his mother’s voice, it belonged to a certain brunette that he hated to the fucking moon and back.

He quickly turns around. The brunette is there, his brown eyes almost orange from the sky’s light. Dazai’s wearing a sweater, despite it being burning hot outside. He has one hand in his pocket, while the other is holding his phone.

“Hah,” Chuuya walks over to Dazai, “what’re you following me?” He says with an aggravated voice, yet he’s still smiling.

“No Chuuya, im not obsessed with you as you are with me.” he rummages his hands in his pocket pulling out a box of cigarettes.

“Like hell im obsessed with you— hey give me one-“ he reaches for the box of cigarettes, but Dazai quickly takes it out of his reach.

“Use your own ciggs slug.” He lights his cigarette and uses it, then blows the smoke in Chuuya’s face.

Chuuya coughs, then pushes Dazai away. “Asshole, I always let you use mine!” He then grabs the cigarette in Dazai’s hands and walks away.

Fuck, Chuuya really needed this. All that flowing anxiety in his mind subsides. Cigarettes really help him stay content.

Dazai walks from behind him to his side, somehow, he had already lit another cigarette which is now between his fingers.
“Slug~ If you wanted an indirect kiss you should’ve just said so~” he says in a singsong voice, clearly trying to tease Chuuya.

Chuuya’s eyes widen. “Blegh, gross.” The realization that he took a cigarette that was in Dazai’s mouth hits him. He quickly throws the cigarette on the ground and stomps on it.

“Rude.” Dazai hands Chuuya a new cigarette.

Chuuya rolls his eyes, then takes the brunette’s lighter and lights his own.

They continue walking, Chuuya’s walking to his house, and Dazai is just following. There is a comfortable silence, Chuuya is too tired to say anything, not like it matters. The only thing breaking their silence is the mourning doves singing, and occasional cars driving past.

Out of the blue, Dazai asks quietly, “can I stay at your house for tonight?”

Chuuya turns to glance at Dazai, he’s calmly looking at the sunset, avoiding eye contact. Chuuya can tell he was embarrassed to ask this question. Chuuya turns his head back forward;

“Okay.” He answers.

In reality he doesn’t want Dazai at his house, or anyone if he’s being honest. His house is dirty, and depressing. He also doesn’t want anyone to see his mother passed out on the floor.

But he knows Dazai’s got it bad too, and it’s not the first time he has stayed at his house. But no matter how many times Dazai visits his house, he’s still ashamed and embarrassed of his living condition.

Eventually, they arrive at Chuuya’s house. The grass is over grown and most of the windows are covered. Dazai walks behind Chuuya, having him take the lead, while Chuuya unlocks the door.

Walking in, they both straight away get an abrupt smell of weed straight to their noses. The house is quiet, you can hear the air conditioner running quietly. The house is dirty, and dimly lit, only slightly bright from the setting sun. His mother isn’t home. Walking to his room Chuuya apologizes for the mess.

“It’s fine.” Dazai mumbles quietly, still following behind Chuuya. He is keeping his eyes forward, not looking around—maybe to save Chuuya from embarrassment.

They go into Chuuya’s room, it’s different from the rest of the house, as it’s clean, and more decorated. His room feels like a breath of fresh air.

Chuuya walks to the window, opening it to make the smell of weed subside, as Dazai plops onto Chuuya’s bed.

The redhead yawns, “I’ll be back, I gotta’ clean her room.” He says, implying his mother.

Dazai answers with a thumbs up, before walking to one of Chuuya’s drawers filled with rock band magizines. Soon, Chuuya heads to his mother’s room to clean it.

The smell of weed is the strongest in her room, and the TV is still running, playing some romcom TV show—the kinds where they make the most unfunniest jokes. He puts his hair in a ponytail, this is going to suck.

Chuuya hates messes, so of course he has a knack for cleaning. He finishes cleaning her room in about ten minutes, going through the torture of taking off her old sheets with stains and burnt marks, along with picking up dirty underwear off the floor.

After making her room just barely presentable, he drags himself to the bathroom. The moment he steps inside, something in him shuts down. He moves on autopilot, scrubbing away at surfaces while trying not to look too closely. His thoughts slip back to the quiet beneath the tree, the only place he’s felt like he could breathe. He wishes he were still there, far from this house.

When he finishes, he walks back to the room, meeting eyes with Dazai when he opens the door.

The brunette is lying on his stomach on Chuuya’s bed, reading a magazine.

“This is boring.” Dazai groans and throws the magazine to God knows where—

Chuuya clicks his tongue, “Oi, don’t just throw my stuff like that dickhead!” He whines, while picking up the magazine and putting it back.

He then slumps onto his bed as well, he’s exhausted. Dazai sighs loudly, before lightly kicking Chuuya to the side, “move over.”

“Dumbass, this is my bed too!” Yells Chuuya.

“You’re a crazy sleeper Slug! We both know you’re going to end up killing me in your sleep from moving too much!” Dazai says, in an over-dramatic way.

“Then get off my bed.” Chuuya turns over and covers himself in his blanket, taking all the covers.

Dazai groans, “No, unlike you; im not a midget who needs constant warmth all the time from just being two feet tall.” He says, trying to justify himself.

Chuuya kicks Dazai, “I’m fifteen, im still growing!” He yells, before being fed up and closing his eyes. No matter what Dazai says next, he’s going to go to sleep and pretend he’s never heard it.

Or, he will just yell at him tomorrow.

“I’m fifteen too, yet im about a giant next to you.” Dazai says quietly.

Chuuya grits his teeth, trying his best to keep his eyes closed and stay content. He was seriously gonna kill him one day.

Chapter Text

A slap is hard and harsh. When you first get slapped, the realization doesn’t come to you till you feel the burning sensation. After you get slapped you feel anger erupting inside you, wanting to give back what you just received.

The first time Dazai got slapped from his father was when he was four, right after his mother died. At that age Dazai knew what most four year olds didn’t, the cycle of life and death, the hopeless meaning to life.

From just looking into a person’s eyes he could tell exactly what they’re thinking and feeling, whether their motives were drowning in darkness, or blinded by light.

Over the years, his ability only grew more aware. But in life, there is no point in these useless abilities if you’re just going to die at the end of the day. It turned into a curse.

Earlier that morning his father—Mori had urged him to clean his room. Dazai listened, but before even 20 minutes had passed Mori bursted into his room, tearing apart every little thing in his room. His camera, notebook, his favorite books, his drawer.

Once Mori finished,he only stared straight in Dazai’s eyes, letting Dazai read them, read every single thought he’d let him. “Your path was carved in betrayal. If you want to get somewhere in life, you must not.”

Dazai was standing there in silence, no emotion leaking from his face—he didn’t know what emotion to portray.

Then, Mori just left, leaving Dazai alone. All his memories ripped apart, left alone with his own thoughts.

Still standing in the same spot, he hears the front door close, signifying that Mori has left. He knows Mori will never yell at him, only using actions and body language to signify his disapproval. He must’ve done something to get this kind of reaction out of Mori.

Slowly, Dazai lowers to his knees, covering his face. He starts pulling his hair—maybe to relieve stress. His eyes widen, as he realizes something. He quickly stands up and walks to his broken camera.

The back of his mind wants him to scream and cry; But Dazai is not human, he could only stare at it. He doesn’t know why he can’t feel anything, this mere object was one of his most prized possessions. He’s angry at himself for not crying. He wishes he didn’t have to be apart of this ugly world—he does not belong in this world, he is an abomination of a human.

He’s lost in his thoughts, his mind is foggy, though still able to be his worst enemy. Nothing is shutting up, nothing is leaving him alone. A cold wet sensation is gradually appearing from his arms. The only thing he feels, the cold liquid on his arms. It’s red—

Dazai flinches. He snaps out of his trance, he looks down at this arms, his hands. Multiple lines of dark red, taking over his view of his pale skin tone. He’s holding shards, pieces of the camera, they’re dripping in his dark blood. He quickly drops them.

Dazai walks to his bathroom, he rinsed off the blood with water. He is avoiding eye contact with the mirror. He should just take down the mirror to get rid of the burden. There’s blood all over the sink, but Dazai isn’t bothered to clean it, he just walks to the cabinets under his sink and slowly picks up his wrap of bandages. He has done this routine many times; wrap under, wrap over. He finishes in about a minute.

His mind is empty, yet his thoughts are loud and scattered. He walks out of his bathroom and takes a full look at his room. It’s destroyed. A mere few minutes of throwing and ripping things turned into this disheveled room.

Dazai moves to the closet with shaking hands, grabbing the first sweatshirt his fingers touch. He slips it over his body to hide the bloody bandages, though not like it matters if anyone sees them. His gaze flicks around the room, avoiding the mess. He swallows hard. Then he walks out, quietly and quickly.

—

Dazai is now outside, breathing in the fresh air. He has his headphones in, playing his favorite song on a loop. It’s bursting his eardrums, but he doesn’t mind, it subsides the screaming thoughts in his mind. He’s walking to the bridge, it’s right next to Chuuya’s house—It’s the only known bridge in the area.

Dazai is unable to move a muscle in his face. His face reads as pale and emotionless. His eyes staring into nothing, aware of the darkness and deadly gaze he’s showing.

Bikers drive past, people jogging. All have a life and a family to get back to. Their lives are full of emotion and laughter, something Dazai wish he had.

But Dazai is cursed to be alone forever, cursed to have a dark future. He wants to stop destiny from its tracks quickly. He wants to be a human again, and the only way is in his next life.

Though, Dazai does not believe in a God, or a afterlife, or any higher being. So why is he doing this?

It doesn’t matter—His tunnel vision is only flowing forward, only leading to the bridge. He wants to die, he wants to only have one true blessing; to get away from this cruel, dark world.

But blessings aren’t something that Dazai gets, destiny hates him. His tunnel vision fades from the bridge to a certain redhead. He’s looking to his left, staring at the sky.
He slows in his steps, before abruptly stopping. How can a such a meaningless thing bring out such a reaction out of someone? But oh—does he look beautiful.

Dazai wishes he still had his camera, he would add this very moment to his collection of pictures of Chuuya. He watched as the redhead sighs, yet never breaking eye contact with the sky. Dazai keeps his eyes on him, not bothered to even look the direction Chuuya’s looking.

Maybe Dazai can live life a little longer.

He pulls out his phone and goes to the contact ‘SLUG’, and clicks call.

He watches as Chuuya snaps out of thought and quickly scrambles for his phone. When he answers, he looks like he is anticipating something. But his face softens when he hears the brunettes voice.

“Look behind you.” Says Dazai, before he hangs up.

Chuuya quickly turns his head, he has a look of anger on his face, but Dazai can see happiness on there too. “Hah, are you following me?” Says Chuuya, trying to sound offended.

Dazai lightly smiles,

No, but destiny is cursing me to stay.

“No, Chuuya, I’m not as obbsessed with you, as you are with me.” Dazai ends up saying, just to get even more of a a reaction out of Chuuya.

Chuuya’s eyebrow is crinkled slightly, he tends to do that when he is stressed or thinking about something—in short, he’s in need of a smoke break.

Convenient how Dazai has a pack of cigarettes. He could use that to his advantage. He takes out his pack of cigarettes from his sweater pocket, and lights it.

As expected, Chuuya immediately starts demanding for one. Chuuya reaches to grab a cigarette, but Dazai quickly puts it out of his range. “Use your own ciggs slug.” Dazai says, before he lights his cigarette, uses it, and blows the smoke in Chuuya’s face.

Coughing, Chuuya pushes him away. “Asshole, I always let you use mine!” He spouts.

Then he steals Dazai’s cigarette, turns around, and uses it.

He watches as the redhead’s shoulders instantly lighten. Dazai immediately smirks. He grabs another cigarette, and lightens it.

In all honestly, Dazai isn’t addicted to cigarettes in the slightest. Not as much as Chuuya. Dazai merely only uses cigarettes for aesthetic purposes, he could never get addicted to such a lowly thing.

Dazai walks beside Chuuya, he says the first tease in his mind, and watches as Chuuya reacts and stomps on his cigarette. Dazai just casually gives Chuuya another one. It’s not like he needs cigarettes as much as Chuuya.

They begin walking, Dazai only follows Chuuya.

It was strange, really—how Dazai had stopped trying to drown himself. And all because of that redhead. Chuuya always got to him, always managed to reach the part of him that still wanted to live, even when Dazai swore it was gone.

Dazai doesn’t want to go home. He was thinking he wouldn’t have to anymore, considering how he was about to end his life. But destiny has their ways of ruining Dazai’s plans.

Unfortunately, Dazai’s only plan is to ask Chuuya; “Can I stay at your house for tonight?” he looks to the side, finally acknowledging the sunset. It doesn’t look nearly as pretty as—

“Okay.” Says Chuuya.

Dazai wasn’t surprised Chuuya agreed. He’s sure he would’ve declined if it was anyone else though. He’s aware of how Chuuya’s home life is—It isn’t any better than his. But it is better than Dazai going back to his room and being with Mori.

—

Walking in Chuuya’s House, Dazai isn’t surprised to instantly get hit with the smell of weed. He could almost feel Chuuya’s embarrassment, as he’s always has been when it came to his home life. Though, what his condition is now, has definitely improved since he was younger with the absence of his father.

There’s empty alcohol glasses on the ground, there’s rummaged things that’s just been thrown across the room; now on the floor. Dazai doesn’t move his head to look at his surroundings, he just swiftly moves his eyes. The house seems to be empty. Chuuya glances back at Dazai.

“Sorry for the mess.” he says quietly.

Dazai quickly follows up with reassurance; “It’s fine.”

When they finally arrive to Chuuya’s room, it is completely different from the rest of the house. His cringey band posters plastered on the wall—some Dazai bought for him, and his room is certainly much more neater than other rooms in the house, though the smell of drugs and alcohol still lingers.

Dazai immediately slumps on Chuuya’s bed, as Chuuya opens his window. Dazai is exhausted. Although he is always thinking negative thoughts—it surely takes a toll on him. Not to mention the sting of his cuts from earlier. He just wants to sleep it off.

Chuuya tells Dazai he has to clean his mom’s room, which is something he’s used to by now. Mori and Chuuya’s mom—they’re both very demanding, in their own ways. It’s one of the few things that lets Dazai understand what Chuuya’s going through, even if he doesn’t say it.

—

Dazai can’t sleep.

Chuuya had fell asleep about five hours ago, and through those hours Dazai kept on dissociating from the world, trying with the best of his ability to fall asleep. But he can’t. He gave up trying to go to sleep about two hours ago. Now, he is just watching as Chuuya’s chest slowly rises and falls in a slow rhythm. He is bored out of his mind, he wish he had his D.S with him or his sketchbook, but he left them in his room.

The window is still open, the moonlight sinking in the room. Chuuya’s room always looks nostalgic to Dazai—no matter day or night.

His mind won’t ever shut up, the world is a boring place but yet his mind always seems to come up with the most things to think about. He knows he has insomnia, and he wishes he didn’t. His bandages are in need of a change. He didn’t do the proper care for his wounds and bandages considering he wasn’t even expecting to be alive by now—but Dazai can almost feel the blood seeping through his sleeves and bandages. He has a bad habit of picking at his bandages, which was what Dazai has been doing all night.

Chuuya’s house is small, which means sound travels quickly. That’s why Dazai immediately notices when the front door creaks open. He knows it’s Chuuya’s mother—he can tell by the soft moans and the curses she mutters under her breath. This doesn’t happen every night Dazai stays over, but it’s not exactly rare, either.

The sounds drift toward the master bedroom, which is right next to Chuuya’s room. Dazai glances over at Chuuya, still fast asleep. The moaning grows louder, accompanied by a steady banging against the wall. That’s what finally wakes Chuuya up.

He groans in annoyance and through tiredness, before he realizes that Dazai is still there, on his bed, able to hear the noises his own mother is making. His eyes slightly widen, before he quickly looks away, sitting up.

“Ah—shit sorry.” Chuuya mumbled in a groggy voice. “I’ll go tell them to lower it down—“ he gets up from his bed, ready to walk to his door, when Dazai grabs onto his wrist. He takes a full look at Chuuya, his hair is messy, his ponytail almost undone. His cheeks are flustered.

“No—“ he sighed and half smiled, “no, it’s fine. It’s…tolerable” Before laying back down and showing Chuuya that he can go “back to sleep” perfectly fine. Chuuya sighs in response, before also lying back down in bed. The noises only get progressively louder, which only makes Chuuya’s ears even more red.

Dazai is lying awkwardly, trying his best not to touch Chuuya with his arms. On the spot he thinks of something to ease this discomfort.

“Hah. They must be having fun.” Dazai bluntly says, lying on his back looking at the ceiling. Chuuya responds with a “pfft.” Then lightly kicks Dazai’s leg.

One way to brighten the mood.

But it certainly does not last.

Chuuya groans out of annoyance once again. He gets up from lying on the bed.

“I’m going for a smoke.” He says, before going to his nightstand and picking up the pack of cigarettes and lighter.

“Kay’. ” Dazai says quietly, waiting for Chuuya to leave. Chuuya awkwardly nods, then leaves his room, as Dazai watches.

Quickly, Dazai turns on the bed lamp, and pulls his sleeves up. As he thought , his bandages are covered in blood, so much that it’s spilled through the sleeve.

Great; how the hell is Dazai supposed to hide this? He bites his lip as he pulls his sleeves back down. Hopefully it can be hidden in the dark.

He walks out of Chuuya’s room to the front porch. Once he closes the front door the moans fade. As expected, Chuuya is sitting down on the steps smoking. Dazai stands next to him, looking down at him.

“We should go on a walk,” Dazai said quietly. He made it sound like Chuuya had a choice, but it was clear they were going no matter what.

Chuuya looks up at Dazai. He then takes a final blow with his cigarette, and stomps on it.

"Why not," he sighs. Chuuya stands up and glances at Dazai, then begins walking.

Dazai plans to walk to a convenience store on the way. There, he could buy new bandages, go in the bathroom, and change them.

He notices Chuuya continuing to glance at him. He is looking at Dazai’s face. “What?” He asks, tiredly.

“Jeez, when was the last time you slept? A year ago?” He says, implying his eye bags.

Dazai knew his face was probably screaming ‘I need sleep’. He knows his face is pale, with pronounced eye bags, and yes in his mind he is also screaming ‘I need sleep’.

Dazai just dramatically sighs and waves Chuuya off, “it’s nothing, it’s nothing—oh let’s stop in here for a bit to get some snacks~” he says; successfully changing the subject. Dazai walks into the store, it’s empty, considering it is two in the morning. The only worker there is in the back, probably sleeping or doing absolutely anything. So, it’s just Dazai and Chuuya.

Dazai whispers to Chuuya, “grab the most bags before someone notices.” Before immediately going to the end of the store.

Chuuya took that as a challenge, so obviously, he immediately goes to the snack isle, grabbing any chips or chocolates he can hold.

Meanwhile, Dazai heads to the back of the store. He enters an isle mainly based on medical tools. He searches for bandages, until he eventually finds them. It took him about a minute to find the bathroom, and when he did, he quickly enters and locks the door.

He pulls his sleeves up, the light of the bathroom blindingly bright. The red on his sleeve even more noticeable. He quickly exchanged his bandages for the new ones, dumping the old bloody ones into the trash. He makes sure to cover the bandages with paper towels so no one suspects a murder scene.

He swiftly exits the bathroom, passing by the bandages once again. He grabs an extra pair, just in case. Now, he glances at Chuuya, who already has a handful of snack in his hands and pockets. Dazai quickly heads to the snack isle, grabbing snacks along the way. There, he swiftly grabs every snack he sees and stuffs them into his pockets with ease. Dazai passes by Chuuya, smiling. Which is a signal they should leave soon, before they get caught—although whenever they were caught, they were able to easily escape them.

Chuuya rolls his eyes before walking out of the store, with Dazai eventually following.

The good thing about this specific place is that the owner never installed alarms for when someone leaves without paying.

They quickly run down the road until they find a park bench. There, they dump all their foods.

Gasping for air, out of the recent adrenaline, they count their stolen items.

“Twenty-three, you?” Chuuya says—still with an out-of-breath voice.

Dazai smirks before saying proudly; “Thirty.”

Chuuya’s eyes widen, before they turn into anger. “What the—how the hell did you fit so much?!” He shouts, then stands up and points at Dazai.

“Hah. It’s easy Chuuya.” Dazai says extending Chuuya’s name, and smirking. “But~ I guess not everyone is the right size for it.” He made sure to make his tone over dramatic. His smirk only grows wider as he watches Chuuya stammer many insults back his way, in which Dazai only ignores.

It took a while for both of them to calm down, but once they did, they spent the night eating snacks and throwing empty insults at each other until the sun rose.

Dazai wishes he could stay here forever, sitting with Chuuya on this worn-out bench, pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Even the taste of junk food, something he usually can’t stomach, fades into nothing when he’s with him.

Dazai knows this moment won’t last as long as he wishes. But, for now, it’s enough for him to forget about his dark thoughts—his endlessly screaming mind.