Dazai woke up the next morning in the worst mood he'd been in since he was first admitted to the hospital.
Ah, well. The good mood was fun while it lasted.
He didn't even tease Chuuya for the entire first half of the day, ignoring everyone and not speaking up unless prompted to. Even then, when he did have to talk, he only gave the barest of responses.
The people who didn't know him (namely everyone except the staff and Akutagawa), gave him worried looks all throughout the day. Some of them even tried to talk to him to cheer him up, but obviously none of that worked.
Those that knew of his mood swings shrugged off the worry and blessedly fielded questions for him. They knew better than to try and fix Dazai while he was like this.
The only good thing that happened was that he was allowed fresh bandages, so he finally got to replace the old disgusting ones. Peeling away his used ones and seeing his own fresh scars again though, may or may not have triggered him a little bit.
Every time he closed his eyes, his vision was flooded with red lines. There were some extra bandages that he put over his right eye, hoping to make it harder for him to see what wasn't even there. It helped a little bit.
The day passed by at a snail's pace. It felt as if that one day went on for five, but he did eventually make it to the night time group therapy with their afternoon psychologist, Kunikida Doppo. He was much stricter than Yosano, but he was also more fun to mess with because of it. If only Dazai was in the mood to tease him.
He excused himself halfway through group to go to the bathroom and stare blankly into the mirror for a few minutes, but when he returned, everyone was shuffling around in the hallway except for Kunikida and Chuuya, who were standing in the activity room with the door closed.
Chuuya was screaming.
The cloud fogging his mind slowly drifted away as he came back to himself, and for the first time that day he willingly spoke up.
"What's going on?" He quietly inquired to Oda, who was trying to calm down the remaining patients lingering in the hallway.
Most of the others were openly gawking at whatever was going on in the closed room or murmuring to each other, as this was prime gossip material, but Atsushi's head whipped around at the sound of Dazai's softly spoken words.
Oda spared him a brief glance before looking back over the patients.
"Chuuya is experiencing a blackout. Dr. Kunikidas trying to bring him back to us." Oda replied succinctly, before warning Q to back away from the thick window separating the hallway from the activity room, where Kunikida was currently trying in a clinically calm way to get through to an unresponsive and potentially violent Chuuya.
With Oda busy, Atsushi dragged Dazai's attention away and further explained how everything went to shit.
"It all happened so fast. After you left, Dr. Kunikida started talking a-about victims or something, I don't really remember. B-but then Chuuya all of a sudden got up and threw his chair at the wall and then he st-started screaming and K-Kunikida hurried us all out and I- I- don't-"
Atsushi was quickly talking himself into a panic, his eyes growing wider as he continued to speak, about to completely lose himself to his mind. Every shout from the activity room had him flinching violently and soon he was actively shaking while his breathing quickened to a pace beyond normal.
Dazai cursed and grabbed Atsushi despite the boy's resistance, pulling him out of the crowd and a little further down the hallway, choosing to focus his attention on the one friend he could actually help right now, rather than waste time worrying over Chuuya.
He'd helped enough people through panic attacks that he at least knew how to handle this.
Oda spared them a warning glance as they left, but did not make them stay with the group, just shooting Dazai a look that demanded they return once Atsushi calmed down a bit. Dazai nodded back, familiar with the procedures, letting Atsushi drag him to the floor once they reached a good distance away from the action.
"Sorry, I-I just, sorry. It's so- I can't-" Atsushi whimpered, burying his face into his knees as he curled up on the ground.
"It's okay. Don't worry about it. Just try and focus on my voice. Can you hear me? It's all okay." Dazai lied, making sure his voice was gentle and calm.
He was never specifically trained on how to help someone with anxiety, so he had no idea if this was actually something that a psychologist would suggest, but it's worked pretty well the past few times he's used it. Giving the person panicking something to focus on and coaching them through regulating their breathing as they tried to control themselves.
A steady stream of comforting white lies and exaggerated controlled breathing techniques left his mouth as Atsushi continued to shudder. The younger boy was still breathing uneven, his panic turning into little sobs as he tried to follow what Dazai said.
Another ferocious scream from down the hallway caused a full body flinch and Atsushi tensed up completely all over again.
A sigh escaped his lips when he had to acknowledge to himself that this may take a while.
…
By the time Atsushi was mostly okay, the situation down the hallway seemed to have been resolved, as Oda came down to bring them back to the group.
The anxious teen offered him an embarrassed thanks, which Dazai waved off. Anyone else there would've done the same thing if they'd noticed it first.
He was a little disappointed that he missed whatever happened with Chuuya, but he'd hopefully be able to pester his roommate about it later tonight. Perhaps it wasn't wise to push him so soon after the occurrence, but Dazai had never been known for his tact.
Unfortunately, he never got the chance.
As Kunikida retook control of the patients, Chuuya disappeared somewhere, probably for further treatment or the dreaded booty juice. The rest of the group all had a final dinner and took their night meds before turning in for an early bedtime. By the time Dazai got back to his room, Chuuya was still missing, and he returned to the hallway to interrogate Oda about it.
"When is Chuuya coming back?" He asked with no pretense, leaning nonchalantly against the counter in an attempt to seem uncaring about whatever answer he would receive.
"Probably in the morning." Oda responded without looking up from his computer, typing up something that was most likely a report on the events of that night, "You should be in your room."
Dazai groaned dramatically, "How am I supposed to sleep tonight, all on my lonesome?"
"Soundly, I'd imagine."
The nurse didn't sound like he was being sarcastic but with Oda, it was always hard to tell.
As if the nurse didn't know all about Dazai's insomnia problems. Sleep and Dazai were long time enemies and anyone that spent a single night with him knew it. Oda might not have been the one that checked each room every hour of the night, but everyone knew the staff all gossiped to each other about the patients anyway.
"It's late, Osamu." Oda finally looked up from his computer and turned those droopy eyes to him, "I thought you promised no trouble on my shift?"
Dazai let out another, longer, groan.
He did say that seconds after coming in here.
Normally, he wasn't really bothered with being seen as someone who kept his word but with Oda, he liked pretending that he was an honorable person.
"Fine… Fine!" He twirled around and begrudgingly headed back to his empty room, "But when Ango complains about me tomorrow, I'm going to tell him it's because Odasaku told me I could break the rules."
"You do that."
Dazai grumbled to himself as he finally made it back to his room, eyes narrowing at the night nurse that was about to call for lights out. She jumped at his dead stare and regarded him cautiously. As she should.
Instead of causing any more trouble though, Dazai did as Oda asked him, and retreated to his room for bed.
The room felt even emptier than Dazai had been feeling all day. Without Chuuya there to bring his usual fiery presence, the cool air of the facility felt akin to a winter breeze before a blizzard.
He shivered as he changed into sweatpants and his biggest hoodie, tugging the hood over his head as he buried himself underneath the uncomfortably stiff bed sheets the hospital provided.
The chill in the air coupled with the worry annoyance over Chuuya's absence promised a long night. Nothing that Dazai wasn't intimately familiar with.
Thanks to many nights spent the same way, morning came quickly and Dazai hadn't slept a wink.
He had, however, managed to finish rereading his book, and so moved on to the next one. His father might have to visit again with more soon.
Regardless, morning came with still no Chuuya.
It wasn't until he went out to go to breakfast that he finally saw the boy already sitting in the cafeteria, hunched over a plate of soggy hospital pancakes.
Dazai rushed over while trying to make it appear like he was not rushing over, getting his food quickly and slamming the plate down directly across from Chuuya.
The other boy looked up to glare at him but otherwise said nothing.
"So… You blacked out." Dazai started, oh-so-subtly.
Chuuya rolled his eyes, raising an eyebrow at his lack of tact.
"Yeah."
He shoved a plastic forkful of pancake into his mouth, prompting Dazai to take a bite of his own. It tasted like wet cardboard.
"What happened there?" Dazai tried again, feigning a casual interest instead of the actual burning curiosity that fizzled under his skin.
"I don't know, obviously. Don't you know how blackouts work?" Chuuya's piercing steel eyes flashed as he once again scowled at Dazai. The bandaged boy matched his stare, watching him with an unreadable expression.
"I'd never seen one before." He carefully responded.
"Well, now you have. Congrats. I hope it was everything you ever wanted."
"You were screaming." Dazai tilted his head, studying the redhead as the other broke their eye contact, looking away, "The noise sent poor little Atsushi-kun into a panic attack."
At that, Chuuya flinched, cautiously meeting his gaze again, a look of guilt on his face. Dazai maintained his blank expression, revealing nothing.
He truthfully didn't know much about blackouts. The whole concept was basically a loss of time, in which he wasn't in control.
There was no doubt that Chuuya didn't remember what happened when he was blacked out, and wasn't in control of himself while he was in the midst of it.
Beyond that though, Dazai knew nothing about the experience. What it felt like during and afterwards, or whether he ever caught glimpses of what he'd done. He had gotten blackout drunk before, waking up and not knowing how or where that stick-and-poke tattoo on his ankle came to be. This didn't seem quite like that though.
"I'll have to apologize to him later… I know it can be pretty scary to watch." Chuuya mumbled, hunching his shoulders in.
It appeared that the other boy knew on some level what his attacks were like. Unlike what Dazai was like after a drunken blackout, he seemed to take responsibility properly for what he wasn't even in control of.
Another example of how stupid Chuuya could be sometimes. Obviously none of it was his fault.
"Scary?" Dazai repeated incredulously, deciding to break the tension right then and there. He purposefully relaxed his posture and went back to eating his breakfast, talking in a light voice with his mouth full, "The only scary thing about that whole mess was how cooperative everyone was about staying calm. Aren't we all supposed to be crazy people? It should've triggered a massive riot. How boring."
"I'm not crazy." Chuuya rebutted, seemingly relieved to let the topic go.
Dazai felt it unwise to bring up the little incident of Chuuya sitting on top of him with his hands around his throat just a couple days ago. Perhaps the redhead did not see threats of murder as particularly crazy behavior.
"Still, someone should've at least attempted a prison break while Kunikida was busy."
"Not everyone here is as resistant to treatment as you are, idiot."
"I'm not resistant to treatment!" Dazai placed a hand on his chest, making sure to look as offended as if he'd been accused of something dastardly, "Everyone here knows how much I love therapy. In fact, just for that comment, I'm going to recover even harder."
"How convenient," A voice popped up behind him and he did not let out a shriek of surprise.
He didn't.
He just whipped around to face the offender, meeting the stoic figure of Fukuzawa.
From across the table he heard Chuuya snickering, but chose to ignore it in favor of raising an eyebrow, encouraging the social worker to expand on his comment.
"Today is your personal session. You'll be having it with me during morning free time. I suggest you think about what you want to talk about beforehand." Fukuzawa finished, giving them both a little bow before moving on to talk to Ango at the front desk about something boring.
He slowly turned back to Chuuya, who looked pleasantly amused by the situation, happily eating his own disgusting pancakes. Dazai gave the fakest smile he'd possibly ever given, fully aware that it wasn't fooling anyone.
"Great."
…
Since he had something that he was dreading coming up, the morning session of course breezed by way faster than normal.
As a petty sort of revenge for having a personal meeting soon, he was exceptionally troublesome during the group therapy, nearly making Kenji cry before Chuuya not so subtly crushed his foot into the ground with his own from where he sat next to him.
Unfortunately, his childish behavior did nothing to stop the inevitable discussion, and soon enough Fukuzawa reentered the room during free time, locking eyes with Dazai and nodding to follow him.
Reluctantly but obediently trudging on after the social worker, he tried to think of what he could possibly talk about during their meeting. Despite being given forewarning and time to devise a plan, Dazai had spent the time before the session throwing an internal pity party instead.
Led into a separate room that was usually closed off, between the front desk and the girls hallway, Dazai felt a sense of trepidation as the door closed behind them. This was the only room in the facility without some kind of window peeking out into the hallway. The bedrooms also didn't have windows but they weren't allowed to close the doors so it didn't feel as cut off from everything as this did.
Dazai did not trust Fukuzawa, especially not enough to be locked in a room with him. He knew there were probably cameras inside broadcasting to Ango's computer at the front, but still.
People with power could not be trusted.
If a doctor wanted to do something to a patient without anyone knowing, they easily could. And this would be the best room to do it in.
He regarded the man across from him unblinking, not letting his eyes off of him for a second. Every movement from Fukuzawa was scrutinized by him as they settled into their respective chairs. Dazai had never been abused by the staff at this particular facility, but that didn't mean anything. Everyone was a possible threat, and it would be foolish to trust anyone or let his guard down.
Any second now, he could be thrust into an unfortunately familiar but nevertheless revoltingsituation.
"Dazai Osamu."
"Fukuzawa."
They examined each other in silence for a second before Fukuzawa took out a clipboard with some documents clipped in, probably about Dazai, and began the session.
"Your medical history is quite extensive. We couldn't get into contact with your current therapist though, do you know anything about that?"
That almost made Dazai laugh, but he held it back and simply gave the social worker a wry grin.
"She quit."
"Ah, I see." Fukuzawa said in a way that Dazai couldn't tell if he already knew the information or not, "Well, we will have to see about getting you a new one for when you get out of here. Right now the plan is to keep you for another week and then see about releasing you for a week of partial care. Depending on your progress, you may be released earlier or kept longer. How do you think your progress is going?"
Very to the point and not even mentioning his thoughts or feelings. Perfect.
Maybe him being a social worker made Fukuzawa's priorities a little different than a psychologist's. Hopefully that meant this session would not be as torturous as he'd been expecting.
Dazai let himself settle back in his chair, a bit less defensive.
"Oh, I'm feeling fantastic." Dazai smiled, wanting to get out as soon as possible so that he could get back to trying to kill himself, "Yosano-san really is even more of a miracle doctor than Mori is. She's fixed me all up. I've never been more stable!"
Fukuzawa's expression revealed nothing, but Dazai got the distinct feeling that he didn't believe him anyway.
Probably because the man had been there during some of his more difficult group therapy sessions, and knew that Dazai was both a compulsive liar as well as a severely unstable individual. But the social worker's completely blank expression rivaled his own father's in unreadability.
"Mori Ougai. He is your father, correct?"
"Unfortunately." He couldn't help but sigh, trying to play off his discomfort with an even wider joking grin.
"Hmm. I knew Mori," Fukuzawa revealed, surprising him, "I'm sorry to say, but I'm not the biggest fan of his."
Dazai laughed.
Loudly.
He was not expecting that. But oh, how refreshing it was to hear.
Most doctors and staff idolized Mori for being the well known doctor that he was. Only Oda ever really believed the stories he'd told about him. Yosano also despised Mori but her reasons supposedly had nothing to do with Dazai. Apparently, Fukuzawa was in that same boat.
"Neither am I." Dazai giggled genuinely for the first time in a couple days.
What made this all the more hilarious was the unchanging look on Fukuzawa's face. He didn't even blink at Dazai's response, nor his laughter.
"May I ask why you don't like him?" Dazai asked, genuinely curious.
"You may." Fukuzawa closed his eyes, as if picturing the many examples he probably had of Mori's more unsavory personality traits, "I used to work closely with him, as a security officer at the hospital."
So many questions flashed through Dazai's brain that he couldn't focus on any one line of questioning that surmised all of his inquiries.
How did Fukuzawa go from security to social work? How did working with Mori lead to this blatant dislike? How did he work closely with Mori if he was in security and not medicine? Was this before or after Dazai was born? Did he also know Dazai's mother?
Fukuzawa interrupted his frazzled thoughts with a question of his own, "Why do you dislike Mori?"
Dazai's brief happiness and burning curiosity washed away, replaced with the cold emptiness that he usually felt, especially when the topic of his father was being discussed.
"I'm an angsty teenager, of course I hate my father." Dazai quipped, instead of giving an actual response.
His feelings towards Mori were complex and difficult to describe. Hatred was a good word to sum it up, as was resentment. Neither could be explained fully in a single personal session, though.
Fukuzawa seemed to sense that he wouldn't get much more out of Dazai on that topic. Either that or he was generous enough to not push him further than he was comfortable with.
The old man turned his head down briefly to examine his clipboard once more, giving Dazai the time to glance towards the clock in the room. It hadn't even been ten minutes. He internally let out a childish whine.
"In the past two weeks, how often have you thought about harming yourself?"
Ah, so they've moved on to the standard fair.
"Less than half of the time." He answered dishonestly.
In truth, the suicidal thoughts were a constant companion in the back of his mind. They never abandoned him. Admitting that though, would not get him out sooner than a week.
The required questions continued until they were all through, quickly boring Dazai. Still, it hopefully meant that they would be done soon.
He might have let down his guard a little bit, but he still didn't love being trapped in a room with someone so much older than him.
It was difficult. It reminded him of things he would rather forget.
As much as he liked to portray himself as unbothered by his past and unaffected by the things he's gone through, they clearly still haunted him. The evidence of his care was carved all over his body, even deeper in his mind than on his skin. Much like the scars, the memories would be with him forever, regardless of how much he hated that fact.
Those memories were exactly what played like handheld footage through his brain the longer they remained locked in this small room. He was unable to stop the flashing images.
"Are we done yet?" He found himself asking, some of his anxiety shining through the words despite how composed he tried to keep his face. Fukuzawa paused.
Oh, he must've been in the middle of saying something. Dazai wasn't paying attention, too caught up in his own thoughts.
Fukuzawa straightened up and started organizing his papers, "We can be. After all, therapy is only as good as you make it."
Dazai tilted his head in confusion, wondering where that came from.
Luckily Fukuzawa seemed to be expecting it and continued on, "If you refuse to put in the effort to improve your life, that's your decision, but I ask that you don't waste my time with lies."
Dazai blinked, stunned.
He knew Fukuzawa wasn't a typical nurse (he was a social worker) but he didn't know that the old man had a massive pair of balls underneath that yukata. The audacity to call him out after the questions had already been answered was admirable.
"You…" Dazai tried in vain to find the words to manipulate this conversation in his favor, "I don't want to stay in here any longer than necessary."
"We can't always get what we want. In fact, we usually don't." Fukuzawa mused, "I wanted you to tell me the truth."
"You can't possibly know that what I'm saying isn't the truth." Dazai argued, quickly regaining his footing, "Isn't it your job to listen to what I say without prejudice?"
"Perhaps that is your therapist's job, but it is not mine. My job is to help you live a fulfilling life. However, recovery is reliant on the will of the patient. We both know you don't want it, so it's a waste of both of our time for you to lie."
"But-" The bandaged boy floundered, "What good is the truth then? If what I say really doesn't affect anything, why bother?"
"Even though recovery is your own responsibility, it is easier to find ways to help you realize that when you are truthful about your feelings."
"Help me realize?"
"Yes," Fukuzawa nodded, annoyingly relaxed despite the nervous energy in the air, "It is still my job to help you, even if you don't want it. In hearing your true feelings, I can find better ways to convince you that putting in the effort is worth your time."
"Huh," Dazai hummed, slumping back in his chair.
Usually, in regards to his desire for death, people got angry with him for being depressed. They were frustrated that they could not control his emotions easily and force him into recovery. People with depression were supposed to want to get better, so why didn't Dazai?
The method Fukuzawa suggested was not to try and pressure him into not having severe depression, but instead to persuade him into believing that trying to find a life worth living was a noble pursuit.
If anything, it was at least more interesting than going through the same bullshit he always went through in the hospital. Even if it changed nothing about his actual feelings, it would cross off another recovery method that he could say didn't work on him. That way he could use it's failure in the future, if people insisted that there were still ways he could get better.
After a moment of thought, he nodded to himself, turning to give Fukuzawa a taunting smirk. With narrowed eyes and a slight buzz underneath his skin, he acquiesced.
"Alright Fukuzawa. I'll play your game. Go ahead, convince me to try."
Sometimes the urge to self harm was passive. Low, just humming underneath the surface and easy to ignore. It was always there, but it wasn't always loud.
When it was loud though, it was all encompassing.
It demanded to be heard. It demanded to be seen. Every thought became plagued by the want, the desire to hurt.
His mind screamed and insisted that the only thing that could stop the noise is a few cuts. The only way to silence the reverberating buzzing in his skull was to bleed it out until the screams of hell were drowned out by a comforting static.
The ache had been bothering him for days now, but he was usually able to ignore it pretty well, aside from that one slip up when he scratched his hand too hard.
Ever since after lunch though, which was immediately after his meeting with Fukuzawa, when he got a glimpse of the kitchen staff using a glistening, sharp knife to cut up some vegetables, it'd been a repeated thought in his mind, leaving him restless and jittery.
I want to cut. I want to cut. I want to cut.
He played it off by being even more flamboyant and manic than usual, but he could tell that certain people knew something was up.
Could they read his mind? Were his thoughts really so loud that everyone could hear them? It felt like they were. People were looking at him. Did they know?
The scars that littered his skin and psyche burned like an exploding star and all he wanted to do was rip off his bandages so that he wouldn't implode.
It felt like they were exposed for the whole world to see, shining through every layer he put on to hide them, like a beacon of piercing light to show everyone how fucked up he truly was.
The conversation with Fukuzawa was also there, faintly, nudging at the edge of his mind, but it was a whisper compared to the monsoon of pleading to cut.
It was night group, and it was terribly mundane and normal. Nobody had any reason to expect anything different from usual, but Dazai was practically vibrating in his seat. Trying to find the courage to speak past the lump in his throat and tell the whole truth for once in his life.
If for nothing else, he wanted to prove Fukuzawa wrong. Out of some petty desire to say 'I told you so. Nothing can fix me.' regardless of the possible benefits to his mental health.
There was a topic that they would be focusing on, like always, but his time to shine came when the nurse for the evening, Kunikida, asked if anyone had anything specific they wanted to address first.
Usually no one spoke up. Even the people that were actually there for help didn't want the focus to be on them in a group setting, but the voice in his head begging him to cut was starting to ring in his ears, becoming so deafening that he could barely hear Chuuya next to him, quietly muttering to ask what's wrong with him.
What wasn't wrong with him?
His conversation with Fukuzawa was playing on repeat in his head. According to his logic, Dazai would never be able to get better unless he himself actively desired to, and subsequently put the work into.
It sounded tiring and useless and like something that would usually have him double wrapping himself in bandages, but he didn't really have much left to lose.
"I want to talk about something."
It took him a second to realize it was his own voice that spoke out, interrupting whatever Kunikida was about to say. The nurse looked surprised and wary, which made sense. Dazai never wanted to talk about anything serious, and the few times he did speak up were only when he wanted to cause trouble for the staff.
"What do you want to talk about, Dazai?" Kunikida still had to indulge him as a nurse, even if he expected nonsense to come out of his mouth.
To make it easier on himself, Dazai locked away any lingering fear of exposing his problems, shoving all of his emotions tightly into a box that he could open at a later time or perhaps never again. Only when he was able to take a deep breath without feeling like his heart was going to jump out of his throat, was he able to continue.
"I…" He swallowed dryly, hoping that revealing this wouldn't ruin his street cred, "I keep thinking about cutting. I can't stop thinking about it. It's all I want to do right now."
His admission garnered a look of surprise that was quickly covered up with a professionally blank look. The rest of the group was deathly silent, for once actually paying apt attention to the person who never seemed to take therapy seriously. Dazai couldn't help but resent them for only paying attention when things worth gossiping about were happening.
Recovering from his shock, Kunikida responded in a low resonance that did absolutely nothing to help Dazai's nerves, "Why do you want to self harm?"
He almost laughed at the question; a nervous response. He swiftly smothered that urge by biting his lip, in favor of actually trying to answer the question as seriously as he could.
The stares from his peers felt heavy on him and he began to bounce his leg up and down without thinking about it. Once he realized he was doing it though, he quickly put a hand on his knee to stop it.
"I deserve it."
Because that was what it really boiled down to: punishment.
He could say it made him feel better, but that would be a lie. He could say it silenced the voices in his head, but that would also be a lie. He could even say that it gave him a sense of control, and while it definitely did sometimes, there were times like this when he realized that it controlled him much more than he controlled it.
If anything, self harming only made everything worse. It was like breaking a bone and then breaking a different bone in hopes that the new pain would overshadow the original pain. It didn't help at all. It just meant he now had double the pain.
"Why do you think you deserve it?!" The question came out more like a demand for an explanation, and it came from Chuuya sitting next to him, rather than Kunikida.
He couldn't meet the other boy's eyes, staring off at the wall and trying his best to speak casually. Over everyone else's gaze, he could specifically feel Fukuzawa also watching him intently. He didn't dare to look though, not wanting to see whatever expression the old man was probably making. God forbid it was any kind of pride for him opening up. He'd rather be injected with 'booty juice' than have to see that.
"Because I hurt people." He answered honestly, "I make everyone's lives worse just by being there, so I cut myself for them. Because I deserve to feel the pain I gave them."
"Idiot!" Chuuya hissed, only to be silenced by Kunikida.
Dazai had no idea why his response angered the other boy so much. Perhaps Chuuya just liked to get angry about things.
"Hurting yourself does not fix whatever wrongs you've done to others." Kunikida began, seemingly completely out of his element. He was a nurse though. Shouldn't this be easier to deal with than the usual bullshit Dazai pulled?
Rescuing the other nurse from having to do his job, Fukuzawa spoke up in his stead.
"So you feel repentant for the things you've done. And somehow, as a way to rectify that, you harm yourself. Following the philosophy of 'an eye for an eye', correct?" The old man's irritatingly calm voice spoke up, the steady timber making Dazai feel more relaxed, against his will.
Dazai didn't bother verbally responding, simply nodding his head and continuing to avoid all eye contact.
Yes, he talked about his fucked up life quite a lot, with a general air of nonchalance and detachment to the point where it almost felt like he was reading aloud from a book about somebody else.
However, it was a very rare occurrence for him to speak about his actual, ugh- feelings.
Most of the time, he'd prefer to feel nothing at all. As horrible as it was to feel so empty and inhuman all the time, it was at least more bearable than having to face the emotions he'd been shoving down his entire life. It left him with less chance of getting hurt more.
He could talk about his suicide attempts and self harm and abuse for hours, as long as he pretended it was not his own. To put his personal thought process during these events out there in the open was a different thing entirely.
It left him feeling far too exposed and vulnerable. And if he learned anything from Mori growing up, it was that he could not reveal his vulnerabilities to others. They would exploit them the first chance they got.
"Does anyone know where the idea of 'an eye for an eye' originated?" Fukuzawa brought him back to the present, aiming his question at the rest of the group.
The question seemed to come out of nowhere to Dazai, who was still so caught up in his own thoughts about self harming that he couldn't put all of his focus into whatever connection Fukuzawa was trying to make.
The room was quiet with everyone's reluctance to answer, or perhaps their pondering back to the things they'd learned in school. Ranpo actually seemed to be listening to the conversation for once, instead of sitting bored like he usually did. That irritated Dazai for reasons he couldn't be bothered to explain.
"Ah, isn't it from old Babylonian times?" Poe finally piped up, raising his hand hesitantly as he spoke.
Fukuzawa nodded to him and Kunikida started to get into it as well, eagerly sitting forward in his chair. Despite being one of the nurses, he was eager to show his own knowledge on the subject.
"Yes, lex talionis, from the Code of Hammurabi." Kunikida lectured, "The Babylonians valued justice, but they had little regard for human life. Hammurabi preached about equality in all of his laws, but also regarded himself as a prophet of the gods, condemning any who dared to disagree with his code."
"The Code of Hammurabi was regarded as the ultimate form of justice and equality, despite not being so at all," Fukuzawa further explained, "Because of his failure to set up a proper legal system, this concept of lex talionis usually did more harm than good, serving punishments that were too harsh and did not properly fit the crime, or were biased due to social class."
"It's nice of you to give us a good history lesson, but how is any of this relevant?" Dazai drawled, interrupting the speech.
He could feel the heavy stare of Fukuzawa's gaze on his shoulders, but he still refused to look back, stubbornly keeping his blank expression directed to the wall.
"The 'eye for an eye' principle failed. That system of punishment was cruel and unrealistic. Your self harm is the same."
Dazai scoffed.
Sure, this all made sense from a moral standpoint.
His self inflicted punishments didn't really equal the sins he committed, nor did they deter him from becoming any worse a human being. He didn't need Fukuzawa to point out how utterly meaningless his habit was. Dazai already knew well enough.
Logically, cutting himself did shit all to repent for what he'd done.
However-
If this could not redeem the atrocities he's committed, then what could he possibly do to make up for his failings? How could he give himself the pain he deserved, in honor of those he hurt?
Until he found the answers for that, knowing that cutting was essentially useless did nothing for him. It certainly wouldn't stop him from continuing to do it whenever he had the chance.
"Self harm is an illogical solution, I know that," Dazai tilted his head down so that his hair covered his one unbandaged eye, "but that changes nothing. I still want to do it."
Fukuzawa gave him a sympathetic nod that Dazai successfully did not gag at.
"It can very easily become an addiction. Once someone is in the cycle of compulsive self-punishment, it is hard to get out of it. But with enough work, no one is beyond saving."
Not even you, were the unspoken words at the end of his little speech.
After so many years of no progress though, hearing how 'it will get better' quickly became tiring, and lost all meaning, becoming a group of meaningless words offered when one couldn't think of anything else.
There was nothing else truthful Dazai could say that would end this miserable conversation though.
"Sure." He mumbled, hoping to be done for now.
He'd played Fukuzawa's little game, no matter how mentally exhausted it left him. He opened up in group therapy and listened to what they had to say in return.
And he still felt like complete shit anyway.
Dazai's jaw clenched uncomfortably and he had to force himself to relax it again. In spite of what he'd just revealed, he couldn't show any further weakness.
When it became apparent that he was done discussing himself any further, Kunikida cleared his throat.
"Does anyone else have anything more to add, or any other issues they wish to discuss?" It grew silent again, so Kunikida continued, "Then moving on-"
"I want to talk about the reason I came here."
Heads, including Dazai's, swiveled immediately to Akutagawa, who was looking grimly determined. The emo teen had not spoken about himself or his feelings once since he's been here, only giving the barest of responses or complete silence. The only times he did participate were when he disagreed with something Atsushi said, but he still never talked about himself, only about his own beliefs that Atsushi's were wrong.
If all it took for him to open up was Dazai opening up, he might've done so sooner. He frequently underestimated how much some of the kids in here idolized him. They really, really shouldn't look up to him, but apparently they did. Enough to follow in his footsteps of opening up in group therapy.
"Go ahead Akutagawa," Kunikida encouraged, still baffled at having two of the least talkative patients speak up during his session. He held his clipboard tightly in his hands, glasses reflecting the ceiling lights and obscuring his eyes from view.
Never one to mince words, Akutagawa coughed into his fist and gave everyone a blunt truth.
"I'm dying."
The shock around the group was palpable, and Dazai almost wanted to laugh because, surely he was just being his dramatic emo self. He couldn't possibly be…
But as he'd mentioned before, Akutagawa wasn't someone who made jokes like this. He was brutally honest to a fault.
Despite everyone else being caught completely off-guard, Fukuzawa retained his calm demeanor.
"And how has that led you here?"
Akutagawa coughed again, straightening up and looking briefly at Dazai and then (interestingly enough) Atsushi, before focusing on the social worker instead.
"My lung condition has no cure. The doctor's told me I have only a few months left, and to make peace with my friends and family."
The room was completely silent. Dazai couldn't even hear anyone breathing, as if they were all holding their breath together.
"I am going to die regardless, but I wanted to pass on my own volition." Akutagawa continued as if he was talking about what he had for breakfast, "The reason I'm in here is because I attempted, and failed, suicide."
At that he finally showed a sign of his emotions, his fists clenching at his sides and his jaw tensing. Dazai could relate to that feeling of inadequacy and disappointment after a failed attempt, but he had an inkling that Akutagawa was less upset about still being alive and more upset with himself for not succeeding at something.
Nobody spoke, even though Akutagawa seemed to be finished speaking. Even Kunikida and Fukuzawa were quiet, the nurse looking conflicted and the social worker simply closing his eyes solemnly. There was nothing anyone could say. Dazai himself didn't know what to say.
Any condolences he offered would've come out wrong, and probably do more harm than good. He couldn't even force himself to feel any type of way over the situation, his mind familiarly numb and still not quite recovered from his own opening up. Maybe he was in shock.
"Don't you have anything you want to do before you die?" Atsushi's soft voice broke through the silence. The look in his eyes was devastated, his voice quivering.
Akutagawa paused for a second to think.
"There's things I wish I could do in the future that I can't now. I would've liked to see my sister graduate high school, go to college, get married. Nothing that I can do within the next few months."
Fukuzawa reopened his eyes, looking pained to have to offer this advice, "Have you considered a hastened death? I know of some doctors that still allow that practice."
One of those doctors likely being Mori. If Dazai knew anything about his father's work, it was that he would have no problems killing sick people.
Akutagawa shook his head at the same time Dazai nodded his, in understanding. They shared a look between them, their eyes finally meeting. There was a deep resignation in those gray eyes.
Akutagawa was not sad. He'd come to terms with his fate the moment he tried to end his life.
That told Dazai everything he needed to know about what was going on in his younger friend's mind.
Dazai ended up answering for him, grimly speaking as Akutagawa coughed once more, "It wouldn't be on his own terms. If he let the doctors assist, then his life would still be in someone else's control. Not his own."
Dazai knew exactly how much suicide and self harm were all just fruitless efforts to control one's life. Numerous physicians had told him that. Despite how much he would rather them be dead wrong about his motivations, they weren't far off.
In some ways, it was about control. He was the only thing in life that he could control, after all.
Based on Akutagawa's motives for killing himself, it was probably the same for him.
He was going to die regardless, but perhaps if he was the one that did the final deed, it would make him feel a little less helpless. Make the whole situation seem a little less unfair.
The truth was that none of it was fair.
Why did this keep happening around Dazai? Was it his fault? Was he the curse that sentenced people undeserving of death into an early grave?
He was the one that wanted to die. Instead, the people in his life that mattered to him most were always dying.
What was the solution? Killing himself? Cutting himself as fruitless punishment? Or was it to push everyone away and become completely alone…
He couldn't do that though.
Dazai was selfish.
Even if he didn't want to live, for the time he was forced to stay here, he didn't want to be alone.
Pushing people away would only be done as a precursor to suicide, to make sure that nobody would be upset about his death. Even if that same selfish part of him wanted people to mourn. Wanted to be remembered.
The session continued on after that, with people only being able to offer their condolences to Akutagawa and nothing more.
Dazai couldn't recall what they talked about for the rest of the time. He barely even registered that he'd opened up earlier too, so caught up in thought about Akutagawa's predicament.
Before he knew it, group therapy ended and they were sitting at their own tables eating dinner.
Dazai couldn't remember going up and getting dinner, but here he was with it on the table in front of him; some sort of mashed potatoes and turkey. He was with Chuuya, Atsushi, and Akutagawa, as they usually ate together, but he was the only one not eating.
Atsushi was throwing flitting glances up at Akutagawa, who was quietly eating as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Chuuya was less obvious about his concern, inhaling his food like an animal but pointedly not talking about what was shared in group therapy. Dazai was simply staring with dead eyes at Akutagawa as he ate, until Chuuya finally nudged him roughly and pointed his fork at Dazai's plate of food on the table.
Rather than do something as boring as eating, Dazai did what he was best at and decided to discuss what was on everyone's mind regardless of social niceties.
Tastelessly, he clapped his hands together; "We should do a double suicide Akutagawa-kun!"
Chuuya promptly smacked him on the back of the head, hissing at him.
"What the fuck is wrong with you? How insensitive can you be?"
Dazai was about to answer that he could be a lotmore insensitive, but Akutagawa beat him to it.
"No thank you Dazai-san. I'm not a beautiful woman, like what you want."
As if that was the most pertinent reason to deny his offer.
"I'm willing to revise my final wish! I can die with a beautiful- well, average-looking guy instead." Dazai insisted reverently.
Chuuya sneered, "I think what Akutagawa's really trying to say is that he doesn't want your disgusting mackerel-eyed face to be the last thing he sees."
"Chibi shouldn't be judging appearances when he looks like an edgier strawberry shortcake."
Just as Chuuya was about to slam his face into his food, Dazai swiftly backed away from the table and took his unfinished plate to the trash.
"Guys, uh, I don't think this is something we should joke about-" Atsushi started, but was also quickly shot down by Akutagawa.
"I don't mind it. Humor is one of Dazai's coping skills."
Returning to his spot, Dazai sputtered at being so utterly called out, putting his hands on his hips with a huff while Chuuya smothered his hysterical laughter by shoving more of his dinner into his mouth.
"Don't patronize me. I'm being totally serious."
Akutagawa continued as if he'd said nothing.
"Chuuya was right though," The acknowledgement made the ginger choke on his food. Good. "I don't want to see you die."
He said it with a sincerity that spoke a lot deeper than just because he didn't want to witness such an act. From the sickly boy's expression, what he really wanted was for Dazai not to die at all. A big request for somebody who had the absolute privilege of dying young.
Dazai rolled his eyes but relented, not finding the argument worth fighting for. Even if a double suicide with Akutagawa was off the table, he still had plenty of time to find a lovely lady to seduce into jumping off a bridge with him.
"Anyway," Dazai brushed that comment off, deciding to end any talks about his suicidal ideations, "What finally got you to tell everyone about the whole dying thing?"
He had a hunch already, but still loved to hear praise when he could. As confident and pompous as he always acted, his self esteem was the size of a peanut. Dazai's self hatred was deeply ingrained into his very being, soaking through him all the way to the core.
Akutagawa thought about it with a completely inexpressive face, "Well, if Dazai-san could talk about himself, then I could talk about my own complications."
Dazai knew it was coming, but it still brought a smug grin to his face.
Even if expressing his inner thoughts didn't make him feel any better about his own life, at least it influenced Akutagawa to open up about his life and what was actually bothering him.
It wasn't planned but he could pretend it was all part of his genius manipulation. Although maybe Akutagawa calling his literal death a 'complication'was a bit of an understatement.
Before he could open his mouth and say 'you're welcome', Atsushi seemed to get over his discomfort about the conversation topic, a thoughtful look blooming on his face.
"Oh yeah, Dazai-san," Dazai turned towards Atsushi, "Do you feel any better after talking about your- um… urges?"
The anxious teen whispered out the last word like it was taboo, too nervous to say something as scandalous as 'self harm' or 'cutting' out loud. Dazai only stopped himself from rolling his eyes out of respect for Atsushi.
"Atsushi-kun~" He sang, a sickeningly sweet smile on his face, "The only thing that could make me feel better is a swift and painless death."
Chuuya scoffed, causing dark amber eyes to flash to him, "God you're so pretentious. Just say it sucked and move on."
In a show of childish retaliation, Dazai stuck his tongue out at him. The redhead stuck his tongue out right back.
"I feel better after speaking," Akutagawa intoned, "I no longer have this suffocating secret weighing me down. It was smothering to keep in."
"Poetic." Dazai deadpanned.
"Well, don't give up!" Atsushi had a determined look on his face, frowning at Dazai, "This time it didn't help… but maybe next time it will!"
The sentiment was sweet, but Dazai highly doubted it.
Still, it would basically be conceding defeat to give up after only one session. He'd continue opening up in group therapy after this, no matter how much it pained him.
Not wanting to drag this on any longer than it's already gone on, Dazai gave Atsushi a tired smile, not quite genuine but less fake than the one before.
"Maybe."
Only time would tell. As hopeful as he'd like to be though, there was still an insatiable itch underneath his skin, aching to be set free.
Even if it made no logical sense, wouldn't help at all, would only make everything worse; he wanted to cut.