Father had to entertain guests more and more frequently in recent days. Each time the elite would be scheduled to arrive, Mori would tell him to be quiet, seen but not heard. To not speak unless spoken to.
Dazai was completely fine with this arrangement. He didn't want to talk to the stuck-up, wealthy benefactors and politicians that his father continuously invited over.
Usually though, after he'd been introduced and shunned away to 'return to his studies', he was plagued with an undeniable boredom.
Unlike other kids his age, he did not play with toys or revel in make-believe nonsense. Even his studies, which were at a level far above his peers, bored him to death with facts and theories he already knew.
Instead of doing what he was told, Dazai preferred to listen in on Mori's meetings from the top of the staircase, trying to discern idle chatter from actual news as he hid just out of sight.
He was fairly certain that Mori knew he listened in anyway, and would punish him for it later, but that was a problem for future-Dazai. Besides, his punishments were starting to get predictable. Dazai felt so emotionless that he doubted Mori could do anything to hurt him further.
Dazai sighed, momentarily spacing out as he crouched just behind the stairway banister, gripping the railing with tiny hands. More and more recently he's been starting to feel this cold numbness overtake him. Where in the past he would fear punishment, he now realized that nothing could hurt him more than he's already been hurt.
Nothing will ever be worse than the life he's already forced to live.
"Young master."
The voice shocked him, but he made no show of it and was slow to respond, turning his head to look behind him at one of the servants that had been hired recently. She was short, with an unremarkable face, pitch black stringy hair, and something nefarious hiding in her long skirts, but Dazai didn't care enough to learn more about her.
"You know you shouldn't be listening in on the master's meetings," She admonished, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the staircase.
She was a bit rougher than the old servant used to be, unafraid of being more stern with him. She reminded Dazai of stories he'd read about nuns and how strict they were to those under them. His life might be terrible but Dazai was somewhat thankful that Mori spared him the horrors of religious schooling.
Her grip was bruising as she pulled him away, but Dazai said nothing of it. It's not like it mattered if he was in pain.
"Father told me to study," The child argued as he was pulled into the familiar library that stood strong in this hell hole of a mansion, "So I did."
"He did not mean to study his colleagues, and you know that." The servant was having none of his excuses, settling him down in a chair that was much too big for him.
Dropping a book in his lap, she moved over to a communication system on the wall, requesting another servant to also watch over him. That seemed unnecessary. He may have been a wily little thing but he didn't need two servants to keep him in check.
It was pointless to ponder on it though. It's not like he had any say in the matter. Ignoring the servant who was anxiously pacing in front of the door, Dazai picked up the book in his lap and began to read.
The book was a nonfiction, written by a former slave about his life in chains. It was an interesting read, even if Dazai already knew all about this time period. The book went into the man's own thoughts and feelings, which was something that always interested Dazai, as he was curious of the way other people's minds worked.
Their lives were much worse than his, and yet they still desired to live on. It was fascinating.
The other servant had finally arrived after he finished the first chapter, entering the room and swiftly closing the door behind him. He was another new one, having arrived at the same time as the woman did. Unlike the woman, he was a lot bigger, stockier, and usually negligent to whatever Dazai was doing.
The sound of a lock clicking into place drew Dazai out of his reading. He looked up at the servants, who were now walking over to him.
A feeling of unease settled in his stomach, but he had no reason to feel such a way, so he ignored it.
"Look who has gotten so big!" The man servant announced in what was probably meant to be a friendly voice.
The facade didn't fool the boy, who knew an insincere person when he heard one. Dazai hadn't grown that much in such a short time. Not enough for this servant who only started recently to notice, at least.
Before Dazai could say a word in response, the man placed his hands under the boy's arms and lifted him up off the chair. The ease with which Dazai was picked up and moved made him feel somewhat like a doll. Helpless. It was not a good feeling.
The servant plopped back onto the chair, settling Dazai in his lap. This wasn't too uncommon, as many servants before had done the same when he was younger, but he thought he'd outgrown such childish treatment. He tried to ignore how minuscule he felt sitting on the man's much thicker thigh.
"Still small enough to lift up though! Has the young master been eating enough?" The man's much larger hands settled on Dazai's hips, holding him too tightly in place.
The woman servant knelt down in front of them, looking up with an unrecognizable gleam in her eyes.
"Oh no, he has not. Look how thin he is!" She lifted up Dazai's shirt and patted his stomach.
Her slimy hands were uncomfortable, but when Dazai tried to squirm away, the man simply held him down firmer, fingers digging into his skin.
The feeling of trepidation that he'd had ever since he heard the door lock was beginning to disperse his usual cloud of apathy. His heart started to beat a little harder in his chest as he felt strangely out of control of whatever this situation was, without enough knowledge to do anything about it.
He didn't understand what was going on. Why were these servants so touchy? Why were they talking about him as if he couldn't speak for himself?
"Um, please don't do that." Dazai politely requested, remembering to use his manners even when he didn't want to.
"Do what?" The man behind him asked innocently, using one of his hands to reach up and feel Dazai's chest under his clothes as well, "This?"
"Yes." Dazai responded, trying to shy away from the hand, only to fall back onto the servant's broad chest. There was no escape.
"Yes, you want us to continue?" The woman smiled, sharp teeth making her look more like a gorgon than human. Her hands began to roam to his thighs, groping the flesh as she went.
"No- I want you to please s-stop." Dazai tripped over his words, suddenly feeling an impending sense of dread at the turn this was taking. He'd never stuttered before.
He thought he couldn't feel fear any more, but right now he could hear his heart pumping blood through his ears and his palms beginning to sweat. He was usually more in control of his responses, but everything about this felt humbling. Like he had no power here. That despite his technical ranking as their young master, they were the ones who were in charge.
"Don't worry boy, this will feel good." The woman may as well have had a forked tongue slip through her teeth.
Her hands on his thighs began to creep up to areas that were making his body tense up and stomach turn. The man whose lap he was in had started pinching his chest, murmuring something about how soft he was. The man bit Dazai's earlobe and he jerked away, letting out a quiet whimper as the fear really started to kick in.
The woman shushed him, leaning forward and shutting him up with her lips.
Dazai didn't understand what was going on at all.
For once he was actually hoping that Mori would come to interrupt whatever this was, but he should be entertaining his guests for at least another couple hours.
Panic began to kick in as he realized he was completely alone, that no one would be coming to stop this. That he had to get away on his own.
He finally began to struggle in earnest, but was unable to move anywhere. With the man behind him and the woman caging him in, Dazai was trapped.
"Hey now," The woman finally pulled away after assaulting his mouth, cooing at the boy, "Shh, none of that. You wouldn't want to disrupt your father's meeting."
At this point he would rather take whatever punishment Mori would decide to give him than whatever these two had planned. At least he knew what Mori's punishments entailed. He had no idea what these people were going to do next.
But then he thought about Mori and all of his guests breaking into this room, and seeing Dazai stuck between these servants and completely helpless to their touches, and he felt sick. How disappointed Mori would be to see his son so vulnerable to servants that were supposed to be beneath him.
His father couldn't see him being so weak.
So he resolved to endure whatever this was, even as his stomach curled in disgust and tears began to form in his eyes. He would endure.
He could handle anything they did, he tried to remind himself, even as the sinister hands finally-
Dazai shot up in a cold sweat, shaking all over.
It was dark in the room, he could barely see in front of his face. This lack of sight did absolutely nothing to make the images behind his eyelids disappear.
His breathing sped up to match his racing heart, even though he knew it was just a nightmare. He knew he wasn't back there, but it still felt like he couldn't breathe. Like large rough hands were around his throat and his legs and-
Usually his bandages were a comfort. A shield from anything that could hurt him. But now so soon after a memory of that, they felt suffocating.
Momentarily forgetting that he wasn't alone in the room, he frantically started ripping the bandages off his neck, freeing himself to breathe.
It still felt like ants were crawling all over his skin though, and he kicked the sheets off of his body to check. More bandages covered his skin, so he ripped those off as well, trying to find the source of this tingling so he could crush it in his hands.
The scars that littered his skin almost seemed to be moving in the darkness of the room. Only the moon shining in from outside the window shed light onto his skin, expanding the shadows of the scars and making them look like worms squirming all over him.
He made a noise of distress at the visual, trying in vain to swipe the worms off, to get the bugs off, to just get it all off of him. To finally have his skin be cleansed of the filth.
That was when a hand clamped over his wrist. He pushed the body away from him with all of his strength, snarling like a rabid dog.
"Don't touch me."
He hissed, scrambling up the bed and away from the body that was now looking up at him with wide eyes from the floor.
Seeing Chuuya stare at him in shock brought him back to where he was though. In the mental facility. In his room. With his roommate. His roommate who probably just woke up to see him having a complete breakdown on the bed next to him.
Chuuya's face said everything he needed to know. Such an open display of emotions made Dazai gag.
"Dazai…" Chuuya whispered, the sound shattering the ringing in his ears.
His only escape was the bathroom, so he stumbled to his feet and sped behind the curtain separating it from their regular room, and prayed that Chuuya wouldn't come through the flimsy barrier of protection.
Dazai fell into the shower, curling himself into a tight ball in the furthest corner atop the dirty tiles, watching the curtain with an alertness he didn't feel he truly had.
Despite it being near silent, the night air felt overwhelmingly loud, with both his heartbeat and frantic breaths invading his hearing. His stomach curled in on itself, and he spared a moment to be grateful for escaping to the bathroom, before he crawled to the toilet and emptied the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl.
He heaved, tears peaking at the corner of his eyes before he furiously shoved the palms of his hands into them to smother the sign of weakness. Mori would've been so disappointed in him.
Once he'd thrown up half his body weight, he fell back down on his rear, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and absentmindedly flushing the toilet before he cowered back to his position in the corner of the shower.
Thankfully, vomiting brought him back to his senses a little, like he was purging himself of the remnants of his memories, making him coherent enough to feel his face heat up in humiliation.
Dazai curled up once again, hiding his face in his hands as he grit his teeth, shaking slightly.
Why was this still affecting him?
He'd already been through it. It was over. It happened, and he endured it, and he told Mori about it in passing, trying to appear mildly annoyed rather than absolutely disgusted in himself, and the servants were taken away, and he was given therapy and meds and treatment- and it was done.
The doctor's and police even made him describe to them exactly what happened, numerous times. Dazai thought he'd numbed himself to the feelings that day had carved into him.
Evidently, he spoke too soon.
The nighttime nurse would surely walk in any second now, and Chuuya would tell them everything that happened. All of his progress towards escaping this place dripped down the drain of this dirty shower.
As his hands slid down his bare face, he had another startling realization.
His bandages.
They were ripped off, in tatters. The ones that had been over his eye were lost somewhere, probably back on his bed. The ones that were on his arms and neck were hanging off, not hiding anything. His scars were visible, though luckily he hadn't reopened them.
Well, it was fun while it lasted.
There was only one solution he knew to respond with. He thought he would be patient enough to wait until he was out of here, or saw where his deal with Fukuzawa was going to go, but this was too big a setback.
His fingernails had already dug into the stitches in his wrists before he paused again.
This was a hospital. Even if he did manage to reopen all of his wounds with his nails alone, there were staff at the ready. They would immediately take him into intensive care and he would have to go through this whole process all over again.
With a sigh, he let his arms fall limply to his sides, feeling almost as worthless as he did back then.
Almost.
Nothing could really compare to the total loss of control that he'd experienced that day.
Dazai was staring at the wall on the other side of the bathroom when the curtain was gently pushed aside. His eyes flitted over against his will, needing to assess what could be a potential threat as it entered into the cramped room.
Oda, stepping quietly into the room, with his hands up, a false sign of surrender. It was to lure Dazai into complacency, but he knew that the nurse was the one with all the power here. His mock surrender meant nothing.
Behind the older nurse, he could see Chuuya standing rigidly in their room, the lights now on and revealing an agitated expression on the redhead's face. It looked like the other boy wanted nothing more than to rush towards Dazai, but he had clearly been told to stay where he was.
Oda turned on the light of the bathroom, making Dazai's eyes water although he refused to blink. Despite his trust in the older man, he could not leave himself vulnerable for even a second. Dazai's eyes remained locked onto Oda as he crouched down an arm's length away, looking him over for injuries.
"OdaSaku." He croaked, throat raw.
The nurse watched him steadily, blank expression thankfully not revealing any pity. Only concern for his current state.
"Dazai, are you with us?"
His monotonous timber actually helped Dazai relax somewhat. It didn't drown out the sickly sweet gasps and grunts that were echoing in his skull, but it did give him something else to listen to.
"I'm here."
His voice was rough, and he felt like Akutagawa as he coughed to clear out his throat. If only he was guaranteed death soon too like Akutagawa was.
"Do you have any injuries I can't see?"
Dazai slowly and shakily unfurled himself from the ball his body was curled into, muscles aching at being tensed in such a position. He showed his wrists, trying to ignore the knowledge that Chuuya could see his gnarled scars from where he stood outside the room. The sharp intake of breath he heard made his heart squeeze.
"Not injured." Dazai confirmed.
Oda finally made an expression other than concern as he winced, needing to ask one more question.
"And how are you feeling?"
Dazai had to bite his lip to stop himself from letting out an unhinged laugh or maybe a sob.
The dreaded question that haunted everyone involved in the world of psychology. It was so cliche, and yet it was a necessary question to ask every single time.
He chuckled darkly anyway, feeling some comfort in the cover such a reaction gave him.
"I'll live."
Unfortunately.
…
Even though he didn't hurt himself, an episode was still an episode, so Oda had to remain in their room for the rest of the night. Chuuya's mouth opened like he wanted to say something but one sharp look from the nurse had him snapping his jaw shut, disgruntled.
They went to their respective beds as Oda set up a chair at the end of Dazai's, leaving briefly to retrieve more bandages to replace the ones he'd ruined.
None of them slept.
In the morning, Oda escorted them to vitals before walking off with another one of the doctors. He must've stayed longer than his shift to watch Dazai all night. The teen tried to swallow down his guilt.
Breakfast that morning was eggs and bacon, but it all tasted flavorless to him. Chuuya followed him as he sat down, not even bothering to eat his own meal as he stared across the table at him. It felt like they inverted their positions from the morning after Chuuya's blackout. Unlike then though, Dazai knew that Chuuya wasn't gonna let this go and whatever questions he'd ask would be way too much for Dazai to handle right now, so he decided to take charge before the more abrasive teen could interrogate him.
"Soooo, how did you sleep?"
Dazai smiled cheerily, resting his chin on one of his hands as the other poked idly at his food with a plastic fork. Putting on a mask was as easy as breathing at this point.
Chuuya glared. Luckily, that erased the infuriatingly cautious look that was on his face before.
"Terribly, obviously," He growled, "What the fuck happened?"
Dazai gave him an unimpressed look, raising an eyebrow, "I had a nightmare, obviously."
"That wasn't just a nightmare." The other teen looked down, staring unblinkingly at his untouched food. "It was like…"
He struggled to find the right words for a minute before giving up entirely and making a noise of frustration.
Dazai did not take pity on him. Not when his own internal emotions were the ones at risk.
"Just a nightmare! Everyone gets them, chibi."
He threw in his favorite nickname for the other in hopes it would deter him from speaking more on the topic. It didn't.
"It wasn't." Chuuya insisted, furrowing his eyebrows. "And then… under those stupid bandages…"
Now that was something Dazai was absolutely notgoing to talk about right now. The scars, which began appearing on his skin soon after that event, were an entirely different demon. Unrelated to what happened when he was a child.
He emotionally removed himself from the conversation, going back to eating his breakfast even though every bite made him want to gag.
"You already knew what was there. Unless-" He gasped dramatically, "Have you not been paying attention during group? And you call me a bad patient!"
Chuuya rolled his eyes, posture seeming to unconsciously relax for a second at the familiar banter but tensing up again before he could let himself forget about what they were talking about. Dazai mentally kicked himself for making friends with someone so stubborn and bullheaded.
"Yeah, I knew but… actually seeing them…" Chuuya's eyes ran over the new bandages covering Dazai's arms.
The bandaged teen subconsciously took his arms off the table and hid them underneath.
The feeling he got sometimes that people could see right through his first line of defense was actually a reality this time, as Chuuya could probably remember exactly what his skin looked like under there. Even clawing Chuuya's pretty blue eyeballs out wouldn't erase the images in his head. Dazai knew that better than anyone.
"They're a lot more…" Chuuya was really struggling to find words today. He shook his head helplessly, "I don't understand how you could do that to yourself."
Dazai bristled at the underlying judgement that was hinted at in those words.
Even if Chuuya didn't mean for it to be there, Dazai heard it loud and clear. He'd heard it from plenty of other people in his life too.
"Well, you don't need to understand." His mask slipped for a second as he responded coldly.
Chuuya gazed imploringly at him, "But I want to."
Dazai's breath caught in his throat. For a brief moment he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like if Chuuya could relate to his history of self harm. If his skin was also littered with scars. If he could understand exactly why Dazai did what he did... the thought made him sick.
"No, you really don't."
His voice came out as almost a whisper, and he quickly decided he was done with this discussion.
After his memory dream, and then Chuuya seeing much more of him than he wanted to share, he just wanted to hide all of his emotions behind a locked door and return to the comforting numbness of apathy.
Without waiting for Chuuya's inevitable response, Dazai took his plate and threw out the remainder of his breakfast, hurriedly walking up to the med counter for his morning pills before speed walking back to their room so he could hide in the shower for a little bit before group.
For this shower, he did take off his bandages, electing to just redress them after he dried himself off. The feeling of the bandages wrapped around his neck still felt too constricting so soon after that memory.
Behind the privacy of a curtain, he finally had some time alone to process the events of the last few hours and just think.
Chuuya was now one of the few people (that wasn't a doctor) that had seen his scars. He was also one of the few people to witness one of Dazai's real breakdowns, even if it didn't last that long and wasn't nearly as severe as some of his others.
His arms wrapped around themselves as these truths sunk in, leaving him feeling unraveled.
The other boy knew too much, had seen too much of what the real Dazai looked like. Underneath all the masks and his burying of his emotions. He felt naked, completely bare and exposed against the knowledge Chuuya now possessed.
It wasn't fair. He now knew more about Dazai than Dazai knew about him, and that just wouldn't do.
Mori taught him to always be the one with the most information. As much as he despised the man, those lessons were ingrained into his very being, and they were useful to follow.
He needed to find out more about Chuuya. To strip him of his defenses like Dazai had been stripped of his. To make him feel the same inadequacy that he was feeling right now. Then, they'd be even.
Distantly, he remembered the journal Chuuya had been writing in that he didn't want Dazai or the others to read. Surely that would have some secrets that would hurt the other boy.
Where was it? On Chuuya's side of the room somewhere. He'd have to dig around. Maybe he could find some time to come back during one of the sessions today, when Chuuya would be occupied.
Yes, that sounded good. Then he wouldn't feel so much like he was drowning alone in a frozen lake. He would pull Chuuya underneath the freezing water with him. They could lose all air in their lungs and succumb to frostbite together, hand in unwilling hand.
This probably wasn't healthy thinking, nor was it a morally okay thing to do, but Dazai never claimed to be a good person. Most of the time, he actually openly expressed the opposite.
Come the end of the day, he wouldn't be the only one feeling this crushing weight of worthlessness
Acting like nothing was wrong was second nature at this point. Slapping a smile onto his face and burying any visible signs of distress was one of the first things he'd learned as a young boy, and it certainly came in handy now.
After his shower (which was excruciating because rubbing his body raw without opening his recent scars was difficult, but he couldn't stop until there weren't any more phantom hands trailing up and down his skin), Dazai put on his biggest, comfiest, azure hoodie, one where the sleeves were long enough to cover his hands and the hood was large enough to swallow his head. He rewrapped his layers of bandages ritualistically, letting a cool numbness soak into his bones as he shielded his skin from the world and tried in vain to once again clear his mind of the past.
He then returned to the main room for morning group therapy. This time he did not participate beyond his usual teasing, resolutely ignoring Chuuya's hard stare on him the entire time.
Chuuya was watching him like he expected Dazai to fall apart at any moment and start throwing chairs, like he'd done. Like he was unstable.
This unwelcome surveillance only cemented the idea in his head of prying into Chuuya's innermost thoughts. He would enact his plan later in the day, when those infuriating blue eyes were not so alerted to his every move.
Luckily, Kenji and Naomi were being released today. Usually when it was a person's last day, the group would spend a few minutes exchanging contact information for the outside world, hugging each other goodbye and promising to reach out even though they both knew neither of them would. It was the perfect time to slip out from the group and search for Chuuya's journal.
From there, he could only hope that there was something actually intimate in the book, otherwise the invasion of privacy would be a total waste of time.
A small insignificant speck of his heart was screaming at him to not do this, that it would be breaking the tiny amount of trust that had been building between them. Hurting Chuuya would do nothing to make him feel any better.
However, the larger part of his brain was spitting curses in defense of itself as it was backed into a corner, screeching like a wild animal and insisting that now his roommate had too much control in their relationship, as the one with more knowledge.
That was unacceptable.
Dazai had been the weaker one too many times in his life already, despite how much effort he'd put in to change that. He would not be left to the mercy of Chuuya of all people. That brat could use his information to emotionally cripple Dazai.
As much as he touted about his mental fortitude, Dazai was uncomfortably aware of how on edge he truly was, and did not have confidence that he could remain perfectly calm if Chuuya did decide to attack him. He would be a dog with both bark and bite.
Dazai hated dogs.
The two other patients weren't being released until later in the day though, so he still had all morning to dodge Chuuya as much as he could. Which, admittedly, was a bit difficult when they all were confined to one room.
"Dazai-"
He swerved around the redhead on his way to an already full table, resolutely ignoring the huff of annoyance that sounded after he passed. Throughout the years, Dazai had become quite the expert at avoiding conversations that he didn't want to have, and he really didn't want to confront Chuuya until he had ammunition to defend himself.
As luck would have it, everyone else was also stuck in this room with them, filling the space with unaware witnesses. Thankfully Chuuya was not the kind of person to air someone else's dirty laundry, so he wouldn't be able to ask any personal questions if they were surrounded by oblivious peers. Unless he really wanted to fuck Dazai up.
If he was Mori, Dazai would expect some kind of public shaming, but Chuuya was definitely one that would get physical before stooping to that level.
"Ranpo-san! Play a card game with me." Dazai quickly sat down at the table with Ranpo, Poe, Kenji, and Lucy.
"With you? No thanks." Ranpo looked very unimpressed with his tactic of diversion, returning to meticulously coloring inside the lines in a specific pattern.
Kenji tilted his head innocently, taking Dazai's attention away from where he was sneakily spying on Chuuya, who was sitting defeatedly at a table on the other side of the room.
"Why not? I want to play a game!" The blonde boy clapped his hands excitedly. Poor fool.
Poe gave the boy a look of pity, explaining in simple terms, "Dazai cheats."
"Poe! I never thought you would spread such rumors. You can't prove anything."
Lucy, who Dazai had regrettably not had many interactions with, snorted. Her arms were crossed over her chest haughtily, with the attitude of someone who thought they were better than everyone else in the room.
It was exactly the type of attitude that Dazai despised.
Sure, it was probably just her personality and she didn't mean anything by it, but Dazai was getting antsy the longer they all sat there, feeling Chuuya's eyes on the back of his head like pinpricks through his skull.
When she didn't say anything to follow up though, Dazai decided that she would be the victim of his torment today. As someone liable to have a very public breakdown, she was the perfect choice.
Besides, he was still feeling exposed and disgusted with himself, maybe starting a fight would lift his mood, or at the very least take his mind off of it.
"Got something to say, schizo?" He sneered, with a deceivingly sweet tone of voice.
Lucy flushed, eyes going wide. She looked shocked, like she wasn't expecting someone in here to say something like that. Obviously, she hadn't been paying much attention to Dazai's disregard of the unspoken social rules.
"N-no, I just... We've all seen you cheat-"
"Oh? Are you sure you're not just seeing things?" Dazai grinned with all the sinister aura of a demon, his only intentions to hurt, torment, maim.
Lucy flinched like she'd been punched, now openly avoiding Dazai's slitted red eyes as she stammered out a reply that flew right over his head.
The others at the table were silent, watching the exchange tensely as they waited to see how this would go. Everybody loved drama, even if it wasn't pretty. Sometimes more, when it was ugly.
The girl, sensing she was in this fight alone, squared her shoulders.
"I- no. I haven't had a hallucination since I've been in here, not that it's any of your business."
"Well, you wouldn't know if you did now, would you?"
"I…" She appeared to be on the edge of tears, face twisting into anger in an attempt to stave away the sadness.
Her teeth gritted loud enough for him to hear across the table.
"Are you even sure any of this is real? Aren't you here because you're crazy?" He laughed cruelly, pushing her further.
Just a little further…
"Shut up! I know what's real!"
She slammed her hands down on the table as she shot up out of her seat, garnering the attention of the rest of the room. Her eyes flitted around as everyone started to ogle them, the movements becoming stiff and frantic.
Lucy backed away from the table like it had burned her, now looking around wildly. Like she was just taking in how many people were now aptly watching her state of vulnerability.
It didn't feel good to be put on display like some kind of sideshow freak.
"Dazai-san, stop!" Atsushi cried, hurrying over and bypassing the brunette completely as he rushed to comfort Lucy. He made a hurt expression when Lucy only flinched further away, "He's just... joking around, Lucy. You're not crazy, we're real."
With an amount of caution that seemed unnecessary to Dazai, Atsushi slowly approached her as if she was a tiger in a zoo. Holding out a gentle hand, Lucy hesitated for a second before latching onto Atsushi, letting out a heavy gasp of air as she did. Her grasp on his hand looked painfully tight.
"I know. I know this is all real… He's just being a dick."
Lucy sniffled pathetically at Dazai, who had already grown bored after realizing he couldn't trigger a schizophrenic episode on his own. Apparently it was harder than he thought.
He sighed dramatically, about to respond with some other sort of taunting jibe, but he was interrupted by the staff finally deciding to do their jobs.
"What's going on here? Dazai? What did you do?"
Yosano's stomped her heels over, looking quite pissed off. She quickly checked that Lucy was okay before turning to stand between them, glaring down at Dazai as she shielded the girl behind her imposing figure.
"We were just chatting," Dazai shrugged carelessly, overtly aware that everyone in the room was glaring at him in some way, "It's not my fault she's so sensitive."
The snarls that statement garnered were almost enough to get his heart racing.
Even though he knew that this was a stupid thing to do, and that this little tantrum would do absolutely nothing for him, Dazai couldn't help himself. It was like his brain wanted to attack itself but couldn't, so it got others to do the job for it.
Yes, more, his mind greedily urged, then they'll learn to hate you as much as you hate yourself.
Another form of self harm, was that what this was? Pushing everyone away? Getting everyone to want to hurt him because he's not allowed to hurt himself?
It was like time suddenly caught up to Dazai and he was yanked back into the present, only then realizing that he hadn't been.
Why did he do that? Every face in the room was looking at him with loathing. Was this really what he wanted?
He felt like he'd been possessed briefly by something ugly, but the only thing inside his head was himself, so clearly he must be the ugly thing.
All he'd wanted the past few minutes was to cause pain. He succeeded in that, and yet he felt even more miserable than before.
"Enough." Yosano crossed her arms as she glowered at him. He felt so small all of a sudden, in the presence of her disappointed stare. "Go out into the hallway. We're gonna have a talk. Fukuzawa, please watch the kids while I deal with him."
Because Dazai was something to be dealt with. Not a person, not a flawed human, but something that needed to be conditioned better to appease the people who actually deserved care.
He wordlessly walked out into the hallway, avoiding the disdain of his peers.
Yosano's followed close behind him and soon they were once again face to face in the quiet hallway. The few staff that were present were all already occupied.
From the front desk, Ango gave him a raised eyebrow and a frown of disappointment. Dazai didn't even have the energy to be annoyed at it.
"Okay, what is wrong with you?" Yosano demanded as soon as they were apart from the group.
The unprofessionalism would've amused him if it weren't aimed in his direction.
"You really have to ask me that? Why do you think I'm here?" Dazai deadpanned, gesturing to the mental ward they were in.
"You know what I mean," The doctor gave him no leeway, letting loose an agitated sigh, "You're not usually this destructive. Listen, I know you had a rough night last night-"
"Oh, do you, now? Did Odasaku tell you all about my little breakdown? I bet it was prime gossip for the orderlies." Dazai hissed, immediately taking up a defensive position.
Even more people knowing of his vulnerable moment had him on the edge of panic, now feeling like hewas the wild animal in a zoo.
"Osamu, just because you had a slight setback doesn't mean you can harass the other patients."
"Setback?" Dazai crossed his arms, leaning back as if trying to make himself appear bigger, "I feel better than ever. I could leave right now, if you'd let me!"
Yosano was thoroughly unimpressed with his showboating, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes as she tilted her head down to him.
His height was above average for his age but Yosano had the advantage of being an adult wearing heels, so she was annoyingly one of the few people that could actually look down on him.
He hated being looked down on. It made him feel like a child. A helpless child.
"You've been here for five days Dazai," but it felt like so much longer, "There's a one week minimum for every patient, you know that, but after the shit you pulled in there it may be even more. I know you've got your own problems, but remember that you're not the only person who doesn't want to be here. Everyone in that room was admitted for a reason. They all have something inside them that they don't want there, and they want to leave this place with the ability to deal with it. It's been hard for you, I know-"
Dazai made sure not to break eye contact, as much as he wanted to turn away from those agonizingly sincere eyes. No matter how exposed he felt, he could not show weakness.
"You don't know anything." He interrupted her speech, voice coming out much quieter than he intended.
Even when trying to be strong, he was nothing but a pathetic child. So much for not showing weakness.
Then the nurse did the worst thing she could possibly do. Her eyes filled with pity.
The last thing he wanted was pity. Pity implied that Dazai had suffered. That he was pitiful in some way, because of what happened to him.
That was the furthest thing from the truth. He had it much better than so many people. Whatever things he experienced as a child were nothing compared to what other people had gone through, and they certainly didn't make him weaker.
He was privileged. Those moments barely affected him because he was taught the specific skills needed to not be affected by them. Namely; ignoring the problems and simply choosing to believe they weren't traumatic.
Unlike the less fortunate, he was given all the tools he needed to stop being so broken, and had been given them since the very beginning. Yet he stubbornly refused to utilize them, preferring to send himself deeper into self destruction.
"You need a second to cool down-"
Dazai thought he was perfectly calm.
He was pretty sure he wasn't showing any outward displays of distress, like anxiety-ridden Atsushi probably would. He wasn't getting angry like Chuuya would. He wasn't being weak like-
Truthfully, he was completely apathetic towards the whole situation. Honestly.
"Go to your room for a bit to gather your thoughts. Leave the door open. I'll come back to check on you in ten minutes so don't try any shit or I'll be so pissed. Don't make me regret this." Yosano nudged him in the direction of his room, giving him a stern look that dared him to defy her orders.
If he was any other patient, she probably wouldn't trust him with this, but they were familiar with each other. She knew him well enough to know Dazai wouldn't do anything too stupid on her shift.
It wasn't exactly policy but much like himself, Yosano often bent the rules. Ango gave them a look from behind the reception desk, which they both ignored this time.
This was a perfect opportunity, however, and Yosano didn't even know that she'd made Dazai's plans for the day a whole lot easier. He wouldn't have to wait for the two patients to leave and risk being caught sneaking out, now given ten whole minutes to search Chuuya's things.
Still, he was an actor, and so remained in character.
"Fine." He huffed, pretending to be bitter.
It wasn't hard, he truly was a little bitter about her pity. All he had to do was channel that feeling in a different direction.
He turned from her, dragging his feet down the hall to his room and trying to make it look as reluctant as possible without going overboard.
As soon as he turned the corner into his and Chuuya's private space though, he got to work. The evil parasite inside of him that fed off causing pain demanded it.
Chuuya's notebook had to be here somewhere. It wasn't in the other boy's hands earlier.
Although admittedly Dazai had been trying to avoid looking at the redhead, so he could've easily just missed it. Still, it wouldn't hurt to snoop.
With cautious steps, he crept over to Chuuya's side of the room, starting his search at the messy bed. Chuuya seemed like the kind of sensitive boy to hide his journal underneath his pillow. Lifting it up though, he was disappointed that there was no girlish diary secretly placed there. That would've been hilarious.
Not bothering to waste time being annoyed, Dazai carefully laid the pillow back where it was, making sure it looked exactly as he'd found it. Whirling around, he then treaded over to his desk.
Each bedroom in the facility was, for obvious reasons, scarcely furnished. However there were at least two beds and two desks, both bolted to the floor. Sometimes there was a side table with drawers, and since this was a nice asylum that cared about its patients, it had one next to each bed as well. They must've spent the competent staff budget on furniture instead. He'd check those next.
The desk was a quick search, there weren't any hidden drawers or anything. He just checked underneath, in the space between it and the wall, and obviously the surface.
Getting frustrated but not ready to give up, he went back near the bed and to the bedside table.
He took a quick glance towards the open doorway, pausing to listen for Yosano's heels clacking down the hall. Determining that he was in the clear, he continued.
For some reason, he held his breath as he slowly opened the top drawer.
There was a twisting sensation deep in his gut, making him feel ill, and it only got stronger the more he looked. His mind was still screaming at him to stop, but he tried to reason with it.
This wasn't wrong. Dazai was justified in prying into Chuuya's personal thoughts, the same way his own had been forcefully ravaged.
Even though it wasn't quite the same, Chuuya hadn't intentionally witnessed his secrets, the outcome remained absolute. Or at least, that's what he told himself in a futile attempt to sway his thoughts.
The first drawer just had clothes, and Dazai did not feel like digging into his roommates underwear, so he only skimmed the surface before gently pushing the drawer back closed. It was the second one that made him smirk victoriously, pulling out the nondescript notebook tucked just underneath a battered copy of Sucker Punch.
Dazai didn't know how long Chuuya had been here, but it must have been at least a week because the journal was definitely generously used. The usual stiffness of a new notebook was not there, and it easily opened up to thin pages covered in fading, marker-written words.
Keeping an ear out for Yosano still, he hungrily scanned through the writing to find something of worth, thanking his photographic memory as he knew it would come in handy later.
But the more he read, the more his brow furrowed. There were no juicy confessions or 'dear diary's,' it was just-
May I look up when I die!
May not this small chin become smaller still!
Yes, I am blamed for what I have
not felt, an invocation to death, I believe.
Ah, if only I look up!
Then, at least, I might be as one who feels everything.
Was this… poetry?
Dazai gawked, dumbfounded as he continued to read the words numbly, definitely not expecting this to be what Chuuya had been so careful in hiding.
It was such a cliché, and he usually didn't care much for poetry but-
O acquaintances, grantors of dark disgrace,
do not wake me again!
I will endure my solitude,
arms seeming already useless-
It was surprisingly good.
The sound of heels reached his ears and he hurriedly shoved the notebook back in the drawer and underneath the other book, practically leaping over Chuuya's bed to get to his own.
When Yosano entered the room a second later, he was calmly laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling with his hands folded atop his stomach like he'd been stewing there in his own thoughts the entire time.
"Are you going to behave now?" She raised an eyebrow, leaning in the doorway.
Dazai gave her an innocent smile, sliding nonchalantly off the bed with his hands in his hoodie pocket, "I spent the last ten minutes in a deep state of meditation, and after much self reflection, I've decided to turn over a new leaf."
"Really." Yosano stated dryly, not even bothering to hide her doubt.
The two of them headed back down the hallway towards the activity room. It looked like visiting hours were in the process of happening. There were a lot more people than usual split between two of the rooms.
"Oh yes. I think I may have even found religion in my solitude. From now on I'll be the most heavenly patient."
The doctor gave him a deceivingly sweet smile, tilting her head a little and stopping him before they went back into the room.
"I'm sure you'll have no problem apologizing to Montgomery-chan then."
His eye twitched, although he managed to keep the rest of his face from scowling. A petty part of him wanted to go right up to Lucy and say 'sorry you're such a sensitive little bitch baby' but that didn't seem like the right course of action at the moment.
He would act sincere and repentant and blame his mental illness somehow. Maybe try to go for a sympathetic approach.
With his character in mind, he slumped his shoulders, making sure to look extra guilty as he left the doctor and reentered the room, his eyes immediately falling on the girl as hers did his.
She still looked rightfully upset with him, although she seemed to be getting support from a few of the other patients. A pang of jealousy shot through him as he looked at the huddle around her.
Where was this troop of emotional support friends when he was having a rough time? Sure, he would never have allowed anyone to touch him, or try to comfort him, or even just see him in distress, but that didn't mean he wouldn't have appreciated the effort.
Regardless, he had a job to do, so he took a heavy breath and slowly slid towards their little congregation.
"Hey…" Dazai pretended to hesitate a little, tilting his head downward in faux shame, "I'm sorry for what I said, Lucy."
She actually looked surprised for a second at the uncharacteristic words before quickly covering that up with a self righteous expression, because of course she did. Dazai mentally rolled his eyes.
"You should be!"
He pretended to wince, "Yeah, I know. It's just been so hard lately- and I know that's not an excuse but… I guess I took it out on you."
He sighed loud enough to be heard but not too loud to be seen as overly dramatic. The best lies had a bit of truth.
Making sure to look extra pathetic, he clenched the edges of the hoodie in his hands and let his hair fall over his eyes.
Hidden by the locks of hair, he could see Lucy relax her posture somewhat, everyone around her seeming to take that as a sign to forgive him as well.
He kept the victorious smirk off of his face.
"... I get that." Lucy reluctantly crossed her arms over her chest. She had a moment of deep concentration before letting out another huff, "I guess I accept your apology. Just don't be such an asshole next time."
Dazai let fake innocent hope shine in his eyes as he looked back up, nodding, "Thank you."
With that over with, he politely bowed to the group.
Groveling for forgiveness was disgusting, he's glad it's over.
Deciding to be done with that whole situation, he made his way over to the other side of the room where Ranpo, Poe, and Akutagawa were huddled together writing in their own notebooks.
Ranpo was the first to acknowledge Dazai as he sat down, grinning knowingly at him. Poe and Akutagawa were still murmuring to each other, doing god-knows-what in their secret little meeting.
"What's it like completing your redemption arc?" Ranpo teased. Dazai got the underlying message.
The other boy had seen right through him. Of course he had. He seemed to be of the same moral gray as Dazai though, not necessarily concerned at all with the harmed party's feelings. It wasn't that big a deal.
"Do you think I laid it on too thick?" He asked, glancing back over to the other side of the room where the kinder kids had been consoling Lucy. It looked like they'd moved back to their regular positions casually sitting in a circle.
"Nah," Ranpo leaned back in his chair, "They believed every word of your bullshit. It's already been forgotten."
"Good, 'cause it's not even lunch yet and I'm already so done with everything. Wake me up if something interesting happens."
Dazai buried his head in his arms as he leaned over the table to take a nap.
Almost immediately, Ranpo snorted, "Wake up."
Thinking he was joking, Dazai lifted his head to give him a dull look, only to once again see Yosano looking grimly at him from the doorway into the room, motioning him over when they made eye contact.
He didn't even bother trying to muffle his loud groan, disbelieving of how much shit was being thrown at him every second of the day.
The past twelve hours had been a nightmare. Like a bloodhound on a scent trail, of course this would be when Mori decided to drop by again, even though he was supposed to only visit once, as was their custom.
There was no one else it could be, after all. It wasn't like there was a single other person in Dazai's life that cared about him enough to see him in the hospital. He didn't even have anyone that would see him outside the hospital.
The visiting room was the same as always, just with more tables filled up as for some reason every relative decided to visit their troubled teen today.
A flash of red caught his attention and he looked over to Chuuya sitting across a very imposing woman with similar features. That must be his mother, Dazai mused, choosing to theorize about Chuuya's family rather than deal with his own.
He could only ignore the man across him for so long though, before his body subconsciously forced his eyes to meet with his fathers.
"Why are you here, Mori? Did you forget the Netflix password in your old age? It's 'fuckoffanddie' all one word," Dazai drawled, bored.
The man sat across the table looking exactly the same as he always did, and just as exhausted as last time.
"It's good to see you too, Osamu."
Mori's words could not sound less sincere, entirely unwilling to entertain Dazai's attempt at good humor.
At least this behavior, Dazai was familiar with. There was none of the jarring concern of before, just the doctor's usual thinly veiled irritation that he had grown up with.
"It's not like you to come by so much," Dazai pointed out, keeping a pleasant smile on his face even as his eyes revealed their contempt, "If you keep this up I might start to think you actually care about me."
"I do care about you."
Yeah, he totally sounded like he did.
"Shouldn't you be busy with work?" He asked instead of responding to that. It was clearly another tactic to manipulate him, and he would not entertain it after the day he'd had.
"They understand that I have a family emergency right now."
"Emergency? Such an exaggeration~"
"It was an emergency. You almost died."
"I always 'almost die.' Unfortunately it appears I'm immortal." Dazai huffed indignantly.
He was starting to believe Akutagawa's stupid theory. Unless the universe just really, really hated him and enjoyed seeing him suffer, it was ridiculous how close he'd gotten to death without being granted it. The universe was such a tease.
"You did die."
The doctor did the Mori-equivalent of shouting by slightly raising his voice in a manner that demanded authority, his shoulders squared and making him seem so much bigger than he was.
It was harsh, and he rarely used it, preferring more underhanded methods of getting what he wanted. Usually very passive aggressive and always involving some sort of manipulation, rather than shouting, which he saw as barbaric. This was the first time in a long time he'd used the commanding voice.
The sound of it snapped Dazai's jaw shut immediately, body responding to the commands it had been conditioned to respond to. How pathetic it was that he still bowed to that man like a dog. But despite the shame of not being able to shake that habit, he couldn't get his body to defy his father. It stayed completely still, just as his father had ordered with unspoken words.
But more than that, he was pretty much completelylost.
Last time he checked, he was still alive. Unless his last attempt did actually work and this was hell, in which case: hell sucked.
The nonstop drama that had been going on must have cracked his mask a bit and some of the confusion must have shown on his face, because Mori leaned back, calculating something behind his eyes. There was a very brief moment of silence before he spoke again.
"They didn't tell you?" His father asked, even though it was a rhetorical question. Both of them knew the answer.
Mori held a hand to his forehead, suddenly looking as much the old man as Dazai taunted him about being. Even with all the teasing though, he'd never actuallyseen him as old before now.
Now, with the pale fluorescent lights on the ceiling emphasizing his wrinkles, graying hair, and thinning skin, he appeared almost like a corpse.
"Your heart stopped. You were clinically dead for nearly two minutes. We had to resuscitate you." His father stated the facts without emotion, for both their sanity, "If it was someone else who'd found you, someone who wasn't a doctor, or if I had been seconds later…" Mori trailed off, not needing to continue when they both knew everything that was left unsaid.
His usual professionalism cracked for a second with his last words. Mori's facade never cracked.
Dazai couldn't feel his fingers. He swallowed, but his throat was dry, so he swallowed again until it wasn't. Vaguely, he noticed a ringing in his ears, making the rest of the noise in the room quiet down to nothing. He couldn't even eavesdrop on Chuuya's conversation, not that he'd really been doing that anyway.
For someone who had been chasing death his entire life, learning that he had actually been dead- that he'd succeeded. It was…
"Why?" He croaked out, not completely conscious enough to be embarrassed about the clear strain in his voice.
"What do you mean, 'why'?"
Death had been the forbidden fruit that enticed him since he was born. He was brought into this world through death; the death of his mother. It had been a constant companion to him, raising him in her place.
Every moment where he had felt alone, it was there. And every moment where he'd felt inhuman, and monstrous, it had also lingered, reminding him that he could die just as every other person in the world could. The concept was a comforting companion in his lowest moments. He was never afraid of death.
So, why did he feel lightheaded all of a sudden? Why was his stomach churning like he was about to be sick?
Was he upset that he didn't die? Or was he terrified because suddenly memories were coming back, memories of that night, little more than a week ago.
The peace he'd felt, while feeling nothing at all. The void that he'd thought was his imagination.
The echoes of Mori's voice, sounding shaky and uncontrolled for the first time in his life.
The red, red, red that was all he could see. It was beautiful, painting the boring white tiles of the nondescript bathroom with a living crimson. The colors blurring as his body was moved.
The content smile he could feel grace his face, even as he lost feeling in all other parts of his body, because this was a beautiful death. Exactly what he'd wanted, so close to finally embracing his lifelong companion.
His memory of the event was almost certainly worse than the real actions that took place, his mind amplifying what had really occurred. It couldn't have been that euphoric, could it? He couldn't even remember what he'd been thinking in those moments.
Always dragging him down like an anchor, his memories.
Refusing to let him sail on to calmer seas. Forcing him to remain a rugged old boat in the middle of a perpetual storm, his only options to remain in the chaos or sink into the dark, dark, dark sea below.
The water looked so inviting, compared to the relentless maelstrom above.
"Why did you bring me back?"