Red; Blood and Love | Dazai X Reader

Crumbling

The bars' dimly lit surroundings settled on their figures. Just as they had years ago, Dazai sat in his usual seat with Y/n to his left. On his right would be Oda, if he were still alive, that's where he'd be. Ango had once sat next to Y/n on the days they attended the drinking. Though it was rare to see them show up to the bar. Perhaps it had been once or twice.

Neither spoke much, basking in the silence. Enjoying the old but familiar feeling of the bar. When Dazai took his eyes off the empty seat next to him, he turned back to find a passed-out Y/n, drunk from the glasses of drink they downed. Dazai's cup had not a single sip taken from it, the ice still bouncing up and down. "You've always been the first to drop out among us." Dazai snickered, patting their head as he stood up. Stepping towards the sofa to grab their jacket, when he turned back, his expression froze. Perhaps it should have been expected already? Dazai held the jacket in his hands, putting it over them. Their eyes slowly opened. Their body stood far more mature than the last version. Their eyes slowly dropped open, squinting and grumbling incoherent words. "Osamu? Came back for me?" the slurring of their words pained him. The image was all too familiar, the night he left them.

"Come on, let's go home. You're drunk right now." Dazai swung one of their arms over his shoulder, helping them drag their feet over the tile.

"Okay!" they hummed leaning onto him further.

Dazai dropped them on their bed, aware they had already passed out again. He took their coat and hung it up before pulling the sheets over them. He strolled out of the room, towards the room he had been sleeping in again. He'd uncluttered it, picked up the broken glass, set the frames back up, and changed the dead lights. The room looked almost like it had years ago when he used it. Sitting on the bed, he brought his hands to lock into his hair. He knew it would end eventually, but it appeared so soon. He stayed hunched over for a while, unsure when he collapsed into exhaustion. Waking up mid-day with heavy limbs. Forcing himself out of bed to confront the Crimson puppeteer. Before that, he had to change the bandages, his skin was irritated from the night of rubbing against sand grains. Unwinding the cloth from his arms, he stared and the sand sticking to the marks along his skin. It had been so long since the urge came that he was taken aback when he noticed there were no healing wounds. Before any other thoughts could pester him, he opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled the roll of bandages out. Slowly wrapping his body with the fresh cloth. Finishing his job, he made his way carefully to the kitchen.

Dazai leaned against the wall, sidestepping a knife tossed at his head. The executive turned the stove off, Eyes emptier than the void stared back at him before becoming engulfed in fire. "You honestly left... you fucking left!" Dazai showed no reaction, his expression aggravatingly still. "Get out, get the fuck out. I'm four years ahead of where I belong, but that doesn't mean you can be here Dazai." They pointed burning fire in his direction, each flame a word meant to scorch him.

"I promised Chuuya I'd keep an eye on you until you were your present age. I'm sorry about the inconvenience." Dazai's voice held no emotion, forcing himself not to ramble on explanations. "I plan to carry the job to the end." he caught a knife aiming at his face again.

"This isn't fair! I'm the one who's supposed to get the better life YOU promised me! Why are you living so leisurely? Somebody with consciousness like yours doesn't deserve the light." Dazai sighed, turning around and walking back towards the room he once called his. "Ya, you go hike off, shit-head." The door didn't slam nor lock behind the brunette. Dazai sank against it, pulling his phone out and texting the group that they wouldn't see them again in the agency. He'd be back when they have aged up again, but without Y/n.

Maybe this will end in a day...

Sitting on the couch, they pulled their knees to their chest. Trying to make sense of things as they flipped through TV channels. Downing wine, glad there was some in the house. Chuuya had gotten them into drinking wine about a year before Dazai left the Mafia.

A day turned into three and then a week before concern grew. He hadn't come from the room the entire time. They had made food for him each night, for a reason they were unsure of. It was mostly due to habit, used to cooking a meal for him to enjoy when he got back from hanging out at the bar. Grabbing the plate, they shoved the door open, setting the plate down and glaring at dazai's curled form on the bed. "You suck at your job."

"I suck at living to begin with, of course, I suck at this too." Dazai didn't bother opening his eyes, staying in that curled-up position.

"Eat dumb-ass, or I'll spoon feed it to you."

"I'm not hungry, You'll age back eventually and I'll leave." As they promised, Dazai found a hand yanking him to sit upright, and a spoon shoved into his mouth. Opening his eyes, he sighed, taking the metal into his own hands. "You're annoyingly stubborn."

"I guess I am... when you finish eating, take a shower before you stink my apartment up." Dazai rolled his eyes downing the food with a heavy grumble. Standing on his feet as he dragged his weight, increased a hundredfold by his consciousness, to the restroom. Yawning as he turned the water cold and washed.

Y/n gazed down at the floorboards before heading back to the living room. They pulled their legs to their chest, dropping their head into the crevice created. "Why did he get to leave?"