Dazai Osamu x Chuuya Nakahara Fanfiction Book

Even Closed Flowers Have the Potential to Bloom (incomplete)

(Ayyeeeeeee

So like, this tiny oneshot is gonna be centered around a very VERY triggering and explicit head-canon I saw roaming around Twitter a few days ago.

CONTENT WARNINGS⚠️: Mentions and implications of past rape/non-con sex, implications of past sexual child abuse (yea, it's M*ri), getting over trauma and PTSD

If any of y'all haven't heard, basically some people theorize this: Mori molested Dazai when he was younger. This made Dazai grow up with internalized homophobia and reject his feelings towards any man in his life, hence, why he has always mentioned that he doesn't like men in general, touching men, or hugging men.

It's obv just a random theory a buncho ppl made, but it heavilyyyyy inspired me to write this story especially considering my own personal... bad experiences.

If this type of thing will trigger you, please, don't read it. That's not my intent, I'm not gonna try to make it all graphic and that bad, but if you get triggered by that, feel more than free to leave this chapter.

This will have a good ending, I promise. It doesn't sound like it, but it does.

Enjoyyyyyyyyy woohooo)

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Mildly-tall grass swayed breezily in the wind. The green hues of the plant seeping out of the city's sidewalk's cracks shined underneath the Sun's ever-growing rays. Though, the rays would only strike the grass here and there, due to the Sun being covered up by a few large and gray clouds trailing off in the sky, blanketing the city in this uneven pattern.

Across from the grass, down the center and to the side of the walkway, laid a large and spruce-wooden bench.

And— on that bench, sat a man.

The man was grimacing a bit at the sight of the grass, the way the flowers around it were slightly closed off and curling in on themselves as they slowly danced from side-to-side in the Spring's breeze.

Spring.

Man— Dazai hates Spring.

It was his least favorite season, in all honesty.

He didn't like it, any of it.

He didn't like the way the mud would slowly start to soften from winter, sticking to the soles of his shoes and getting all over his living room's carpeted and fancy floor. Or the way the clouds would cover more than half of the Sun, blocking those bright, nice, and hot rays from hitting his pale skin.

But— most of all, he hated the flowers.

They would always curl in on themselves, hiding their inner and real-beauty from the world and not showing their true potential to bloom so perfectly under those nice and hot UV rays. It always set an uncomfortable feeling in his throat, and sometimes— he'd find it hard to swallow correctly when thinking about that specific concept.

Today was not some special day, nor would it be different from yesterday or tomorrow. The brunette had just gotten done with some case with the ADA, aiding to Atsushi's side for a bit too long because they dealt with a rather... graphic murder today. He needed to be there by his kouhai's side to help him get through the case without puking at the sight of the citizen's dismembered body.