(HUWAHHHHTTT I'm back.
Andddd, idk how long this will be but it's more of a vent-shot weewoooweewoo
It's just about how "lonely" and "empty" Dazai feels all the time, no matter what he tries to do to fill in that hole of emptiness, but, there is ONE thing that seems to fill it in, even just for a little bit.
Sorry I went on a bit of a writing hiatus, I didn't have any inspiration for a while and I was getting busy, buuuuttt I recently read the story "I'll Wait Til The Ink Dries" and I got hella inspired
It'll be from Dazai's perspective woahhh omg we never get his perspective, this is like something completely new oh my god this is craziness whAAAT
E e e enjoy 😭🤭)
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'Every moment I lay awake, every morning I open my eyes, the same rush of feeling enters my system. The feeling of nothing, the feeling of emptiness. No adrenaline rush is flowing through the translucent, thin-glass veins beneath my eyes and no energetic pulse is lying deep inside my heart. I don't feel the simple things a normal human would any normal day a normal human would when they wake up, and that is what simply makes me not human enough for this world. I don't know what it's like to have a heart full of love, nor to have a heart full of hate, I simply just know that I was born into life, and that there is a day where I will not be living anymore. Any normal human reading this passage would probably attempt to help me, or attempt to make me contact some sort of health department or hotline that would just end up having me put on some waiting list just to talk to some stranger about how much I don't care about them nor myself, but in the end it would just be a simple, big waste of time, because I don't think I even want to help myself. I don't, I know I don't, what even is help in of itself, anyway? It's a waste, and it is something we all have a picture of, thinking of what it's supposed to be, just like humans seem to do with everything else in this world. Nothings supposed to be anything, yet everything is supposed to mean everything. And deep down, in the truth of it all, I simply just don't think I have the heart to care. Whether somebody loves me, nor if they hate me, I can't find it in my heart to feel any longing nor resentment towards said person. That is why death in of itself is so beautiful to me, because it is something that is something you cannot say is good, or bad. We simply do not know the truth of it, whether it's a good thing or a bad thing, and knowing that it is simply the next step in our pointless human existence calms me down, and let's me know that there is another way out of this painful, stinging hellhole we call life.'
Closing the book, Dazai pushed the journal up on the desk as he tucked the small, slightly-rusted pen in the stem of the leather's back. Looking over to his left, his one, uncovered eye spotted his superior sitting across the dull, and dust-filled room.
Doctor Mori sat there, his vile and grey eyes focused on cleaning his tiny metal scalpel with this molded and old-rag. Dazai watched him, observed him. The 15-year old didn't know what to really think of him, he was much resentful towards Mori, yet at the same time, he couldn't find it in his heart to really care. Mori had promised him a way to die, had promised him he would assist him in his suicide after achieving the old-boss's death, causing Mori to become the new Port-Mafia's boss.
Yet, Dazai is still here. Sitting there, a chair away from the boss's desk as he peers towards him from the other-half of the room. Mori had manipulated him, offered him a treat as if he were some rabid dog and Dazai took the bait, and now he's stuck in Mori's clutches. The kid is now a Port Mafia executive, the youngest one ever yet, and is known as the Demon Prodigy. People fear him, even Mori himself, and yet, even holding a high place in the world, a place that many would commit murder or even arson to achieve, he still feels absolutely nothing. He would give it up as quickly as he took it in, simply because his heart doesn't have the room to care.
"His name is Chuuya-kun." Mori said, pushing a few files onto the table. "Also known as the keeper of The Sheep."
This mission the man was sending him on seemed somewhat important, so Dazai may as well make himself to be useful once more before leaving this cruel world. Mori promised him once again if he completes this mission he will get a way of suicide, a way out of this world, but Dazai just from his own observations already highly doubts that. No, he already knows he will be living on this Hell for many years to come, but he will be keeping that thought deep in his mind for now, and on the surface, he will just take a picket and scratch around the iceberg.
YOU ARE READING
Dazai Osamu x Chuuya Nakahara Fanfiction Book
RomanceJust stuff I write. A LOT of Dazai and chuuya, BSD fanfiction Can find my stories on Ao3 under "butchcat809" Cover art is by me. Please don't use.