A bunch of unrelated fics of SKK.
(Mostly centered around Hurt Chuuya and Comforting/Caring Dazai.)
Total Word Count: 125k+
Note: I take no credits for this fic. Itʼs currently an on-going series on ao3, posted by a friend of mine. Iʼve already ask...
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Summary: The screams had started as whispers, barely heard at first. Until they grew in volume to the point where Chuuya wasnʼt aware of much but only hurt, destruct, harm.
His mind craved silence. Except, Chuuya couldnʼt do it.
He knew what silencing his mind meant.
Or: Dazai hadnʼt yet returned from work despite it being really late, and Chuuya is worried out of his mind as nearly forgotten feelings of betrayal and constant anguish surge up again.
Warnings: Insecure Nakahara Chuuya, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks (?), Angst with a Happy Ending.
A/N: ALSO!!! Bear in mind that this is from Chuuyaʼs perspective, so obviously his thoughts are absolutely unhinged and his mindset is skewed regarding certain... things. Iʼd recommend NOT reading this if youʼre easily triggered.
Word Count: 2101
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He was back at the start.
The beginning of everything. The bottled up emotions and the heavy weight on his shoulders bore down on him with a crushing feeling. He had gone through several deaths and grieving, faced betrayals and situations that almost no one else couldʼve survived as easily as he had. (But it hadnʼt been easy, it hadnʼt and Chuuya chose to ignore that part of his mind, because it didnʼt need the unnecessary attention.) In the end, coming to this point, having survived through literal hell and destruction of his very body due to the darker side of his Ability, his undoing was his own feeble mind.
Staring at his bedroom wall with a blank look, his mind raged. It screamed, ached and begged for him to silence it. His mind put itself against Chuuya, against its own existence, dropped thoughts that the redhead would rather ignore faster than acknowledge them for what they truly were. The screams had started as whispers, barely heard at first. Until they grew in volume to the point where Chuuya wasnʼt aware of much but only hurt, destruct, harm.
His mind craved silence. Except, Chuuya couldnʼt do it.
He knew what silencing his mind meant. He didnʼt know what true silence actually felt like. Chuuya turned his focus away as best as he could from the thoughts, gripping at his arms with such force that his nails bit into the skin and caused small trickles of blood to appear under his fingertips. The distraction felt welcome in its unexpected glory, Chuuya sought after it like a caged man deprived of his senses. And perhaps Chuuya was caged in his own body, his own skin, his own mind. No matter how hard he tried, he couldnʼt break those invisible chains binding him down.
Perhaps there wasnʼt even an escape.
Or maybe Chuuya was just too afraid to find out what lay beneath the cage walls.
The walls he had grown quite familiar to, always beating, kicking, scratching at them to let him out but finding himself a coward for not simply opening the door to it. Chuuya didnʼt want to acknowledge that there was a door, let alone walk out of it. The unknowns of the outside terrified him, and Chuuya felt utterly ashamed of himself for not having the strength to face his fears.
