twisted devotion || Yandere!DAZAI/READER

[19] The Shower

A/N: My headcanon is that Dazai is full of scars underneath the bandages, so we're rolling with that. Hope you enjoy!

XX

The walk home is silent. An uncomfortable silence. A silence that Dazai thinks he's going to suffocate on. But whenever he looks at his peripherals, he sees a look of such forlornness in your gaze that immediately clogs up any words that were to form in his throat. There was a look of pure concentration in your face that could only be described as despairing.

How he wished to collect you up into his arms, fragments of you here and there, and make you whole; how desperately he wished to banish your despair into the shadowy realm of a mine shaft; how he wished and wished that you would turn to him and smile that bright smile of yours and forget this had all happened; but it were just that, wishes, wishes on a star that would die out in the next thousand years.

The dorm room unlocks with a resounding click. You make a beeline towards the bathroom immediately, to compose yourself, to wash out the stench of bile that was on your tongue, to clear out the unshed tears in your eyes under the torrent of cold water. He can hear the sound of rushing water emanating from the bathroom, while he sits by the table in the living room and falls into deep thought.

How was this possible?

Unless—

"I'm sorry," He finds you exiting the bathroom with water still dripping down your face, voice small and hollow, like an echo with no object to prove its existence, "I didn't mean to breakdown on you like that."

"Don't apologise, beloved," Dazai's quick to your assistance, shaking his head and shedding his beige coat, "I'm sorry for not helping you the way you needed to be helped. I just don't know what to do in those situations."

You sit across from him, "It's okay. It was just too much for me. Being holed up in that interrogation room was too much for me."

"Those rooms are designed to break you down," He gently reasons, "It's okay. You're feeling better now?"

"Yes, a lot better," You say, your voice growing lighter, "How did you spend your day while I was there?"

"Building up an alibi with the President to get you out of that room," He says, a joking lilt to his voice, "We were busy, like bees to an apiary."

You both stare at each other in silence before you're the first to look away.

"I want to shower," You say, standing up, "Do...Do you want to come with?"

"Shower with you?" Shock is evident on his face, his voice filled with alarm. He watches your face heat up and shake your head.

"Nevermin—"

"I would love to," He stands up as well, the height difference making you look up at him, "But are you okay with it?"

"I want...I want to," You say. Your voice is small but filled with desire, snapping at him like a beast teeming with fangs, "I want to."

You walk towards the bathroom and shed your clothes, and he watches, mesmerised, like it was a sacred dance he wasn't supposed to watch, like a pervert through a slit in the wall. He swallows the hunger rising to his throat as you turn around and slip off your pants.

"Are...Are you not going to—"

"I got distracted," He shakes his head and begins to unbutton his shirt top. It falls to the floor like molted skin. He sets his bolo tie to the sink counter, where it clicks like a click of a tongue. His dark tresses are mussed up when he bends over and unbuttons his slacks, rising his head up when he hears a giggle from you.