Dazai Osamu x Chuuya Nakahara Fanfiction Book

Why Do We Write Horror Stories?

Dazai slowly opened his eyes.

His vision was foggy, his breathing was heavy, and tears were slowly seeping out of the corners of his eyes.

He felt a stinging pain around both of his wrist, his ankles, and all across his waist, holding him bound to a tight, tight chair.

No— no, this wasn't a chair. This was something else. Something more sinister.

His vision slowly came into view, and the room he was in was dark, stingy, and dust floated about in the air. A big jail-cell looking door with one, tiny bar window centered the top of the door.

He was stuck.

The last thing he could remember was being at the mall, ordering an orange cream slushee from the food court.

He walked to the parking lot, a tiny figure entered his vision and then—

—and then nothing. It all went black, it's all fuzzy.

He was struck, probably. In the head. Considering the stringing pain burning on his skull, right above his right eye, he wouldn't be surprised if a kidnapper had seen an alone skinnier-looking boy and saw a perfect opportunity to steal him.

And then— he realized something.

His eyes went wide, as he realized something, or things, were inside of his back.

The chair, it was not a chair.

It had spikes, tons and tons of spikes, piercing his back and making holes all over his back muscles, just almost reaching his bones. He had to use his physical strength to push and push forward, being held back by the tight rope tied around his waist to prevent it from getting to his spine.

What the hell was going on.

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"Boring!"

Dazai said, throwing a tennis ball up in the air.

"Hey, no it isn't!" Chuuya yelled back, closing the notebook. "You told me, tell me a story, and I did, dumbass!"

"I told you to tell me a good story! Not a stupid one!"

"Why do humans even write horror stories, anyway?" Dazai said, unapologetically.

Chuuya sighed, distressed. He then grumbled, stuffing his notebook in his bag until—

Dazai grabbed it from his hand.

Chuuya looked over, quirking a brow.

"What're you doing?!" He jumped at Dazai, grabbing for his book. "Give it back, asshole!"

"Ah ah ah~" The high schooler said, "not so fast!"

"Hey, I'm the one who's been at this school longer than you! I should have the upper hand here."

"But, look— in the end, you don't have the upper hand." Dazai said cockily, holding the book just at the height where Chuuya can't reach it. "Now, now, Chuuya. Lemme see what you got here..." Dazai said, bringing down the book to read it for himself.

He opened it, and continued reading the story.

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