As I freeze, two burning hands embrace me || soukoku ||

the Warmth he craves

A/N: HAHAH DID U LIKE MY LIL DAZAI LORE?? Anywayssss no more of that, u might die if I continue💀💀
I also finished 'dance of a song' I cried all of the last chapter and like half the second-to-last.... It's The best skk fic I have ever read. I am also rething all my life decisions over 2 weeks later (as I'm writing this) so thank you @Cuteplosion_X🥰
make sure to read it when ur done with this 😋
Songs: my baby x loosing dogs + the rest is ur choice lol, recommend some more mitski tho
OH AND MEMOIR #2

I PROMISE THIS PART HAS NO ANGST

TRIGGER WARNINGS
SUICIDE ATTEMPT(..i swear I wasn't lying..)
BLOOD (ok maybe I was but atleast—)
FIRE(..ykw uh nvm😗...)

Chuuya's eyes snapped open and he promptly sat up. The air around him was thick with tension. What happened? He wondered.
Then All of a sudden Sweat began to drip down his forehead, icy and harsh.
No.
No no no.
The tap was running. He glanced at the clock, it was 00:04am.
Dazai once wondered what would happen if he died at midnight.
Chuuya shot out of bed and darted across his room to the en suite door.
It was open a slither. Light breached through the gap, splaying itself across his bedroom wall and his messy oak desk. It wasn't enough to see anything but it was far more than enough for chuuya to know.
Know what was in the bathroom.
The light leaves shade, and that shade cast an everlasting shadow over his heart.
He couldn't. The door was right in front of him but he just couldn't.
He dialled 911.

His whole arm was trembling when he finally reached out to grab the golden spherical handle.
The door creaked open, the white paint at the bottom flaking, some shavings on the floor.
It was empty. The sink tap was still running and the light was still on. They were the only signs of human life.
But the bath tub stuffed in the back filled the room with a sickly sweet aroma.
It smelled like death.
The air was even thicker then before, this time for another reason.
His legs refused to move. His body almost crumbled.
The lady from the 911 call was still talking to him and asking questions. He couldn't reply to any. He didn't even acknowledge her, even if he did he wouldn't think it necessary to reply. He'd told her all he needed to know after all. At this moment he couldn't think of anything but the source of the sickly, metallic scent.
Chuuya stumbled towards the bathtub. His eyes didn't move from the floor of white tiles.
Every step felt like he was carrying the weight of the world. The putrid odour grew stronger with every millisecond.
He didn't need to look. He knew he would never recover if he did. But he was sure it wouldn't be more grotesque than the image he'd forged in his mind.
The phone clattered to the floor.
He was wrong.

The water was red, brown hair and a horrifyingly Peaceful face poking out. His whole body was hidden beneath the liquid, and only his head was visible.
"..dazai?" Chuuya murmured, his eyes bleary.
"Hey I thought you were done with that..?" He choked, sinking to the ground.
Chuuya poked Dazai's forehead softly, "Oi. Oi Dazai."
Chuuya poked him again. Harder. "Dazai you know I hate being ignored."
His whole body was numb, he didn't even notice the tears spilling down his cheek.
All he could hear was the slow, decreasing breaths of the unconscious boy.
Boy. Because this person never had the chance to be a child, and you can't become an adult without being one.
Fuck, why isn't an ambulance here?
Chuuya hooked his arms beneath the boys armpits and hauled him from the bathtub. He couldn't even feel the freezing water splash on his skin and get absorbed by his oversized shirt—Dazai's oversized shirt.
Chuuya could barely support his own weight, the amount of effort he exerted to pull Dazai out had the same effect as somebody with asthma running the marathon in the scorching sun without water or an inhaler.
Chuuya's legs caved in and he collapsed to the floor once again, this time with Dazai in his arms.
"Hey I told that I don't like when you ignore me..!" he croaked, cradling him weakly.
Dazai didn't taunt him or laugh. He just weighed down in Chuuya's arms that usually held so much strength.
"You mackerel...you're fucking sick," he sniffed, burying his face in Dazai's hair.
It was strange how his arms trembled. He'd held much heavier things than Dazai without his ability before.
Weird.
"How could you...?" he sobbed.
I really wasn't fair.
The light only flickered off for barely over a second. It still made chuuya hug the boy in his arms closer.
If he couldn't see him anymore then that meant he was gone. Chuuya didn't want him to go.
"I'm sorry ok? I'm sorry I told you to die. I'm sorry I said I hated you. I'm sorry I said you weren't human, I'm sorry I never said sorry. You can wake up now.. I promise I won't get angry." He begged.
"Dazai? Dazai you better listen or else.." He warned but the faint breaths were so distant and shallow.
"Please 'samu, I need you. ..I-i fucking need you.."
Chuuya ran a shaky finger next to the gaping knife wound above Dazai's no longer rising torso. He wasn't wearing Odasaku's coat, just his long sleeved polo shirt and a brown vest, both stained with blood. Chuuya buried his face into Dazai's chest.
Then he screamed.
It was a broken scream, the kind that sounded like throwing glass on the floor.
It was an anguished scream, the kind that was full of sobs.
It was a despaired scream, The kind that with it leaves something you'll never get back.
It was a horrible, shattering scream; The kind you can't describe because no amount of words can capture what it means to scream like that.
Two paramedics burst into the room. They didn't spare two looks to know he was in critical condition.  They probably couldn't look, because the pain in his scream wasn't even half of the pain in his face—in his eyes.
One of them rushed towards chuuya though, but he was buried into Dazai and didn't care to notice. The lady had a big medical box in her hands. All the while the other urgently semi-yelled something into their Radio. There was a loud bang, presumably the door slamming against the wall, and serveral voices advancing towards them.
Chuuya didn't hear it though. Nothing reached him. It was like he was in another world.
The lady checked Dazai's heartbeat but let chuuya hold him all the while. She yelled numerous words chuuya didn't know the meaning of to the other woman. A few seconds later a group of shouting people in green uniforms rushed into the room. The Portable hospital bed they were dragging a weird looking trolley, kind of like the uncomfortable-looking camping beds chuuya had seen in the shops once, and before he knew it Dazai was torn from his arms, loaded onto that veryportable camping bed and then rushed out of the room.
Only he and the lady who had briefly monitored Dazai's heartbeat remained. Her face softened when she looked at Chuuya. He looked young. Mid twenties at most.
The lady helped him up and brought him into his bedroom.
She was older then him but not by much, maybe in her late twenties at most. She had a delicate frame and Though the dark green paramedics uniform she was clad in enunciated her soft-edged figure she was strong. Her skin was a beautiful milky brown and completely unscathed, barely a spot or wrinkle insight. It was almost as If she had experienced naught of the effects of ageing. But her face—particularly her eyes—were carved into an all-knowing expression. As if she had endured every tribulation mankind and gods alike could throw at her, and in each of those agonising battles a small fragment of her heart was extracted until the person sitting on the bed was all that remained. She looked like a sad dog, the tips of her eyes wilting like a malnourished rose. Her lashes were white and they fluttered open and close like a feather. The most entrancing thing about her however was her ivory hair, opposing the brown of her skin just as the sun opposed the moon. These forces were of remarkable importance individually but, when one lay behind the other, a sight as great as the heavens were bestowed upon those who were blessed enough to see it.
Despite her hair being in a plait, it still looked phenomenal against her skin. If she was stripped of her tight-fitting uniform and instead clothed in a ethereal white ballgown made of the most expensive of silks and fabrics, paired with her hazel skin, wavy ivory hair and piercing green eyes—she would inarguably look like a celestial being. Even in her dark-green uniform she still looked exquisite.
And tired.
There were bags under her eyes and her cheeks were slightly hollow. Her lips were cracked and bleeding.
These two sat side by side. The lady patted his back, she didn't mention Dazai. Or anything. They simply sat on the edge of the bed in silence. Then All of a sudden her radio buzzed. Few words were exchanged but when she slid it back into her pocket It looked like she had lost yet another piece of her heart.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"May he ready in peace."
——
—
Chuuya stayed sitting rigidly in bed for a while, stiff and uncertain. He checked the clock: it was 6:13. His eyes instantly shifted towards the en suite door. It was closed fully but had no idea if it was originally open.
Chuuya slid out of bed and warily headed towards it, reaching carefully for the spheric handle. The door creaked open, the light was off. Chuuya pulled the string and the room became illuminated in a white glow, the sink tap wasn't running. His gaze shifted to the bathtub. He knew Dazai couldn't have but for some reason his hands were shaking and he was imagining it. He slowly walked towards it, craning his neck over the bathtub. It was empty. Chuuya heaved a sigh of relief.
"That scared me to death.."
He began to leave the room, but while walking past the Mirror something caught his eye. He backed up. When he saw his reflection he was struck speechless.
"What the fuck!?" He exclaimed mortified. He was astounded when he saw the originally insignificant pebble shaped mark on his neck was now double in size. It was usually concealed by his choker so he never acknowledged it properly but, now he was looking at it from the mirror, he'd realised just how noticeable it was. It was basically pure white. God why was everything turning white?! Even his skin was ashen. That part wasn't a surprise for him though, he'd started getting paler around March of 2020 And ever since he had just stayed that way. Still, that didn't justify why(or how)the mark on his neck appeared. It was almost reflective and it looked a bit like ice—just whiter. He fumbled for his choker but when he equipped it he couldn't help but frown. Even though it was discreet, the patch was poking out slightly from beneath it. Kouyou wasn't that attentive though, what worried him was how the sunlight that peaked out from the shutters in the wake of him made it glisten like ice. He took off the choker and ran a slender finger across the mark. It was glacial. Extremely biting. It felt as if he were dipping his finger into the Atlantic Ocean in winter. The harshness was unwavering to chuuya though. He was so used to the cold. His body temperature was lower than most. He'd went to the doctor about it upon kouyou's insistence. All he left with was a newfound anxiety: heart failure. But that was years ago. She'd said something about hypothermia, but was left to dwell in confusion when he told her that he hated the cold so much that he would stay inside most of the winter unless he was working. Past Chuuya had done his fair share of research after the appointment and concluded that it must be a simple cold. Current chuuya wasn't too sure about that though. A cold doesn't last for 3 years. And it wasn't just that. Not only was his body temperature low, he was also so much more unhealthy. Both mentally and physically. But he was alive so it's fine right? He shrugged and exited the bathroom, the mark on his neck gleaming like a star in space.
A lonesome star at that, because in the abysmal sky called chuuya it seemed to be the only source of radiance. Just like a lighter, it tried to illuminate his soul. And just like a broken one, it failed.
It was Understandable though. The only way you could try and light up chuuya was with harsh, wicked flames. Flames that would give him the warmth he had longed for, for over 3 years. Flames that would eventually burn him to dust.

There was once a spark. That spark grew stronger with every waking day. Every time he saw the fire it blazed brighter, till it was almost glowing. But then the flame disappeared. In one day the flame that burned as strong as the heavens vanished, in its place leaving a field of smoke. Chuuya had choked on that disgusting stench for over three years, suffocating from the unfathomable weight of it all.
Even when it finally dispersed the daunting effect of it still lingered. But back then all that was left was a minuscule ash disguised as the dust that hid in the corners of his apartment. Chuuya, instead of cleaning up that final remnant, covered it with the burning taste of wine as it crawled down his throat. It was Hidden by the piles of empty bottles but, though Chuuya's couldn't see it, he was still aware it's existence still remained. All he wanted was to feel the cordiality of that flame. But he hated how it just disappeared and left with nothing but a horrible pain that caused him to cough, choke and drown in the bleakness referred to as Life in his wake. He was Assigned with nothing but a freezing whole in his heart that only the wine he was drowning in could fill.
But once the burning sensation of alcohol wore out the pit only grew, slowly devouring him.
He who wanted nothing but to feel even a hint of warmth in his elongated winter.