Bungo Stray Dogs Oneshots

Relapse Comfort (Dazai x Reader)

[970 words]
__________

Y/N stared at their arms. At the old scars that'd healed, and become paler than the rest of them. Scars that people occasionally noticed, but never asked about. Scars that people would sometimes point out, and make them answer the inevitable question - do you want to kill yourself?Their head was spinning. They felt nauseated, sick to their stomach. Something felt so off that day. And now they couldn't help but feel panic in their chest. It was evening now. The sun was just setting over the horizon. A splash of golden light shone through the bathroom curtains, and landed on the floor, painting a soft gold hue to the room around them. They had a knife in their hand. All of their blades from box cutters and pencil sharpeners and razors had been thrown out, so a kitchen knife was all that they had. They held out their arm.

Moments prior, they'd been sobbing. After getting back to their apartment at the Armed Detective Agency, they'd sat in the bathroom with the knife beside them, and sobbed their eyes out. They didn't care who heard. They were still trembling and breathing oddly now, but the tears had stopped. They felt a hint of panic... But other than that, they felt numb.

They dug the blade of the knife into their skin. They gritted their teeth, trying not to scream in pain. Tears streamed down their face again, hot against their skin. They kept cutting, adding more and more until their entire forearm was numb and bleeding... And then they switched to the other one. The cuts were less even on this one, as it was their non-dominent hand. They eventually dropped the knife, and leaned back against the bathroom wall. Their throat hurt. They hadn't even realized that they'd been screaming.

And then the bathroom door opened.

They recognized his attire before they recognized him. The coat he always wore that just barely missed touching the floor as he walked. The dress shirt with his vest and bolo tie. His khaki pants and dress shoes. The bandages that covered his arms and neck.

Dazai stared at them for a moment, his eyes seeming to take it all in. Then he sighed, and kneeled in front of them. He kept a blank, unreadable expression. He didn't speak. He just reached out, grabbing their left hand first. They jumped, and yanked it back. Blood dripped onto their clothes, but they didn't care. The panic from before was getting worse.

"...do you want someone to help you clean them, or not?" He didn't sound harsh or impatient. Just curious. "If you'd rather I leave you here to bleed and possibly get an infection, then I'll walk away right now." He shrugged, going to stand. Suddenly, Y/N reached out, grabbing his sleeve with a bloody hand. He stared at them, then nodded. He took their hand once again, and dug into his pocket. A grin spread across his face as he held up a set of bandages.

"Keep these handy all the time. Not only are they great for first aid, but sometimes mine come undone." He explained, before glancing around the bathroom. He stood up. Y/N watched in silence as he wandered the area, looking for something. Then, he found it in the mirror cabinet - rubbing alcohol. He grabbed a washcloth from a different cabinet, then kneeled in front of them again.

"This'll sting. So hold your breath for me." He mumbled, grabbing their hand again and opening the alcohol with his other hand. He set the cloth down on his lap, and poured the alcohol onto it. Then, he picked it up, and started gently using the cloth to clean the wounds. Y/N hissed in pain, attempting to yank their arm back - but he held them tightly and refused to let go. After a moment, he finally moved on to the next arm.

While he did that, they looked at their left arm, at the cuts they'd left. Now that they weren't covered in blood, Y/N could see that they weren't too deep, but they definitely weren't shallow. They were lucky that they hadn't cut their vein open. They looked back at Dazai, who didn't look up from what he was doing. He seemed determined to get them cleaned up.

He set the bloody cloth down, and grabbed the bandages again. Without a word, he started to wrap them up. They trembled, but they didn't dare pull away this time. They just.. let him work.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he spoke up. "Relapses are hard to deal with. You always end up feeling guilty afterwards. And I'm going to guess that you haven't relapsed in a long time?"

They nodded.

"And I'm going to assume that you feel awful right now. Not only because of the relapse itself, but because I found you. And I'm helping. You feel like a burden."

Another nod.

He sighed. "Y/N, listen. There's nothing to be fully ashamed of. Yes.. it's not good to relapse. But it's nothing to feel so horrible about. You're not any less of a strong individual over this. You were still clean for a long time. Everyone struggles with these sorts of things. I know I do, too. The most we can do is start again and try to do better. But don't ever be ashamed about a relapse. It's not your fault." He stood up, and cleared the alcohol and cloth away. Then he reached down for Y/N's hand.

Hesitantly, they reached up and let him help them stand up. He gave a grin. "I don't suppose you're willing to go for a walk with me? Grab a drink? There's this bar I used to frequent all the time."