Unravel Me

9: Slipping

TW: Suicide attempt (stop after "there was only one way to stop feeling this way" if this type of content triggers you, because the rest of the chapter is really just angsty Dazai-typical suicide shit)
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   Three weeks. It had taken Chuuya almost three weeks to come back to the academic resources center.

Dazai was pretty irritated with that timeline, since it meant that Chuuya once again sucked at calculus. Most of their progress had been lost in those fews weeks off, so Dazai had to start their sessions with refresher lessons. On top of that annoying little speed bump, Chuuya had skipped almost an entire week of classes, so he was even further behind than before, meaning he'd have to meet with Dazai more frequently if he wanted to have any chance of passing.

What really pissed Dazai off, though, was the reason why he'd been gone for so long. If it was just because of what his friends had done, then Dazai wouldn't complain—how could he, when he'd been the one who'd forced Chuuya to see it for himself? But no, that wasn't the only reason he'd been blowing him off.

Over the weekend, Dazai had gone out for a drink with a friend and, as they were leaving the bar, he spotted a familiar shock of red hair. He was about to call out to him, but he sobered up just enough to notice that he wasn't alone. It wouldn't normally have deterred him, but Chuuya was with a girl. On a date, from what Dazai could gather. The two of them were laughing as they walked down the street together, far too close to be friends.

What the fuck was that about?

He'd thought Chuuya had disappeared for so long because he was sad, but no—he was just too busy trying to get his dick wet. Dazai was no saint himself in that respect, but he'd actually thought better of Chuuya. He'd believed Chuuya was the kind of guy who'd need a mourning period after a breakup, instead of the kind of guy who got over someone by getting under someone else.

Dazai was usually pretty good at reading people, but maybe he was slipping. He'd felt himself spiraling again—not that he'd ever really managed to shake off his depression. It was the strangest feeling, the way his days seemed to both blend together and drag on at the same time. Real joy was rare. Nothing excited him anymore.

Chuuya had, for a moment. He was entertaining. Dazai thought he could find enjoyment in pissing him off, that maybe having a new toy would keep him engaged just a little longer, but that was naive. Even if Chuuya's personality hadn't done a 180, Dazai still would've gotten bored eventually. And then, when he'd stopped caring, he'd start to feel empty again. The darkness always caught up with him, following him like a shadow.

This time, it had cornered him in his bathroom on an especially lonely Thursday night. He had just gotten home from another painfully quiet study session with Chuuya. They'd met almost every day that week, but they felt even more like strangers than they had before. Chuuya shrugged off Dazai's teasing, ignoring anything not related to his lessons. Eventually, Dazai had just stopped trying to make any sort of conversation. It made him feel like shit.

He'd tried talking to Oda about the way he was feeling, how there was no 'spark' or whatever in anything around him anymore, but he couldn't work through what was wrong. Dazai had never understood what was wrong—why he felt this way. He just had for as long as he'd remembered. It made him feel that much more defective, the not knowing.

He was tired, about to turn in for the night—he always felt tired, these days. He took his antidepressant, just as he always did before bed, but paused as he was putting the bottle back in the medicine cabinet, dragging it back toward himself instead. He turned the bottle back and forth in his hands, reading the label for the medication prescribed to someone of a different name.