A bunch of unrelated fics of SKK.
(Mostly centered around Hurt Chuuya and Comforting/Caring Dazai.)
Total Word Count: 125k+
Note: I take no credits for this fic. Itʼs currently an on-going series on ao3, posted by a friend of mine. Iʼve already ask...
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Summary:
He leaned over the iron railing, staring vacantly into the expanse of the urban landscape. The laughter of children echoed from somewhere below—a stark contrast to the emptiness that gnawed at him. Chuuya clutched the rail tighter, knuckles whitening as he fought against the loneliness that perpetually wrapped around him like a straitjacket. It was maddening how an entire city could be jam-packed with people and still feel so suffocatingly empty.
Here, in his own skin, he was utterly alone.
Or: What loneliness can do to people. (And how to fix it.)
Warnings: Loneliness, Lonely Chuuya, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, the mortifying ordeal of being unloved or only loved conditionally, Crying, Arguing, Caring Dazai, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending.
Word Count:6,607
✒
The sun hung low in the sky.
It dipped toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the cramped apartment balcony where Chuuya stood with his arms crossed. The rusted facade of the building loomed before him, a city of concrete and glass that seemed to echo his feelings of isolation. The air was thick with the scent of diesel fumes and fried street food, but Chuuya felt nothing beyond the dull ache of exhaustion that settled in his bones like a heavy blanket.
Each evening, as the sun slipped away, Chuuya would retreat to this balcony. It was a ritual—one that placed him on the cusp of a fading day while he encircled himself in the fortress he had built around his misery. The sun was a distant ball of fire, bleeding hues of orange and purple into the sky, but in the clutch of Chuuya’s anger, it was as good as gone.
Chuuya was a hard and diligent worker, everyone said so. He applied himself with fierce tenacity to his job, the kind of role that carried a pretense of importance in his high position of Executive. He poured over training for hours, late into the night, eyes glued to his mistakes as if they could bring meaning to the void in his chest. Yet, beneath the surface of diligence lay a tempest of emotions he refused to acknowledge. Anger bubbled fiercely in his gut—a roiling, persistent heat that had become his default state.
He leaned over the iron railing, staring vacantly into the expanse of the urban landscape. The laughter of children echoed from somewhere below—a stark contrast to the emptiness that gnawed at him. Chuuya clutched the rail tighter, knuckles whitening as he fought against the loneliness that perpetually wrapped around him like a straitjacket. It was maddening how an entire city could be jam-packed with people and still feel so suffocatingly empty.
