shikkaku // dazai one shots

tired

notes: suicidal ideation, self harm.

dazai wasn't sure when it happened, but at some point in your two year relationship with him, he stopped caring. seeing you sprawled across the sofa, cigarette hanging from your mouth, it had become a norm for him. the two of you didn't talk as much as you used to and when you did, it was just superficial, benign conversing. it had come to the point where the two of you barely acknowledged each other around the house. it's not he didn't love you anymore, and he knew your feelings hadn't changed either. it's just...tiring.

all of it was so tiring. the two of you became each other's support. dazai came home one day, later than usual, to see you sitting on the porch in the rain. your hair was matted to your face, the circles under your eyes darker than usual, your eyes bloodshot. it was the first time in a while you looked him in the eyes. "oh, osamu, i just want to die." your words were clear and concise, something he had always admired about you.

"i know. me too." he disposed of the umbrella, heading into the small house. you followed him, the usual silence settling in between you two. that night was the first time in a while the two of you slept with each other's company.

another time, dazai was sitting in the comfort of his dark room, watching the rosy drops of blood trickle down his arms and in between his feet. faintly, he heard the door shut, the small padding of feet. dazai felt you caress the back of his hand. he looked at you, but you were busy with his wounds. you pushed him to lie down on the bed, getting him a glass of water, cleaning up his blood on the floor, tucking him into bed, getting in yourself, not bothering to get changed. you didn't ask him anything, you didn't make any comments, you simply laid with him, drawing shapes on his hand with your thumb absently.

the sound of glass smashing made dazai jolt awake. he noticed he was alone in the bed and strolled to the living room, where he saw you cursing to yourself, cleaning up broken glass. your hands were shaking, tears falling from your glassy eyes. he pulled your hands away from the broken glass, resting his over yours, somewhat calming your nerves. "i want to die, i want to die." he hugged you, burying his head in the crook of your neck. the only time the two of you felt any warmth was when one was comforting the other. your body shook as you covered your mouth with a bloodied hand. it was so tiring. dazai missed having conversations with you, laughing with you, enjoying being around you. all that was left was this empty shell. both of you were despairing, and yet desperately trying to convince the other that it would be fine.

you tried to move, sniffling and apologising softly. "is it okay," dazai whispered, his voice cracking just slightly, "for us to stay like this just a moment longer?" you leaned back against his chest, resting your head against his.

"when did we become so..."

"fucking sad?" you laughed softly at his suggestion, nodding. "i don't know," he murmured into your neck, wrapping his arms around your torso tighter.

a silence passed. it was peaceful, but there were tense undertones. "is it okay for us to be alive?" your voice too quiet to be considered a whisper, too shaky to be passed off as calm. dazai rubbed circles into her side.

"i don't know."

*
"living itself is the source of sin."