𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 / bungō stray dogs x reader anthology

𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐝𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 ✧ 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭

March 18th 2020 / I can legally only write angst / 800 Words

✧ ｡ﾟ✐.*ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* ✎｡:*ﾟ

To live a life without regrets is something that Dazai was very aware he would never be able to live. After all, he had been a mafioso for an exceedingly long time from a very young age, that sort of business taints a person. It messes with their head, their morals, their ideologies.

So it really wouldn't be a stretch to say that Dazai had lost count of his regrets. The things he wishes that he could go back and change, those things that keep him awake at night, that he ignores when the sun rises again; those simplest of actions, that maybe just a little more empathy, a little more thought, a little more care might've made a difference. How funny it was, truly that once the sun tore the horizon in two, turning the sky gold, that he buried those regrets beneath a smile, just as he hid those physical scars beneath his bandages.

But he never expected to have his biggest regret slap him in the face like this.

He never meant to fall in love, it was what he once assumed would be his greatest mistake, the pretty bar-tender at Lupin who had worked there part-time, he never meant to catch feelings. He never intended to fall for the stranger who would offer the occasional timely advice; the stranger who certainly knew their hand with making drinks, the stranger who had been the reason he grew so close with Odasaku and he never intended for them to become friends.

He never meant to find himself wondering what it might be like to kiss your lips or hold your hand. He never meant to find himself caring a little more for you than anyone else. And he hated it. He hated that he lost control, he hated that he fell in love, he hated himself because he knew he could never be a good partner. But Dazai could never bring himself to hate you.

So he drove you away, he never once hid his dark side, his manipulative tendencies he was still growing out of; his habitual nights with women who tasted of cheap alcohol, where each held no love for the other. Dazai never hid anything bad from you, only the good, but sometimes he would slip up and the reverse would happen and he would find himself falling deeper and deeper in love, attempting to drag himself out only to slip even further in.

So he drove you away, he did everything he could possibly do until you were gone. And then he drowned himself in sake and his own sick thoughts. For what else was he supposed to do?

But that didn't stop the regret. That didn't stop the fact that he had spent many a night lying awake wondering what would've happened if he acted a little differently. If he allowed himself to feel; if he allowed himself to fall in love properly; if he hadn't been so goddamn toxic.

But here you were, standing a few feet away from him.

Your hair was longer now, pulled into a neat braid, your features now adorned by a pair of neat glasses, a notepad and pen in hand as you spoke with the police officers, a promise ring gleaming on your left hand.

Of course, you had moved on, the part of him that wasn't selfish was glad you had, the rest of him less so. Because why should you wallow in your own pity? Why should the questions keep you awake at night, wondering what you had done wrong because truly this was all his fault?

It was Dazai's fault that he would never be able to hold your hand between his; it was Dazai's fault he would never know the feel of your lips against his and it was your fault Dazai's wasn't the one who had slipped that ring onto your finger. No, you had moved on and he was still wading through his regrets, aware that one misstep would have the ground collapse beneath him, an action which would be the catalyst for Dazai's downing in his own regrets.

And when you glanced over to him, there was no recognition in your gaze as you called Kunikida over to ask questions. There was no acknowledgment, there was no look of familiarity in your gaze when you looked his way.

Perhaps that was when the realization fully hit him, that just because he was managing to do some good, just because he was a better person now, that didn't mean you owed him a second chance. After all, he had spent many a night fantasizing about an apology upon a second meeting, a second chance, and a future.

But there was no look of recognition in your gaze, to you he was a stranger. And to him, you were the one regret he could never quite move past.