Chapter Text
Dazai never had good coping mechanisms. During his childhood he often got overstimulated causing meltdowns, which would then lead to periods of prolonged depressive episodes. From that stemmed his self-mutilation, his parents tried everything they could to get him to stop, but don't get him wrong his parents were no saints. After the death of his mother, the only person who seemed to have some care little it be for him, he went to a bridge and jumped, hoping that the darkness of night would let him rest.
Rather he woke up strapped to a bed with a tall man at the corner of the hospital bed looming, waiting, and observing his every move. His arms heavy and the soft beeping of a heart monitor, and steady clicking of the IV drip stayed persistent in his ear. The man later asked for a favor in exchange for a painless death, the witness of the killing of the current port mafia leader. It was clever after all, the boy who was there for the death of the current leader later dying to his own hand, leaving no way to negate Mori's words and flawlessly become its new leader.
A perfect plan.
Yet he continued to live.
The port mafia had become his new home, a place that dictated his every move. A waste field that molded him, helped reach his true potential of creating chaos. Life was meaningless, had no real importance. Choosing to stay to expose himself to the darkest depth the world had to offer, it was real and maybe just maybe through all this through seeing the true nature of humanity he can find meaning to life, to continue living in it.
He became the demon prodigy, a wraith, a demon who brings destruction and pain to those that cross him. A being who showed no mercy to those who wronged him, no man ever left.
He was bleeding, to much was coming out of his wounds. From the amount he was losing he only calculated 30 minutes max before he passed out from blood loss. As he lay there waiting for death to come knocking, the soft click of a door was heard. Next thing he knew a man with burgundy hair looked down at him and reaching towards him.
Oda as he came to know was the man who ripped death from him, despite that he grew rather fawn of the man. From snit bits of conversation he heard Mori was displeased with his affection, that personal connections only make way for attention to your weakness, exposed to anyone looking for the perfect opportunity to strike.
He should have realized that Mori wasn't stupid enough to let him get this information, that it was a warning.
Oda his only other weakness, other then Chuuya, was dead. His body still warm as his blood stained his hands. Only then did he finally decided to leave. Any could be used against you, attachments like this were deadly in the mafia, Mori had found his, it was only a matter of time before he exposes his weakness to Chuuya.
He started packing the night of Oda's death, by the next morning he laid Oda to rest with his children with a beautiful view. Placed a bomb under Chuuya's car, pretended that he didn’t care for him and that this thing that they had was nothing more than pure hatred, that his love for him was a mere jest that it had no real intention.
Ango did the only thing he could do, he made sure his past crimes were erased. The man knew that Dazai could never forgive him, never let him forget what he took from him, what his selfishness did to those he claimed to love.
For nearly two years he was hiding, waiting for the waters to cool. He saw that Mori hadn't sent any men to look for him, yet he saw Chuuya looking, near the lakes and river. For almost those two years Chuuya never seized his search.
Once he joined the ADA he had a hard time adjusting to the new environment. On multiple occasion he caught himself on instinct reaching for a gun that was not there. It had taken an embarrassingly amount of time for the habit to die out. He knew that being on the side of the light didn’t make his past mistakes disappear, they only seemed to increase the guilt he felt whenever he did good, that it couldn't rid the mountain of death on his shoulders or ease the blood that tainted his hands.
The ADA much like the port realized that Dazai was unstable. Constant jokes of death and painless ways to go, didn't take a genius to realize that he was deeply troubled and in need of desperate medical help. Still his coworkers grew costume to his problematic behavior and was mostly just tired and annoyed of them, concern was very much still there
Kunikida the man he was assigned at as a partner was well to put it lightly uptight. He was easy to tease always working himself up, and for that very same reason was why he always picked on him, it was funny. Yet the man seemed to care for him, he had in past expressed that Dazai in the face of everything he was there when it mattered. Every day he would check up on him a quick message here and there about if he had eaten yet or if he was doing well. Knowing the man he probably scheduled the interactions.
Soon after he found a young boy after being "saved", Atsushi he was named. A boy who was a mere 18, the boy stated that he was kicked out from an orphanage to lack of funds. It was a much of shit but the boy was 18, he was a adult to the state no a child in need of caring. He took the boy under his wing, he was lightly remind of Akutagawa, the boy he left behind. The boy had an ability and a very good one at that, enough so that he had a target on his head, and the port was very much willing. They had managed to take him, but Dazai had no fear of his death the agency was far to good to let that happen.
On the other hand he was bored, a young girl had been trialing him for weeks, she was sloppy, so he say she was a new recruit. He let her gain the upper hand, to give her credit she was swift in her captures.
The agency noticed the weeks that came after his encounter with the port, that he was gaining weight, his paleness was now turning into tanner skin, all this to say was he looked well rested and healthy. They had no idea what sparked the sudden change but they were glad he looked lively…human.
Dazai rarely shared any information of what he did in his personal life, the others tried to get him to open up but the man would always avoid answering any question somehow managing to move the conversation onto a new topic anything else than his life outside the walls of the agency’s office. Most respected this decision but they couldn’t help but be curious, the man had no real information about him before his twenties. He found it quite endearing, troublesome, but endearing all the same. The younger members of the agency tried their hardest to break his walls, but his walls remind, they were good-hearted only trying to get to know him. He’d helped in the only ways he knew how, he didn't have any solid parental figure he looked up to when he was growing up clearly.
Since he started his employment at the agency he decide not to live in the dorms the agency let its employees live in, they were mostly for employees going through financial difficulty but could be open to more if asked. He decided against it and found a cheap room that had bed, bathroom, and shitty kitchen and that was enough for him.
After his encounter with the port Chuuya and him grew closer than they ever had. Chuuya told him that for those two years he couldn't find a trace of him, nothing, like he was swallowed by the Earth and with it anything about him, he feared the worse that he had finally been successful with his suicide attempts. They cried a lot, he mostly but still for the first time in a long while was he able to open up about himself with someone he loved. Dazai told Chuuya everything, his childhood, the port, his music career and his short time with Oda.
Ranpo like with everything was the first to know, he had come up to him one evening while he was working on a case, “So how’s the new apartment?” the words came out sneakily as the man sucked on a lollipop he gave him earlier.
If he was being honest, it had shocked Dazai slightly, “Of course, it's a nice change of scenery, don't you think?”, he said softly. And he meant it, his old place had its window was next to a alleyway, this was a whole lot better. Chuuya was extremely rich, since he became a member of the port he saved up his money not out of need but because he could and now he reaped what he sow. Dazai wasn't poor by any means, he saved up a bit of money while still in the port, rarely spending dime, he willing choose to live in a abandoned shipping container only living with the essentials.
“Yeah, I hope hes making you happy you deserve it", his eyes going soft as he spoke, Dazai just gave him a light smile. “He does,” he said quietly before turning around and going back to the laptop screen. Ranpo gave a faint smirk before pulling out a lollipop and quietly leaving it on the man's desk and strutting back to his.
His relationship with Chuuya had grown and flourished throughout the years, they had their fights as angry and violent as they got, the man made him feel alive, made him want to continue to live, to see a life with him. Dazai made Chuuya feel human and cared for, something that he lacked in ever other person he meet. They were perfect, one soul in two bodies.
The apartment was luxurious, far more than the shitty room had now. When Chuuya saw him in the torture chambers of the port mafia he realized how light he had become over the years since he left the port mafia. He was so slim, not so much like his port mafia days but enough since now he was a grown man.
It took a lot of work to get Dazai into a better mental state, years of untreated metal illness weigh him down. He couldn't do it alone, he wasn't enough, he needed professional help. But no matter what he did Dazai didn't want help. Little by little did Dazai get help, somehow managing to get Dazai to see someone at least twice a month. It took a lot of fighting, screaming, shoving, pulling, and tears, but they made it work. As the months pass Dazai started to change, not anything big but he managed to better his look on life he often rather than not called on Chuuya for help no longer relying on his self destructive coping mechanism. It made Chuuya happy seeing Dazai smile and be genuinely happy it made all the work of blood sweat and tears worth it because seeing the person you love the most no longer suffering in silence is worth everything.
Dazai loved music, ever since he was young it was one of the only things that helped with the looming fear of rejection. His love for music started when his mother would lay beside him and softly sing into his hair as he cried himself to sleep. Those nights he felt his mother's love the most, her hatred for him forgotten in seconds as he lulled himself to sleep the smell of her perfume fill his lungs.
Her voice like honey, filling his ears with lies, as the years passed her voice became harder and harder to remember. During his time in the port mafia, he had kept a small black leather notebook on him 24/7 never letting anyone look or go near it. It held the raw emotions that if seen would destroy him, his title stripped leaving him with nothing and no one. His emotions raw and laid out throughout all these pages.
They were filled with rambles and senseless thoughts, its was the only way he could cope without picking up a blade and putting it to his skin. Over the years he spent outside his home he wrote about every experience and situations he had put himself in.
His first album was about his time in the port mafia and the cruelty of it all, and he called it The Punishment Of Memory. His second was being written during his time while defecting from the mafia, the album was made during the darkest point in his life, and it was called Carry Me To My Final Resting Place. He had no will to live and he couldn’t leave the confines of his room, paranoia filled his ever waking moment leaving his room if it was utterly necessary. The third album was all about his time in the agency, new beginnings, growth, and his struggles with the ethical and moral stands of what he used to be, and it was called The Garden. His most recent album was about his lover, Chuuya. The man that pulled him from his darkest moment no matter how ugly and stayed through it all, the songs were all about how Chuuya had managed to break down his walls and show him a life that was thought impossible. He talks about the hardships both of them went through and how they grew and healed from them, this album is called Crawl Inside Me.
Dazai often spent his evenings after work writing, it held a special place in his heart. He’d write for hours until Chuuya came home from work. They had a schedule, they would sleep before showering, and either order in or they would make a meal, often though it was Dazai cooking. Despite what many people thought Dazai could cook, and often would as he had problems eating food that want pre sealed or made by hand, paranoia that the port had installed into him.
Dazai for many tireless months spent writing a song that would encapsulate the love and admiration that he held for Chuuya. He spent a lot of time rewriting it but finally after all that time he had finally felt satisfied with presenting to Chuuya his last album that was dedicated to him. The song was called anything and it would go onto his album Crawl Inside Me.
Staring down the barrel of the hot sun
Shining with the sheen of a shotgun (shotgun)
Carol has a little if we need some
Joa has a ride if we wanna come
Hanging your jeans with a clothespin
Skin still wet still on my skin
Mango in your mouth, juice dripping
Shoulder of your shirtsleeve slipping
Christmas eve with your mother and sis
Don't wanna fight but your mother insists
Dog's white teeth slice right through my fist
Drive to the ER and they put me on risk
Grocery store list, now you get pissed
Unchecked calls and messages
I don't wanna be the owner of your fantasy
I just wanna be a part of your family
And I don't wanna talk about anything
I don't wanna talk about anything
I wanna kiss, kiss your eyes again
Wanna witness your eyes looking
I don't wanna talk about anyone
I don't wanna talk about anyone
I wanna sleep in your car while you're driving
Lay in your lap when I'm crying
Circle of pine and red oak
Circle of moss and fire smoke
Fan on the ceiling like a wheel spoke
Push the clutch in and I pull the choke
Wanna listen to the sound of you blinking
Wanna listen to your hands soothe
Listen to your heart beating
Listen to the way you move
And I don't wanna talk about anything
I don't wanna talk about anything
I wanna kiss, kiss your eyes again
Wanna witness your eyes looking
I don't wanna talk about anyone
I don't wanna talk about anyone
I wanna sleep in your car while you're driving
Lay in your lap when I'm crying
By writing this song Dazai had hoped that he could show Chuuya the love and the bitter-sweetness that their relationship had held a those years ago. He had been terrified of moving forward with him of creating a meaningful relationship for the first time in his life because doing so meant being vulnerable, letting Chuuya in, not only is a personal way but a physical way too. He held a huge shame for his body, but Chuuya never made him felt ashamed for his body or was ever disgusted by it.
Weren't we the stars in Heaven
Weren't we the salt in the sea
Dragon in the new warm mountain
Didn't you believe in me?
You held me the whole way through
When I couldn't say the words like you
I was scared Indigo but I wanted to
I was scared Indigo but I wanted to
And I don't wanna talk about anything
I don't wanna talk about anything
I wanna kiss, kiss your eyes again
Wanna witness your eyes looking
I don't wanna talk about anyone
I don't wanna talk about anyone
I wanna sleep in your car while you're driving
Lay in your lap when I'm crying
Dazai was conveying the devotion that he had for Chuuya how much he valued this relationship and the desire for them to make a life together, to be more, to be a single unit.
”I love it” Chuuya said had said once he finally heard it his eyes filled with tears. He wrapped his arms around Dazai as he kissed his cheek. “Thank you” he softly chocked out, words becoming impossible.