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It was a bad day. It was truly a really shitty day.
Dazai hasn't had a day this bad in at least two weeks. Which was a moderate sized deal in itself. It would have been a really big deal if this was five years ago, but that was not the case. Fifteen year old Dazai Osamu resided in the pits of Tartarus, metaphorically of course.
But twenty two year old Dazai was doing better. He'd learned to build himself, and his life back, over time.
He still constantly joked about suicide. But nobody could really tell exactly how many of those 'jokes' were actually jokes. He said it light-heartedly. It was on purpose. He wouldn't let anybody find out about how deep his depression actually runs, of course.
But then again, what did he know about depression? He's ever been diagnosed. Who would he go to, for such a thing? He's read about such things in books. Depression, its diagnosis, therapy and anti-depressants. He's never had any proper mental help.
The only doctor he's been around in his lifetime was Mori, the Port Mafia boss. He was an absolute trash of a person. Dazai's mental abuse back in the mafia had purely the courtesy of the boss. It had been a shitty situation, but oh well.
For some reason, today was worse than most. He woke up early in the morning, moreover to an empty bed. His bed usually housed a short, adorable redhead. Today was not one of those days. Today he woke up alone, unrested, his eyes burning with sleep deprivation and his shoulders stiff from bad posture.
If Chuuya had been here, he would have slept better. Dazai knew that. Chuuya knew that too. That's why the mafioso tried his best to be home every night. It used to be an unspoken thing during their teenage years; Dazai's attachment based sleep disorder. He never slept well without Chuuya. After all, he's had seven years of sleeping in the same bed as the redhead.
A few months into their sleeping arrangement, just at the age of fifteen, Dazai had unknowingly developed his sleep disorder. Another few months later, Chuuya had realised it too, when he'd returned home from a week long mission overseas, just to find a shitty beanpole delirious with exhaustion.
Dazai had gotten barely four hours of sleep in the whole week. Chuuya had been worried to death when he realised. They didn't talk about it, but ever since then, Chuuya made sure that him and Dazai were assigned on missions together.
They had finally talked about it after Dazai had left the Mafia. He had shown up to Chuuya's secret apartment the very night he'd left, begging for a few hours of sleep. Of course, Chuuya had insisted that Dazai stay with him at his top secret apartment during his two years of hiding period. It had worked just fine.
Chuuya had always been the only one who accurately picked up on Dazai's mood one hundred percent of the time. He knew the now detective's ticks like the back of his hand. He knew when we was just joking, and when he was going through actual depressive episodes. Chuuya knew him the best.
The mafia executive always made a point to be home at night, just so his shitty idiot of a partner could get some rest. Unfortunately for both of them, Chuuya was away on a four day mission at the moment. He'd left three days ago.
The first day apart had been fine for Dazai. He had gone to work. He had annoyed his co-workers. He had skipped all his meals even though Chuuya had left him food in the refrigerator. He'd gone to sleep at night, and of course, had failed to get a wink of sleep.
This continued for the next two days as well. Now, three days later, and a day away from Chuuya's return, Dazai had hit his breaking point. He was running on two hours of sleep in the past three days, and he'd eaten maybe two rice balls during this duration. That too because Tanizaki had offered him some at work yesterday.
It wasn't that he was hungry. He rarely was. But his body needed nutrition, and usually Chuuya made sure to feed him. It probably wasn't healthy how much he dependent on his partner, but he really couldn't bring himself to care.
In conclusion, he was delirious with exhaustion, weak with lack of nutrition, and probably very dehydrated as well. His depressive episode hit as soon as the first rays of the sun hit his bedroom floor the fourth morning.
He couldn't be bothered to drag himself out of bed. What was the point anyway? It wasn't like he had anywhere to be. Well, he did have work, but he'd already sent a text ahead, calling in sick. For once, Kunikida hadn't complained on receiving the text. Maybe he'd noticed the changes in him too. He didn't like it, but he couldn't be bothered to conceal his depression at the moment.
Dazai remained in bed throughout the day. By the time two p.m. rolled around, his stomach was making weird, unnecessary noises. Oh right. He hadn't eaten in over twenty eight hours after all. Somehow, with great difficulty, he managed to drag his feet to the kitchen.
The refrigerator was well-stocked as usual, courtesy of Nakahara Chuuya. In fact, the mafioso had made sure there were a lot of long-lasting bentos prepared in the refrigerator. Enough to last Dazai's eating habits for four days. Of course, Dazai had chosen to forgo such a meagre concept of eating to stay alive.
Today however, he managed to unwrap a bento and throw it in the microwave to heat it up a little. If he ate cold food and acquired food poisoning, Chuuya would actually have his head. To his surprise, he managed to let out the smallest chuckle at the idea.
Eating the bento took more out of him than he'd originally imagined. Chuuya knew him well enough to make him bentos with small portions of food. Even so, eating today felt like it lasted forever. If he didn't know better, he'd say that he'd picked every single grain of rice one by one; that's how long it seemed to take.
Dazai was absolutely exhausted once he was done eating. The atmosphere around him was still shitty, as it had been all day. He felt listless. Restless yet completely at calm.
Whatever he did, his hands seemed to move on their own accord. His eyes never seemed to focus on anything, and his facial muscles were unbearably lax and tense at the same time. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin.
His eyes scorched, and his head felt stuffy. For a change, his bandages seemed to strangle him. But taking them off was such a chore. He didn't want to do it. Moreover, his ears buzzed sometimes. And there was a constant, dull throbbing in his head. The jabs of pain sharpened occasionally, making him wince in sheer frustration.
His mind was consumed with every dark thought imaginable; but it was also clear of any thoughts at all. Dazai's very self of being played the role of a living oxymoron today. It was unpleasant.
Rarely anything interested him. This was worse today. Everything was so utterly boring. The leaves falling outside his window were too monotonous. The poetry book he was reading at the moment reeked of fake hope, and every breath he took felt like he was inhaling poison.
He was numb. An assembly of various negative emotions clawed at his chest; gripped at his veins. Breathing was too difficult. It hurt. Everything really fucking hurt. The ring around his finger felt too uncomfortable, and his tongue felt too heavy in his mouth.
Why was he still alive? If being alive caused him so much pain, why was he still here?
It was a question he'd asked himself thousands of time. It had taken him a long time to figure out an answer. But he had one now. If nobody else, Dazai knew there was at least one person who would be utterly broken beyond repair if he passed.
Chuuya was strong, so unbelievably strong. In a way only a true human can. He had already experienced more losses than one could imagine. But Dazai knew if he pulled the trigger, if he chose to end his life that very day, Chuuya would never be the same again. He'd blame himself over and over, till he killed himself. Mentally, if not literally. Dazai could never put his loved one through that.
If he was fifteen still, he would have attempted it today. But he wasn't fifteen anymore. He was home to someone. Somebody was looking forward to coming home to him. He couldn't let Chuuya down.
So, he'd stay put. He'd stay in his bed, killing his mind, cursing his mind for showing him such darkness once again. But he'd stay. Because he'd promised so to a certain someone.
Besides, Chuuya would be home soon. Everything would be better then. Not fixed, but definitely better. Dazai will finally get to sleep. When he woke up, things would surely be better. So, he just had to wait till Chuuya came home. He could do that. He could.
It took a few more hours, during which Dazai tried to get some sleep. He nodded off a few times, only to wake up a few minutes later, panting for a desperate breath of air. Somewhere between all his five minute naps, he'd scratched off all the bandages from his body. They were beginning to choke him. It was uncomfortable. He couldn't stand them anymore.
He wasn't sure how long he remained in bed like that. But it must have been four hours at the very least, considering it was beginning to get dark outside.
He woke for the umpteenth time that day, to the sound of a key turning in the main door of the apartment. He could feel a weight lift off his shoulder almost immediately. Chuuya was home. This were going to be okay.
He heard footsteps a few seconds later. The sounds stopped at the kitchen for a few seconds; Chuuya was just getting some water. He also heard the sound of his luggage being pushed off somewhere in their living room.
A minute later, a small figure slowly opened the door to their bedroom, asking in a soft voice, "Hey. Can I turn on the lights?"
Dazai whispered aloud, his voice hoarse and scratchy from the lack of use, "The soft yellow ones."
Chuuya took off his shoes and his coat and put them aside before padding to the switchboard next to Dazai's side of the bed. The requested soft and yellow lights flickered on two seconds later.
Chuuya's fist clenched painfully when he saw the condition his shitty partner was in. He simply reached out a hand, "Can you sit up?"
Dazai regarded him with mildly excited eyes as he accepted the offered help and managed to sit up, "Looks like I can."
Chuuya wrapped his arms around the other and pulled him immediately into a tight hug. He pressed a kiss to his tousled brown hair, "I am so sorry. Fuck, Mackerel. Dazai. I'm so sorry; I didn't think this was going to happen-"
Dazai cut his partner off by wrapping his bare arms around his torso, "It's not your fault. You didn't know. I didn't know either. We're fine."
Chuuya frowned as he sat down next to the other, his arms still around him, "But. But you're sad!"
Dazai managed to let out a snort, an achievement in itself, "I think that might just be an understatement, Slug."
Chuuya carded his fingers through the other's hair, "I know. I feel like absolute shit. Fuck Dazai, why didn't you tell me?"
The detective sighed, resting his head on the redhead's shoulder, "I didn't want to distract you on a dangerous mission."
Chuuya sighed, his fingers clutched tightly onto the baggy t-shirt his partner was wearing, "I... Fuck now I don't have a good enough comeback for that. You should have still told me!"
Dazai lifted his hand to pat the top of other's head, after removing the latter's hat of course, "It's alright. Don't think too much about it. We don't want you to lose your remaining braincell, right Chuuya~?"
Chuuya chuckled fondly, "How are you still so annoying? Must be the only talent you have."
Dazai grinned, "At least I'm not a chibi with a tacky hat."
Chuuya shot right back, "At least I'm not a constant menace to my co-workers!"
Dazai rolled his eyes, "At least I'm not an alcoholic."
Chuuya growled, "Bastard, I'm not an alcoholic! At least I'm liked by some people, unlike you!"
Dazai wrapped his arm around the other, "But you like me."
Chuuya caught himself before he could deny it out of habit. Today was definitely not appropriate for that little joke. Instead, he composed himself and sighed, "Well. I have shitty tastes. But you're not wrong; I do love you so much."
Dazai hummed, his fingers playing with red hair, "You as well."
Chuuya finally reached up to kiss him, "I love you. And I'm so proud of you for holding out so long. I'm here now, yeah?"
Well. If Dazai got teary-eyed a little, it was nobody's business.
He nodded, he fingers now circling a gloved wrist, "Yeah. You're home. Everything is starting to get better already."
Chuuya gave him a genuine smile, "I'm glad. Do you want a bath?"
Dazai shook his head immediately, "No. Too tired."
Chuuya frowned with worry, but remained silent on the matter. He nodded in understanding, "Alright. Have you eaten?"
Dazai looked genuinely proud when he responded with a small smile, "I finished a bento today."
Chuuya bopped him on the nose, "Good. I'm proud of you. Is that all you've eaten in the past four days?"
Dazai looked sheepish when he replied, "Tanizaki gave me two rice balls on two different days at work."
Chuuya sighed, "You need to take better care of yourself. But you're working on it and I'm still proud of you. Do you want dinner?"
Dazai tilted his head, clearly giving the question thought. He finally settled for an answer, "I want to sleep."
Chuuya's hand stilled against the other's shirt, "Sleep? Oh fuck, I forgot about that. Shitty Dazai, when was the last time you got a decent amount of sleep?"
Dazai's fingers clenched into Chuuya's gloves, "Haven't since you left."
Chuuya's eyes widened comically. It would have been hilarious if he wasn't torn between feeling really fucking guilty and being really fucking pissed at the other.
Chuuya stood up immediately, making Dazai whine, a terrified undertone to it which the mafioso definitely picked up on, "Where are you going?! Come back!"
Chuuya glared at him, "I'm going to change into more comfortable clothes. As soon as I'm done, we are going to sleep."
Dazai looked like a kicked puppy (he would despise that comparison) when he asked, "Are you mad?"
Chuuya ran his fingers through his head, sighing, "No. No, I'm not mad, shitty beanpole. I'm just worried about you."
He then dropped a kiss on brown hair for good measure, "I'll be right back."
Dazai let himself relax completely for the first time in four days as Chuuya proceeded to change out of his work clothes. Chuuya was here now. When he wakes up the next day, he's going to be well rested. It's going to get better. He knows it will.
It took Chuuya five minutes to be done with everything and settling into his side of the bed. Dazai draped himself across his short partner almost immediately.
Chuuya's hand went up to play with the other's hair as he covered both of them with a fluffy blanket, "Hey, you want the air conditioner on?"
Dazai scoffed, "Call it an AC, Chuuya."
Chuuya rolled his eyes but corrected himself, "Do you want the AC on, bastard?"
Dazai offered him a small grin, "Yes please."
Chuuya rolled his eyes once again before turning the air conditioner on, "There. Hey. Do you wanna talk about it? Or anything really. Before you sleep, I mean."
Dazai sighed, tightening his hold on his partner, "Today was the worst. It was worse than Chuuya!"
Chuuya ignored the jab, "Oh?"
Dazai sighed again, "The littlest things annoyed me. For example, that shitty dog two floors below us wouldn't stop barking."
Chuuya reminded him with a snort, "That dog always annoys you, darling. You're just an asshole to all dogs."
Dazai reached up to pet the other's bright red hair, "But I'm good to Chuuya, ne? And Chuuya is a dog too!"
Chuuya playfully swatted him, "Stop calling me a dog, asshole. But yes, you're good to me. The bestest."
Dazai's eyes lit up, "You too."
Chuuya leaned over to turn off the lights, mostly because it was time for them to go to sleep, but maybe also because he wanted to conceal the blush that had appeared on his cheeks.
He pressed a kiss to Dazai's mouth, "Sleep, Mackerel. You need it."
Dazai yawned next to him, "Goodnight, hatrack."
Chuuya rolled his eyes, "Night, asshole. I love you, fucker."
A minute later, a soft voice, mumbled with sleep, echoed in the dark, "I love Chuuya too."