Nothing really changed after Dazai's realization of his possible tiny crush on Chuuya, which pissed him off.
This was strange! This was new and exciting and mortifying. Why was everyone continuing along like everything was fine when Dazai's whole world had been turned inside out?
The group still went to fake school and fake gym class like nothing was wrong. Like there wasn't hellfire raining from the sky and beasts plaguing the land.
Dazai had never felt this way before.
Sure, he'd thought people were attractive. He'd objectively acknowledged it, like one would for a beautiful painting.
It never really went beyond that though. He never felt a desire to be near them, to know more about them, to hold and be held, to carve open their ribcage and crawl inside.
It was thrilling.
More than that, it was enchanting.
Other than suicide, and maybe cutting, Dazai never really wanted something so badly. He'd wanted numbness, death, relief maybe, but never this. Whatever this was.
It's not even something Chuuya could offer, it was just Chuuya.
He just wanted Chuuya.
All to himself, like a prized thoroughbred pooch.
He wanted to poke Chuuya and see what he would do. Wanted to lock him in a room alone and see how he would escape. Wanted to fall into deep water and drag him with, feeling him struggle against Dazai and push him further under. Wanted, wanted, wanted.
More than any of that though, Dazai wanted to feel Chuuya's dainty fingers squeezed around his throat again.
Of course, he couldn't say these things aloud in group therapy. Not with Chuuya right there. Even if it would be fascinating to hear his response, and study the fury that would surely flood his ice cold eyes. It would probably push Chuuya away from him, and Dazai wanted him closer, not further.
The walk to lunch hadn't been as joyous as he'd hoped. It wasn't exactly raining so he didn't get to feel the drops on his skin, but looking up at the clouded gray sky had been nice.
Chuuya had smirked at him and bumped his hip, teasing him for finally seeing a glimpse of freedom, to which Dazai tried to goad him into running away together and laughing while security chased them. Even though he'd said it as a joke, the desire to elope with Chuuya was all too true. Unfortunately, Chuuya actually wanted to 'recover' and didn't entertain his ideas of fleeing.
Hirotsu apparently wasn't immune to needing a break, so when they all went to lunch, Dazai returned with a different bodyguard.
His new guardian, some woman named Tsujimura Mizuki, was not nearly as entertaining as Hirotsu was, taking her job way too seriously even though Dazai was on his best behavior. Hopefully he'd be free from having a personal nurse soon. Suicide-watch could only last so long.
Until then he had at least one more night of a chair at the end of his bed. Not allowed a second alone with Chuuya, even in their room.
Dazai valued solitude, but unfortunately it was impossible to get in a facility like this. The briefest reprieve he got was in the bathroom, but Tsujimura was right outside the curtain checking in on him every few minutes anyway.
If he could at least be alone with Chuuya it wouldn't be so bad, but his watchdog was stationed with him everywhere he went. Not having a moment alone was pretty typical of a mental hospital, but Dazai desperately yearned for those few moments that he and Chuuya had when there were no staff around, and it was just them.
Night seemed so far away though, as he was tortured with more free time in which he had run out of things to occupy his mind with. And with Chuuya seemingly unable to leave Fyodor's side, Dazai was starting to think he'd have to suck it up and hang out with both of them.
Every instinct in his body was ringing alarm bells at Fyodor's very presence, but he couldn't quite figure out why, other than a general dislike for manipulative liars. Yes, it was hypocritical, but Dazai never claimed to be otherwise.
He trusted his intuition, and if it believed that something was amiss, then he would continue to tread carefully.
Admittedly, some of the resentment might be a product of how much of Chuuya's time the Russian was beginning to occupy. Jealousy was not something Dazai had much experience with, so he couldn't be certain, but if he explained these feelings to one of the therapist's, that would probably be their first assessment.
Jealousy, fear of Chuuya abandoning him, general distrust of others stemming from traumatic experiences. He could easily imagine Fukuzawa diagnosing him with that irritatingly calm expression he always had.
Burying his pride, Dazai pushed back his shoulders and confidently strode to the table that Chuuya was sitting at, luckily accompanied by every other patient as they seemed to be giving Akutagawa contact information, because that was still happening today too. No cupcakes, just a stupid card that Dazai already signed during their first period of free time.
He sat down on Chuuya's lap, immediately being pushed off by the flustered teen.
"Get the fuck off me! There's like three other empty chairs. This ones taken." Chuuya grumbled, pulling one of the free chairs up next to him anyway.
Dazai gracefully accepted it without comment, which seemed to throw the redhead off, his eyebrows furrowing and annoyed face briefly flickering with worry.
Shit, he should probably act normally so Chuuya wouldn't suspect anything. Normally by Dazai standards, at least.
"When are you leaving Ryuu-kun?" He diverted attention away from him and back towards the person who actually deserved it right now. His hands flew to cover his heart dramatically, pouting and pretending to wipe away a tear, "I'm going to miss your cheerful face and positive attitude so much!"
The stone-faced teen's eyes shone, despite the rest of his expression remaining impassive, "I will miss you too Dazai."
Dazai raised an eyebrow, looking around at the others to see if at least someone understood his sarcasm. Many of them gave him an exasperated look, but returned their attention to Akutagawa when Dazai's only response was a smirk.
"Gin will be coming with our guardian to pick me up any minute now," Akutagawa answered his original question, to the utter dismay of those around him.
"But that's too soon!" Atsushi cried, holding Akutagawa's hand. The gothic teen put his other hand over them both, squeezing reassuringly and exchanging a soft look with him.
When did that happen?
Perhaps people had their own lives outside of Dazai, and they had somehow gotten together without him knowing. It was hard to imagine anything like a relationship between those two blooming without his knowledge.
Had he truly been so tunneled in on Chuuya that he didn't notice?
That would be terribly humiliating to admit, so Dazai decided that was not possible and they must have kept their budding relationship secret on purpose.
A relationship was a terrible idea for both of them. It would only make Akutagawa's death that much more difficult. Losing someone you loved was enormously harder than losing someone you just barely knew.
Also the small fact that they met in a mental asylum.That was a relationship doomed from the start.
Dazai chose to ignore what that said about the possible future of him and Chuuya.
A paper covered with contact information sat in the middle of the table ominously, another reminder of both the closeness to freedom as well as the departure of one of his oldest friends. If he could call them friends.
Last time they were in a facility together, Dazai had left before Akutagawa, and the sheet of contact information given to Dazai was swiftly thrown into the first trash can he saw. He hadn't given anything to the others either when they left, not really caring to stay in touch with any of them.
However, this would ultimately be the last time Dazai saw Akutagawa, with the certainty of his death on the horizon.
Also, they were friends.
Dazai pulled the paper towards himself and quickly jotted down his phone number next to a little cartoon of him hanging himself, as if it was no big deal. Only Akutagawa would appreciate the humor of it.
"Make sure to invite me to your funeral!" He winked, leaning back casually. It was both a joke and a sincere request, which also only Akutagawa would appreciate.
"If you even get out by then," Chuuya raised a judgmental eyebrow, teasing over his crossed arms, "With all your whining about suicide, I'd be surprised if they let you out within the year."
"Chibi, surely by now you should know that I can easily escape any time I want to." The look Tsujimura gave him at that admission had him putting up his hands innocently in surrender, "Not that I want to!"
Chuuya's face scrunched up adorably, "Eh? But-"
Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by Yosano clearing her throat. The doctor's presence could only mean one thing, and any curiosity over what Chuuya was going to say flew out of reach in the face of what was about to happen.
She smiled at them all together, eyes sad, and locked in on Akutagawa, speaking with a grim finality; "It's time to go."
It did feel too soon. Surely he had a few more minutes. Surely this wouldn't be the last time Dazai saw him. Surely he would not have another person close to him die so unfairly, while he was forced to continue on with his own miserable life.
Outside the windows of the room stood a nameless woman and a tiny Gin, only slightly taller than the last time he'd seen her, but still as slim and quiet as her brother. Atsushi's face fell and he clung tighter to Akutagawa's hand.
He never would've expected those two to end up so close, but perhaps that old saying was true. Opposites did attract. Despite their glaring personality differences, when Dazai looked a teeny bit closer at them, he started to see their compatibility a little more. They complimented each other, fit the parts the other lacked.
"I will miss you all." Akutagawa tilted his head farewell very formally, but when he looked at Atsushi, his expression seemed to get a bit more strained. He glanced at the staff for a second.
The other patients must've arranged something without him knowing, because all of a sudden everyone crowded around them both, hiding them within a giant group hug. Hidden in the arms of their peers, Akutagawa gave Atsushi a short but heart-wrenchingly sweet kiss.
Ah, now Dazai understood, joining the group circle.
Not only were relationships formed in mental hospitals extremely taboo and unwise, but they were also frankly not permitted. There was a reason they separated the boys from the girls, although that was definitely outdated reasoning seeing as Akutagawa and Atsushi were both boys.
There was a rule in mental health facilities, and not one of the unspoken ones that Dazai had to learn through experience. No, this was a blatant rule imposed by the staff. Patients were not allowed to kiss or touch each other intimately, or truly have anyphysical contact between them at all.
Even if the staff at this hospital seemed more lenient, they would not have allowed such fundamental rules to be broken.
Everyone knew this, but they also knew this would probably be the teens' only chance to have this moment. One final intimate act before death and circumstance would tear them away from each other.
And so everyone crowded the two teens as they kissed goodbye; a barrier between the staff, between the real world, and between the inevitable fate of their relationship would be. Regardless of what happened after, at least they could have this moment together.
Maybe the patients hadn't arranged it this way at all beforehand. Maybe they all just knew what each other needed.
Never having felt it before, Dazai couldn't say for sure if this is what friendship and love felt like, but it seemed close.
It was solidarity. The wordless agreement everyone made to give their friends this time, and protect this moment from anything that tried to stop it.
Even though the thought of touching other people made his skin crawl, if it was for this noble cause, it seemed to be alright, at least for the moment.
The huddle was large and warm, all of them holding a mutual understanding and care for each other. It wasn't Dazai in the middle of it, but even on the outskirts of the circle he felt it; the connection. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been hugged.
The fact that people were hugging him and vice versa gave him shivers, but at the edge of the circle, with everyone around him, it didn't feel too bad. His arms were around Chuuya and surprisingly Lucy as they huddled, his head leaning down to further cover the couple.
He almost wanted to say something, but the air felt too fragile. He didn't want to break it with his grating voice.
This wasn't about him, this was about them.
It couldn't last forever though. Soon the staff was pulling them apart, reminding them of the no-touching rule in which they were all fully aware of. Each of them were pretending to have no idea why some of the nurses had narrowed their eyes accusingly.
In what seemed like a matter of seconds, Akutagawa was gone, leaving a chilling silence in his absence.
Atsushi still had tears falling from his eyes, as much as he subtly tried wiping them away so that the staff wouldn't accost him. His breathing started to get so harsh that one of the nurses had to escort him out of the room to console and bring him down from what seemed to be a growing panic attack. Chuuya was biting his lip, flickering his attention between Atsushi outside of the room and Dazai right next to him. Ranpo and Poe were talking quietly in the corner, and Lucy was comforting Kyouka as the younger girl sat in dead silence.
Despite all the abysmal moods around him, Dazai just felt numb.
Dazai didn't really do 'friends.' Nobody had really tried when he was young enough for such a thing to be normal. As he grew, the notion of 'making friends' seemed to just fade away.
Grown ups didn't make friends. They networked. They met people and made contracts and deals to further their own goals. They never returned to that pure and innocent desire to just connect with other people. It didn't matter that he was still technically and legally a child, he'd been an adult far before someone his age should've been.
Obviously, this cheerful ideology had gotten him many acquaintances over the years (it hadn't) and given him the exact social skills needed to make those connections (also a lie).
Dazai hadn't intended for Akutagawa to be his friend. He didn't look at this young goth kid and think 'Yeah, I want to hang out with that guy,' but somehow they'd just ended up together.
It was during their first stay together that Dazai dismissed the teen somewhat, only really seeing him as an amusing patient with the potential to cause some trouble. But meeting him again this time changed how he saw Akutagawa.
The person who had once been a small and sickly looking child with severe anger issues and a distrust of strangers, grew into the calm young man he'd met again during this visit. The change was startling, and he almost would've believed Akutagawa was faking it like Dazai always did, but he'd stayed the same in just as many ways as he'd changed. He was still moody and into wearing all black. He still had no social awareness and didn't understand sarcasm.
Still, things must have happened between the time they were inpatient together, because he didn't seem as adverse to meeting people as he once was. He seemed to trust more openly, and behave more rationally. Despite the unfairly short amount of time he would have left in this world, Dazai had no doubts that Akutagawa would do well for himself.
And because Dazai was slightly narcissistic, he turned these musings of change onto himself in turn.
Had he changed? Was he even capable of change? Could someone as inhuman as him do what every living thing did, and grow?
It didn't seem likely, or even possible. Every aspect of his personality was a mask. So much so that Dazai wasn't really sure who he was, or even if he was anything. How could nothing develop into something? Energy could not be created or destroyed.
Everyone wanted him to recover and get better. That required change, but if he wasn't human enough to evolve, recovery would be nigh impossible. It's not as if he had much faith in the benefits of therapy to begin with, but the slow realization that even if he did actively try to get better, it wouldn't matter… that unsettled him. Once again something in his life that he couldn't control.
While in the hospital this past week, things had gotten better and things had gotten worse. It sent him through a rollercoaster of emotions he'd never truly experienced before, but even with the heart-stopping falls and the slow climbs, he was still on the rollercoaster.
It was on a track. It was on a loop. It would never change its course; never moving backwards yet infinitely repeating the same cycle.
Dazai couldn't rise like a phoenix from the ashes of his former self, because on the rollercoaster he would only fall from the sky again. Rise and fall, rise and fall, forever and ever with no choice but to keep moving forward. No choice. No control.
Unless of course he were to get off of the rollercoaster; the winding and thrilling loop that was life. Exit the ride and finally be at rest.
If only the people in his life would let that happen.
"Hey," An uncharacteristically soft voice drew him out from his tangled thoughts. Chuuya's beautiful blue eyes peered into his with poorly hidden sympathy. It made Dazai want to vomit. "You okay? I know Akutagawa was one of your friends... for some reason."
There was that concept again. Friendship.
Dazai didn't want to dwell on such silly and unimportant things.
"Chuuya~" He answered the irrelevant inquiry with a question of his own, not at all wanting to talk about his feelings at the moment, "How do you write poetry? I want to recite something beautiful for Ryuunosuke's eulogy. I was thinking of using a cupcake metaphor."
In trying to swerve the subject away from his own, ugh, feelings, Dazai inadvertently fell upon a subject that had yet to be talked about, but was still raw and just as dangerous.
Chuuya's poetry, of which Dazai had read without permission, and that they hadn't discussed since. Besides glossing over it in exchange for more pressing matters at the time (which brought up yet another thing they needed to talk about), Chuuya had blessedly let the little invasion of privacy slide.
Before he could rectify his mistake, Chuuya's eyes lit up with recognition and rage. The poems he had written in that special secret notebook that he'd tried to hide, but that Dazai had read, soiling any trust they had, as well as Chuuya's privacy in general. The violation was overlooked due to the arguably more important blackout that Chuuya had after, and subsequent strange release that Dazai's touch had given him from that episode, as well as Dazai's relapse, and Fyodor's arrival, and Akutagawa's departure.
It's been a long couple of days.
"You're a bastard, you know that? I don't know why Akutagawa looked up to you so much when you act like such a fucking inconsiderate asshole. Why did you go through my shit? I don't think you ever told me why you did that, other than your bullshit excuse about getting even. And to fucking- to quote it back to me? Why are you such a dick all the time?" Chuuya ranted, voice raising and garnering the attention of the patients around them.
Dazai didn't even have time to forge a reaction before Yosano was standing between them, her back to Dazai as she held her hands out placatingly to Chuuya. He could barely even hear what she was saying to calm him down though, too lost in his own thoughts.
This was far from the first time that Chuuya's been angry with him, but something about this time felt charged. There was that same energy in the air inside as there was outside; rainy clouds and thundering in the distance was only a hint of the larger storm to come.
Recklessly, and perhaps somewhat desperately, Dazai wanted to goad him into touching him again. Convince him through anger to go beyond Yosano and wring his hands around Dazai's neck yet again. To show that lying rat in the corner that Chuuya's attention was his to occupy. That nobody and nothing else could make Chuuya respond like this. That what they had between them was special.
"Please, it was barely even poetry," Dazai urged him to escalate the argument, needing to feel aggressive hands again, ones that didn't feign companionship or good intentions, "Do I need to recite that corny garbage again?"
It was a threat. A knowledge of the exact trigger words to incite a blackout.
Perhaps it was a form of self harm. He wanted, no, deserved to be hurt. The least he could do was be miserable.
It didn't need to make sense logically for it to make sense to him. His head and heart hurt. It only made sense for his body to hurt as well.
"Shut the fuck up!" Chuuya growled around Yosano, ignorant of the hospital guards coming towards them to assist in case things got physical, which is what it appeared they were headed towards, "You talk big game for someone who breaks down at every fucking thing. At least I write down my feelings, and don't gore myself just 'cause someone asked me how my day was! Are you really that insecure?"
Perhaps they were both feeling destructive at the moment.
Whatever strange truce they'd had between them since discovering the nature of Chuuya's blackouts was no more. It couldn't be fully blamed on Akutagawa's goodbyes either.
There was just something about Dazai that incited violence and hate. It hurt less when he pretended that people's anger with him was deliberately planned by himself. When it was something he purposefully created, it meant that they had a problem with Dazai's actions, not him. He chose to be the villain so that he wasn't declared one by someone else.
They were nothing but cruel words. Words with no purpose beyond hurting him, but they did their job.
In regards to his mental state, most people coddled him. They pitied or despaired at his self hatred and tragic backstory. It was very rare that someone actually lashed out at him, too afraid to be the reason for his next suicide attempt or cut. Especially when Dazai had no problem weaponizing their momentary loss of composure.
Chuuya felt no such fear.
He stabbed at every single weak point that Dazai had, knowing exactly what the risks were but lunging towards him anyway, uncaring of what Dazai would do in response. It was refreshing actually, for someone to poke the open wounds he'd let bleed for a reason.
These parts of himself that he'd left exposed in places like this facility, not at all in hopes that they would be bandaged and cared for, but moreso with the desire for someone to aggravate them, and make them bleed more.
For the first time in a long time, besides Mori or the others who had genuinely abused him, Chuuya was the first to be unafraid of causing him more pain than he already had on a daily basis. He was the only one to attack his already weak points, rather than creating new ones.
Maybe Dazai was severely fucked up beyond repair, but the very idea that someone could touch him so deeply was intoxicating. Someone that wouldn't add any more hurt, but instead would harden the already bare flesh.
It was probably unhealthy, but it was exactly what Dazai craved. He'd never even realized it was something he wanted; a sensation that he yearned to feel.
Until now, with Chuuya, the one dearest to his heart.
It was rare that Dazai felt anything, so when he did feel something, the object of his pain became an insatiable desire.
Anything that made him feel something. Anything that made him feel alive, and something more than just a corpse forced into animation by an unreachable higher power.
Chuuya was something tangible. Something that he could touch that would touch him back, but would never stray beyond where he allowed. As uncontrollable and wild as Chuuya seemed to be, Dazai felt that with specific manipulation, he could become something akin to a blade.
"Nakahara!" Yosano snapped, glancing cautiously back at Dazai from her position between the two teens, "Enough."
Tsujimura, who was technically his caretaker until he was deemed stable enough to not need constant supervision, stepped in as well as Yosano dealt with the soon to explode Chuuya. The guard did not have the same level of respect from him as Hirotsu though, and so Dazai barely acknowledged her dragging him away.
He couldn't see Chuuya's face anymore, as he was brought out into the hall and faced away from the room. Despite the pain he distantly felt but could not comprehend just yet, Dazai wanted to go back and study Chuuya's fury in the flesh.
Whatever his new guard was going to attempt to say to him became irrelevant as soon as the door between the room and hallway closed, and Oda looked up from the front desk. With one look at whatever expression was on Dazai's face, he sighed and stepped out from behind the counter, putting a hand on Tsujimura's shoulder.
"I've got him."
Well, at least someone had him.
Oda Sakunosuke was a very special nurse.
He understood Dazai better than he understood himself, and treated him exactly how he needed to be treated. Not like he was made of glass, or fragile, or however every other person treated him. But he also wasn't like Chuuya, who immediately went for the jugular when he attacked.
As much as he adored the nurse though, being reprimanded by him was never fun.
"Dazai," Oda started, not even needing to say anything more as he dragged him down the hallway for his stern talking to. Chuuya was probably receiving something similar in the main room, if he hadn't been taken away to the other hallway by now.
"I know." Dazai sighed, leaning back against the wall. The nurse stood in front of him, arms crossed.
He yearned for the warmth of a fatherly hug, but it was something that he never experienced before so he wasn't sure if he actually wanted it or not. It was just something he'd seen in movies and during visiting hours that always looked so wonderful.
But Oda was not his father, and he constantly had to remind Dazai of this fact.
"What happened?"
Oda asked the question before he began reprimanding him, which was another reason why Dazai loved the man. He was not going to discipline Dazai until he knew exactly why he was doing so.
"I don't know." Dazai responded, shoving his hands in the pocket of his hoodie that they'd blessedly allowed him to wear instead of that horrid medical gown. It gave him small comfort, since he could fiddle with his fingers out of sight of everyone around him.
He couldn't openly self harm again, but he dug his blunt nails into the skin of his hand as hard as he could, just for something to ground himself.
The truth was that he didn't know why he had such a fight with Chuuya.
It wasn't even that bad. It didn't get physical, and they barely said anything to hurt each other, but the energy in the room was already so raw with Akutagawa's absence. It felt more charged than it actually was.
But patients often responded with 'I don't know' to personal questions, and no matter how true the words were, nobody ever liked to hear them, and didn't believe them when they were spoken.
"I wasn't in the room, Dazai. Talk me through what happened."
Oda was too patient with him, always giving him time to think before he spoke, and preferring to discuss the actual events rather than the feelings behind the events. The rationality of it all calmed him down a bit, which was also the only moment he realized he wasn't calm. The fidgeting of his fingers should've clued him into that fact, but apparently only Oda's stoicism managed to alert him to it.
Dazai sighed deeply, looking up at the ceiling so he wouldn't have to stare into Oda's eyes.
There was some water damage above him, staining the white ceiling with a rusty brown. Dazai wished the weakened tile would finally give way and crash on top of him.
"I read Chuuya's poetry. It was pretty terrible," He lied. It was some of the best poetry he'd ever read, "He got angry."
It was easier to blame the other teen's short temper than to admit that he'd violated his privacy, as well as their mutual and incredibly fragile trust. Easier than admitting he deserved everything that happened to him as a result, and worse.
Oda said nothing, allowing him space to keep talking.
It was a dangerous thing; talking with Oda. Usually if someone talked to him, he could get blackmail against them with the more they said.
Oda never let that happen, preferring to let Dazai talk himself into a hole instead. Either Dazai would fill the space with words, or they would stand in silence, and he honestly couldn't tell which was worse.
"He called me insecure, can you believe that?" Dazai chuckled weakly, digging his fingers into his palm harder, "Me? Insecure? I thought I was a narcissist."
Selfish or self-hating; which was it? Stupid Chuuya couldn't even make up his mind.
"You're not either of those. You're a special third thing." Oda responded.
It sounded like it could've been a joke, but with Oda it was always hard to tell.
"Yeah, special," Dazai mused, still studying the stain on the ceiling. It seemed to expand and get bigger the longer he looked at it. "I don't understand why he got so upset. It's not like this was new information to him."
He truly didn't understand why they'd argued about it. So what if Dazai had read his poetry? They were even! There was no need to continue the discussion.
Although it was barely even a discussion, seeing as they didn't really talk to each other much, and more at each other.
Chuuya was the sensitive one, exploding over something so trivial. Dazai didn't do anything wrong.
"I think Nakahara was upset, and he didn't have an outlet for it." Oda calmly explained, like one would to a child. He didn't appreciate the coddling.
"Upset? Over what?" Dazai finally looked back at Oda, exasperated. The nurse was looking at him with undeserved patience. "Was it because I threatened him? I wasn't being serious."
"You threatened him?" Oda's eyes widened, and Dazai had to backtrack.
"Well, not explicitly. It's- you wouldn't get it."
The whole blackout conundrum was an entirely different matter that could not fully be explained to anyone other than his peers. The adults wouldn't understand. Even the other patients probably wouldn't understand. That was something between him and Chuuya. Their little psychosomatically magic soul bond.
"Okay…" Oda believed him, miraculously, or perhaps just decided that addressing that was above his pay grade, "Glossing over that, I think it's pretty clear why you two really got into an argument."
The look he gave Dazai was one that encouraged him to answer, but he truly did not know what was so clear. All of this uncertainty was beginning to infuriate him. He hated not knowing why things were happening.
Something on his face must've given away his confusion, because Oda took pity on him to explain.
He would have to get better at concealing his emotions. He wasn't usually so easy to read.
"Akutagawa just left. I can imagine that it would be difficult for both of you to cope with."
Oh. That.
Dazai didn't really want to think about it, and he definitely didn't want to talk about it.
With all of his blunders recently, he took special care to make sure he didn't outwardly react to that statement, although his facial muscles tried very hard to scowl at the assumption. He made sure his voice was steady and uncaring as he responded.
"Ah, yes. I can see why Chuuya would be torn up about that," Dazai admitted, shrugging his shoulders, "Well, no harm done. He started the fight anyway, so I suppose I'd forgive him if he apologized."
Oda raised an eyebrow at that, giving Dazai the same highly unimpressed look that many nurses seemed to be giving him lately.
Dazai wasn't an idiot. He knew he'd done some things that were wrong too, and if he had it his way he'd punish himself correctly, but in this situation it was all Chuuya's fault! There was no need for him to get so defensive.
"Dazai, did you actually apologize for what you did?" Oda prompted, not letting him off that easily.
"Well no, but I only did that because of what he did anyway. We were even! I didn't need to say sorry."
"So if he said it first, you would've also apologized?"
Dazai took his hands out of his pockets, crossing his arms instead. He loved Oda, but he hated being judged for being a hypocrite. He already knew he was- wasn't that acknowledgement enough? The first step to recovery was recognizing that you had a problem, or whatever.
Still, he didn't want to disappoint Oda, so he told a little white lie. It wasn't very likely that Chuuya would apologize, so he wouldn't have to keep his word anyway, "I would!"
"Perfect," Oda nodded, satisfied for now, even though he surely knew Dazai better than to trust that easily by now, "You both seem close, I have faith that you will forgive each other. Chuuya didn't say anything unforgivable, did he?"
Ignoring the jump his heart gave at the insinuation of his and Chuuya's closeness, Dazai thought back to the words that had been exchanged between them, both in this last argument and altogether.
"Grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again~ Just say what you're really thinking without those pretentious flowery words,"
"You talk big game for someone who breaks down at every fucking thing. At least I write down my feelings, and don't gore myself just 'cause someone asked me how my day was! Are you really that insecure?"
"No. He didn't say anything I didn't already know,"
He really didn't.
It wasn't even close to some of the things that Mori had said to him, or even anything that kids had teased him with when he was younger. He was uncomfortably self aware enough to realize that Chuuya was just being his usual honest self.
Oda looked ready to argue that point, but seemed to recognize that he could only discipline Dazai for so many things at a time.
He sent him back to the room with a promise to not try and start any more fights ("He started it!"),especially when he did tell Oda he wouldn't cause trouble during his shifts. Technically he'd already broken that promise quite a few times, but Oda graciously overlooked those mishaps. He truly was too good to Dazai.
The staff really had their hands full at the moment, calming down Atsushi, Chuuya, and Dazai all at the same time. They did not have the resources for this, but it was still less chaotic than some of the things he'd seen inpatient.
He was so used to emergencies being called out over the hospital's loudspeaker that the alerts went through one ear and out the other most of the time. A level whatever at adolescent whatever or adult whatever in building whatever.
It usually rolled over without him noticing, unless it happened in his specific ward. But even then, the monotone voice crackling over the speakers was secondary to whatever was causing the alert in the first place.
One time, not in the building he was in, ten different announcements came on over the course of an hour. It was fun for the patients, all of them theorizing what could be happening over in the other ward. They'd asked the doctor's what was going on but they weren't allowed to share much. Sometimes one of the orderlies was present that would explain what each level meant, so they could pretend something super interesting happened, rather than whatever actually had occurred.
The speakers were silent now as he walked back into the room. Though he was stopped by an agitated Yosano just before he could walk past the door. Chuuya wasn't with her, but a glance inside the main room revealed his bright red hair in the back next to that rat that he seemed to like so much.
Yosano looked exhausted, but still held him for a moment longer, a grimace on her lips.
"These fights with Nakahara have to stop."
Dazai nodded resolutely, only slightly annoyed that he was getting more of a talking-to than Chuuya, when he was the one who'd been arguably worse, "Absolutely! No worries Yosano-san, you won't hear any more trouble from us."
"Dr. Yosano. Dazai," She held a hand to her forehead and let out a deep sigh, "We're moving you out of your room. For the rest of your stay, you'll be sharing a room with Fyodor."
God fucking dammit.
He just couldn't have nice things, could he?
Maybe it was the constant misery he was subjected to over the course of his time inpatient, certainly much more drama than he'd had at home alone in that big empty mansion, but he could barely find it within himself even to be upset about this new development.
He would miss Chuuya, of course, and it would suck not being able to annoy him late into the night.
With too much happening at once though, he couldn't really feel either happy or sad about it. The declaration seemed to wash over him like weak wind, barely recognizable but still enough to notice it wasn't nothing.
Shit, was he dissociating again? That was unfortunate. Or was he just feeling apathetic? The fact that he was feeling was a sign of something, right? But was he even feeling?
He couldn't remember if he responded to Yosano or not, suddenly sitting in the main room somewhere.
Time wasn't moving that fast, but the world moved around him while he felt paused in time. People talked to him, and he talked back, or at least he thought he did.
It was like everything was going on in a movie, and the real Dazai was sitting on a nice plush couch he remembered from his childhood, deep within the confines of his brain.
What were they doing now? The chairs were in a circle, perhaps they were in afternoon group therapy.
Kunikida was leading. That was sure to be entertaining, given the events of the day. Dazai wished he was present to truly appreciate it.
Was he sitting next to Fyodor? How queer, he didn't really want to be near that man. Did the seat next to Chuuya happen to be taken?
"Now I believe that Dr. Yosano went over everyone's recovery process this morning, but I felt it apt to do another quick check-in before we begin our session for tonight. Would anyone like to go first?"
Kunikida adjusted the glasses sitting upon his nose, fluorescent lights glinting off of the surface. It was still dark and cool gray outside but within the confines of this facility, everything was a stark white.
"I guess I'll go," Lucy mumbled, as she was sitting right next to the doctor, "I'm pretty good. My meds have been working great and I'll hopefully be leaving in a few days."
A few scattered congratulations.
"That's wonderful Lucy! Keep up the good work on the outside," The teen nodded, giving an embarrassed smile, "Atsushi?"
The white haired boy looked terrible. His eyes were red and his leg wouldn't stop bouncing. Boney hands kept clenching the fabric over his legs, but his breaths were deliberately controlled, as if he were counting the seconds for every single inhale and exhale.
To be fair to him, Dazai wasn't even aware of his own breathing either, only vaguely aware of the fact that he was alive at all.
"Honestly, I'm not doing well." Atsushi admitted what was fairly obvious to everyone else in the room, but good for him for being honest, "I miss him… Ryuunosuke, I mean," He clarified, as if that was needed, "I don't want him to die."
His voice sounded awfully small.
"It's okay that it hurts right now, Atsushi-kun," Kunikida replied gently, "You can feel that. Let yourself process the grief, even if it hurts."
Processing? What a concept.
It wasn't unexpected when a few stray tears slipped down Atsushi's cheeks, but what was surprising was how he responded, "I'll be okay. I know I will. I promised him I would be."
Was it even possible, Dazai wondered, to not fall apart from this?
If Atsushi could manage it, he was far stronger than Dazai ever imagined. Maybe that was the reason he'd taken such a liking to the boy. He, like Chuuya, wanted so terribly to live, despite the fact that living was such an unbearable thing.
Kyouka, who was next after Atsushi, didn't offer any physical comfort, because it wasn't allowed especially after the patients' stunt earlier in the day, but she did spare him the burden of attention.
"Everyone dies," She said, with a blankness in her eyes that rivaled Dazai's own, "I am happy that I got to know Akutagawa before he left. I am happy that everyone here was alive for me to meet them."
It's a bittersweet response, and hearing such a young and traumatized girl be thankful for it all had some people choking up.
As hopeful as she was though, it didn't seem to lift the mood of the room. Someone else would need to speak, to perhaps change the topic and distract everyone from their pain. Dazai was quite well versed in that, but he was not next, and his brain was too blissfully empty to think of something good anyway.
Fyodor went next, and Dazai forced himself to at least listen to his soon to be new roommate, if for nothing else besides information.
"My mood has improved somewhat. I do feel a sense of purpose, now that I am here."
It made Kunikida smile, but for some reason it disturbed Dazai.
What made him most suspicious of that was that it didn't seem like a lie at all.
Dazai recognized that he was next in order of speaking, but his brain still felt pleasantly empty of all thoughts. It reminded him of how he was when he was a child, uncaring and absent from reality.
Still, despite him not thinking about anything, he felt his lips tug into a smile, and words fell past his mouth and into the air, admittedly probably slower than was typical of him, "My name is Dazai Osamu and I am an alcoholic."
The words were paired with a little giggle, but no one else in the room laughed. Did what he said make sense? Did they get the joke? Akutagawa would've lightened the atmosphere.
"But it wasn't funny?"
"Take this seriously, please Dazai." Kunikida in particular was unamused, "How are you feeling?"
"I feel," Dazai responded, drifting off.
It wasn't even a true statement. He didn't feel anything at all at the moment. The silence afterwards was probably for him to elaborate, but he couldn't.
"How do you feel?" Kunikida, bless his heart, urged him to follow up.
He'd gotten bolder after Dazai was honest during that one session. Unjustifiably, as Dazai hadn't really been as open since then.
"I don't know." He smiled, mind still miles away from this conversation. The room around him looked more like a photograph than the present reality.
Either the doctor realized he wouldn't be getting anything more out of Dazai, or he was impatient to get through everyone else and start the actual session. The reason didn't really matter to Dazai. He shook his head and nodded for the next person to go.
Fukuzawa was to his immediate right, so he was skipped, but Poe was after him.
Unfortunately, he zoned out through the rest of the check-ins, even for his beloved Chuuya. He'd meant to pay attention, he really did, but everyone spoke too fast for him to muster up the willpower to pay attention.
Now they were halfway through discussing grief, which was a very fitting topic for today.
His eyes flitted over to the clock on the wall, wanting to be shocked that they were already almost done, but feeling nothing about it. Neither relief nor surprise.
"Does everyone know the five stages of grief?" Kunikida brought in a large roll of paper on an easel, and now stood in front of it with a marker as if he were a teacher.
"Denial," Fyodor's eyes slit over to Dazai as he spoke, "That's the first one, right?"
Dazai maintained a carefully blank face, which wasn't hard since he was so out of it right now. If he did have any control of his muscles, he would've narrowed his eyes towards him.
"Yes, exactly," He wrote that down at the top of the paper next to a '1', handwriting as perfect as a typewriter, "How about the next one?"
Chuuya answered this time, "Anger."
An amused smirk appeared on his face before he could help it. He could feel it stretch across his lips unbidden. Chuuya glared at him from across the circle, seemingly still upset about earlier as well, and Dazai's grinning was not helping. It stayed frozen on his face though, unnaturally so.
The anger on Chuuya's face lessened a bit and his eyebrows seemed to furrow at whatever interpretation he got from Dazai's expression.
Kunikida, in the meantime, jotted down ANGER directly below DENIAL. He turned back around to everyone with an expectant look on his face, and it was Poe who quietly raised his hand before responding.
"Depression?"
"That is one of the stages, but something else comes before that. Does anyone know what it is?"
Dazai knew it, but he couldn't think of the answer. Even though the word was flashing in his brain in bright neon letters, Dazai couldn't read them.
The rat steals the word from his mind, "Bargaining, right?" Breaking the unspoken rule of letting someone else get a chance to answer, and also tacking on that redundant confirmation even though he clearly already knew that he was correct.
Kunikida didn't seem to mind though, nodding and writing down both words in the correct order, "And finally…"
He didn't wait for a response this time before writing down and circling the word: ACCEPTANCE.
"Now, I know I requested the stages in a specific order, but the truth of grief is much more complex than this."
With that, he scribbled nonsensically all over the paper, covering the words and crossing through some, with the exception of ACCEPTANCE. Ranpo made a small noise of alarm at the disorganization, but didn't do anything else besides scowl like Kunikida had personally offended him.
Once the sheet was thoroughly destroyed, he turned over a new blank page and just wrote 'GRIEF' in the middle of it.
"There is no linear process. These five pillars, while good starting points, do not even begin to cover the plethora of emotions that grief can cause. What I'd like everyone to do now is come up one at a time and write something you've personally experienced while grieving." Kunikida pushed his glasses up his nose, the light reflecting off of them and hiding his eyes.
Everybody just looked at each other.
When no one moved, he grunted, "Okay, then I will have to start calling on people."
That worked. Everyone stood up, albeit still reluctantly, and shuffled their way into something of a line in front of the easel.
Kunikida seemed much more pleased with that, handing the marker to the first person and watching over as each patient walked up and wrote something.
Dazai was at the very end of the line. So was Chuuya.
The silence between them was stifling, but neither of them did a single thing to break it. They were still in group after all.
Another reminder of the group around them came in the absence of his hospital assigned watchdog. Did they release him from Tsujimura early? Dazai couldn't remember clearly when she was with him one second and gone the next. If she was no longer obligated to remain by his side, that meant he would get Fyodor all to himself tonight.
Hurray.
Chuuya wrote something on the paper before him, since he was last, but Dazai couldn't see what he'd written.
Luckily thanks to his photographic memory, and the time he snooped on Chuuya's written poetry, he could easily make out which words matched the redhead's handwriting as he went next:
REALLY FUCKING PISSED OFF
Dazai snorted, the sudden reaction shocking him into consciousness with an almost imperceivable spasm.
Much like the bewilderment they'd both felt at Dazai's touch alleviating Chuuya of his blacked out state, Dazai felt a similar confusion again now.
He was pretty sure he couldn't just snap out of a dissociative state. Especially not just from reading some humorous words on a piece of paper.
Maybe they really were soul bonded or some other supernatural force was at play.
Now that he was able to think clearly again though, he quickly pushed that fantasy away.
He must not have actually been dissociating. Maybe he was just tired. Yeah. That sounded right. It was more believable than magic anyway.
Regardless, it was his turn to write something, and Kunikida was giving him an impatient yet wary look.
Finally able to think clearly (he had no idea what he was planning to write before), Dazai had no trouble flourishing the marker in script that looked like a messy doctor's note:
SAD :(
The frowny face was a vital part of his contribution.
He went back to his seat happily, a pep in his step that hadn't been there all day. It dimmed a bit when he realized he had to sit back next to Fyodor, which reminded him that he would have to share a room with that rat as well now.
Still, refusing to let that affect him, he daintily sat down in the chair and crossed one leg over the other.
When Kunikida finally looked at the piece of paper that now had all kinds of combinations of words scrawled around the middle word, his eyebrow twitched, "I didn't think I'd have to specify no cursing-"
Dazai giggled subtly behind his hand, eyes alight and flashing to Chuuya, who sat looking very proud of himself across the circle. The fiery boy matched his stare, biting his lip in a fruitless effort at hiding the widening smile on his face.
Despite the argument they'd had, the things that were done, and the things that were said, Dazai could tell with their wordless interaction that all had been forgiven.
Not forgotten, it was never that easy, but the release of tension in Chuuya's jaw revealed that he would be willing to move past it.
As for Dazai, Chuuya could do absolutely anything to him, say anything, and he would forgive him. In fact, a large part of him wanted Chuuya to hurt him. Physically, emotionally, in any way that mattered.
A death given to him by Chuuya would be an absolutely beautiful gift.