#i shouldve given it a sad ending but i cant bring myself to write that

[judasgot-it]

Originally wrote this for an ask but it REALLY strayed from the prompt (rip) and I also I feel like I actually did Dazai SO dirty here but idk.

But anyway I'm uploading another depressed Dazai/reader fic because HELLLLLL YEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH

Also this shit is like 2000 words so it's one of my longer fics on this account ig.

In the morning Dazai always liked to lie around in his bed - to languish in the filth that was his apartment just for a moment, to let his mind sit trapped in the cage that was his body. He would wait until the sunlight would get too bright, the light peeking past a certain spot in the curtains and begin to burn his exposed skin.

That was when he felt that he would get the ability to truly wake up, even if all he did was just the bare minimum that morning. Today all he could manage was to brush his teeth and tousle his oily hair around as he stared at his own reflection through his dirty mirror - he was still in his clothes from yesterday, which wasn't noticeable with a little bit of perfume.

A part of him hated himself for it, always had. It was disgusting to walk around like this, to live like this.

But this was just how Dazai always was.

He could only hope that you wouldn't judge him too harshly when you came to pick him up for work that morning. It felt like pulling nails out of his skin as he stood in his bathroom, thinking about every flaw you could see and possibly hate him for.

His skin was looking dull, with razor bumps along the bottom of his jaw that wouldn't go away no matter what he did, even though he hadn't shaved that morning. He had a small 5 o' clock shadow that he knew would get worse throughout the day - maybe if he kissed you like he did in his dreams, you would feel disgusted by how rough it would feel against your own skin.

The one thing he loved and hated about you was that he could never predict how you would react to something. And this morning it drove him especially insane as he waited to hear your knock on the door.

Had he not promised you breakfast he would have gone for something to cool his nerves. The best he could do for now as he walked into the kitchen was a glass of water, although his half empty bottle of whiskey was glaring down at him like an angry child.

Still slugish, he waited. He knew traffic would be light today, so you should be there soon. Lazily he watched his clock on the wall, not even bothering to watch the time.

5:45 AM. You knocked.

Lazily, Dazai approached the door. He tried to keep himself relaxed, although a part of himself wanted to scream and jump as his eyes took in your figure from behind the door. The light from behind the door was bright, and his dark eyes wanted to squint, to cower away.

Giving you that impression made Dazai feel like he was pulling his own teeth out.

“Y/n. Good morning.”

“Doesn't really seem like a good morning for you, now does it?”

Dazai blinked at you.

“Sorry?“

He looked down as you pressed something towards his chest. It took him a moment to process that it was a gift bag, for what occassion he couldn't quite recall. He looked right back up at you, trying to get an answer from you with a strained smile. You only responded with a smirk.

”Open it?“

”I was planning on that. But for what reason?“

He shifted through the contents a bit, trying to pull back the wrapping paper as little as possible so he could tell what the gift was without forcing you to see his disappointment.

In his current state he couldn't even bring himself to feign joy at a present he at least knew wouldn't have any sort of use or meaning to him.

To most people he wouldn't care about it, but to you, a frown on your face caused by his actions would bring something akin to a sort of sadness to him. A creeping crawling sadness that would never leave him, forcing him to remember that expression to his grave.

He didn't want to hurt you, not even in a moment this small. You felt big and important.

“Oh. Didn't you get my message?”

Your tone had changed - it was wet, despite the smile you wore on your face.

Dazai wanted to lie and make that tone disappear, but he felt compelled to tell the truth for once in his life. He pulled the bag closer to his chest, keeping him grounded in some way.

“I'm sorry Y/n, but it's not my birthday. Or am I forgetting something?“

You shook your head, stepping closer into Dazai's space.

”No, I know that it's not your birthday today. Did you read my message?“

Looking between your eyes, he tried to give the impression he was making eye contact - the last thing he wanted to do right now. Right now he wanted to curl up and let the crawl underneath his skin consume him, but all he could do was smile as he tried to form an honest response to your question.

”Well um. My phone was dead last night, so I didn't really check any messages.“

Not a lie. But it was flimsy, given the importance.

He dared looked down to your eyes, which were gentle in the moment - not even giving him the glare he usually would get in these sorts of moments.

It was mystifying to him to feel your hand on his arm and feel you brush past him, walking into his disgusting apartment. He couldn't even react as you stepped inside, past shoes thrown about the entrance and past the old takeout containers that stayed rotting on his floor for months on end.

You looked back at him as you found the best thing to sit on inside of his apartment - an old torn up bar stool that he had stolen some years ago. There was a story behind it, but Dazai was more concerned over the fact that you could see the stacks of papers strewn across the small kitchen counter, or the half empty beer bottles or the unwashed landry that laid around on his floor.

All of it was visible from that stool, and he knew your eyes were drinking in every single part of it.

All of his disgusting human nature that he hid behind closed doors.

“Y/n.”

Dazai conceded, closing his front door and standing there like a child scolded by his mother.

“What was the message you sent last night?”

He wanted to push for more, and beg if it was important or not - what the gift in his hands was really meant to be. A part of him wanted to scream at you and kick you out of his apartment as if he were a scorned wild animal - but he shoved that anger down deep into the closet of his mind.

You looked at him, your face completely serene. Despite the powerplay you had taken, a part of you was still visibly nervous, your hands picking at old crust embedded onto his countertop.

“I asked you if you wanted to go out with me.“

A piece of the crust came off, flicking itself somewhere off onto his dirty floor.

”Like. On a date. A romantic one.“

You glanced up at him, brave enough to meet his eyes. There was embarrassment and shame in your own now, but you held steady in your position.

”Is that what the gift was? You got me chocolates?“

Slowly you nodded, your hair glowing despite the lowlight of his apartment. Dazai clutched the bag to his chest, feeling the box inside crumple slightly due to his mishandling.

”Y/n, I'm uh.“

Dazai's mouth felt dry as he tried to find a way to word his apology. There was a pain that wouldn't go away, cold and unwavering in on his skin - and he knew it was all in his head as he looked right at your face, one that desperately tried to hide your disappointment.

”I know you don't love me, so why all of this? This isn't right.“

A moment of silence. Sitting there, you blinked. Letting his words simmer in your silence.

”How do you know that?“

”Well, don't you like Kunikida? You know, Mr.Right?“

You snorted, finally breaking your gaze away from Dazai's nose.

”Just because you know everything Dazai doesn't mean you know me. Kunikida is great, but we would never work like that. You should know that, Mr. Genius.“

The brunette couldn't help but snort, a part of him relieved.

”I like you. That's why I asked you out.“

”That's still stupid.“

Dazai finally felt more comfortable in his own skin again, enough to let himself lean against the wall, still clutching the bag of chocolates to his chest as if it were a lifeline.

”My feelings are stupid?“

You were trying to not sound hurt.

”No, no. Liking me is stupid. I won't live long Y/n. Why would you ever want to like me. Want to date me?”

You shook your head, as if shaking off the words he just said.

“I don't believe that. You aren't stupid and you've lived this long, so I want to see you live longer.”

The barstool screeched as you moved to stand up, moving closer to Dazai as you tried to articulate your words, fidgeting with your hands as you did so. It was like writing that text all over again but now you could see his face in real time, which terrified you even more.

“I don't want to like you, I didn't even choose that - you just are likable. Dazai, you are a good person even if you don't think you are.”

Dazai furrowed his brows and looked away from you, trying to pretend that the words you said were a lie.

“Sorry if you don't like me back the same way, um.”

You fiddled with nothing, waiting for his reaction. He was blocking the doorway, and his silence was intimidating when compared with his stare.

“Y/n, you really think I'm a good person?”

Dazai stepped closer, leaving only just the right amount of space between the two of you to where you could begin to see the finer details on his tan skin.

Carefully, you nodded, knowing that in this distance you could easily headbutt the poor man if you weren't careful.

“Even if I told you about the things I did, you would still think I'm a good person?”

Again, you slowly nodded, a smile breaking your face apart as if what he said was a joke. He killed people, and you thought it was a joke?

“Do you know the things that I've done?”

You stared at him for a moment.

“Are you actually gonna be brave enough to tell me?”

There was a hand on his arm, warm and grounding. He looked at your smiling eyes, warm and inviting. It was as if he was standing in the sun, cold and shivering.

“I don't know. But Y/n, I've done terrible things before. Nothing you would have seen at the agency. There's a reason I deserve to die-”

“No one should die.”

You cut him off, your grip tighter, shaking him as if trying to shake away the cold feeling underneath his skin. To bring your warmth into his bones.

“Dazai, I'm not leaving until you give me an answer. Please.”

His throat was dry as he swallowed nothing.

“I do like you. But don't you deserve better?”

“I am as bad as you are.“

Shaking his head, Dazai put his hand on your shoulder, shaking you slightly.

“No you aren't, seriously you don't know what you're talking about Y/n.”

“If you're a bad man Dazai, then so am I. You aren't changing my feelings just because you regret things you've done.”

The two of you were close, almost sweating from the warmth of his apartment retained from the summer heat, combined with your combined body heat. It reminded you that you had personal space, although looking at Dazai you wanted to keep him close, to shake whatever was wrong with him out of his head and try and just hold him close.

It was an impossible thought, not realistic but it was something nice to think about. “All we're doing is talking in circles right now. Dazai.”

”I can keep going.“

”It's infuriating.“

”Then why do you like it?“

”Cause you're you. And you like me too.”

Dazai tried to hide his face despite how close the two of you were. It was futile, as you could still see the nervous smile on his face.

“That's semantics, actually.”

“No, you did say it. So.“

”So?“

A shrug. There was a smile on your face despite how nonchalant you tried to act, as if this was something that happened to you every day.

”We're going to go on a date. After you shower.“

Dazai blinked, his hand nervously clutching your sleeve. He didn't even realize he was still holding onto your shoulder as he fiddled with the soft fabric.

”Today?“

You nodded, your smile becoming mischevious.

“You could have had more time to prepare if you read my message, but now we're here instead. Don't worry, I'll wait for you.”

Taking a step back from the little world the two of you had made, you took in all of Dazai for a second - clothes from yesterday, his dischevled clothes and his tired looking eyes. You held his hands in you hands as you moved to take the bag of choclates from his as you moved to put it somewhere safe from his mess of a home.

Dazai watched you, still processing the scene before him.

”Where do you want to go have a date at?“

”We'll figure it out. First, go shower.“

Dazai snorted, the closest he had to a real laugh in a while.

Yeah this is a stupid classic "oh they get together confession thing" but i wanted to idk write another dazai depression fic. i strayed too far from the prompt ig. sorry !!!

[unproduciblesmackdown]

sometimes the wild thing with depression is looking back and trying to figure out when it started and never really being able to draw a line for anything like "this was the earliest age it All Began(tm)," probably because there's not generally such an On-Off Switch type process to it. i know usually circa ten yrs old or later in the teens is usually what people point to but sometimes more of a period of exacerbation rather than origin, and who can say it's not also having the emotional and psychological capabilities and capacities that young children don't that bring a greater sense of perspective and awareness, idk anyways so i'm not sure if i was ever not-depressed or anything....i know i was always uncomfortable outside what was familiar and "shy" and i know that as soon as i was around other kids in a way more socially organized than running around together, namely preschool at 4 yrs old, i was aware of not feeling like i fit in and noticing i couldnt make friends like other people could. ive been good at bs-ing school from the start and happen to pick up things very quickly so even though i probably had the same habits as kids with the worst grades and had no particular ambitions re: academia (beyond avoiding parental wrath and later maintaining the identity that kinda protected me a bit in school) since i got really good grades and was quiet and pretty much just read in a corner when left to myself from kindergarten through middle school, i was probably considered a usually ideal student. i remember a couple of people who i felt i was genuinely friends with, a kid named michael who i think went to a different school after a couple of grades, and a kid named jacqueline in 2nd grade who was like me so quiet in retrospect i'm not sure if she knew much english but we played legos together and stuff but then we got in trouble for not paying attention during not even a lesson but i had to move seats b/c arbitrary Making An Example and since we were both so quiet we just didnt interact much anymore to avoid further attention. i made other friends technically but generally it took a long time to be comfortable with them and we were never close and in the meantime i dont think i ever much liked school. i remember one random sunday evening just getting upset about not wanting to go back the next day just because it was boring and meantime at home of course it sucked but i didnt quite realize it til i was older and it helped of course being young enough to be able to go outside for hours and be perfectly entertained playing in the dirt and trees and stuff. i read a lot at home too i remember having pretty skeptical thoughts about Life from earlyish on but, besides spending a crap ton of time just in my own head (reading, playing in dirt) i think i had ideas that life and the world was pretty amazing. like earlier on of course it was like "is magic real??" but then later its just stuff like reading in books about how kids had good friends and families and got to pursue their interests and do things and work out drama and have nice endings with a lot of hope for the future. for all i could tell the only thing keeping that from being my life was that i wasnt old enough, or probably i hoped that it was just a matter of time. it was less like i was extrapolating from my own limited observations of the worse aspects of life that life must be great and more like i was already noticing that my world was lacking and just hoping that it would grow out of it; not to mention being given the hint that stuff like abuse was my own fault and shortcomings i started getting more aware of being fed up with things / that they weren't inherently going to change around like late elementary school / middle school but it would take another year or two to really get the extent of it, and in the meantime by 14 or 15 at the latest i was consciously suicidal so like, moving fast there. i probably by that point had already caught on to the fact that my world had just been kind of shitty and that it wasnt going to change or seem better after a certain amount of time like i'd thought it would. and then add also having a better understanding of the rest of the world just by being older and getting more experience and realizing that its a lot more chaotic than initially taught to you and that being depressed and having developed few interests and zero ambitions and having antagonistic parents and very few friends doesnt do much to give you as much a cushion from that chaos as it could tangent: honestly i like programs that teach instructors how to recognize things that look like Behavior Issues as maybe more being signs of external issues. i wasnt the best at paying attention and i was often quiet in school whether in class or not and it mightve been a problem if i didnt get good grades but since i did i could just be in the background. i don't particularly resent this or anything because i know how teaching is and i myself didnt really understand i had serious problems at home until much later, but in retrospect i think i always had signs. i remember one particular incident when i was about 8 really shouldve been a bit of a warning sign. i know nobody can really do anything even if they know things are bad but considering i had to learn what abuse looked like by myself and i didnt feel supported by any adult and even when i knew what was going on when i was much older i still just didnt tell anyone in any position of authority because i had learned i had to protect myself by keeping personal things totally confidential and that if i exhibited any signs of struggling i would be blamed and chastised for it. wouldve been nice to at least be informed what was going on at an earlier time and maybe given some sense of confidence or at least a sense it wasn't completely my fault. turns out what gave me any ounce of confidence at all was being like 19 and being so blamed and maligned that it backfired and i started feeling like if i was as awful as i was made out to be then surely i didnt need to feel ashamed and responsible for everything that was being done to me. if i already deserved to be dead then what more could i bring on myself by daring to be so terrible as to feel i shouldnt be treated like i was! checkmate atheists anyhow, i feel like my Good Concepts About The World kind of evolved from "later on everyone has adventures" to "later on everyone goes to middle school / high school and makes friends and bonds with their family and follows their dreams" to something just more vaguely escapist with abstracted ideas about simply feeling comfortable and nice, with maybe general imagery, usually like summer sunsets or just some nice stars or something. i thought about it once and it made a lot of sense, thinking about stuff in terms of the concept of feeling ok and good things existing in the world and being able to sense it despite it also being at a distance or otherwise removed like dont get me wrong just because i wanna be dead i dont have some kind of notion that everyone else's experience of life is the same as mine i.e. that life and/or the world is inherently shit, i know its no more objectively bad than it is objectively good. i still like to think about the good side of all of it. i think its a total mistake to have the idea that if someone is suicidal or even just depressed that it necessarily has anything to do with what they think of the philosophy of the concept of Life, its more personal and immediate than that. honestly i hate all the advice about how you need to write a poem for your suicidal friend to teach them the magic of life or do some otherwise melodramatic bad y.a. novel shit that'll give them a New Perspective on the wonders of life literally overnight. not only is it always disgustingly patronizing and often counterproductively Tough Love-esque but also totally like unrelated to the root of the problem of "what if i'm worried about a friend making a suicide attempt." if you're personally wanting to do something i s2g literally just provide a distraction. talk about random shit or play online scrabble or go over and make midnight snacks, not like set a flower on fire while dropping a porcelain teapot on the floor and lecturing them about how this Doesnt Solve Any Problems or is a permanent solution to a temporary problem like no. just be a distraction jfc and dont insult anyone by generalizing their experience and guessing at what's probably an extremely complex and personal matter and turning it into empty clichés anyways: this was the longest way to get to the idea that isnt it wild when, like how you can Hear a sound in your head and despite recreating it decently its different from actually hearing it externally, you can sometimes remember what it was like to feel nice about the concept of life? i cant really summon earlier things but sometimes i can remember flashes of having those later sad-person-in-their-own-head moments of thinking of distant abstract concepts like seeing the sky as a medium for connection to the infinite experiences of humanity, and i can get like the equivalent of a visual image of a recreated feeling from back when i still had a few lingering overly-optimistic notions that things would be good soon. don't get me wrong, again im still aware of the good things in life and i still have good experiences and still feel good feelings. but i dont harbor expectations that the course of life must and will average itself out or lean towards improvement for any reason, like knowing that good things happening to you out of the blue is the same as how terrible things can happen for exactly the same reason—namely no reason at all. so i just dont have the same feelings i used to about my own personal life, and i dont feel the things i used to when i hoped it still could be Only A Matter Of Time. so its wild when for some reason i mentally stumble on the memory of having those feelings and theyre still recent enough that i get a moment of recreating the feeling like i do when i can picture something in my head, and its totally different and dissonant than what's currently true for me. it wasn't a more accurate perspective to think that life being bad meant it had to improve, but its obviously a nicer feeling. and it sounds like overused to the point of meaningless comparison but its like getting your head above water for a second in terms of the momentary contrast of sensation tldr its wild when you depressioning 24/7 and dead inside and have an instant of remembering What It Was Like To Feel Things