#justdoingweirdthings

[pencake07]

@chococinochii / @justdoingweirdthings the magician! Or witch. Whatever you like more.

[purging-foxfire]

@justdoingweirdthings, I’m your Secret Valentine ~ I hope you like it!

Happy Valentine’s Day!!

Warning: It’s under R18, so safe~ As for warnings, there isn’t much but a drunk Dazai, and some and some curse words - Nothing too bad.

He miscalculated. Sighing deeply, he closed his brown eyes, trying to get the images out of his head, but he knew he wouldn’t succeed. How could he? There was just so… much blood. Too much. And then there were the dull eyes staring at him, searching for something in his own cold, brown eyes.

“D-Dazai-san?... I-I d-defeat- “ And then heavy coughs followed and there was more blood, and pained gaps echoed in his ears and - He needed to calm down. Seriously, it was all his fault, his crime, his sin. Chuckling he remembered the conversation he shared with his pupil, before… before everything happened. Atsushi told him he wanted to make him proud – he did. He did, but Dazai wished he didn’t, that he just would have run away, as everything got worse, as the fight turned into torture. Because then the boy wouldn’t spend his time in a hospital, bawling his eyes out, as he realized that he would never again be able to utter a sound. Dazai could clearly remember seeing wires everywhere. Yosano healed him well, but there were somethings even she couldn’t do and whilst Atsushi wasn’t in a deathly condition anymore… The sight of seeing him so valuable broke Dazai all over. So, he walked to the closest bar and drunk the living daylights out of himself, begging for everything only to be a bad, bad dream. But the second he came back to the agency, everyone had an upset look on their face, and he feared the worst. They quickly reassured him, that his pupil was still alive, breathing quite fine. And he sighed in relief, only to realize that the others still didn’t start working or eating sweets or doing something. “Why… are you looking at me like this?” he asked, feeling strangely scared. Then Yosano spoke up, her voice unusually gentle. “Dazai, Atsushi… he is fine, but… he lost his voice.” And he should have known, because he saw the deep wound on the boy’s throat. He really should have been fine, acting like everything was okay and reassuring the others. But he wasn’t fine, and his mask started to crumble after so many years. So, he closed his gaping mouth, turned around and got back to the bar. And now he was there, sitting at the counter, with a half full glass of something strong – probably whisky – and wishing that he would just die of alcohol poisoning. He wasn’t that lucky. After hours and hours of drinking he was thrown out, because the bar was closing. So, he walked aimlessly on the streets, until he ended up in front of the hospital, where Atsushi currently resided. He didn’t go in, couldn’t – it was too much for him. He walked away, not staring back at the building and that’s when he realized it. It hit him like a meteor and the pain was unbearable. Would he ever again be able to look at Atsushi? Dazai feared the answer, as he looked at the ground, his normally cold, knowing eyes filled with uncertainty. 

He woke up with a soundless scream. Even though it didn’t produce sounds, it was strong enough to pierce his throat with an unbearable pain. And then the noise of something akin to coughing filled the room – it shocked him. He didn’t remember coughing like that, didn’t recognize the noise and definitely didn’t like that kind of pain. What happened? He slowly tried to sit up, as he realized that he laid on something soft. White. Everything was white. And then his eyes widened, memories came crashing through his mind, filling him with everything that happened in the past hours. He remembered the knife, he remembered green eyes, he remembered his mentor’s order. Right, his throat has been cut with a knife. How was he still alive? Rushing steps echoed outside the room, and the door was opened in a haste. Yosano stood there, purple eyes looking at him with mild concern and relief. “You’re awake. How… how are you feeling?” It was a dreaded question, he realized through the tone of her voice and the careful way she spoke. Yosano didn’t want to ask but had to. And he tried to answer, tried to say something, to tell her he was okay. Only to realize that he wasn’t, because there was no sound coming out of his mouth. It left him somehow empty and that’s when he noticed how hard the doctor was gripping the door handle. She is suffering just as much… And then Atsushi looked into her purple eyes and smiled gently. He wanted to open his mouth and assure her that he was okay, but he couldn’t. So, he had to do it in another way. Yosano closed her eyes at his smile, but stopped gripping the handle and that was everything he needed to know that she was going to be okay. Some minutes later, she left, telling him that she would come check upon him later. Once she closed the door, Atsushi’s smile slowly fell and he started to shake. Now where Yosano wasn’t there to see, he stopped pretending to be fine, and realization hit him hard. There was nothing fine. Tears poured down his cheeks, and he wanted so badly to scream, but his eyes started to develop a burning sensation and he closed them, grasping the white blankets. It hurt. It hurt. It pained him to know, that he never would be able to utter a word, say a sentence, communicate through speaking with other people. That he would need to change his life and adjust to another lifestyle - but he was okay with that. Agency members and even Akutagawa visited him and told him, in their own wicked ways, to get better. And it reminded him that he had worse, that he survived once and that he could survive a second time for sure. Though the pain still didn’t fully go away. Especially, as he noticed that among of all his visitors, a suicidal man failed to show up.

- 3 Days Later -

He realized that Dazai Osamu was the best at running away. It wasn’t unexpected, as Atsushi understood how the man tried to hold a specific distance to his own emotions or anything unknown to him. Really, Dazai was known for being emotionless and fearless, but in truth he was just good at ignoring his feelings, and preparing himself for everything, to the point he had enough knowledge to know what would happen next and how everything would turn out. It still hurt to know, that the man decided Atsushi simply wasn’t worth it, to stop running away and face the pain. He wasn’t exactly sure why his mentor didn’t want to visit him. Of course, his mind took this chance as fast as it could, to bring his insecurities up once again. You’re even more useless than before, it seemed to whisper to him and he tried to remind himself that he wasn’t. But in the end those thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone. He heard the sound of a knock, and someone opened the door. The person walked to stand before him. It was Akutagawa. And it made him sigh in relief, if he were to be honest. How cruel his thoughts might have been, they wouldn’t have changed that fast. After all Akutagawa, besides Ranpo, was the only person, who wouldn’t treat him with much difference. Maybe that had to do with them still being partners. Everyone tried to sugarcoat everything in his presence, and treated him much too kindly, as if he couldn’t do anything by himself. It brought his insecurities to a new level and only Akutagawa and Ranpo seemed to know that fact, as they still treated him like before. “Has that suicidal idiot still not visited?” His partner’s voice startled him, and he looked up into the dark eyes of Akutagawa. Then the question registered in his mind and he shook his head softly. Atsushi noticed how the mafia member frowned at this. Maybe it was out of concern, or Akutagawa realized that his former mentor was running away. It was probably the latter, but it didn't matter either way, in the end Akutagawa would politely bid goodbye and leave him alone. And Atsushi would smile bitterly, and stare at the place his partner stood before, knowing the dark-haired boy only left, because he could see himself in Atsushi. All abandoned by Dazai, like an useless toy that no one needed anymore. And yet a part of him still hoped, that the person he respected so much, would come and tell Atsushi he did good, reassure him he was strong. Tell him the torture wasn't for nothing. But reality was as harsh as a punch in the face, he came to realize two days later, as he held a notebook and a pen. His new way to communicate with everyone else. Atsushi thought both were futile, as his brown-haired mentor failed to visit him just once.

Dazai Osamu wasn't supposed to sit in a bar. Dazai Osamu wasn't supposed to look like someone killed his puppy (not that it would have affected him that much, really). Dazai Osamu wasn't supposed to drink himself unconscious, like he did. There was some much wrong about that sight, and he couldn't stand it. It pissed him off. So Chuuya did the only thing he could think of. He threw a bottle at the bandage-wasting device's face, wishing that he would just fall over dead. And by the way Akutagawa's eyes lit up, he approved. His dark blue eyes observed how that bastard flew from his chair, followed by the sound of glass breaking and suddenly he felt so, so much better. Maybe the day wouldn't end bad, despite having seen that asshole's face. Then, minutes later he looked at the empty brown eyes and wondered what exactly happened in the past days, that Dazai tried to drink himself to death and that the brat, Akutagawa, felt the need to show him that scene. "Asshole," he greeted. "What the hell are you doing, wasting away in some fucking bar?" That bastard only blinked, and then muttered, "Unimportant." Apparently, that was the last straw to the brat's nerves, as Rashoumon was shoving his former partner against a wall. "You," Akutagawa hissed, "are going to pay that idiot a visit. I'm tired of your shit." And by the way his voice sounded, he really was. And then Chuuya realized something. He remembered rumors about a murderer with green eyes and the ability to use sharp objects in many, many different ways. He remembered a boy with messy hair and sunset-colored eyes. Punching that bandage-wasting bastard, felt like heaven. Looking at the blood pouring down the bastard’s face, the mafia executive nodded to himself, feeling a bit satisfied by his work. “Why?” The idiot found the decency to ask. And it made Chuuya sigh and wonder how he survived a partnership with that emotionless pile of shit. Had that idiot not learnt one or two things about feelings, once he joined that godforsaken agency? “Asshole,” he said, trying to refrain himself for ordering some alcohol, and ignoring the whole situation. “You really need to stop being a robot.” “Stupid, that doesn’t answer my question…,” the agency member muttered. Chuuya raised an eyebrow at him, wondering how wasted his former partner really was. “Not my problem. In the end the answer is anyway something, you should find out for yourself.” Then he turned around, like the grace he was and walked away, to stop in the middle of the room. “Go visit that tiger of yours. He probably has the answers. And don’t get too wasted! Killing you won’t be fun, if you don’t feel anything.” With that he exited the bar, leaving behind a stunned mafia member and a madly chuckling agency member.

“Didn’t we tell you that he already left the hospital?” Dazai looked at Ranpo, smirking slightly. “I was too drunk to realize.” “Idiot,” scoffed the detective, but then he started grinning slyly. “The room is still not cleaned.” And with a knowing gaze, the childish man left him alone, before the door of his pupil’s former room. “It isn’t?” he wondered, opening the door and walking in. “How fortune for me.” Looking at the white room, and the used sheets he pondered how Atsushi must have felt, spending one week in here, unable to speak and all alone. How he must have felt without mentor, without the one person he admired. Dazai opened the window and enjoyed the breeze entering the room. He closed his eyes, wondering where he did go wrong. And slowly he started doubting his decision to ignore his pupil. He was indirectly the reason Atsushi was mute after all. But could he still interact with Atsushi, fix the whole mess, knowing the consequences of these actions? Could he afford to look at the boy, whilst thoughts and feelings that shouldn’t exist, lingered in the back of his mind? No, he couldn’t. But that was his brain’s answer, his heart screamed something completely other – Yes, he could. And he would. One day later he stood before Atsuhi’s apartment, knocking on the door. There was no reason to ring the bell, Atsushi would understand.

Getting back to work without a voice was… unique, but passable. He had to tip people on the shoulder to get their attention, and there were some worried glances and offers for help (which he greatly despised, but luckily, there was Ranpo, reminding everyone that Atsushi wouldn’t die of doing his paperwork. Also, Kunikida slowly started to realize, that Atsushi could handle everything more or less), but in the end nothing much changed. He still could do his paperwork. He still did Dazai’s paperwork, whilst that guy was missing (though if he believed the rumors, that guy was wasting away in some bar). In fact, the only things that changed were his sign language lessons by Ranpo (that guy had a lot diverse hobbies and skills) and the continued use of a notebook as communication. It was annoying, but at least his grammar improved greatly. At the end of the day, he lived one as if nothing changed and continued to smile, used to the change. But that was at the agency. In his apartment where he was alone, things were a lot different. In the end, he still couldn’t cope with the loss of his voice, but he cared too much about the others to mope about it. Whenever he wanted to cry, there was someone reminding him, that they were suffering too. But there was no one in his apartment. So, he spent his time there, wondering if he deserved that fate. A part of him screamed yes, another was unsure. And a small voice in the back of his mind asked him where his stupid mentor was and shouted that he should be there, comforting Atsushi. It was the lovesick part of him, that still hasn’t gotten over the fact, that his mentor clearly didn’t love him. At nights he would look at the starry sky, while writing things down in his notebook to practice. He didn't learn how to write in the orphanage and whilst the agency taught him as good as they could, Atsushi still had problems with the grammar. He sighed as he looked at the words written in his book. I hate you, Dazai... stop running away, idiot. (He was a lovesick tiger.) Then he heard the knocking on the door and closed the notebook, as he stood up to open the door. And a part of him wished he didn't.

Both sat in the living room, unsure what to do. It frustrated Dazai even more. He came here to talk, to apologize, but he just couldn't bring himself to say anything. Because he knew Atsushi wouldn't be able to respond (and he was at fault). He had seen the look in Atsushi's eyes, as he opened the door. Dazai was unwelcome (and yet he stayed). Then he heard the sound of quiet scratching. Atsushi was writing something. As his pupil - Was he still his pupil? - finished, he shoved the notebook into his arms. Dazai blinked at the words written on it, unconsciously bitting his lip. You're really cruel, Dazai-san. Gently, he took the pen out of the other's hands and started to write a reply, before returning the book. I know. He didn't glance at Atsush, he couldn't. Seconds later the book was back in his hands. Use your voice, Dazai-san. Because I can't, was left unspoken. But Dazai didn't, only shook his head, as he closed his eyes. He couldn't speak, he feared it. How must Atsushi feel whenever he heard som- no, Dazai speak? Knowing that he couldn't. Suddenly, the book was on his lap and he opened his eyes, too scared of the words he would read. And he was right. Please That word stood there all alone and yet it broke him. He must have begged so much, a voice whispered in his mind. He must have begged so much for the pain to stop. And without a warning tears started to pour his cheeks down. All his walls torn apart. "I'm sorry, Atsushi!" he screamed. "I'm so sorry!" But the boy only shook his head, before writing something down. Then he held up the notebook and Dazai's hazel eyes widened at the words standing there. You have a beautiful voice, Dazai-san. It's very soothing, so please continue to use it. For a moment he starred, letting the silence surrounded them, but then he spoke up, determination in his eyes. And he told Atsushi the tale of his thoughts, of his visits to some bar, of Akutagawa and Chuuya's concern (more or less). He told him of everything.

Hours later Atsushi feel asleep, snuggled into his mentor's secure embrace. Atsushi was practically made of warmth and Dazai couldn't be happier with the chance to be that close to the boy. But everything had to wait. His desires, Atsushi's desires and everything they wished for had to wait a bit longer. Atsushi's mind was not stable enough, and neither was his. Both still had to struggle with fears and worries, and it would take awhile. But, he thought, his hazel eyes glancing at the sleeping boy, I don't mind waiting the eternity, as long as I'm with you. And something told him, that the other made the same promise. A promise which would be fulfilled after spring passed, after summer passed, after autumn passed and after winter passed. But for now they would be fine with warm hugs and little pecks on the forehead and on the cheek, as they spend their evening, sorting their problems out, whilst drinking coffee and warm chocolate. Together. The three scared words, could continue to reside in their minds for awhile. (I love you.)