Work Text:
Dazai despised the sun. He had been born into the darkness, with no way to escape. His world had always remained devoid of colour or beauty. It was painted a bleak shade of black, like an abyss- never-ending- with the occasional blotch of red trickling across the edges. So the sight of people basking in the sun’s warm embrace, laughing and washing away their concerns, never failed to eject him from the subtle happiness he sometimes ( barely ) felt. His petulant behaviour was warranted by his inability to envision himself in their position.
To release himself from spending too much valuable time mulling over his hatred, he had invested himself into the Mafia. He worked himself to the bone, despite his flippant appearance towards his subordinates on the matter. But sometimes, sometimes, he couldn’t help the defiant thoughts from running amok in his mind, leaving him questioning his each step. Maybe the Mafia was the reason why he couldn’t escape the darkness that loomed over him. But he always shook away the thoughts with resilience. Because he knew he wouldn’t be able to escape despite his desire to do so.
His mind was a fortress guarded by metaphorical gates of steel that he never unbarred. His mind was a valuable prize- a tool. His body and emotions were merely inextricable parts that came along with it. At least, that’s how Mori saw him (which was utterly mortifying). Ever since he had taken Dazai in, he had made it a point to treat him in a manner to make his point lucid. Isolating him from the world that laid beyond the Mafia to keep him for himself- correction to keep his mind for himself. Dazai didn’t complain. It felt good to be needed.
However, occasionally his emotions overwhelmed him (such occasions were alternatively labelled as ‘ a pain in his ass’ ). And then everything he had been desperately trying to avoid came flooding up, drowning him in a tsunami of pain until he could barely breathe. Each cruel word Mori had ever uttered to him seared, as if lava had been tossed across his chest. It stung more than the blade he pierced his pale skin with. His nimble heart quivered as the hatred he held for himself expanded.
Until he finally couldn’t stand the devoid that filled his heart. Or the loneliness that gradually started to drive him crazy. Or Mori’s treatment towards him. Or the fact that he’ll never know what laid beyond the Mafia. Dazai attempted to take his own life. But the interference of hesitation halted him, as a sudden fear clouded his judgement, a fear he couldn’t begin to comprehend (he still can’t).
So he progressed on with life, carving hideous scars on his body that he covered with tangled bandages, which seem almost inseparable from his body. He kept himself deeply devoted to the Mafia’s affairs, keeping his head drooped towards the ground. His desire to see the light beyond the Mafia slowly faded away, after each agonising day he forced himself through. But he couldn’t gather the courage to end his suffering. His honeyed words on a silver tongue eased his subordinates into believing his lies, and the aloof demeanor helped. That’s where he came into the picture. Chuuya Nakahara.
Chuuya was the sun, he drew people in with the warmth that radiated from him. And Dazai was hopelessly crashing into him. He was a blotch of fiery red hair and sapphire blue eyes that seemed to lay bare Dazai’s soul and unbind the steel gates that surrounded his mind.
At first, Dazai steered away from the emotions that swayed him whenever Chuuya appeared. He eluded himself to believe that he could push them down, but they kept on surfacing. Finally he released himself from the prison of his own doubts, and allowed himself to be blinded by the sun. Dazai’s hatred for the sun turned into something akin to hope. As he grasped Chuuya’s hand, looking into his sapphire orbs brimming with confidence accompanied with an impish grin, his chest felt light. The sun was burning him, but for once he could envision himself in its embrace.