notes: bad coping mechanisms (alcoholism), suicidal ideation

dazai stared at the half empty bottle on the coffee table in front of him, debating whether or not he should pour himself a drink. he had a problem, he knew that, but he didn't really care. you were in another city for a mission, so he had spent a week or so in solitude. at first it was liberating and nice, he could eat whatever he wanted, sleep in until late noon, but it soon turned sour. being alone meant he had very little to distract himself with except his own thoughts and that soon led him down a terrifyingly depressing path.

it was no secret that dazai osamu hated life. he would always make jokes about suicide, even trivialise his own suicide attempts, but behind all of the misplaced gaiety, it was clear to see his distaste for his own existence ran deep. he hated himself, he felt like a leaking bucket. he was broken and therefore useless. there was no reason for him to be alive, just dead weight gathering metaphorical dust. "leaking buckets can be fixed! ever heard of flextape?" you had once countered and at the time, dazai just changed the subject, not really bothering to explain that, in fact, he didn't think he should be fixed. his despair and self-loathing had become such an integral part of his personality  that he didn't know what would be left of him if he was better.

dazai sighed, resting his head on the sofa cushion as he stared up at the ceiling. he wished he could die but he can't.  the process of dying was quick and simple, a simple bullet to the head or a slash to the throat or whatever, but having you around, you who was so caring and joyous, it would be problematic. it was his fault for getting involved with you and making his plans for a wholesome suicide more complicated.

dazai took a drink. he was thinking so much that it hurt his head. he just wanted to die. he wanted to die, to escape this meaningless, painful existence. what he is looking for is out of reach for someone like him so he should just give up.

"i'm home!" you called out suddenly and while dazai knew he should stand to greet you, he didn't have the energy. you peered around the door, frowning when you saw him. dazai was sat on the floor, his head resting on the sofa, his eyes bloodshot, empty alcohol bottles surrounding him. you walked towards him wordlessly, shedding yourself from your coat as you took a seat beside him. dazai watched you pull your knees into your chest as you curled up, leaning against his side. he knew he should ask you about the mission, about your week, but he was too tired to say anything.

hesitantly, as if he was scared to, dazai wrapped his arms around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling and exhaling shakily. a small giggle bubbled from your throat as he clung to you like a child, but he was scared that if he let go you'd leave and he'd be all alone, perhaps even for good.