Fifty One • Dreams

                                    

                                          
It's a stabbing reminder that he is easily capable of hurting someone without even trying
                          
 • • •
                          
That someone like Dazai doesn't even realize when they're actually hurting someone. Before—before he met Chuuya or Oda, none of that mattered, because he didn't care about them or their feelings. Then they slowly came into Dazai's life and he didn't realize what was happening until Chuuya reminded him that he was always a person that never cared about others.
                          
He likes to—he wants to say that he's changed. 
                          
He wants that reassurance that he is becoming a better person. Even if it's just to the three people he's always around. It's understandable, Chuuya has said that he's changed, but...
                          
It's not the same—
                          
Dazai wants him to tell him the exact opposite of what Chuuya said when they were fifteen. He needs that reassurance so, so bad. But he can't just ask him to do that, he is going to actually do better. He doesn't want to fall back into that hole that he dug himself. Every time he falls back in, it only gets deeper, making it so that it takes him longer to climb up.
                          
And more than half of the time, it's him pushing himself back in.
                          
Like another version of himself wants him to stay this way, wants him to always be in that dark place that he hates so much. Sometimes he doesn't feel like he deserves to get better because of what Chuuya said. Looking back, he didn't realize what he was doing until someone mentioned it. 
                          
Ever since he met Chuuya, finally meeting someone his age, then seeing him just as immature as the other and smiling. Dazai was desperately trying to find a reason why they were the same, because he wanted someone to understand. He wanted to be understood. And he thought that Chuuya would understand, but he didn't because Dazai can be an asshole and Chuuya—he's always genuinely cared about people, always loyal. 
                          
All he wanted was to feel like everyone else his age. 
                          
• • •
                          
When they finally get back, they walk into Mori's office. He's—obviously—sitting at the desk, but his jaw is clenched, his hands gripped together, and his gloves are off. He hears the familiar walking pattern and immediately looks up at the two of them.
                          
"What was that?" Mori asks them, voice stern, because it was not according to plan. "The place blew up, be thankful that no one was in that place when the bomb went off." He starts re-enacting the explosion at the club, "The club," he glances down at his hands, "gone."
                          
Dazai looks over to the side, staring at the wall while mumbling under his breath, "at least it wasn't the club we normally go to." Mori has to bite back a laugh—chewing on the inside of his cheek as he tries to remain serious and calm. You know, like a leader. He doesn't even question why they go to clubs when they're underage but, does it really matter now? "What exactly was the target like?" 
                          
"Weren't you the ones tracking him down?" Dazai asks, Mori nods at him because it was a logical answer. How would they not know anything about the man after watching him for days? "But he was stupid—"
                          
"..." Mori hums instead. "Well, at least you killed the target and their...backup."
                          
"Yeah," Dazai says, just to say something— "Anything else?" Mori shakes his head, "No, that's all. You're dismissed." 
                          
Thank God. Dazai really wants to go back to his room just to see you. 
                          
After saying 'goodnight' to Chuuya, he walks over to his own room, getting his keys from his pocket. Sidenote, Chuuya is glad to finally be able to get out of that dress. He opens the door quietly, just to be sure that you aren't sleeping and that he isn't walking in like he had the time of his life. Because he seriously didn't, and he really wants to wash the blood off his clothes.