quicksand (Dazai X Reader)

deal with the devil

// TW: mental health issues// 

The browned haired man opened his eyes slowly, he felt like he had been sleeping for days, his body felt heavy but his head felt light. Memories of the night before came into his mind and he smirked to himself, turning to face the lonely space where the young woman he came to know way too well yesterday was supposed to be. A cold sensation ran through his back as he sat down quickly.

'Did she leave?' the thought exploded in his mind, fearing that the feeling of rejection would weigh on his chest.

He stood up quickly, putting some underwear on and walked outside the room, not even bothering to put his bandages back on. He did not call for her, the possibility of a silent response would sink him into a disappointment he was not prepared to face. He stood at the end of the hallway that connected the living room with the kitchen, he was holding his breath, the moment he peeked his head at the two rooms it would be deciding the fate of the day, whether his back would be heavy or free from carrying guilt.

He turned his face to the kitchen, and there she was, he exhaled the worries that were already haunting him, scaring him with 'what if's. She was wearing his shirt and nothing more, her back to him as she hummed some song and mixed something in a bowl. 'She looks so...normal' he thought as he smiled softly at her without her noticing. He had not moved an inch, it was as if he was in a museum, watching a performance. The cold bucket fell on his head.

I can't have this, I can't have this, I can't have this, I can't have this
I'll break her, I'll break her, I'll break her, I'll break her, I'll break her
I don't deserve this, I don't deserve this, I don't deserve this, I don't
My hands are red, I'll stain her too, my hands are red, I'll stain her too
Dirty dir ty di rty you are dirty d i r t y dirty DIRTY DIRTY YOU ARE

The thoughts were falling on his head like hail, painfully reminding him the reason he took so long to make a choice, the dark shadow of his past dragged him by the feet, making him lose his ground and falling into the void of despair. He made his way back to the room and closed the door quietly.

He slid himself on the ground and hugged his knees, trying to control his breathing. His train of thought was suffocating him and he could not see the emergency break, he was crashing. He was crashing while his pretty eyes was making pancakes in the kitchen on his shirt. He should be happy.

Why can't I be happy? Why can't I be happy? Why can't I be happy?
Stop stop stop stop stop, make it stop, make it stop, MAKE IT STOP

He started hitting his head in hopes that the executioner in his head would stop tormenting him, each hit was getting harder and harder, physical pain distracting him from the emotional distress that was drowning him in the comfort of his own room.

In the other room there she was, ready to prepare something for both of them to eat. She had woken up first and stayed in bed an hour after opening her eyes, just watching the man who drove her crazy on working days and some weekends, the one who she had almost killed the first time they met. And now she was laying on his chest feeling him breath and sleep peacefully. She only dragged herself out of bed to go to the bathroom and after she decided to make something to eat for the both of them.