Dazai didn't have hard weeks very often anymore. The ADA had made life a bit more..bearable. Though.. he couldn't seem to shake the feeling of a limp body as he laid in his bed, minutes, hours, days passing by as he couldn't seem to lift even a finger. He felt exhausted. Why did he feel tired? He couldn't seem to answer that question, considering he had been sleeping, or just..lying in bed, staring off into space as sickening air surrounded him. Nothing about it was.. bad, really, he just couldn't stand it.
Dazai often went long periods of time without eating. He hated it. The feeling of things.. under his skin.. his flesh, his bones, his organs. Eating only made it worse. The feeling of it travelling down his throat, the feeling of him digesting it.. it made him sick. Unfortunately for him, despite not worthy of being called human in his condition, he had the body of one. And that body required food.
He sighed. Heavily. Gripping the bedsheets tightly for a moment as he felt pain rush to his head, along with his back. He hated being like this. He hated not knowing how to feel. He hated feeling as if nothing even mattered. He hated not caring.
He lifted himself up, the rush of pain to his head only increasing as he moved. He sluggishly forced himself into the kitchen, grabbing a cup from the cupboard as he glanced half heartedly at the water tap, turning it on and watching the water flow for a moment before moving the cup to underneath the stream, watching it fill up. He turned off the tap just as the cup was going to overflow, pouring some of it out into the sink. He almost wished to pour the rest in, but resisted. He was fine with dying, but not something painful. Or stupid, like starvation..
He lifted the glass to his mouth, swallowing a small bit of it, only to feel a burning sensation pour down his throat and arrive in his empty stomach. He couldn't bring himself to care about this, simply putting the cup down on the counter and walking back to his bed.
He sat down, he didn't wanna lay down again. He knew it would just lead him into a cycle. He knew he'd have more unexcused absent days from work, but.. whatever. He got up again, grabbing the beige coat he wore almost every day if he left his home, but.. he had it halfway up his arms, why can't he just do this? So pathetic.. the sleeves of the coat dropped down slowly, sliding off of his arms and falling onto the ground. He looked down, a feeling he expected not arriving. Simply, a numb expression lay on his face as he stared at the ground. He closed his eyes, only for them to open immediately as he heard aggressive knocks on his door..Kunikida.. "Dazai open up! It's been four days, get your ass into the office!" He glanced at the door. "One second~ just finishing getting ready! Sorry it took so long!" He smiled absently at the annoyed sigh from Kunikida behind the door.
He grabbed his coat and put it on, trying to move quickly even if he had no motivation for a single thing. He put on his shoes and finally opened the door. "Finally. Where have you been, Dazai?!" "..I felt sick, sorry for not telling you!" Kunikida groaned and grabbed his arm, dragging him out of his house and towards the direction of the office. He smiled. He always did though, so there wasn't much meaning it anymore, at least to him. "Remember to eat today, you look like you haven't eaten in a week.." Kunikida said, sounding frustrated. He couldn't really tell if he was mad or worried. He was right, though..
The office felt more like home than his actual house did, maybe cause his actual house only turned him into an empty husk that couldn't bring himself to be useful. Couldn't even motivate himself to do basic needs, not that he deserved that. Maybe he could drink alcohol, but water felt like poison, acid sometimes. And food..ugh.. he hated it. It disgusted him.
As Kunikida brought him to the door, he let go of Dazai and opened it. "I found him." "Dazai?! Are you oka-" Atsushis concerns were cut off by Kunikida rambling about Dazai simply being lazy and deciding not to show up again. "Again? It's been so long since I did this though~!" Kunikida sighed, shaking his head and walking away to go do busy work at his desk. Dazai glanced at Atsushi, who looked dumbfounded. He's still new, so he wouldn't realize this was normal. "..I'm fine, Atsushi. I just felt sick." "Why were you gone for four days?! You didn't even tell any of us??" He smiled at Atsushi, walking away towards his desk. He sat down, feeling tired. No, exhausted. He didn't feel like doing much. He wasn't sure why he was here. He's not even that useful. He's not even human.
He stood up quietly, seemingly Kunikida didn't notice, so he left the area and walked towards the couch. He glanced around the area before finding his headphones. He didn't feel like listening to music, but on the plus side the others won't be weirded out by him just sitting on the couch. He sighed. Leaning backwards and staring up at the ceiling. He was mostly relying on keeping up appearances for no one to notice he was off. He didn't even want, nor need to be here. They could do this without him. He wasn't worth much. Besides his ability, he wasn't really anything at all. Can't even bring himself to care about death.
He felt as if he only sat for ten minutes drifting into dark thoughts, though it seems it was longer considering he was awoken from being half asleep to Kunikida yelling at him for being lazy again. "Ahh~ sorry Kunikida, on the plus side! This helps with upper arm strength!" "Really? It does?" "Yeah, you should write this down!" Kunikida sat down on the couch beside Dazai and opened up his notebook, immediately scribbling down what dazai had said well whispering the advice to himself. "I'm messing with you." Kunikida crushed the pen in his hand, punching Dazai harshly and storming away from the area. Dazai smiled at him, lying down on the couch and closing his eyes. He sighed. He felt a bit better. Why did he feel better? He couldn't seem to grasp the words for this. Maybe it was being with the ADA. Maybe it was the reminder he sucked. Maybe it was nothing, and he didn't feel better. Maybe he's just making up things to feel good about himself. He sighed, pain rushing to his stomach for a moment. He forgot about eating, but it's not like Kunikida will remind him again so it's fine..he can wait one more day.. he smiled lightly, not fully sure why.
The day passed by slowly. He didn't do much today, and he was pretty sure Kunikida was pissed at him. He walked a couple steps towards the door, though he felt his legs get weak. Probably the lack of food. Using energy he doesn't have. Whatever, it doesn't matter. He's fine. He kept walking, mustering enough strength to walk from the agency to his house, only to lay down in his bed again. Or, he did for a moment. Before his mind drifted, his head turning to glance at the bandaged arm to his left, a feeling he hadn't felt in a while overcame him. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he felt this urge. He didn't care, either, though.
He closed his eyes, he felt to tired to do this. Though this didn't particularly help his situation, only making him feel worse about himself. He can't even motivate himself to cut. Something bad for him, and yet he can't seem to find the motivation to indulge in habits. He sighed frustratedly, slowly lifting himself and dragging himself towards his washroom. He opened the door and stepped into the cold air, a chill brushing against his skin. He opened the cabinet above the bathrooms sink, searching for something he hadn't seen in a while. He finally found after rummaging throughout the cabinet for a while, the item was a small knife. It was portable, if he wanted to bring it places he could. He didn't. It's not a weapon to others. To himself, sure.
He took the knife along with a roll of bandages, considering he'd need to replace his old ones.
... he pulled off his bandages of his right arm, glancing at the scars littered across it. They weren't visible enough. Not enough red. Too.. clean.. he ran a finger across his arm, feeling the scars against his hand. He finally used the knife, scanning his arm. He could cut his wrists, but that would be too visible if he bled too much, and there's already too many scars there from when he was younger. He finally made a gash on the under part of his arm, a large but very shallow cut. It hurt. That was good. He didn't know how to feel.. feelings, very often. So cutting reminded him of that feeling he knew he had.
He repeated this a couple times, but didn't put more than 4 large cuts, mostly shallow besides one. It was bleeding more than the others, but he didn't mind. He used the old bandages to clean up the blood, staring at the crimson mark left on the bandages for a moment. He put down the bandages beside him, using new ones to wrap around his arm and cover his scars.
He felt terrible.
Sleep on it, that makes it go away.
It always does.
He'll be fine.