Double Black

half a day in the depths of tartarus

Tartarus: In Greek mythology, Tartarus is the deep abyss that is used as a dungeon of torment and suffering for the wicked.

***

It was a bad day. It was truly a really shitty day.

Dazai hasn't had a day this bad in at least two weeks. Which was a moderate sized deal in itself. It would have been a really big deal if this was five years ago, but that was not the case. Fifteen year old Dazai Osamu resided in the pits of Tartarus, metaphorically of course.

But twenty two year old Dazai was doing better. He'd learned to build himself, and his life back, over time. 

He still constantly joked about suicide. But nobody could really tell exactly how many of those 'jokes' were actually jokes. He said it light-heartedly. It was on purpose. He wouldn't let anybody find out about how deep his depression actually runs, of course.

But then again, what did he know about depression? He's ever been diagnosed. Who would he go to, for such a thing? He's read about such things in books. Depression, its diagnosis, therapy and anti-depressants. He's never had any proper mental help.

The only doctor he's been around in his lifetime was Mori, the Port Mafia boss. He was an absolute trash of a person. Dazai's mental abuse back in the mafia had purely the courtesy of the boss. It had been a shitty situation, but oh well.

For some reason, today was worse than most. He woke up early in the morning, moreover to an empty bed. His bed usually housed a short, adorable redhead. Today was not one of those days. Today he woke up alone, unrested, his eyes burning with sleep deprivation and his shoulders stiff from bad posture.

If Chuuya had been here, he would have slept better. Dazai knew that. Chuuya knew that too. That's why the mafioso tried his best to be home every night. It used to be an unspoken thing during their teenage years; Dazai's attachment based sleep disorder. He never slept well without Chuuya. After all, he's had seven years of sleeping in the same bed as the redhead.

A few months into their sleeping arrangement, just at the age of fifteen, Dazai had unknowingly developed his sleep disorder. Another few months later, Chuuya had realised it too, when he'd returned home from a week long mission overseas, just to find a shitty beanpole delirious with exhaustion.

Dazai had gotten barely four hours of sleep in the whole week. Chuuya had been worried to death when he realised. They didn't talk about it, but ever since then, Chuuya made sure that him and Dazai were assigned on missions together.

They had finally talked about it after Dazai had left the Mafia. He had shown up to Chuuya's secret apartment the very night he'd left, begging for a few hours of sleep. Of course, Chuuya had insisted that Dazai stay with him at his top secret apartment during his two years of hiding period. It had worked just fine.

Chuuya had always been the only one who accurately picked up on Dazai's mood one hundred percent of the time. He knew the now detective's ticks like the back of his hand. He knew when we was just joking, and when he was going through actual depressive episodes. Chuuya knew him the best.

The mafia executive always made a point to be home at night, just so his shitty idiot of a partner could get some rest. Unfortunately for both of them, Chuuya was away on a four day mission at the moment. He'd left three days ago. 

The first day apart had been fine for Dazai. He had gone to work. He had annoyed his co-workers. He had skipped all his meals even though Chuuya had left him food in the refrigerator. He'd gone to sleep at night, and of course, had failed to get a wink of sleep.

This continued for the next two days as well. Now, three days later, and a day away from Chuuya's return, Dazai had hit his breaking point. He was running on two hours of sleep in the past three days, and he'd eaten maybe two rice balls during this duration. That too because Tanizaki had offered him some at work yesterday.