Chapter Text
Who mourns those
Who wish for death
Because isn’t this
Their happily ever after
—
There they lay, upon a roof with the heavens cascaded to earth around them, showering them with a thousand shining lights.
“Ahhh chibii the sky’s falling on us”
“No you idiot its called a meteor shower, those are shooting stars, you’re supposed to make a wish on them”
“Ahh, well in that case I wish for a nice, lovely, painless double suicide with a pretty woman”
“Mackerel get this into your stupid braindead head, you’re not allowed to die before me, you know this.”
“Wait, is Chuuya saying he would like to double suicide with me thenn?~”
“FUCK no”
“Well what would you wish for then?”
“I’m not going to say, because then it won’t come true, and obviously I'm not going to tell you, of all people.”
“Aww chibi so mean, I told you mine, is it a love letter or something?~”
“In your dreams stupid mackerel, you could never pull someone as brilliant as me”
—
“Your wish finally came true”
…
“I hope you’re happy”
…
“I’m not”
…
Chuuya collapsed down by the headstone, tracing the words written there as he has done every day for the past week.
Dazai Osamu
2007 - 2025
Beloved friend and son
He takes in a deep shuddering breath.
“You really think… that I’m going to cry… over you?” He chokes up, curling in on himself and wrapping his knees with his arms.
“You left”
You left me
“You said you’d stay”
Was I not enough
“But you’re gone”
I should have tried harder
“You promised”
I should have saved you
“I hate you”
Liar
“I HATE you”
Liar
“I hate you I hate you I hate you”
Liar Liar Liar
“I’m sorry”
Are you really?
“I hate you”
Liar.
“I didn’t get you flowers, you don’t deserve them”
Yet the petals in his back pocket begged to differ.
—
He could see him, bandages and all, sitting on the yellowed grass. Reaching his hand out, ready to pull Chuuya down. Staring at him with mischief in his eyes. Looking like he was about to ask for the adventure of a lifetime. He looked alive, like he did all those years ago, sitting on that roof with the stars dancing above them. But he's dead. He’s gone and he’s not coming back.
His wish came true, Chuuya’s didn’t. I wish you would stay alive.
Alive
Alive
Alive
Live
Live
Live
Why couldn’t you live
Why couldn’t you live
“Why couldn’t you live”
But the hallucination didn’t answer, why would it? It wasn’t really there. It was the product of his tortured mind, a ghost that could not be put to rest. Yet he could still hear its voice, calling after him like Dazai did in those last moments. The heart wrenching scream that stemmed from Chuuya's mistakes.
It’s your fault, Chuuya
You were too late
“SHUT UP”
If you had been faster
“I went as fast as I could”
If you didn’t go into that room
“I didn’t know”
You could have saved me
It’s your fault
“It’s not my fault”
It’s your fault
“It’s not my fault”
It’s your fault
“It’s NOT MY FAULT”
Liar
He could see him again, staring at him. Now battered and bruised, bloody and broken. Cold grey eyes haunting sunken sockets, no longer the plain yet enchanting brown they once were. No longer human like he once was. He was cold, lifeless, a corpse buried 6ft under. 6ft from Chuuya, so close yet so far. 6ft yet the barrier of life and death between them. 6ft too far. If only he could be Orpheus, singing a song of grief to bridge that gap and bring life back to his smile. But he was no musician. And he didn’t deserve to have Dazai back, anyway.
You’re the one who killed me
—
The light was leaving slowly, the shadows growing and engulfing the redhead, who hadn’t moved for the past few hours. Lying still, with his head on the stone, staring into the distance. His mind not residing on earth, but in the state of in between. Whispering to himself, it's not my fault, with a haunted expression encompassing his features.
He continued muttering on like this. On and on, over and over, again and again, until the brilliant light of golden hour dimmed and the stars shone once again. Falling once again, like they had on the roof, back when both of their hearts were beating. But now there was only one, thumping alone to a rhythm that was meant for two.
With the celestial display above, Chuuya looked up, laughing dryly to himself.
“Look Dazai, the sky’s falling again, isn’t that funny?”
…
“I guess I’ll make a wish, for old times sake”
…
“I wish you were alive, that you were here with me now”
…
He stays for moments longer then gets up, brushing the dirt off of him, walking out the gates, leaving a grave with two crumpled flower petals on it behind him.
—
The sun rose in the sky, glaring through the curtains, illuminating the cluttered room. Clothes were strewn across the floor and empty bottles of wine littered the dresser. There were two holes in the wall, painted red with blood from where they had been hit over and over again. In the middle of it all, sat a mess. One with hair so matted it stuck to the scalp, and an outfit that didn’t belong to them that had been worn without changing for weeks on end. It was simple, an oversized hoodie with a fish–a mackerel–on it and cargos. Yet he could not bear to part with it.
You could see he was falling apart, from the bags under his eyes to the stacks of washing in the sink. The faint cries still echoing through the hall and the shattered china from when dishes had been thrown in fits of rage.
There was a knock on the door, and Chuuya sat up to open it, for once in his life not caring about his dishevelled appearance. On the other side stood Kouyou, who took in the surroundings as her breath caught in her throat.
She walked through the doorway, surveying the apartment and the disorder within it, crouching down to inspect the smashed dishes. She kicked at the clothing tossed on the floor and inspected the wine bottles, then looked to the redhead.
Chuuya was staring right back at her with emotionless eyes.
The sort of stare that should be in a horror movie; that should terrify you. Purely because of the lack of anything behind them. Eyes are supposed to be windows to the soul, but in looks like these, it’s as if that window had been bordered back up.
“Chuuya, darling, this is too much. We need to get you cleaned up and outside again; you look like you haven't seen the light of day in a month, which knowing you, is probably true”
Kouyou unpacked her bag and shoved fresh clothes into Chuuya’s hands, as well as washing essentials for a shower he so clearly needed.
“Ane-san… Thank you, but truly I’m fine” Chuuya argued, snapping out of his cold expression.
“Honey, respectfully, you look like shit and smell like ‘shower’ is not a part of your vocabulary. Not to mention the dirt on those clothes-” Kouyou paused as Chuuya cut her off.
“Im not taking these off.” He stated, with a monotone voice and a distant resonance of passive-aggressive rage, the emotionless stare coming back to haunt Kouyou.
Knowing Chuuya and his drive, knowing that arguing on this was a losing battle, she opted for a different route.
“Ok, but please at least take a shower, I’ll wash these clothes while you're in there so you can wear them again as soon as you get out—as well as cleaning up this apartment. Please, Chuuya. I know you miss him, but you need to take care of yourself as well so you don’t end up next to him. I don’t think I could bear to lose you, and this is not what he would have wanted. So please, just take a shower, how does that sound?” Kouyou offered quietly, not wanting to upset the redhead any further.
She was wrong, of course. How could Chuuya miss him? He didn’t love Dazai, no, he didn’t even like him. He hated him. Hated the way his hair always got tangled, and Chuuya would have to brush it out for him. Hated the way he would grab Chuuya’s arm and shake it whenever he saw something of mild interest. Hated the way he would crawl through Chuuya’s window in the dead of night for no reason other than to annoy him, despite living in the same goddamn apartment. Hated the way that he hid his true self behind a mask of bandages and flesh. Hated the way that he let only Chuuya always see the real him.
He hated him.
Or that's what he told everyone.
Told himself.
It didn’t matter how much he wanted him back, he would never admit to missing him. At least not in front of anyone with a beating heart. Those secrets were saved for Dazai’s grave.
…
He would never spiral this far because of Dazai of all people. If anything he was much better without him.
Much better.
Liar
And anyway, how can you miss someone who's not yet gone? Chuuya saw his face everywhere he went, saw his eyes staring at him from across the room, saw those messy brunette curls in the mirror. He heard his voice, calling his name when he slept. Saw the ghost of his smirk on every passer-by on the street. Felt bandages brushing against him whenever he stood outside his door. Felt his arms wrapping around Chuuya.
Still, he agreed.
—
He didn’t want to part with the clothes, even if only for an hour. They were almost a part of him as much as his own limbs. They were a gift, a gag, from Chuuya to Dazai. Out together on one of their late night trips, he saw them in a shop window and forced Dazai to get them. After all, he is a mackerel.
Was
After all, he was a mackerel.
Was
Was
Was
Still he had to let them go.
Kouyou had to wash them.
Wash away him.
—
Turning on the shower, Chuuya let the burning water fall over him.
He stood there for a few moments, breathing deeply as he let himself be clean for the first time since part of him died, letting the water fall from his eyebrows to his lips. Embracing the way the warmth felt on his body, focusing on the way each and every drop of water tracked down his face, his chest, his legs. He felt as if he were free, even if the feeling were fleeting; the momentary liberty granted him wings formed from water. As if the liquid had briefly filled the hole in his heart. For how long he did not know, but it was enough. Chuuya tipped his face towards the ceiling and smiled for the first time since Dazai died.
Uncapping the shampoo Kouyou left him, he breathed it in and it snipped his temporary wings. It didn’t smell right. It was different. It wasn’t the empty bottle sitting on the shelf, the one that smelt of Dazai.
The label read ‘strawberry’ but all he could see was ‘wrong’.
He wasn’t used to it, didn’t want to have to get used to it, but he promised Kouyou. He couldn't disappoint her.
Aren’t you used to disappointing people?
Lathering it on his hair, he held his breath to avoid breathing in the different scent.
There he stood, letting the soap bubbles collect on the floor, letting the water encompass his body like a cloak he did not wish to be rid of, like it could shield him from the world outside the shower curtain.
He let it wash away everything. The memories—even if only for a moment, the pain, as well as all the grime. Yet of course, it couldn’t scorch off his view. No matter how much he directed his unblinking eyes into the waterfall, they would not be blinded. They still fought for their ‘gift’ of sight. They still saw him. Saw him standing in front of him, like he did when his life bled to the realm of the dead, staring at him with those bleak, unseeing eyes.
“Leave me alone.”
…
“You’re gone”
…
“You’re not here”
…
Still, Dazai watched him.
Still, his voice rang through his skull.
Why did you leave me?
Why didn’t you save me?
You could have saved me
You should have saved me
I’m gone because of you
It's all your fault
It's all your fault
Chuuya
Chuuya
Chuuya
“CHUUYA”
And then the darkness came for him.
—
He woke up in his bed, with the distant noise of someone rummaging through his cupboards and complaining about the lack of sustenance. He could have stayed there for an eternity. All feelings of joy from the shower had vanished along with Dazai’s voices. He should feel calm, feel something from the lack of deprecating comments, the lack of daggers thrown at Chuuuya in the guise of words. Yet all he could think was how much he missed his voice. All he could think about was how Dazai had left him, again.
Again.
Because why would anyone ever stay for you?
Ahh, there it was. Except this time, it was the same poison bleaching his mind, but it lacked the simple joy of it being Dazai’s voice. Now it was just Chuuya’s. Stating the plain facts.
Why would Dazai ever choose to come back to you, of all people?
The plain facts.
Because everyone leaves.
They can say they won’t, they can promise to live for infinity by your side, but promises are made to be broken.
—
“Dazai, promise me you’ll live, please”
“Chibii~, why would you take away my one joy in life”
“I’m being serious, promise me that you will live”
“Ok Chibi, if that’s your one request, I guess I will”
“Then say it Dazai. Say you promise. No jokes, no alternate meaning, completely serious, I need you to promise me to live”
“Ok Chuuya, I promise I’ll live”
—
Promises are made to be broken.
Because isn’t humanity’s fatal flaw their unfaithfulness.
Their inability to just stay.
Why couldn’t he just stay?
Why couldn’t it have been me?
Crashing in the kitchen reminded him of the fact that Kouyou was here, and that thought didn’t lighten Chuuya in the slightest. Right now, he just wanted to be alone. He couldn’t fail anyone—couldn’t lose anyone, if he had no one. If he was just alone, no one would be hurt. Yet Kouyou kept walking towards his door, towards him.
“Chuuya no wonder you passed out if this is what you’ve been eating”
She walks into the room to see him staring up at the ceiling.
“You're lucky I bought food with me when I came here.”
…
“You would have starved without me most likely”
Chuuya didn’t honour her with a reply, instead kept staring at the ceiling, as if it were painted with the most beautiful scenes known to man–as if it were more interesting than just a plain white.
“And please tell me why the only food in there was tinned mackerel”
Kouyou joked, trying to add some sort of lightheartedness to the air. She didn’t realise how much a single word meant. What the significance of the tinned mackerel was.
Of course, this was due to no fault of her own, there was no one but Chuuya and Dazai who knew of the nicknames.
Now there was no one but Chuuya.
—
Chuuya lay on the ground, staring at the figure of Dazai hanging upside down with the sapphire of the cloudless heavens encompassing him. Chuuya laughed at the scene, as it looked as if Dazai was levitating and his all blue outfit almost blended with the colours surrounding him.
“You know Dazai, you’re like a blue mackerel, floating in the sky”
“Well that's not very nice chibi. If im a mackerel then your…. A slug. Your as small as one anyway~”
“OH YOU ASSHOLE-”
—
The pain dug its claws into Chuuya’s mind, burrowing through all his thoughts, shadowing his face with memories that were once thought to be happy, and now brought only suffering. Now only brought back the life he once had; the life he would never get back.
And it’s your fault
“Chuuya, darling, do you want to talk about it? I know it's hard what you're going through and I know I don’t understand most of it. But I can try to help—I worry for you and your feelings. What's even worse is knowing that you're suffering and I have done nothing to help make it better. Chuuya… please do just know you can talk to me whenever you want. I’ll always be listening, my ears will always be open. I don’t want you taking on this grief by yourself, you need some way to cope that's healthy and will help you get through it.”
Kouyou stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Her face in a state of worry that angered Chuuya for reasons he did not know. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t be left alone.
He was perfectly ok.
Liar
“Thank you Ane-san. I hope you know that you have helped me, but I don’t need to talk. I’m ok, and you’ve done enough.”
His problems were his own, no one else's.
Kouyou makes a start, stepping towards him with her arms wide open.
“Are you sure?” she questioned.
“Yes. Now please leave”
Why wouldn’t she leave?
Chuuya lets her arms hang there, and doesn’t step towards them. Leaving her to awkwardly lower them.
“Chuuya?
She makes a step towards him.
“Kouyou please. I just want to be alone now, please”
Let me be alone.
Can’t you see I don’t want to bother you?
Can’t you see I want to be alone?
“Chuuya… Honey… if that's what you really what then I’ll go, but please listen to me. I love you and I'll always be there for you if you need me. Just… look after yourself. I'll come over every Thursday to make sure you're eating and taking care of yourself… ok?”
“Ok.. now please leave ane-san”
“I left food out for you on the table. Please eat it. Goodbye, Chuuya, and remember I do love you”
She walks towards the apartment door and it shuts behind her, leaving Chuuya alone in the too-big apartment.
She lied, Chibi, no one could ever love you.
And Dazai’s voice was back. Taunting him with everything he could never gain. But at least he could still hear it. At least Dazai wasn’t gone again—that some part of him still remained.
Sitting up out of his bed, he looked around, inspecting what Kouyou had done. The dishes were all back in their places, no longer collecting dust and mould in the sink. The broken shards of china were cleaned and left in the bin by the door. All the cushions were put back to where they were meant to be and all the floors had been hoovered. The food on the table looked edible, actually it looked quite good. The pasta sent waves of hunger throughout Chuuya and reminded him of the fact that no food had filled his stomach for the past few days.
But it's fine. Food can wait. He’s not hungry anyway.
Chuuya looked around more.
With everything cleaned up it felt… empty.
The wine bottles were all gone, Kouyou made sure of that, so nothing could fill the hollow emptiness that suffocated his being.
Walking around the apartment didn’t. No.
Staring at the door which had not been opened for a month didn’t. No.
Stepping into the room which used to be filled with him didn’t. No.
Lying on his bed didn’t. No.
No.
The graveyard it was then.
—
“Tomorrow it will have been a month since you left.”
The wind whistled through the trees, singing a solitary song, shading the area that Chuuya sat at from the evening sun and casting a golden green glow across his face, creating a scene that seemed far more idyllic than what it truly was. Maybe it would be more suitable for the light to be dipped in darkness, for it to be in mourning along with everyone else in the graveyard. For the world to be in monochrome, people could agonise in black and white without having colours blind them with the life they can no longer lead, of the people they can no longer see.
“Ane-san visited today. She was worried about me.”
The sun cowered behind the clouds, hiding its shine from the redhead, letting him lament in the shadows
“She made me take a shower, first one I’ve had in a while, it made me feel so free”
Chuuya gestures outwards with his hands.
“But then the memories came—then the voices came, and I blacked out”
The grass rustled beneath him as he reclined onto his back.
“I’m not sure why I'm telling you this. Hah. You didn’t care when we were alive. Why would you now?”
…
“You didn’t care, did you?”
…
“Asshole.”
Chuuya shut his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again.
“I went into your room today, as messy as the day you left it.”
…
“I always did tell you to clean it, I guess you didn’t to piss me off.”
…
“I’ve always wondered why it was that we became roommates, we drive each other insane”
Why he asked, he did not know. No answer would come- not that he needed one. They lived together because they trusted each other with their lives. No other pairing would have been suitable. Not that either would ever admit it.
Only they knew exactly what to do when the other came home tired and hungry, knew exactly what to make, knew exactly what to do to make them feel better. Even if only to tease them endlessly afterwards. The first thing they would do was cheer the other up, all other priorities would lie in the dust. The way they each revolved around the other kept them grounded, reminded them of their humanity no matter the flaws.
That and the fact that no college student had money enough to live alone.
But that wasn’t caring, that was just the way they lived.
Because Dazai would never care, no.
Why would he?
It should have been you
Although they spent a lot of money on broken plates—ones that Chuuya threw at Dazai when he hit a nerve too hard—being roommates was worth it.
Nights filled with endless bickering and petty arguments were the ones that Chuuya missed the most. He missed the easiness that came along with Dazai, the conversations that could be stretched out forevermore, the ones that used to be a centre point of both of their lives.
Chuuya lay his head on the tombstone.
“Never thought I’d say that I missed it—the shouting, the arguments, the banter, you.”
Awww, you miss me Chibi?
“Like hell, asshole”
And here I thought I was the one you hated most~
“I do fucking hate you. So much”
Ahhh but YOU said you miss me, that you wish I was alive
“I guess I did. Maybe just because life fucking sucks without you”
…
“Hah”
…
“You asshole”
…
“You broke your promise”
…
Chuuya looked up to the sky, the sun having set minutes ago, but still void of stars. Hoping that when they flung themselves across the heavens, all those weeks ago, they heard his wish.
He didn’t think they would.
But he couldn’t help but hope.
—
Chuuya gets up, shaking the dirt off of his cargos and tugging at the drawstrings of the mackerel hoodie, pulling the hood around his face, trapping in the fleeting warmth of the Autumn night. Kouyou must have put it back on him, he didn’t realise. Then started making his way towards the exit.
“Well mackerel, I guess this is goodbye till tomorrow”
Aww Chibi so mean, leaving me again.
Chuuya stops and laughs quietly.
“You left first”
…
“I’d stay forever if I could, but not even you could make me sleep on the cold ground, plus the groundskeeper already hates me; she always has to wait ages for me to finish talking to you.”
Well goodbye then slug
It was nice talking to you again
It was nice seeing you again
“I missed it, Chuuya”