Archive of Our Own ^beta

Nakahara Chuuya is lying on a hospital bed, staring at Yokohama through a closed window. From his spot he could see some damages that has been done to the city; several collapsed buildings, wrecked public facilities, red of blood covers the ground, and some more.

It could had gotten much worse, but it didn’t.

After all, he saved this city.

From one of the worst misfortunes ever befell Yokohama.

After the fall of Port Mafia Boss Dazai Osamu, some enemy organizations used this opportunity to attack Yokohama. They knew Nakahara Chuuya as the new Port Mafia Boss wasn't less terrifying than Dazai himself, but the most dangerous duo in the whole city lost one of its wings, and the impact of Dazai’s sudden death was still fresh in Port Mafia. No matter how capable Chuuya was, no one could regain an organization’s stability overnight.

Chuuya did his best to strengthen Yokohama’s defense, commanding his men without so much hassle, he’s experienced as both leader and executor. He even decided to work together with the Armed Detective Agency, the agency he wished so much to destroy after Dazai’s death. He could do it later though, Yokohama’s safety came first.

But this invasion was nothing Yokohama ever faced before. No one knew how long those enemies had been planning this, maybe years. And they were waiting for a crack in Yokohama to execute their plan. Dazai’s fall might be a small crack, but even a small crack was enough to penetrate through the hardest rock.

They were fighting for days. There was no day without the sound of gunshots in Yokohama, no night without being lit by fire of burning buildings. 

No matter how good their plan might be, they needed more power. And Chuuya was one of the strongest ability users in history, he couldn’t just sit in his office waiting for reports and giving commands, he needed to use his ability. Yokohama needed his power.

Upon the Tainted Sorrow was used again and again, without so much of a break. Pushed to the limits, but refused to fall into Corruption.

Chuuya wasn’t afraid of dying, of course not. Especially to save the city that he loved. He wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice his life to ensure Yokohama’s safety at any given time.

But him in his Corruption state was also a threat to Yokohama, he couldn’t control his power, couldn’t differentiate enemies and allies. He would continue on destroying everything.

Because Dazai was no longer there to stop him.

He could only rely on his own ability. Arahabaki could just sit and watch.

Unsurprisingly, this power of his managed to destroy the enemies’ front line and  even further, totally ruining their formation. With the help of Armed Detective Agency and the government, they managed to push the enemy back.

But using Tainted Sorrow for days without proper break started to take a toll on Chuuya’s body. It became harder to breathe, he could feel his vital organs start to fail him, his whole body screamed in protest.

When the battle ended, Chuuya collapsed.

Every medical treatment necessary has been done for him to recover. But his body refuses to heal itself, for it’s been pushed far beyond a human body could handle. Nothing else could be done.

Chuuya is dying.

He only has a few days left, two weeks at most.

But it’s a necessary sacrifice, he thought.

He saved the city.

He did it, as the boss of Port Mafia, also the protector of Yokohama.

The Armed Detective Agency offered a help. They have a doctor who could heal any injuries and sickness, she might be able to heal Chuuya as well. But Chuuya refused. Not because he’s too prideful to receive help from enemy—even though they worked well together during the invasion, they are still enemies nonetheless.

He just doesn’t want to owe someone, especially from the opposite side, something as big as his life.

What if Port Mafia has to pay for it one day? What if the ADA would use it to ask the impossible from the Port Mafia?

Chuuya couldn’t take that risk.

He trusts no one. Couldn’t trust anyone ever again, after what Dazai did to him.

Therefore he accepts his fate.

He calls his Executives to discuss about the future of Port Mafia, and they decide who would take Chuuya’s legacy as the boss. Chuuya’s reign might not be long, but it’s outstanding. Port Mafia saved Yokohama under his command. He did good.

And he makes sure to prepare Port Mafia for his inevitable death in near future. Because he is a responsible leader, unlike someone who jumped off a building leaving every of his member in shock and confusion.

Duties and responsibilities done, all left is personal business.

There’s something he needs to know before he die: the reason of Dazai’s suicide.

He learned that Atsushi was there in Dazai’s final moment, therefore Chuuya summons him to his hospital room to ask for explanation. At first Atsushi refuses to tell him the truth, saying it’s supposed to be a secret only a few people are allowed to know. Because the more people knows, the bigger possibility for this world to crumble.

“I’m dying anyway,” is all Chuuya need to say for Atsushi to finally give in. There’s sadness in the weretiger’s eyes, but Chuuya doesn’t say anything about it.

Chuuya can’t deny he feels empty and destroyed inside after learning the truth behind Dazai’s death. That Dazai went all the way to the extreme for one person’s sake. There’s so much rage bubbles up in his chest, but his body could no longer give proper reaction to it. So he’s just lying there, staring at snow outside the window of his hospital room. Thinking why he can’t hate Dazai the way he should.

Why he still cherishes him with every fiber of his being.

Now that Chuuya can no longer fight the Armed Detective Agency, who will keep Dazai’s memories alive?

Now that he’s dying, who will remember and cherish Dazai the way he does?

If only he can transfer his memories of Dazai and his feelings for him to someone else, he’d gladly do it. He doesn’t want them die the way his body slowly does.  

If Atsushi told him the truth, that there’s another him in another world,

will he keep Chuuya’s memories and feelings for Dazai safe?

If miracle does exist, Chuuya needs it now.

.

.

.

Tonight is out of ordinary for Post Mafia Executive Nakahara Chuuya.

It happens during his resting time, when he’s lying on his bed for a much needed sleep. Something flashes through his mind, behind his closed eyelids.

A sight of something—someone, whom he recognizes right away: his ex-partner, Dazai Osamu.

Chuuya doesn’t know which one is weirder, seeing Dazai in his sleep, or the sight of Dazai sitting on Mori’s throne, in Port Mafia’s boss attire, lips curved into a cruel smirk but eyes hollow.

Why would Dazai look like he is Port Mafia Boss? What kind of sick joke is that?

Dazai has betrayed the mafia four years ago, he’s now with the Armed Detective Agency, and from the look of it, Chuuya knows Dazai won’t go back to the Port Mafia, let alone being the boss.

This must be a dream. A terrible dream.

Except Chuuya doesn’t dream.

Strange things sometimes happened. But when it happened for the second time, it’s no longer something to ignore.

He’s seeing the same thing again: Dazai sitting on his throne. But this time, Chuuya sees Dazai’s side profile as Dazai looks at someone else. The vision shifts to show a young man—the weretiger, Dazai’s protégé. He too looks strange, very much different from the one Chuuya knows. His appearance looks so much different, even the bright smile that adorns the young man’s face everytime Chuuya saw him, is absent. His face lacks his usual smile, his tender gaze. It’s almost expressionless. He’s on his knees, bowing down to Dazai. Chuuya knows this young man always respects Dazai, but there’s no way the Dazai he knows would let his protégé bow down to him like that. Not the current Dazai, at least.

Chuuya opens his eyes, quickly scans the room to make sure he's still lying on his own bed, in his own apartment. He takes a moment to ground himself, staring at his ceilings.

This time Chuuya realizes he hasn’t fallen asleep when he saw those visions. He’s still conscious, which meant it wasn't a dream. He knows he never dreamed, but he thought that maybe…maybe he could experience it for once. But that couldn’t be the case this time, for he was still awake when it happened.

If it isn’t a dream, then what could it be? Vision of something that will happen in the future? He thinks it’s unlikely for Dazai to be Port Mafia’s boss, but no one could really predict the future, could they?

Or is he under the influence of someone’s ability?

Chuuya sighs as he covers his closed eyes with an arm, blocking any light as he tries to get the sleep that he deserves after a long, tiring day.

It doesn’t stop.

Chuuya keeps seeing the people he knows, but in completely different appearance, and some of them are on different side.

He sees Akutagawa with the Armed Detective Agency.

He sees Gin hating his brother.

He sees Kyouka in Port Mafia, alongside Atsushi.

And he sees… Oda Sakunosuke. Alive. Working with the Armed Detective Agency.

Once again, alive.

If Chuuya ever has the assumption that those visions he sees every night might be the future (as strange as it sounds), that thought is completely dispelled from his mind the moment he sees Oda. Because he knows, everyone knows, Oda is dead. But there he’s breathing, moving, living, fighting.

The only possibility left is that this might be some ability user’s doing. Trying to mess with Chuuya’s mind, making him restless every night. If the Port Mafia Executive is distracted, confused, sleep deprived, it would be easier to take him down, wouldn’t it?

If he’s really under the influence of an ability, there is only one solution to free himself from this mess.

He despises the idea of asking Dazai’s help, but there is nothing much he could do himself. He will meet him, but not tomorrow since it’ll be an extremely busy day.

It can wait.

Chuuya can survive one more day.

Yet again he is proved wrong.

It turns out to be the worst possible sight he could ever imagine.

A sight of Dazai’s body shattered on the ground, drowning in his own pool of blood. The red color stands out in the darkness of its surrounding. Everything else looks grey; the buildings, the vehicles on the road, the people that starts gathering around Dazai’s body, the sky, everything looks grey. Everything, except Dazai’s blood.

Then Chuuya sees a pair of gloved hands lift Dazai’s head to rest on someone’s lap. From this point of view, it looks like those hands and lap are his own.

And the vision starts to get blurry,

as if…someone is crying.

Chuuya’s eyes snap open in horror. He can no longer bear the sight of Dazai’s lifeless body adorned in red. His breath quickens, his heart beats like crazy in his chest.

What the hell is that?

How did he die? For this question, though, he’s sure Dazai jumped from the skyscraper.

But why?

Not that he doesn’t know about Dazai’s suicidal tendency, but why it succeeded this time?

And what does this vision mean? A warning? Or the visualization of his own fear?

Before he realizes it, his shaky hand reaches for his phone on the nightstand and dials a number without further ado. It rings once, twice, thrice until someone picks up.

“Chuuya~”

That voice, that silly voice, feels like breathing oxygen to Chuuya’s system.

“You are…” alive, Chuuya manages to stop himself before he can utter the word that will make him sound weird.

“Dazai Osamu!” Dazai answers in his usual playful, annoying tone.

“I know that, bastard!” Chuuya growls, rubbing his face in frustration. Well, at least Dazai’s silly answer snaps him back to reality.

He hears the other chuckle, and it never sounded so… soothing.

“Why did Chuuya call me? Are you drunk again? You don’t sound like you are drunk, though.”

“I…” Chuuya bites his lower lip. He doesn’t have any answer for that. He dialled his number without even thinking first, too desperate to know whether Dazai is alive or not. Oh well, he could use this opportunity to make sure Dazai is unharmed. “Where are you?”

“It’s 1 AM of course I’m in my room, Chuuya.”

Chuuya hums, convinced enough since he doesn’t hear anything off such as the sound of vehicles, it means Dazai isn’t in a middle of the road waiting to be hit. He doesn’t hear the sound of blowing wind, Dazai isn’t standing on a rooftop of a skyscraper. He doesn’t hear the sound of rushing water, Dazai isn’t anywhere near a river now.

“—ya? Chuuya?”

Chuuya blinks, doesn’t realize he was lost in thought.

“Are you…” There is no turning back now, he has to make sure Dazai is safe in his own bedroom. A safe place for most people, but Dazai isn’t just most people. His own bedroom could be a battlefield sometimes, Chuuya knows more than anyone. “Are you alright?”

He could hear Dazai blink in confusion.

“Alright as in?”

“Not injured. Anything.”

“Aww did you call me to check on me because you’re worried? Hatrack you are so sweet~”

Chuuya hisses. “Just answer my damn question!”

“Yes, yes I’m not injured, I’m totally fine. Do you need a proof? Should I take picture and send it to you so you can see my handsome face?”

The ginger knows Dazai is just teasing him, but he couldn’t bring himself to say no. He needs it, he needs reassurance.

Apparently Dazai understands and doesn’t throw any silly comment. Chuuya appreciates that for once.

Not long after, Chuuya hears notification of a new message on his phone.

“I sent you my picture, totally fine and handsome~”

Chuuya rolls his eyes, but for once he isn’t feeling irritated. Hearing Dazai’s voice grounds him. He wants to hear it until sunrise, but that’d be asking too much, and there is no way Dazai would let him without using it as blackmail later.

“Alright, I’m hanging up.”

“Mmm, good night Chuuya.”

“Night.”

But Chuuya doesn’t immediately end the call, he is pondering on something. And his silence is apparently loud enough for Dazai, since he doesn’t end the call either. He waits for anything else Chuuya has to say.

The problem is, knowing Dazai unharmed isn’t enough, Chuuya needs to see him in person. And he did plan to ask Dazai’s help to nullify this ability that keeps making him see things anyway.

“Actually…” Chuuya says after a while. “Can we meet tomorrow?”

“See?!” Dazai’s cheery voice almost startle him. “Chibi missed me! Eww, gross!”

“No shit, asshole! There is something important I need to talk about!”

“Grumpy as always.” Dazai whines. “The usual coffee shop?”

“…yeah, 8 AM. Don’t be late, I’m busy tomorrow.”

“Alright, Mr. Executive. Always so demanding.” Dazai huffs playfully. “Now get some sleep so you’ll be less grumpy tomorrow.”

“Whatever.”

The executive sighs as he ends the call. Almost hurriedly, he opens the message Dazai sent him.

It’s a picture of Dazai sitting on his bed, his back resting on the headboard, he makes a ‘v’ sign with his fingers, and wears that wide, silly grin, hair looks messy but stupidly good on him. Chuuya catches himself smiling, for now he let it be. Dazai didn’t lie, he looks unharmed, there is no blood anywhere around him, or on his skin—Dazai is considerate enough to take an angle that show himself from head to waist. As if he knows what Chuuya is worried about.

It’s true Dazai could mask this kind of happy expression, but those eyes couldn’t lie to Chuuya. Those eyes don’t seem empty. That is enough to convince Chuuya that Dazai wouldn’t harm himself, at least tonight. He can survive this night without feeling worry.

If he’s lucky he could get the sleep he deserves.

However, Chuuya isn’t lucky.

He knows that Dazai is alive, probably sleeping right now. But that doesn’t stop his mind to show him that sight, that same sight of Dazai’s lifeless body on the ground, whenever Chuuya closes his eyes. Over and over again.

Now that Chuuya thinks about it, that vision seems to be taken in someone’s point of view, not his. The tears that blocked the vision earlier proves it.

It looks so much like a memory. Just like when Chuuya replayed his own memories, the good and bad ones, when he reminisced the past. However, this one isn’t his. It’s someone else’s memories.

But whose?

The nice smell of coffee relaxes his nerves a bit. He is now sitting in a coffee shop that used to be one of his and Dazai’s favorite places when the latter was still in the mafia. Dazai did say ‘usual coffee shop’ when he suggested a place for them to meet, as if they still came regularly. While in fact, Chuuya himself hasn’t visited this place ever since Dazai betrayed the mafia, couldn’t bring himself to come alone to the place that holds too many memories of them. Because it’d make him angry.

He doesn’t know about Dazai though.

A moment ago the waitress served his order, two cups of coffee and a plate of mini pancakes. Chuuya doesn’t recognize this young waitress, she definitely wasn’t there during Chuuya’s regular visit in the past. Four years is a long time for things to change in a simple, yet cozy coffee shop like this, isn’t it?

His attention shifts to the door when it flies open, showing the sight of his ex-partner entering the place. He looks around before he spots Chuuya and beams.

‘Silly’, Chuuya fights the urge to smile.

“Good morning, Dazai-san,” greets the young waitress with a smile as she’s leaving Chuuya’s table after serving his orders.

“Good morning, Shizu-chan~”

Ah, so Dazai still visits this place after all. Chuuya doesn’t know what to feel about that. It doesn’t matter for now though, he has a more important matter at hands.

It doesn’t take long until Dazai sits in front of him, pouting at the sight of a plate of mini pancakes on his side of the table.

“Chuuya, I’m not hungry,” he whines like a child.

Chuuya rolls his eyes. He knows Dazai always skip breakfast, so he uses this opportunity to force him to have breakfast, for once. Like a decent ex-partner he is. “Well, too bad I’ve paid for it. Now eat.”

Dazai pouts more, but he takes a bite of the pancake anyway.

Chuuya gives him a moment, as he sips his own coffee, letting a comfortable silence embrace them.

That…until he feels Dazai’s burning gaze on him.

“You didn’t sleep last night?”

He must be noticing the dark circles under Chuuya’s eyes. He doesn’t get proper sleep these days, true. It becomes hard to hide it from people around him, especially from Dazai. The ever so observative Dazai.

“Yeah, so many mission reports I needed to finish, unlike some lazy bastard.”

He knows Dazai, of all people, doesn’t buy it. But he doesn’t comment about it either. Good enough.

Another silence as Dazai continues eating his pancakes. At least he finishes half of it before he puts down the knife and fork then pushes the plate to the side.

“Alright, what is it?” Dazai asks, seriousness in his tone. From the look of it, Chuuya knows Dazai notices something wrong. Why wouldn’t he? After Chuuya called him in the middle of the night without giving reason why?

Chuuya takes another sip of his coffee, before places it back, and starts talking straight to the point, “I think I got hit by an ability.”

“What kind of ability?”

“I started seeing things whenever I close my eyes. They are strange, but I could ignore it the first few days. But it gets worse each day, especially…” Chuuya takes a deep breath. “…last night.”

“That’s why you can’t get proper sleep?”

Chuuya shrugs, no point hiding it. “Yeah.”

Dazai hums, giving Chuuya the room to continue.

“I think the ability user tries to mess with my mind, to weaken me or something. I tried to find any clue from Port Mafia’s achieve of ability users, but I found none. None of ability users Port Mafia ever crossed path with, has this kind of ability.” Chuuya pauses. “You know, we are in a truce now, so could you—”

“We don’t need to be in truce for me to help you, Chuuya.” Dazai cuts his sentence, a slight frown on his face.

Chuuya blinks. “Yeah…” Because he too would jump into danger anytime to save Dazai, truce or not.

“Give me your hand.” Dazai says as he places his open palm hand on the table.

Chuuya gracefully takes off the glove before placing his right hand on Dazai’s. A simple touch would work, there is no need for Dazai to hold his hand like he does now, but Chuuya doesn’t protest. Dazai’s hand feels cold but at the same time… comforting.

And then, nothing. None of the gentle blue of No Longer Human.

“It’s not an ability.” Dazai mutters with a frown.

“Huh?”

“You are not under influence of any ability.” Dazai repeats himself. “Could you specify the visions you saw?”

Chuuya gulps. Is he going to describe that to Dazai?

He can avoid that one.

“I saw you as the boss of Port Mafia.” Chuuya starts, eyes never leaving Dazai’s. The other’s frown deepens, thinking. “You are commanding your protégé, Atsushi. Then I saw Akutagawa working with the Armed Detective Agency. It looked like most of people I know switching side.”

He doesn’t mention Oda, can’t risk to trigger Dazai now.

Dazai himself still looks like he is thinking, while his thumb subconsciously rubs circle on the back of Chuuya’s hand, a comforting gesture. Chuuya just realizes Dazai is still holding his hand, but he can’t bring himself to pull away.

“Then what did you see last night? I assume that’s the reason you called me?”

Chuuya bites his inner cheek. Apparently he can’t avoid this after all.

“I saw you dead.” He says, voice low almost like a whisper. “Your body on the ground, lifeless. You… jumped off a building.”

That’s when he feels Dazai’s hold tightens on his hand, and he doesn’t miss the way Dazai’s eyes widen, as if something finally clicked.

Bingo.

“You know something.” Chuuya pulls his hand away from Dazai’s hold. He doesn’t know whether his words or his action that drags Dazai out of his thoughts. Chuuya observes the way Dazai tries to put his mask back.

“Why did you assume I know something?” he asks after regaining composure, pulling his hand from the table as well, his expression calm, but Chuuya knows this mask all too well.

“Don’t give me that shit, Dazai.” Chuuya growls. “You know you can’t lie to me.”

Chuuya expects an explanation, the sooner the better. But all he got is silence, and Dazai’s empty stare to the table.

The executive could feel rage starts to rise in his chest at Dazai’s silence, at Dazai’s hesitation to give him explanation despite knowing the unfavorable circumstance Chuuya is facing right now.

“Don’t I deserve to know?” He asks, trying not to rise his voice and gain unnecessary attention from people around them.

Dazai’s gaze shifts to him slowly. “You do.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” He almost snaps. God, Dazai could be really difficult sometimes.

“It’s…”

Oh, what a rare sight to see the silver-tongued devil speechless.

Chuuya frowns, never once avert his gaze from the troubled face in front of him. It’s a rare sight, really, even for him who spent most of his teenage years around this brunet.

He waits, and waits.

But still got none.

After fighting the urge to punch that annoying face, Chuuya sighs, “You need time.”

Dazai’s nod is small, weak, almost unnoticeable. But Chuuya notices, he always does.

“I’m not supposed to be the considerate one right now, but whatever, take your time.” Chuuya stands up, takes his coat from the chair, and stomps out of the place.

No.

No.

No way this happens.

No way Chuuya can see the world Dazai created with The Book.

The way Chuuya explained what he saw, it sounds so much like pieces of memories.

The other Chuuya’s memories.

Is that possible?

How could his memories cross dimensions? Cross universes?

Dazai knows people could be connected in some ways to their counterparts in different universes, but to share memories? Dazai never heard of it. He never heard a connection this strong.

This is the worst. The worst.

How could he explain this to Chuuya? It should be his secret. A secret he’d take to his grave. But Chuuya sounds like he’s suffering, those memories pain him, don’t they? He has to explain this to Chuuya, but not today, not tomorrow.

He isn’t ready.

Around three days later, Dazai accidentally (or not really) spots Chuuya at a port belongs to the mafia. He seems busy supervising his underlings’ works. Dutiful, responsible, reliable as always. However today he lacks of energy, looking exhausted and clearly sleep deprived.

Dazai feels something unpleasant in his chest, surely he takes no pleasure in seeing his ex-partner, his friend, suffers from something that Dazai keeps as a secret.

Don’t I deserve to know?

Chuuya’s question keeps repeating itself in the brunet’s mind.

He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Tonight he’d give Chuuya the explanation he deserves to know.

And so that night Dazai finds himself ring the bell of Chuuya’s apartment, one, twice, before tucking his hands back to his coat protecting himself from the cold air. He knows Chuuya is home, not like he has been keeping a close eye to Chuuya these days to know his schedule.

The door cracks open, Dazai puts on his happy mask, smiling widely.

“Good evening, hatrack~! I’m glad the cold doesn’t make you shrink more.”

“Fuck you.” Chuuya hisses, but opens the door wider anyway. “Fucking finally you show up.”

“Well, I’m a busy man.” Dazai answers nonchalantly before stepping inside the ginger’s apartment when the latter shifts slightly to the side giving him permission to enter.

“Busy slacking off, you mean?”

“Busy breathing, yeah.” Dazai hops on the expensive, comfortable couch like he owns the place. “Can I have warm tea, please?”

Chuuya, who is already on his way to the kitchen—like a decent host he is, just rolls his eyes.

It doesn’t take long for Chuuya to join him in the living room, handing a cup of tea before seats himself on the couch as well.

The brunet breaths in the nice scent of the tea. “Chamomile?”

Chuuya only hums, sipping his own.

For a while they let themselves enjoy their moment, their comfortable silence, the calm before the storm.

“Do you still see those visions?” Dazai asks after a moment, placing his half-empty cup on the coffee table.

“Yeah.”

“Anything new?”

Dazai doesn’t miss the way Chuuya flinch slightly.

Chuuya places his cup on the table as well, locking his eyes on it to avoid Dazai’s gaze. “The funeral.”

Dazai’s stomach drops, but his expression doesn’t change much. “I see.”

The silence is loud after that.

Dazai knows Chuuya is being patient with him. Hell, even after days experiencing something unpleasant without having a clue of what happens, he still doesn’t push Dazai to explain. Even now he still gives him time.

“Say, Chuuya. If someone you care die, do you wish they could live somewhere, even if it’s not in our world?”

Chuuya’s eyebrows knits together at the sudden, unexpected question. Though the question sounds like it’s randomly asked, the ginger still considers his answer thoroughly.

“Yeah.” Who wouldn’t? Chuuya himself has lost a lot of people he cared about, he cherished. Dazai’s question is easy to answer. “But a wish is a wish. I can do nothing about it. And life goes on, we move on.”

The words make Dazai flinch. Moving on is ideal. People loses their loved ones and moves on. But it might not be easy for everyone, and might be kind of… impossible for some.

“But what if that wish could come true?”

“What do you mean?”

“Chuuya, have you heard about The Book?”

The Executive frowns, looking like he’s trying to put two on two together.

“There is hardly anyone working in underground who hasn’t heard about it. The one that, whatever written there would become true—?” Chuuya’s eyes widen in realization, he looks at Dazai as if accusing him to do something either crazy or stupid. Well, he might be right at that.  “What did you do?”

“I… created a world. The world where I’m the port mafia boss, you are my First Executive, Atsushi and Akutagawa switching side, and a lot more that’s different from this world of ours.”

“What the fuck?! You created a what?”

“A world,” Dazai repeats despite being certain Chuuya heard him the first time.  When Chuuya doesn’t say anything more, just staring at Dazai with puzzled expression, Dazai continues. “I created that world for Odasaku. I wanted him to live in a world where he could write his novel freely. Because… you know, he can’t do it here.”

Chuuya’s silence is loud. But this time Dazai doesn’t know what goes through that mind of his ex-partner’s, and he doesn’t want to take a guess.

Then Dazai continues telling Chuuya every details of event in the world he created. About Atsushi, Akutagawa, about their rivalry and fights. About Gin, Kyouka, the Armed Detective Agency and Port Mafia, about Odasaku and his meeting with Dazai, about the words he said to Dazai. Everything. He ends his long explanation, with:“the visions you saw come from this world I created. Your counterpart most likely shares his memories with you. I don’t know how this could happen, though. I never thought it’s possible.”

Chuuya sits there, agape. Trying to process the information Dazai just shared.

“Alright. Okay. You created the world for Oda to live. I got it.” Strangely enough, Chuuya doesn’t sound much surprised at this. It’s like he knows Dazai would do something as crazy as this for Oda. “But why…” Chuuya’s tone of voice gets lower, a dangerous sign. His piercing gaze on Dazai made the brunet shiver. “Why did you kill yourself?”

Here comes the hardest part. Dazai finds himself averting his gaze from Chuuya—he doesn’t know why, he definitely isn’t scared of Chuuya’s rage, he deals with it almost all the time. Is this guilt that he feels?

“Because there is limit of people who are allowed to know about this secret. Since I told Akutagawa and Atsushi about it, one of us had to die, and I decided that’d be me.”

“Huh? What kind of shit are you saying?”

“I said, only—”

“No, fuck! I get it, I’m not stupid, God damn it!” Chuuya rubs his face in frustration, trying not to burst into anger right there and then. “If that’s the rules, what’s the urgency of revealing the secret to those two?”

“Because I thought it’s time for them to stop fighting each other to death.”

“Yeah?” He arches an eyebrow. “And there’s no other way to stop them? Are you sure that’s your reason? You didn’t jump off that fucking building because of whatever shit Oda said to you?”

Dazai wears an expression of a person who’s been slapped hard on the cheek. Taken aback, he doesn’t even realize Chuuya has stood and now approaching him.

Not even a second later Dazai is being grabbed by his collar, pulled to his feet.

“Look at me in the eyes and tell me one fucking good reason why you killed yourself! Why you killed him?!”

When he finally looks at Chuuya’s eyes, he sees blazing rage.

“I was evil there, Chuuya. Getting rid of a demon would only bring good to everyone.”

Yeah, that’s a logical answer. But is it really his reason?

“Everyone?”

“Yeah… Even you.”

Dazai thinks Chuuya can’t be angrier, but when he sees a flash of red in those blue eyes, he knows he’s wrong.

“How could you draw that shitty conclusion?!”

“Because you hated me.”

“Why the fuck did you think so?!”

“You said it—”

“I said it all the fucking time even here, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Let me finish.” Dazai cuts his sentence with a tone as calm as he can possibly use in this situation. “True, you said it countless times even here. But it’s different there. I know how you were torn between your hatred and loyalty towards me. We know how I treated you there. I treated you badly. I did it to make you hate me, so you’ll be less attached, and my death wouldn’t affect you much.”

Chuuya looks at him like he’s growing two heads.

“What the fuck?! For a genius, you are pretty fucking stupid.” His grip on Dazai’s collar tightens, his knuckles turn white. “Why don’t you understand that no matter what you did to push me away, it’s never enough to make me hate you to the point of wishing you dead? Why do you think that the shit you pulled is enough to make me feel nothing when I found your body on the ground? Why, Dazai?”

Dazai widens his eyes in surprise. For someone who claims he knows everything about Chuuya like the back of his hand, he really miscalculated, didn’t he? He underestimated the other’s feelings for him. Dazai has been good at reading people, but Chuuya… Chuuya always manages to surprise him.

"I know I wronged you, but I strongly believe my death was necessary.”

Dazai lifts his hands to place them on Chuuya’s, but doesn’t try to free himself from the latter’s grip.

“And… I don’t regret the path I chose.”

That extinguishes the fire that is Chuuya’s rage, but it’s soon replaced by something worse.

Chuuya looks disappointed, defeated, as if he’s had enough, and Dazai much prefers the rage earlier than this.

“Leave.”

The brunet gulps. “Chuuya—"

“ Leave, Dazai.”

Chuuya takes some steps back, creating an invisible wall between them. He doesn’t even look at him now. That’s the sign that he’s had enough of this conversation, of Dazai, that he needs time and space to be alone. Dazai knows him well, and knows this is the time for him to leave Chuuya alone—not that he wants to.

Thus he left Chuuya’s apartment with heavy heart. He has told Chuuya everything, he hides nothing more. The bitter truth might not be pleasant to Chuuya’s ears, but Dazai knows Chuuya prefers that than any sweet lie his silver tongue can create.

It’s been days since Dazai’s last conversation with Chuuya. It’s been days since Dazai gave Chuuya the time and space he needs.

He hasn’t heard anything from his ex-partner. No angry text, angry call, no news, nothing. It makes Dazai anxious, to say least. He’s even more anxious knowing that today Chuuya is scheduled to join the agency’s meeting as Port Mafia’s representative, discussing about any possible threat to Yokohama or such.

So when the one walking into the meeting room isn’t Chuuya, but Akutagawa instead, Dazai can’t hold himself back to ask, “Eh? Shouldn’t my dog be the one attending this meeting?”

Akutagawa frowns at that as he seats himself on the available chair. “Chuuya-san isn’t your dog.” A cough, before he continues. “He called in sick today.”

Dazai arches an eyebrow, is that an excuse to avoid meeting Dazai?

“Ah, you mean he’s finally being lazy for once and slacks off in his office?”

“He’s not you.” He hears Kunikida mutter beside him, but pays him no heed as his attention is focused on Akutagawa right now.

“No. Chuuya-san didn’t come to the office either. He’s probably really feeling under the weather today.”

Dazai’s smile falls. Now something is really off.

Chuuya, the workaholic Chuuya, never ever called in sick during Dazai’s mafia day. Even when he was actually sick, he forced himself to work and no one could stop him, being as stubborn as he was. That habit wouldn’t change, Dazai knows. So if Chuuya really skips work, there must be something really wrong. Dazai could even hear confusion and concern in Akutagawa’s voice no matter how hard he tries to hide it—he probably finds it strange too.

The meeting goes painfully slow after that. Dazai usually finds it boring, but today it’s irritating. He wants it to be over as soon as possible. He could just walk out like a lazy, irresponsible employee he is, but it will rise the other’s suspicion after the conversation about Chuuya earlier. He doesn’t want them to know that he cares that much about his ex-partner.

Once it’s finally over, Dazai flees the agency with his usual excuse of wanting to find a woman to accompany him to double suicide. Receiving a yell from Kunikida as usual.

He’s now standing in front of Chuuya’s apartment door, bracing himself for whichever version of Chuuya he will face behind this door. Just when he’s about to ring the bell, Dazai’s hand stops mid-air when he hears a loud smashing sound from inside Chuuya’s apartment. His whole body goes rigid as panic starts to creep in. Dazai hurriedly enters number to unlock the apartment door (Chuuya hasn't changed it) and ran to Chuuya’s room hoping nothing bad happening—although the smashing sound earlier says otherwise.

Chuuya’s bedroom door is closed but thank goodness it isn’t locked.

As he swings the door open, the first thing that greets him is the strong scent of wine, so strong it makes his head dizzy. Then he spots a shattered glass on the floor and stain of red wine on the wall. A wine bottle must be thrown with such strength to make it shatter into the tiniest pieces. Dazai’s eyes quickly scans the room and finds Chuuya stand near his bed.

Dazai freezes.

The sight is awful.

Chuuya looks like a mess—maybe it is an understatement. He looks horrible.

His face flushed red, either from anger or wine. His hair is unusually messy in a way that it looks like hands have been there before, gripping and pulling a couple times. His breath is uneven, he is panting. But none of those competes Chuuya’s eyes. Those usually shining blue eyes hold so many emotions—anger, disappointment, abandonment, betrayal, grief, and many more Dazai couldn’t name.

When those eyes finally look at Dazai, there is a hint of relief there, but tears start to pool in his eyes, and when they run down Chuuya’s cheeks, Dazai can hear his own heart breaking.

Because Chuuya doesn’t cry. At least not in front of people. Not even Dazai.

It’s true Chuuya wears his heart on his sleeve, he expresses his emotions freely, genuinely. But he also refuses to show weakness to people. When it becomes too much for him—like that time when he lost his friends, The Flags, Dazai knows Chuuya cried after their funeral, but never when anyone was around, never when Dazai was anywhere in sight.

Therefore when those silent cry turns into a choked sob, Dazai feels a painful tug in his heart. It gets worse when Chuuya falls on his knees, legs fail to support his own weight. His hands cover his face as the last shield to protect himself from shame.

“Fuck! I can’t stop the fucking tears!”

It’s heart-breaking to hear Chuuya try to defend himself like crying is something to be ashamed of. Maybe because the one witnessing it now is Dazai—his sworn enemy, the one who abandoned him—of all people.

Dazai slowly approaches Chuuya, kneels down to place his hands on the other’s shoulders carefully not to startle him. Chuuya’s body tenses then relaxes a little, but that doesn’t mean the painful sob stop.

“Chuuya…” Dazai’s voice is soft, full of concern. “What happened?”

Another sob before Chuuya tries to speak, “…his emotions.”

“Emotions?”

“He shares… his fucking emotions.” The ginger says in between his sobs, hands reluctant to leave his face.

“What do you…” And then it finally clicked.

The other Chuuya who lives in the world that Dazai created, who shares his memories with this Chuuya since last week, now shares his emotions as well.

But what possibly causes him this much sorrow? Could it be…

Dear Lord.

Chuuya, his Chuuya right now is feeling the emotions his counterpart felt after Dazai’s death, isn’t he?

This is definitely the worst.  

And God, Chuuya’s sobs are heart-wrenching.

“I h-hate you… so fucking much.”

But Chuuya doesn’t push him away, doesn’t yell for him to leave. Perhaps Chuuya needs him to be here, to ground him, to reassure him that this Dazai is still alive.

“It fucking hurts!”

That’s when Dazai pulls Chuuya into his embrace, holding his violently trembling body. A part of him expects Chuuya to push him away, but Chuuya’s hands slowly uncover his face and wrap themselves around Dazai, gripping the back to Dazai’s coat like a lifeline.

“Dazai…” This time Chuuya’s voice is softer, sadder, a tad bit sounded like a plea. He sounds defeated.

Dazai can only hug him tighter, his eyes start to water as well. But he refuses to cry, not when Chuuya needs Dazai to ground him. It’s painful to see Chuuya like this.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers on Chuuya’s auburn hair. “I’m sorry, Chuuya.”

It results a tightened grip on his coat.

He really miscalculates, doesn’t he? Thinking that treating Chuuya badly would make the latter genuinely hate him, made him less attached, thinking that his death wouldn’t hurt his partner, his loyal second-in-command, his friend, the one who cared for him more than anyone in that world.

How did he deal with grief? Who was there to comfort him?

Such irony he questions it now and not before he decided to end his counterpart’s life. 

“Chuuya, you can do him a favor. Do anything to me, punch me, yell at me, tell me anything that he wants to tell my other self. I hope that could make you feel better, and maybe him as well.”

When Chuuya lifts his head to look at him, eyes bloodshot red, tears cascade his face without any sign of stopping, mouth agape to help him breathe, but also to say something that’s apparently stuck in his throat.

“Anything.” Dazai encourages him, rubbing circle on his lower back.

He won’t even mind Chuuya punch him, smash him to the wall with a power that can break his bones, or even stab him with a knife. It’s a logical suggestion. The other Chuuya must be having an unfinished business, given the fact that Dazai didn’t even talk to him before he committed suicide. He even sent Chuuya away for a mission so his protective second-in-command wouldn’t be there to save him, to ruin his plan. Now that Dazai thought about it thoroughly, it’s kind of cruel of him, isn’t it?

So maybe, maybe, he can be the one listening whatever the other Chuuya has to say, through this Chuuya.

The Executive, still trembling, releases himself from Dazai’s hug. The brunet sees a lot of negative emotions reflected on those wet blue eyes, but the dominant one is rage. So much rage.

“You bastard!” Chuuya grabs his collar. “Why did you do shit like that? Why didn’t you tell me anything? I TRUSTED YOU.”

Dazai’s heart clenches at that, but he doesn’t say anything, letting Chuuya express all his anger.

“I trusted you so fucking much! I trusted you to open yourself a little to me. I don’t give a damn about the book’s rules, but if you couldn’t reveal the secret to me for that reason, why didn’t you at least just say something before you decided to jump off that fucking building?! A goodbye, or one single fucking word, ANYTHING, Dazai. WHY?” Chuuya yelled in one single breath, panting afterwards. His whole form shakes with anger, teeth gritting hard Dazai could hear it.

The brunet bites his inner cheek, having nothing to say as an answer that can possibly satisfy Chuuya. “I’m sorry,” is the only thing he can say as he uses his thumbs to wipe Chuuya’s tears away from his face. But Chuuya, obviously, slaps his hands away.

So Dazai waits, he waits for anything else Chuuya would give him. Normally when Chuuya is this angry—honestly Dazai forgot when was the last time he saw Chuuya this angry, Dazai would receive a punch, or at least a hard slap on his face. But none this time.

There is only one explanation for that: the sight of Dazai’s dead body traumatized Chuuya enough he couldn’t even physically hurt Dazai now.

What a big mess Dazai created.

Chuuya clenches his fists, body still shaking violently, breaths short and harsh. At this point Dazai is afraid Chuuya will hyperventilate.

“Chuuya. Chuuya.” He cups Chuuya’s face with both hands. “Breathe with me.”

He takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly, repeatedly in a steady rhythm. Chuuya follows him until his breathing is more stable a moment later.

“I’m sorry for what I did, but let me go Chuuya.”

‘I’m dead. I could never return to you.’

Chuuya’s body visibly shudders.

“I hate you.”

Chuuya pulls Dazai closer by his collar. Dazai braces his body to finally receive violent treatment that he deserves. A punch, a kick, anything.

The last thing he expects is a pair of lips on his.

His brain shorts circuit, every inch of his body freezes, breath caught in his throat. Took him a moment to realize what actually happens.

Chuuya is kissing him.

A kiss that tastes like tears.

A kiss that tastes like anger, desperation, grief, pain.

A kiss that tastes like sorrow.

One of Chuuya’s hands is on his nape, pulling him impossibly closer, desperate, like he would slip away and disappear forever if Chuuya didn’t hold him tight enough.

Even with lips locked on him, Dazai could hear a sob escaping. It’s small and weak, but it squeezed Dazai’s heart strongly, it’s painful.

It took a moment before Chuuya break the kiss and pulled away slightly, enough to look at Dazai in the eyes, but not enough to break their proximity.

“I love you.”

Dazai almost gasped if those lips don’t seal his own for the second time.

Did he mishear it? Did Chuuya say ‘hate’ but Dazai heard it ‘love’ instead?

But this kiss might answer his question. Different from the first one, this one feels less desperate, anger is absent. Chuuya pours his deepest feelings into this one. Loving, tender, but isn’t less sorrowful.

“I…”

–love you too.

Before Dazai manages to decide whether he’d say it aloud or not, Chuuya pulls away. The sudden distance became unbearable, Dazai finds himself almost chase those lips, but he stops himself.

Chuuya’s eyes meet his for a second, gaze empty.

That moment Dazai realizes, those kisses and the heartfelt confession aren’t for him.

They are for the other him, from the other Chuuya.

Those don’t belong to them.

This Chuuya, his Chuuya, resents him, doesn’t he? For killing his other self and causes this whole mess.

He is the one initiating this idea, then why did it hurt?

It doesn’t hurt any less when he finally realizes the other Chuuya is in love with his counterpart and he ended his life like it’s the easiest decision ever. Leaving Chuuya alone in the dark, with broken trust and broken heart.

And he did ask Chuuya, just a moment ago, to let him go—he made it sound easy.

It’s never easy to let go of someone you love.

“What happened today stays here. We won’t talk about this tomorrow, or ever,” said the ginger, tone hollow as he stands up leaving Dazai sitting on the carpeted floor.

If Dazai’s feels like his heart is being stabbed by an invisible knife, Chuuya doesn’t know.

They don’t talk for days after that. Dazai has tried to approach Chuuya a couple times, dying to know how the other is doing. But Chuuya clearly avoids him, spending most of his time in Port Mafia’s office instead of his own apartment, as if knowing that Dazai would lurk around his apartment. Dazai understands that Chuuya needs time, but that doesn’t mean he stops paying close attention to his ex-partner. Not after what happened that day.

When one day Dazai spots Chuuya from afar, he notices Chuuya looks a bit better than the last time. He doesn’t look exhausted and on the edge anymore. The dark circles under his eyes are still there, but less visible now. He got some sleep at least, that’s a relief.

Dazai finds himself smiling, amazed by Chuuya’s capability to heal himself. He has been wounded a lot of times, even some of them were extreme cases. A lot of betrayals, a lot of losses. People might break him, his trust, his heart, but Chuuya always picks himself up and continues on living the way he wants. Chuuya always heals himself from every wound. He is amazing. An amazing human, really.

But it doesn’t mean this problem is over. Chuuya still avoids him. They still need closure, but Chuuya isn’t ready. He is healing, but not totally healed yet. Dazai knows.

Therefore Dazai keeps a close attention to him, close enough to find out a new activity the executive made a routine. Whenever Chuuya is done with his job as mafia, before he goes back to his apartment, he always visits a small flower shop, buys a bouquet of flowers then takes it to a hill on one of Yokohama’s outskirts.

He doesn’t know what those flowers are for.

Dazai doesn’t intend to peer too deep into Chuuya’s privacy—not when Chuuya is still upset with him, but he got the gist that this has something to do with their problem. Therefore he follows Chuuya to the hill, in a safe distance not to get caught.

Then Chuuya arrives at the top of a hill and Dazai hides himself behind a tree nearby. Strangely enough, he feels an attachment to this place, as if he visits this place often, but in reality he doesn’t. The place is nice and all, with a great view of Yokohama down there, but Dazai doesn’t have any reason to come here often. Then why does it feel so familiar?

Dazai shakes away his thought as he sees Chuuya crouch down to place the bouquet on the grassy ground.

Chuuya is visiting a grave, Dazai concludes.

The brunet shifts slightly from his position to have a better view of the tombstone that is hid by Chuuya’s body, dying to know whose grave Chuuya is visiting. How close Chuuya’s connection to the deceased person, for Chuuya to visit their grave almost everyday?

But then, he found nothing.

No tombstone.

Nothing.

The bouquet of white lilies is placed on a flat ground covered in green grass. No matter how one looks at it, it doesn’t look like a grave at all.

“It’s been a long day.” Chuuya’s voice stops Dazai’s train of thoughts. Now Chuuya is sitting on the grass, with his back facing Dazai. At first Dazai thinks Chuuya is talking to him, that he’d been caught stalking him like a creep.

But that’s unlikely. Dazai has been good at hiding his presence from Chuuya. He’d been doing good in these past four years. Despite betraying Port Mafia and leaving Chuuya behind, Dazai couldn’t help but check on Chuuya once in a while, only to make sure the ginger did well. He did it without anyone knowing. He paid close attention to his ex-partner, close enough to the point of knowing when Chuuya was having a bad day. He was there to make sure Chuuya return to his apartment safe and sound after making himself drunk in his favorite bar to forget anything that upset him; be it the death of his subordinates or a failed mission. He sat in their favorite coffee shop almost every morning despite it being dangerously close to Port Mafia’s territory, only to see Chuuya passed by on his way to his workplace, be it in his car or motorcycle. Dazai could only see him for a split second each day, but that’s enough.

Dazai has been doing it for four years. Chuuya doesn’t know. Chuuya doesn’t need to know.

Dazai has been doing it for so long, so there is no way he’d be caught today.

He listens as Chuuya starts talking about his day, voice soft and… affectionate?. He talks about his activities in the mafia, a successful mission, his interactions with people who are close to him; Hirotsu, Kouyou, Mori, Akutagawa. He talks and talks, in a manner resembling a person talking to their significant other who has been waiting for them at home.

Dazai can’t help but keep listening to it, stupidly hoping someday Chuuya will talk to him like that, talking about his day at work, sharing mundane things. Ah, but didn’t he waste that opportunity himself?

Then Chuuya said something that catches Dazai’s attention more than any other words before. “…I didn’t care much about boss’s duties and responsibilities before, but after knowing about you, I can’t help but pay more attention to them. They seem pretty much stressful. That must be hard for you as well, being the boss of Port Mafia there.”

Dazai’s breath caught in throat as his eyes widen in realization.

Chuuya is talking to the other him, the Port Mafia boss version of him. The deceased him.

“I wish you relied more on...me—the other me.” A deep sigh follows his sentence. “For more than just mafia’s business.”

A long silence as the wind blows.

“Oh well, maybe he doesn’t mean that much to you.”

Dazai opens his mouth, ready to disprove Chuuya’s assumption. But he doesn’t want to get caught now. Not until he hear every single one of Chuuya’s hidden thoughts.

Another silence. This time lasts longer than the previous one. Chuuya is probably lost in thought, jumping to the wrong conclusion about how his other self meant to his boss. That must be what the other Chuuya feels, especially after the suicide.

“I wish I could save you.”

Dazai’s heart clenches at that. Unidentified emotion hit him hard and sudden, so strong it’s almost painful. His mind couldn’t process why those words have great effect on him or how they manage to make his eyes water in all of sudden.

He and Chuuya have been saving each other’s life for so long. Despite screaming to the world that they hate each other to the guts, the world also knows they’d jump into any danger to save each other. They are not just work partners, their bond is deeper than that. They are friends, best friends at some points, they could communicate even without words. Having such bond, it’s just natural to have each other’s back even in life-or-death situation. Counting on each other, relying on each other, trusting each other with their life.

Therefore if one of them fail to save the other, wouldn’t it feel terrible?

It would. Undoubtedly so.

If he is ever being late to nullify Chuuya’s Corruption and he lost his life because of that, if he ever fail to save Chuuya, what would Dazai feel?

The brunet lifts his head, staring blankly at the rustling leaves above him, as his mind gives him an answer:

It’d be hell on earth.

Day flies by, Chuuya keeps coming to the hill, and so does Dazai—sitting on his hidden place behind the tree.

At this point he doubts Chuuya hasn’t noticed him, but Chuuya doesn’t say anything either.

Dazai closes his eyes, listening to Chuuya’s voice as he shares about his day at work, as he talks to Dazai’s other self.

That, until it starts raining.

Dazai turns around to see Chuuya still sits there, unbothered by the rain. Without further ado, ignoring that he is supposed to continue hiding, he approaches Chuuya while taking his beige coat off in the process.

As he is only one feet behind Chuuya, he uses his coat to cover both of them from the rain.

That's when Chuuya looks up and their eyes finally meet.

Just one look from that pair of blue eyes and Dazai feels the emotions he’d been containing these past few weeks could burst right there and then.

Chuuya doesn’t look surprised upon seeing him there.

“This is his favorite place.” Chuuya says as he stands up to face Dazai, with a little sad smile on his lips that gives a painful tug at Dazai’s heart. “My other self suggested to bury his body here.”

In one swift motion Dazai pulls Chuuya into a tight, bone-crushing hug. Coat dropped on the ground completely forgotten, letting them being soaked by the rain.  

Chuuya stills, doesn’t return the embrace but doesn’t push him away either.

“I love you.” Dazai whispers into Chuuya’s auburn hair, pouring his deepest feeling into those  words, voice a bit shaky by the strong emotions he’d been keeping to himself all this time. It might be a little late to realize, but it’s never too late to let Chuuya know.

He could feel Chuuya’s body tense in his hold. He knows this sudden confession would surprise him, after the way Dazai has been treating Chuuya, after the abandonment, after years of pretending that he doesn’t care much about Chuuya. After everything that happened in the other world.

But he, definitely doesn’t expect Chuuya’s respond would be a calm, rather cold,

“No, you don’t.”

“Chuuya—”

Chuuya pushes him enough to break the hug. He looks straight into Dazai’s eyes with gaze as cold as ice.

“You don’t treat someone you love like this, Dazai.”

You don’t abandon someone you love. You don’t break someone you love.

Chuuya is right.

But Dazai isn’t a genius when it comes to dealing with emotions. He wasn’t raised to love, it took him years to realize he’s capable of one.

He probably can’t express that love properly like normal people do. He might not love Chuuya right, can’t treat him right at times. It might be a love with a lot of flaws and mistakes. But it’s still love, and he wants it, he needs it.

“I know… I know. But I love you. I love you here, and I love you there. There is no world where I don’t fall for you, I’m sure of it. You are always beside me, you are the only constant thing in every world I’m in, and I need that, I need you.”

Chuuya doesn’t say anything. But those blue eyes start to fill with emotions.

“No matter what jobs we do, how we met, where we live, what’s our circumstance is, in every world, I love you. But only in that one world, Chuuya, allow me to sacrifice us for Odasaku. Only in that world.”

One person could love two at the same time. Maybe it’s different type of love, but still love nonetheless.

Human sometimes has to sacrifice one love for the other.

Dazai couldn’t say he did the right thing, but he had to.

Asking for Chuuya’s understanding might be too much. Both Chuuyas have dealed with so much of his bullshits. But Chuuya always stays, and Dazai is always the one who left.

The pain reflected in those blue eyes is heart-breaking. Chuuya’s lips part to say something, but he closes them again. He only looks deep into Dazai’s eyes, trying to find something, trying to know if Dazai is sincere, if Dazai truly loves him.

Dazai isn’t afraid. Because if Chuuya knows him more than anyone, despite all the doubts fogging the ginger’s mind, Dazai knows he’ll eventually find the answer—that Dazai is utterly serious, sincere, honest.

After a while, Chuuya lets out a long breath, his shoulders relaxs a bit. There, he found it.

“Okay…” He whispers as he buries his face on Dazai’s chest. “Okay.”

The brunet wraps his arms around the slender figure, securing him in a warm embrace. Unlike the desperate hug earlier, this one is gentle, loving. Being this close, Chuuya could hear the crazy rhythm of Dazai’s heart, but he doesn’t mind.

Having Chuuya in his arms feels like home.

How long he has been straying away from home? It feels like an eternity.

“But promise me one thing.” Chuuya said, looking up at him.

Dazai nods. He could do it whatever it’s going to be. He could do anything for Chuuya.

“Promise me you would never end your life again, no matter what the reason is. Not in any world.” Chuuya grips the back of Dazai’s vest. “Especially here.”

Dazai opens his mouth to say something, but Chuuya quickly beats him to it.

“I know it’s hard for you. But whenever it becomes too much, find someone to talk about it. If I’m not around at that time, find someone from your agency, I know they care about you. Promise me you’ll try, and I'll be there to help you the best I can.”

Those words left him speechless. Chuuya, ever so understanding, caring, loving, just touched the deepest part of him, the part that he thought will never see light.

“Yes.” Dazai sounds like he is on the verge of tears. Maybe he is, but he doesn’t care. The rain could hide his tears if they ever fall anyway. “Yes, I promise. I promise I’ll try.”

The kiss they share under the rain seals the promise of a lifetime.

Unlike the previous ones, this kiss is theirs and theirs alone.

“I think we should do it more often.”

“Do what?” asks Chuuya, before sipping the hot chocolate he held in hands.

“Kissing under the rain!”

The poor man almost choked on his drink. “Hah? Hell no! That’s sappy as fuck.”

“It’s romantic!”

“Romantic my ass.”

“But you didn’t protest earlier.”

“…”

“Aww your ears turn red, chibi!”

“Shut up and dry my hair already!”

Dazai chuckles but complies. After being soaked by the rain just around an hour ago, they returned to Chuuya’s apartment, took hot shower, and now here they are sitting on the executive’s luxurious couch. Dazai sits behind Chuuya while the ginger sits in between Dazai’s legs, both wrapped in warm blanket like a burrito.

Being useful for once, Dazai dries Chuuya’s hair while humming happily, clearly enjoying himself. Strangely enough it doesn’t sound like his usual suicide song, this sounds more like… a love song or something? Whatever it is, Chuuya finds himself enjoying it as well, as silly as it might sound.

When Dazai finished drying Chuuya’s hair, he just randomly throws the towel away, letting it drop somewhere on the floor.

Since their position hinders Chuuya to glare at the waste of bandages, he elbows his stomach instead.

“Ouch! Domestic abuse!”

Chuuya huffs before placing his half-empty cup on the coffee table. Before Dazai could whine from the lost of warmth, Chuuya returns to the brunet’s arms, leaning his back againts Dazai’s chest, watching the rain pouring outside through the huge window of his apartment. Dazai wraps his arms around Chuuya’s waist, nuzzling against his nape affectionately.

It’s warm, comfortable, and feels like a fever dream.

“By the way, how is my other chibi doing?”

Chuuya’s smile falls, but fortunately his back is facing Dazai now or else the brunet would notice.

‘He’s dying.’

There’s no way he could reveal this to Dazai. He doesn’t want Dazai to drown in guilt now, not after the storm they’ve just faced. He would tell him one day, but not today.

“He’s doing good,” is all Chuuya could say. Daring to say more and Dazai would realize he’s lying. Chuuya has never been a good liar after all.

Dazai hums then places his chin atop Chuuya’s head, still hugging him tightly.

“Do you think he’ll be happy if he see us like this?”

“Yeah, he will.”

Dazai says nothing more, lost in thought apparently. There’s no word, no gesture, but somehow Chuuya could sense guilt from his partner. The fact that they could have this love, this affection, this warmth, while the other Chuuya can’t, is kind of heart-breaking. But there’s nothing they can do to change it.

“Dazai… Oda finished his novel.” Chuuya said, bringing a new topic to prevent Dazai from swaying further into his thoughts.

He could hear Dazai’s breath hitch. “…He did?”

Chuuya nods.

“How did you know?”

“My other self read it, so I can share it with you.”

‘And he can share it with his Dazai.’

Dazai fell silent for a long time, before whispering, “I don’t deserve you, both of you.”

Chuuya is about to insult him or something the way they usually interact, but when he senses seriousness in Dazai’s tone, he changes his mind. Those words aren’t empty, Dazai really meant it.

He sighs before releasing himself from Dazai’s hug. He turns around to straddle Dazai’s hips, cupping the other’s cheeks to face him.

“Yeah, sometimes I think you don’t.” Honesty is much better than any sugar-coated words. “But I want to be with you anyway. I want you.” Chuuya presses their forehead together, looking deep into Dazai’s eyes. “I want us.”

Dazai’s lips part, eyes widen, he looks utterly astonished. Speechless. Almost look like an innocent child, Chuuya definitely would keep this rare sight in his memories.

“But… I can’t promise to be a better person right away.” The sparkles in his eyes subdue a bit as he says, “I might hurt you again.”

“As long as we talk about it after, it’s okay I guess.” Communication is the key of a relationship after all, especially one as complicated as theirs.

The detective’s mouth is agape again, utterly dumbfounded. Emotions swirling in those hazel eyes. 

“Are you an angel?”

Chuuya smirks. “Even better, I’m a God actually.”

Dazai’s laughter shakes his whole body. It sounds so genuine, happy, carefree, sounds like music to Chuuya’s ears.

“And I’m your number one worshipper.”

Dazai leans closer to bump his nose against Chuuya’s, in a soft eskimo kiss.

.

.

.

When Chuuya opens his eyes, a tear streams down his face before he could stop it.

Just a moment ago, behind his closed eyelids, he could see himself—or the other version of him, wrapped in Dazai’s warm embrace. They look happy.

Chuuya is also happy.

Because somewhere, he and Dazai love each other and they are happy together.

But above it all, he’s relieved that Dazai is alive; breathing, smiling, laughing, throwing silly jokes.

That’s all he needed to know. That’s all could ever ask.

‘I hope you rest in peace. Your memories and feelings are safe with me’, he could hear it in the back of his mind.

A message from his other self, huh?

‘I hope you are always happy. Please take care of yourself and him’, is his reply.

He quickly wipes his tear away when the door of his hospital room cracks open, revealing the figure he wants to hate, but can’t bring himself to.

Oda Sakunosuke.

Both are silent until Oda step closer to Chuuya’s hospital bed.

Chuuya takes a closed book from the nightstand then offers it to Oda. Every movement feels a torture, his body couldn’t last much longer.

“I’ve finished reading it.”

Oda takes the book from Chuuya’s hand before replying, “I have no idea why you are interested in my novel.”

“I’m not.” Chuuya snorts. “Not in the slightest. But there’s someone who is, and I read it so I can share it with him.”

There’s a slight frown forming on Oda’s face, but he doesn’t pry.

“Are you going to publish it?”

“One day in near future, yes.”

Chuuya nodds then closes his eyes.

“Oda Sakunosuke, could you do me a favor?”

Oda’s gaze fall to the tombstone in front of him, his hands still holding Chuuya’s wheelchair. He doesn’t know what he’d expect when the Port Mafia Boss asked his help to take him to a certain place.

He surely doesn’t expect it would be Dazai Osamu’s grave.

Silence envelops them for a moment as Oda tries to put two and two together.

“The one you said interested in my novel, is he…”

“Yeah.” The ginger answers immediately, without looking at his direction. “It’s Dazai Osamu.”

Oda’s mouth sealed shut, doesn’t really know how to respond. He met the man before, in Bar Lupin. He couldn’t forget the heartbreak expression on the other’s face when Oda forbidded him to call his name with such familiarity. He despised him for everything he did as the boss of Port Mafia, but Oda didn’t feel happy or relieved upon learning about the man’s death. It’s strange, he doesn’t understand why.

He clearly doesn’t understand why that man was interested in his novel. Oda is no extraordinary writer.

“Do you hate him?”

Oda blinks at the sudden question.

“I thought I did. I hated him as the boss of the mafia. But it’s nothing personal.”

It’s true.

“So you are hating his position, not himself?”

“You could say that.”

Oda definitely doesn’t hate Nakahara Chuuya either, despite him being the new boss of Port Mafia after Dazai’s fall.

Chuuya’s eyes are still locked on the tombstone in front of them, but from his spot Oda could see the other’s lips curved into a small smile.

“You can leave me here.” Chuuya says, stopping Oda’s train of thoughts. He eyes the man sitting on the wheelchair, wrapped in warm clothes, but his skin is so pale, he’s losing his vibrant, losing the fire in his eyes.

It’s about time.

Logically it’d be cruel to leave a sick person here alone, on top of a hill where the cold wind blows, making even Oda himself shiver.

But Oda knows the only thing he could do now is to fulfil a dying man’s last request.

Therefore Oda nods, slowly letting go of Chuuya’s wheelchair. He eyes the tombstone with ‘Dazai Osamu’ written on it before turning around and starts to leave.

However, after a few steps taken, he turns around to see Chuuya one last time.

“Nakahara Chuuya, thank you for saving Yokohama.”

He could see Chuuya’s eyes widen in surprise for a moment, before a weak, amused chuckle slips through those pale lips.

“You did good too, Oda Sakunosuke.”

Oda dips his head slightly, showing his respect before leaving with a heavy heart he doesn’t understand why.

One thing to be certain, once he publish his novel, he’d bring one copy and give it to Dazai Osamu here, on his grave.

And maybe, a bottle of wine for Nakahara Chuuya.

“Are you happy now, bastard? I even made him visit your fucking grave.” Chuuya let out a huff, resting his exhausted body on the wheelchair.

It’s surprisingly not snowing today.

The cloud doesn’t hide the sun either.

He could see it from his spot, the beautiful sunset beyond the horizon.

It’s a nice day to go.

Chuuya closes his eyes, feeling content.

“I saw them, us.” His lips form a smile, recalling the piece of memory his other self sent him—of them sitting on the couch, wrapped in warm blanket, sharing laughters and kisses. “Their life isn’t much easier than ours, but they’ll manage. They decided to live it together, after all.”

No matter the hardships, the obstacles, as long as they have each other, there’s nothing they can’t conquer. They are a powerful duo, in every world existing.

“But I can’t believe they fixed things for us, you fucking suck.”

When Chuuya opens his eyes one last time to capture the view of beautiful sunset with color as vibrant as Chuuya’s life, he sees Dazai instead.

His Dazai.

Standing there in front of his own grave, smiling at him fondly.

A ghost? Or hallucination his dying brain creates in his last moment?

Chuuya doesn’t need logical explanation now.

Seeing Dazai’s face one last time before he go doesn’t sound bad.

Then he watches Dazai slowly approaching him, leaning down to whisper in a soft, gentle voice,

“I want you to accompany me through the endless circle of reincarnation. Would you accept this last mission, Chuuya?”

Dazai’s smiling face is the last thing Chuuya saw before he closes his eyes slowly, smiling peacefully.

The blowing wind feels cold, but the ghost feeling of lips pressed against his forehead doesn’t. It feels warm.

It warms his heart and soul.

“Yes, boss.”

END