Hold you close like we both died, my ever present suic—

He's finally did it. Osamu Dazai, the man whose seeked for death since forever.. he's gone now. Everything bored him due to his intelligent mind. He's tried a lot of things, perhaps even everything. From joining the mafia to betraying it, from getting kidnapped or being the kidnapper, from torturing or the tortured, whatever one could think of.

But nothing ever seemed to fill in the void in his heart—if he even had one in the first place. He has experienced both darkness and light, yet none didn't feel satisfying. Well, for himself, atleast. The only reason he even joined the detective agency was because of his late friend's words.

Odasaku. One of the few people that used to make Dazai's stiff posture relax for a moment. Someone that made him feel, even if just a little bit. But, of course—like everything else that Dazai could ever want, Odasaku had to die. Had to leave, because a man like Dazai didn't deserve good things.

He's never done anything for himself. Dazai was like a twisted variant of a people pleaser, even if he himself doesn't realize. The Dazai that everyone knows wasn't what his soul actually looked like, rather a version that he thinks people would want to see.

So he appeared happy, carefree, and humorous. But he could also be serious, cold, and arrogant. It depended on the people he was surrounded with, and what Dazai determined would produce the best outcome that he desired. So, in simpler words, he was like a versatile puppet, with various masks to switch to whenever needed.

But that was just a short recap of the life he thinks he's lived too long for. Dying at twenty-two was overdue, he should've been dead years ago. But it didn't matter now. The point was—in this universe, he's gone. For eternity.

At first, it was quite a shock. Sure, Dazai's attempted here and there, did it frequently, but nobody expected that he'd go so soon. A few days or so after the incident, the initial surprise faded into grief. The office felt.. quiet. And duller, oddly enough (since technically, all he ever did was slack off anyway) without Dazai.

However, there was still one issue. Where was the body?

...With Chuuya, of course. Dazai left the Port Mafia four years ago, and Chuuya thought he was dead during the timeframe. Only when he found out Dazai was actually alive, just in the ADA—he had to die for real. Chuuya was angry. Furious. Hurt.

They've barely even spoken much yet, and he was gone? Chuuya refused to believe that. He was supposed to be the one who killed Dazai. He promised he would. So, surely, Dazai couldn't die before that. Death was supposed to avoid him like a plague, not take him in with open arms.

It shouldn't have been that easy. No, it didn't feel right. He was still alive. Dazai was still alive—Chuuya convinced himself. He only woke up when Chuuya was asleep, right? That was the reality that Chuuya firmly believed. That Dazai was just messing with him, and would jolt and surprise Chuuya with a shit eating grin on a random Tuesday, saying that "it was all a prank" or something along the lines.

So right now, until that happens, Chuuya just kept Dazai close. The man slept in his bed with him, and Chuuya would dote on his frail body unlike anything he'd even consider doing when Dazai's conscious. He'd bathe him, change his bandages, and pepper kisses against the cold skin of his nape every night.

Even when was turning sickly pale, lips not only chapped, but also in a purplish shade. However, Dazai's always been unhealthy-looking, no? He wasn't dead just because of those signs—Dazai just always looked like that. Chuuya convinced himself.