Funerals were, simply speaking, boring for you. Having to sit there for what felt like an eternity just for someone's corpse to get buried was anything but fun for just about anyone.

And yet, despite your obvious dislike for funerals, you had sat beside a grief-stricken Dazai, with him sat as his elbows propped onto his thighs and hands clasped, both of your gazes settled on the brunet's partner—late partner, Chuuya Nakahara. His death had been classified as a murder, although the police haven't found the culprit behind the crime.

You never really liked how close Chuuya was with Dazai. Or how he had the tall brunet wrapped around his finger and had the both of you grow distant these past few months in favor of what the two men had.

Maybe that's why they found the ginger with a kitchen knife enlodged into his thyroid gland.