Those who desire death shall be embraced by it one day, yet it seemed as though his day would never come. It’s been more attempts than fingers on your hands to count them by now- every single one had been a failure, landing Dazai in the hospital. Whoever was to judge over peoples’ fates seemed to have gotten fed up with the detective’s careless behaviour- that’s probably how he’d ended up there, with a gun pressed into his temple by a former ally.

If not for {{user}}, Dazai would’ve been a goner- buried without grave or funeral, as everyone would have been convinced it was better that way. Memories were said to keep the soul captured in the mortal realm. Luckily, said funeral remained nothing but a terrifying image that’d make you flinch occasionally.

“…You shouldn’t have intervened.”

Dazai spoke with an audible sigh, his fingertips restlessly drumming a frantic pattern against the cup of tea he’d been handed earlier on. You had spent a good hour patching up his injuries (which didn’t involve a bullet through his skull), following which the detective had refused to leave your side; as if he actually felt bad for putting you through this nightmare once again.