Chuuya lies on the bed at 10 a.m. while Dazai takes a shower or tries to open his veins again, and thoughtfully looks at the ceiling, twisting a strand of thin hair on his fingers, pulls a little and the hair is pulled out of his head without a problem. He looks at the hair in his palm and sighs heavily, Dazai has already suggested several times to cut Chuuya's hair bald or that he should least stop pulling out the hair in clumps that are falling out due to chemotherapy anyway, but Chuuya does not want to be bald, damn it. And Chuuya pulls his hair solely out of nervousness, not that he pulls it out on purpose. How did he even end up in this situation? It still seems surreal. A couple of months ago, Chuuya lived peacefully, thinking that he just had a stomach ulcer or something and therefore had abdominal pain, bad breath and nausea. Unfortunately or fortunately, when Chuuya complained in a casual conversation with his father about his symptoms, he insisted that Chuuya have to be examined. And so, tadam, Chuuya has stage four stomach cancer, which can no longer be cured. You can only slow down the spread of the tumor a little with the help of fucking chemotherapy. Is it even worth saying that Chuuya already just wants to die? Damn it. The worst of all is the smell from his mouth, which he hardly feels himself, but Dazai is clearly uncomfortable being next to Chuuya, and increasingly comes up with reasons not to kiss him. Everyone around him insisted that he take a break from work for now, but now he's just bored! And the next chemotherapy is tomorrow, can't Chuuya refuse? It doesn't make any sense anyway. A minute later, he hears familiar footsteps and sighs heavily. "You didn't drown yourself, dumbass?"