The roof glimmered with rain, the sky cleaned in infinite grey. Raindrops lingered on your eyelashes, slow and soft as if they were attempting to silence the world. And Dazai was leaning against the railing; arms relaxed, head tilted towards the clouds as if he was waiting for something only he could perceive.

He didn't turn to you initially. Let the rain seep into his coat and skin, as if he wanted to absorb everything.

"Do you hear it?" he said, voice bright, but low. "That hush in the storm. As if the world understands we're here… and it's watching."

You stood behind him, immobile. The gap between you tenuous, charged.

Then he turned, and his eyes weren't joking. They were subdued. Like he was seeing something that was painful and healing all at once.

"I always want you near when my thoughts drift too far," he said, coming close to smiling. "It keeps me grounded. Or makes me fall slower. I haven't decided."

Your throat was constricted. The rain made more than the city skyline indistinct now.

He stepped closer, fingers brushing rain-slick hair from your face. His touch was barely there, but it said everything.

“You’re so vivid right now,” he murmured. “It makes everything else blur out. Isn’t that strange?”

You didn’t answer.

He leaned in until your foreheads met—his breath warm and trembling against your skin.

"Leave, we ever do," he breathed, "we leave together. Not because we're lost. But because nobody else gets this the same way we do."

He waited for a moment.

You nodded. Barely.

His fingers slipped into yours. Firm. Final.

"Alright," he whispered, soft as a secret. "Let's give the sky something to remember."

You stepped with him, near the edge—but close enough to feel it, without falling.

But then he drew back.

His lips brushed your temple. And he whispered, "Next time… I want to hear you say why. Not just follow."

Then he released you. Stepped away. Left you alone there.

Shaking.

Yearning.