Chapter Text
Days kept going by with what Osamu came to know as his new normal. Mope around the apartment all day. Reread the same old book he had already read for the ninth time. Sit and wait around.
And wait some more.
And wait a little more.
It was the most boring thing he had ever experienced, if he was being honest. Watching the hands of the clock move second by second with a small tick.
That’s what he’d say if this pathetic excuse of an apartment had the decency to have something as basic as a clock. However, considering their constant supply of reheated take out food, he couldn’t say he was too surprised at the state the dorm was in.
Days turned to weeks, turned to months, going by one after the other with the same story that was getting way too old way too quick. Whoever was writing his life really needed to get the creativity flowing .
He raised his head from behind the book he was reading when he heard the rusted click of the door unlocking. His chest lit up with excitement like a dog with a new bone.
Well, maybe there was one thing about his days that wasn’t unbearably boring after all.
“Hey there, slug.”
Chuuya.
The one thing that kept his days just a tad bit less bland. Just like he always had.
The redhead had proven himself to be the most spontaneous human being Osamu had ever met.
Always unpredictable and buzzing with the energy that Osamu has only ever grazed in his wildest dreams. Osamu had always wondered where Chuuya got that from.
Chuuya’s life was kinda shit. He wouldn’t have been friends with Osamu all those years if it wasn’t, in his opinion.
He did notice that Chuuya’s distinctive energy had diminished significantly. Despite it being a foreign look on Chuuya, it wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar sight. The complete absence of life in his electric blue eyes was intimate to Osamu.
He could recognize those unfocused eyes staring back at him every time he looked in a mirror. It’s why he doesn’t look in mirrors anymore. He didn’t like the reminder. A reminder of how inhuman he was.
He liked it even less now that the reminder did not correspond to him.
Osamu had never considered himself human. He was a poor imitation of a person, an artificial being made for the sole purpose of creating an illusion of happiness.
“An exaggeration and an overstatement rooted in deep depression,” was what every therapist and psychologist had ever told him in response to his theory regarding his nonexistent humanity.
And to be honest, he understood why.
A child that considered himself incapable of possessing the human experience seemed like an idea too big for a kid to have thought up on his own. A seed needled into his brain by a higher being. A seed nurtured by an unforgiving life intent on failing him in every way.
But no, Osamu did not think it was a seed that had been buried into his mind by someone else. He knew it to be true, he had experienced it one too many times. The few instances he had experienced true human emotion, it made him do nothing but wish to be the farthest thing from human as possible. After all, there is nothing like the human experience to make you wish you weren’t human.
Human emotions were devastating. Breathtaking and nerve racking in that unpredictable way that terrified him and fueled him to further shut everything off. And despite all this, Osamu was fascinated.
He was fascinated by how human Chuuya was.
Chuuya wore his emotions on his sleeve without a care in the world, letting them influence his every action and word. He was overflowing with human static and Osamu couldn’t even try to deny how unbelievably enchanting that was to him.
Yet now, all he could find within himself to do was worry. It was unmistakable, completely undeniable, human worry.
How fitting for a ghost.
He watched Chuuya go through his usual, insipidly predictable routine. Not a trace of his previous characteristic spontaneity in sight.
This was not the boy he left behind.
And the months only served to prove him right time and time again.
“Haven’t you read that same book like a million times?” Chuuya asked with a yawn, throwing his bag carelessly onto the bed as he made his way towards the fridge.
“This is the ninth time, actually,” Osamu said, dropping the book beside him as he swung his feet over the edge of the bed, watching the redhead carefully nonetheless.
“How was your day?”
“Normal. Nothing special,” Chuuya said, the same answer as always. His practiced hands pulled out a beer and opened it with the edge of the counter, taking a longswing before sighing.
“You’re gonna die before you turn 25 with how much you drink,” Osamu said, glancing at the pack of empty beer bottles set beside the kitchen sink.
“ Oh no.. Dying before I turn 25? What a tragedy that would be ,” Chuuya answered with dry sarcasm, letting his body sink into one of the chairs by the small table, exhausted.
Osamu watched the redhead scroll through his phone, beer in hand and eyes as devoid of emotion as they had been since he came back. Muted blue moving up and down in a practiced and repeated motion.
He hated how familiar he was with it.
“Chuuya?”
“Hm?” The other hummed in response, not even raising his eyes from the screen.
“It’s Friday, y’know?”
“You can’t leave the dorm, Dazai,” Chuuya answered mechanically, an immediate reaction to the question he thought the other would ask second.
“I know,” he stood up from the bed with a small hop, smiling brightly at the other as he sat down across from him. He placed his elbows on the table and laced his fingers, resting his chin on the back of his hands with a smile.
Chuuya’s eyes lifted from the screen to stare at Osamu in an unamused way.
“What do you want?”
“Chuuyaaa,” Osamu whined, letting his head fall flat onto the table with a loud thud.
“Careful, you might kill your last brain cell.”
“Let’s do something fun!”
Chuuya lowered the phone slightly, acting like he would finally listen to the brunet’s proposals but he knew better than to believe him yet.
“Like what?”
“Well, I dunno,” Osamu said, letting his cheek rest on the cold surface.
“Wonderful ideas, thank you so much for your input,” Chuuya answered, voice dripping with sarcasm once again, his eyes returning to the robotic scanning of his phone screen.
“Stop!” Osamu whined, pulling his head up from the table to look at the redhead, only to find him lost on his phone again. “Listen to me, it’s Friday we should do something fun!”
“Who are you? My mom?”
“Your mom’s dead.”
“Damn. God damn man.”
Osamu winced, “Sorry.”
Chuuya was a very social person, or at least he used to be. The rare weekend night they wouldn’t spend together, he would spend at a party somewhere or drinking his heart out to sappy love songs with his other group of friends.
The redhead wasn’t as close to them as he was with Akutagawa and Osamu, but Osamu knew Shirase and the others were precious to him.
Chuuya was a very loyal dog after all.
It truly caught Osamu off guard to see how utterly alone the redhead seemed to be nowadays. The lively atmosphere he used to carry himself with seemed to be muted and monotone now. It felt unrecognizable.
Osamu wondered how, in a community as close knit as a university, someone as lively as Chuuya had managed to end up so alone.
Chuuya seemed forgotten. Like an old doll left to rot in an attic.
Of course he had seen just how close he still was with Akutagawa. He doubted that was the redhead’s doing though.
Akutagawa had been tied to the redhead’s hip since the moment he introduced them to each other. It wasn’t surprising really, Chuuya’s welcoming aura was bound to reel another mackerel of a teen in.
He was glad they still had each other at least.
“Again, Dazai,” Chuuya continued, voice dripping with an exhaustion worthy of a wine mom. ”You can’t leave the apartment.”
“Remind me why, please,” Osamu protested.
“What if someone sees you?” Chuuya countered.
“No one will see me, chibi. The guy Aku came with couldn’t see me.”
“Yeah well, Akutagawa could. We’re not risking it,”
“You’re so boring .”
Osamu continued to whine, letting his head fall limp as he leaned back, his dark hair hanging down as he stared up at the ceiling in thought.
He hummed slowly before he pulled his head back up , brunet hair bouncing back into place.
“We could just drink a little at least, y’know, like normal uni students do.”
He stopped for a second. A flash of pain dashed through the other’s eyes, masked immediately by anger as he stared back down onto his phone screen. He wasn’t actually registering anything on it anymore.
That was not the reaction he was expecting.
Before Osamu could question him about it, he heard Chuuya scoff.
“You hate drinking.”
“Yes, and I also hate being bored,” Osamu answered back, a biting tone attached to his voice. He hoped his ability to push Chuuya’s buttons hadn’t gone as rusty as their bond.
He finally heard the small click of the redhead turning off his phone, placing it upside down in the middle of the table. A small sense of pride spreading through the brunet’s cheeks in the shape of a smile.
“Okay then, mackerel, what do you wanna drink?”
Osamu looked back at the other, feeling his chest bubble with warm excitement at the sight of the slowly growing light in the redhead’s blue eyes.
He had missed this.
-
“Alright,” Chuuya said, kicking the door closed with his heel as he walked towards the table, shopping bags in hand.
Osamu gave him a wide smile, jumping down from his seat at the counter to look through the stuffed bags the redhead had put down.
The other locked the door and started to place the various bottles he had gotten in a line in front of the brunet, proudly showing what he had managed to get.
“We have prosecco, it’s nice. Try it with orange juice, I think I still have some, check the expiration date before you drink it though.” Chuuya said, picking up the bottle and placing it on his palm, like a woman at a mall trying to convince you to buy a fancy perfume. “Normal beer, ‘cause it's a must. Smirnoff, for me ‘cause I need something strong to fight off my sense of impending doom, but we’re not gonna talk about that. Imma mix it with soda or something. And cider, for you. In case you decide to chicken out on me like you always did.”
Did.
“I’m not gonna fucking ‘pussy out’, you asshole. I’ll let you know, I’ve never pussied out on something in my life,” he spoke with fake hurt as he raised his chin up in pride.
“Mhm,” Chuuya answered with a mocking tone as he walked past him and towards the sink, washing two cups.
Osamu picked up the bottle of prosecco, looking at it up close. “Is this champagne?”
“No, actually it's white wine, but it has gas in it. It's Italian too,” Chuuya said, knowledgeable as ever.
“I was wondering why you hadn’t bought wine,” Osamu hummed.
“You’re insane if you thought I wouldn’t get wine. I hadn’t gotten drinks for myself in a while actually, besides beer obviously. I had a bit saved up for it,” he spoke, pulling out an ice tray from the freezer. “I'm glad I could afford this much.”
Osamu hummed, placing the bottle back down as the redhead walked back with glasses.
“Alright,” he said with an excited smirk Osamu hadn’t seen in a while. “Who’s ready to drink up?”
-
“One more!” Chuuya yelled with a sing-song tone, raising his empty glass high up in the air while he caught himself with the table before losing his balance and kissing the floor.
“Nope! No more, you’ve had one too many, chibi,” Osamu said, a laugh coating his lips as he stood up, picking the glass away from the shorter’s hand.
Chuuya gasped at him, “How dare you?! Give it back right now or I’m kicking you out!”
Despite the threat, the redhead’s chest vibrated with a laugh, ringing brightly and illuminating the room in a way Osamu had been hoping for for months.
He couldn’t help but stare.
Chuuya stood on the tips of his toes as he reached up for the glass. “Give it back!!”
The brunet smirked.
“Take it back yourself, coward.”
“Dazai, I swear to god!” Chuuya jumped, whining when he couldn’t reach it. Osamu chuckled.
“You’re too short, chibi.”
Chuuya took a step back, glaring at the brunet before making his way towards the front door with unbalanced steps. Osamu felt his heart drop for half a second.
“Chuuya wait, where are you going?”
Right when he reached the door, he looked back at the brunet, turning around in one swift motion and staring him straight in the eyes.
“Chuuya..,” Osamu mumbled, before it dawned on him.
“Give me-“
“Wait no, chibi, listen-“
“The… GLASS!!” The brunet’s eyes burst wide open as he saw the other sprint straight for him, using the momentum to jump as high as he could to reach the cup.
He crashed square into Dazai’s chest making them both scream as they fell backwards. Osamu barely managed to hold onto the cup, managing to keep it off the ground so it wouldn’t shatter.
Chuuya pushed himself back up, a hand placed on each side of Osamu’s face as he stared down at him. Bright blue eyes met hazel as they both slowly tried to catch their breath. It started with a small chuckle from the redhead, which the brunet responded to with a giggle. It was a slow descent into a harmonic melody of laughter, their voices mingling with each other in the light air as they laughed to their heart's content.
Chuuya’s cheeks wore a bright pink, and his eyes were closed tight with a wide grin adorning his face . Osamu couldn’t help the warmth that spread through his chest at the sight.
He was beautiful.
The silence that followed was welcomed with open arms, a comfortable embrace they had both missed. After some time Osamu moved from underneath the redhead, resting his back against the mattress and watching the other, still very clumsy from the liquor, follow suit.
“Hey, Dazai?” Chuuya mumbled, slowly moving the blanket of silence away as his voice sounded troubled.
“Yes, slug?”
“Is there anything after death?”
A question Osamu couldn’t say he wasn’t expecting. He was prepared for Chuuya to ask him questions about the afterlife and to be honest he was surprised he hadn’t asked them sooner. He just wasn’t expecting it right this second.
“Well,” Osamu spoke softly, taking a second to think through the small things he could remember. A dark empty void with nothing but his thoughts. A shell of the world he used to live in, ghosts of his life walking around as if he were the only one living. Confusing. Ever so confusing.
Finally he settled on a word.
“It’s empty.”
After a second Chuuya spoke up again.
“..Empty?”
Dazai refused to turn to look at the other. Terrified of the sight. “Yeah it’s just.. not what you expect, you know?”
“No, no I do not know. That’s why I’m asking you,” Chuuya said, almost mockingly, liquor still deep in his tongue.
Osamu chuckled at his drunken bluntness.
“I can’t really explain it, chibi. Besides, I don't want to spoil the surprise for you,” he teased, finally having the heart to shoot the redhead a glance. His eyes lingering at the sight.
“Hm..” Chuuya hummed in response. The silence that followed was thick, a mist that drowned out the sense of comfort Osamu had felt before, leaving the air sticky and almost suffocating.
“Why did you leave?”
Leave.
A word Osamu had found himself thinking over one too many times in his sea of infinite thought. Did what he did count as leaving? He didn’t feel like it did. Chuuya had acted like it didn’t.
Acted.
“Well, I just didn’t see any value in my life anymore. I never had really,” Osamu started, fidgeting with the glass in his hands, tracing the rim and watching as the reflection of the light changed on its stained surface.
“I was alone, and the very few pros never really outweighed the cons. It wasn’t worth it anymore, it never really was. In part I had always been just too damn scared to do anything,” Osamu let an empty chuckle escape his lips. “I lied earlier, I have pussied out of stuff many times.”
“‘No value’ huh..?” Chuuya mumbled. Osamu could see his unfocused eyes.
The light that had finally returned to Chuuya’s eyes was snuffed faster than he could blink, quickly replaced with a dull reflection of navy so dark it could be mistaken with the void he had spent his existence in.
“I get it,” Chuuya spoke again, his words still slightly slurred by the slowness of his tongue. Emotions heightened by it in his veins. “I never was valuable enough then, was I?”
Osamu felt himself take a defensive stance subconsciously. He knew where this was going. Again, he couldn’t say he wasn’t expecting it.
“Nothing I ever did was valuable enough, nothing I said was enough and keeping that damn promise you made wasn’t even close to being worth it either, was it?” Chuuya’s eyes were trained on the floor, unfocused. His hands picked at the beds of his nails, drawing blood.
“I don’t understand why. I really fucking don’t, Dazai.”
Sapphires finally moved to meet hazel. Glaring but not faltering, steady as stone and shining with a layer of unshed tears.
“Why was I never enough for you? You really always were that fucking selfish, weren’t you? Do you have any idea what it feels like… to drag the dead body of the person you love out of his own bed?” Chuuya’s hands drew tense, his words spit out from behind gritted teeth.
The redhead’s breath shook.
“Do you have any idea what it felt like to look back at Akutagawa and see him on the floor? The news reports? Do you have any idea how fucking painful it was to see that shitty fucking casket be buried six feet into the ground?”
His voice was small. Painful to listen to. Painful to use. And Osamu didn’t know how to respond. He never did.
He bit his tongue. Nothing he said could fix this. Nothing he could do could fix it either. So he bit his tongue, waiting for what felt like an eternity for the redhead to continue.
“You promised.”
“And here I am.”
“No! No don’t fucking… Don't you dare say that to me again! Ever!” Chuuya sobbed. “This isn’t you being here . You were never here and you’re not here now and you never will be!” He stood up stumbling to his closet and ripping his jacket out.
“You promised me. You promised you’d always be here. Always ,” he spoke as he walked around desperately, picking up his phone and keys.
“Chuuya, this isn’t fair,” Osamu finally dared to mumble, watching as Chuuya stopped in his tracks to look back at him.
“What..?” Chuuya’s voice dripped with disbelief, an empty laugh ringing out from the pain he had dug deep into his chest along with the casket all those years ago. “It’s not fair?”
Osamu glared back at him, eyes steady and nails digging into his palms in an attempt to ground himself to a body that was no longer there .
“It’s not fair…” The redhead repeated one last time, muted silence settling in as he walked through the apartment gathering the last things he needed before walking to his door. Ripping the silence apart, he spoke. “Sometimes I can’t fucking believe how selfish you are,” Chuuya opened the door, slamming it behind him and not looking back for a single second.
Part of Osamu was worried about the redhead being alone while so emotional and drunk, he stood up to follow behind him but his hand froze at the handle.
Chuuya didn’t need his help. He knew how to handle himself alone. He had had five years to learn how to.
His hand dropped to his side, limp.
Was what he did so selfish? Was he deciding over his own life so selfish that it deserved to be reprimanded for even after death? After reaching a point when he would rather take his own life than live another day so many times, did someone else really deserve so much say in what he’s allowed to feel and do or not?
He never had control.
He never had control, not even at the very end. His whole life was him desperately trying to grasp some sort of control, some semblance of reality and a connection to human emotion strong enough to make him feel alive.
And he reached it, just not within himself.
Still he understood. How couldn’t he?
The very reason he gave up was the true feeling of loneliness. Chuuya leaving that night left him utterly helpless. Alone. Back in the mist filled room that was his own head fueled by the other’s enraged words and cries.
He understood why Chuuya was the way he was currently. He wasn’t drowned in loneliness immediately, the gradual loss of everyone he held dear left him alone on a stage with no audience.
He never heard of Shirase and the others in the three months he had been there, nor had he seen or heard about Akutagawa since .
Chuuya was left alone and he understood why.
Osamu didn’t understand if Chuuya was in the right. He doesn’t think he ever will. But still he could at least try to fix what he had left so broken.
Having had three months to look through every nook and cranny of the miniature apartment, he ripped out a sheet of paper from an old notebook and a working black pen from behind the stack of books.
Osamu sat at the table and took a deep breath, eyes scanning the intimidating white in front of him before his hand started to move across the surface.