Chapter Text
September passes by, then October too. He can’t help but feel sick. So incredibly sick to the core. His senses are tingling wildly.
It screams, ‘He’s going to die, he’s going to die, he’s going to die.’
That in a way, he’s already in the presence of a dead man.
He always has been.
This story will not change, no matter how many times you read it.
Every day is worse. Every day is a new threshold of hell for his partner.
Sometimes he can’t breathe. Sometimes it hurts to talk. To nod. To smile.
Kunikida told the nurses that he wanted to stay at home.
“Even though you’ll be much weaker and without all the support?”
“Ah, please respect my decision…”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
He wanted to die at home. That was the truth. Kunikida didn’t want to be surrounded by the stale white walls of a hospital when he passed. He wanted to be in the comfort of his own room, and his partner by his side.
Now he’s in bed again. Dazai had moved it to where the couch was last spring, so he could look out the window once more. To watch the world go on while he was here for it.
The last of the autumn leaves fell from the trees, all of them were almost bare.
Winter was next month, but he wouldn’t see it. He wouldn’t see snow, not in November.
The reaper anxiously waited. The day changed from a week, then tomorrow then…
He felt a gut wrenching guilt that clawed at his insides.
The worst part of his visions. That Kunikida would die from illness, in November, at twenty two.
That was a half lie.
The truth was, that he was in pain. That he was begging Dazai to go.
What could he say? No? To deny his partner the freedom and peace he deserved? Was that selfish?
The worst part was that Dazai killed him.
Or, would kill him.
Not that it mattered which order it was. It would happen regardless.
Sure, he had asked for it, but it still hurt. He couldn’t shake off the bloody title of ‘murderer’.
Couldn’t shake off the despair and guilt that filled him.
"Dazai."
He turns to look at his partner, even though simply just moving hurts.
"I don't think I want to live anymore."
"I'm sorry for saying this, but..."
"Everything just hurts."
"There's no point for me to continue...right?"
"I'd love to stay with you, but every day is just suffering."
The words tore a hole in his heart. He knew it was coming, but it didn’t ease the pain.
Dazai's breath hitches as he processes what his partner has just said. He can't handle the hurt, the pain and the weariness in his voice, he can't handle the fact that he understands.
He has nothing to say to that. Everything Kunikida just said - it's true.
"I..."
"I understand."
That's all he can say, because what else is there to say? Because what his partner said was right.
"Please..."
"It hurts..."
"I don't mind if you do it..."
"I don't want to die slowly. I don't want to wither away day by day."
"Are you sure?"
"Are you absolutely positive this will be what you want?"
He nods.
The action itself pains him.
Dazai takes his partner's hand. Tightens his grip. Clears his throat.
"I just want you to know, I love you. I love you in every way imaginable, and there's nothing that could ever change that."
He keeps his breath steady, hoping that his voice won't shake.
"And even if you're gone, I'll always love you. I'll always care for you."
"Just know that, Kunikida. Just...know that."
"Thank you..."
Tears form in his eyes.
"I'll make sure to remember that."
The scythe materialises in his hands. Blade from shadow, handle from wood, dark as night.
He raises it high, then drops it down to his side as he can’t bring himself to swing it.
‘I’m so sorry…’ He mutters to himself.
Then lifts it slightly. He can’t do it. He can’t strike his partner, even though he’s taken countless others. It won’t hurt, he knows. There’s no blood, no screams, no pain.
Kunikida laughed softly. The first time in a long time. And it hurt too, but he still laughed.
His laughter dissolved into a fit of coughing.
“Don’t…worry.”
“I don’t…mind.”
His words were strained now. That smile ever present on his face, just like he always has.
Even on his deathbed.
The air was filled with a chilling aura of death that surrounded them both. It grew heavier and heavier, the hesitation and fear of losing it all, the feeling of loss and despair all so palpable.
“Kunikida…I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I know.” His golden grey eyes crinkled once more. There was so much he wanted to say.
‘You’re too kind.’ That was the first and foremost of his thoughts. The second was waiting for it to all end. Because it hurt. Because he couldn’t do anything else but lie there and wither away as his condition deteriorated.
Dazai closed his eyes, not wanting to see the end. With one hand, he grasped the handle of the scythe and with the other, he held his partner’s hand, feeling the gentle warmth for the final time.
Kunikida offered his wrist.
“Just a little cut.“ He had said.
Dazai’s hands moved without him needing to open his eyes. He could feel the dwindling life flow through his partner’s veins.
The tip of the curved blade sank into the warm flesh and Kunikida let out a final breath.
Dazai bit his lip, trying to stop himself from letting out a pained sob.
Kunikida lay in bed. Sick, bedridden...dead.
He looks as if he's asleep, the gentle smile still on his face.
He looks like a saint. He looks like he forgives Dazai despite everything.
The image burns itself into Dazai's mind. The way his partner laid there with the faintest hint of a smile on his peaceful, unmoving face. The way he's still, no longer breathing.
Dazai doesn't know what to do now. This was never his plan. He could have never imagined that his partner would ask to be killed. He never intended to kill anyone, let alone someone he loved. And yet, he had to kill the one he loved most in the entire world to ease their sufferings.
So this was the pain of loving someone. To death, literally.
It's different from a killer.
To murder someone in cold blood, it feels so much different from killing someone out of mercy, out of love. True pain. True suffering.
The regret, and yet he knew that if he didn't...it'd be so much worse for his beloved.
Dazai's smile is a little too forced as he feels his partner's heartbeat fading away. It's too quiet, too unnatural. He knows he just took his partner's life.
The silence is deafening.
A reaper and a dead man sit in a room.
One's just died, and the other can't.
If only he could just turn back the clock, just go back in time to that moment before his partner had died.
He'd do it in an instant if he could, but time is cruel. Time doesn't go back.
Time only goes forward, and he's been forced to move along with it, knowing full well that nothing will ever be the same again.
Dazai sits all alone in a silent room.
He could almost hear the toll of the death bell sounding.
Lost. No purpose.
What’s left for him now?
Ah, but he’s not done yet. Not at the end of his duty.
He takes Kunikida’s soul and gently holds it in his cupped hands. It glimmers golden, like sunshine, like his hair and his eyes. Strong. Full of warmth radiating from it.
Unlike his weakness. His sickness.
Dazai carries it with him, like a precious parcel, a jewel that surpassed every other on this earth.
And when he crosses over into the underworld, the dark shadows do not consume his brightness.
Dazai brings Kunikida to the underworld. He gives a smile and a warm gaze, reaching out for one last kiss. One last goodbye.
Kunikida looks just as lovely as ever. Just as he did in life, before all of this happened.
Before he became sick, and terribly so.
He understands. He doesn’t fear it at all. Kunikida was simply glad his partner walked him this way. He takes the reaper’s hands, they are cold as ever. Chilling like ice, like death, like bones, yet they warm in his grasp.
He gives one last smile. This one is genuine, free of disease and worry.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you for everything.”
Kunikida loves Dazai.
No, that's not quite it.
Kunikida and Dazai. Dazai and Kunikida.
There's no need for the word 'love'.
It's all there.
Dazai departed from the underworld with a warm feeling in his chest.