Chapter Text
Dazai stood at the highest point on the gentle arch of a bridge. The ornate railing to his back was cold and the metal ridges uncomfortable, almost urging Dazai to fall away from them and end it all. He smiled at the thought, having even a bridge wish him dead, but the smile did not reach his cold, dead eyes. He did not wish to ponder it, meaning the swirling thoughts in his mind or the conflicting emotions surrounding Odasaku's death. It was amusing to him how he had vowed to complain about the man at his funeral and yet Dazai himself would be dead along side Odasaku. Very, very funny.
Dazai let out a sharp exhale, his breath smelling of gummy vitamins. He could remember the first time he tried to kill himself for the first time at the youthful age of five very well. At the time, Dazai didn't quite understand overdosing and had downed ten of the gummies and just waited for them to kill him. He didn't learn that it was futile until Mori had found him sitting against the wall and asked him what he was doing.
"Dazai-kun? What are you doing here? Are you skipping your lessons again?" Mori had asked, referencing the shitty excuse for homeschooling Dazai was forced to participate in.
"Yes, but I'll be dead in a few minutes so it's ok," Dazai had replied in his high-pitched voice and with a cheeky grin. With a raised eyebrow, Mori had dug through Dazai's pockets until he found the half empty bottle of vitamins, after which he laughed at Dazai's antics for a good three minutes. It was all rather humiliating for the suicidal boy.
The man now stood at the bridge with the same yet different bottle of gummies, yet again missing ten. They wouldn't do a thing to a sixteen year old such as himself, but Dazai had always had a dramatic and theatrical side, one he let show in moments like these.
Dazai would have liked to have a beautiful girl with him in his final moments. They could jump together holding hands and bridge the gap between life and death together. It would all be very pleasant and freeing. Even Chuuya would do, Dazai supposed, if he were to loose that ugly hat and comb his hair, then maybe stick some duct tape over his mouth. Really, Dazai wished for a partner with whom he could smile with as he let go of all life's sorrows, but he did not have that. Dazai, lacking a partner but drowning in pain, leapt off the bridge and into the deep, swift currents below.
Though he would never admit it, Dazai did not like drowning as his go to suicide method. It was cold and thanks to his numerous attempts, Dazai had to force the air from his lungs or suffer through a whole ten minutes before his lungs even started to burn. He chose the first option now, just as he always did, and a cloud of bubbles rushed to the surface in front of him. Next came the second unfortunate thing about drowning: breathing in the water.
Dazai could safely say that he hated the feeling of his lungs full of water. He would rather loose consciousness and then allow his lungs to fill with water so he could avoid the sharp burning sensation. Rather, his instinctive urge to breath forced his mouth open and letting the water rush into his lungs. He coughed harshly under the surface, still being swept along, the water continuing to flood his abused lungs as his body kept forcing him to try and breathe. Another moment later, Dazai could feel himself loosing consciousness. It was right on time, and Dazai let himself drift into the black abyss as he waited for death.
Dazai would be lying if he said he was glad to be alive. He would also be lying if he said he was disappointed in this detail. He might have even said it was fate realizing he wasn't ready, but Dazai didn't believe in fate. The thing he could say while being completely truthful was that the brunet was completely and utterly pissed to find himself coughing up water on the river banks with lungs half full of the nasty liquid, not to mention burning like they had been seared. It was all very miserable, he decided, and he would be careful to choose a lovely noose next.
His hair, even messier than usual, splayed across his face and covered his eyes. With a bandage covered hand, though the white wraps were coming undone once more, the boy haphazardly pushed the hair back and onto the top of his head. He actually looked rather decent until it flopped back into his face a moment later.
"Fuck," he muttered between wet coughs. He sounded as if he was dying of pneumonia, only lacking the disease and the death.
Dazai stood shakily and walked toward the city with a backward glare at the river. His next goal was to find a suitable place to hang a noose, a fairly easy task for Dazai, master of nooses. It took him a mere minute to enter a small and empty orchard with a number of low enough branches to not be a hassle while getting set up. Dazai removed the a rope, one he always carried with him, from his jacket pocket laid it out on the grass. It was a thing a beauty, the soon-to-be noose, as it lay coiled in all its glory.
With deft and alarmingly well practiced fingers, Dazai tied his noose firmly and to a near perfect degree. He tossed the loop over a sturdy tree branch and secured it there to dangle while he found prepared himself. Dazai ran his fingers through his hair, straitening it and removing the stands from the neck area. He gripped the tree and pulled himself up to slip the noose over his head before lowering himself. He now dangled from the tree branch with his arms, one slip meaning the end of his life, and then Dazai let go of the branch.
He hung by his neck for a few moments before he remembered one key detail. Dazai, due to many suicide attempts via drowning or hanging, had increased his lung capacity to the point where he could hold his breath for a good ten minutes or more. Dazai cursed himself for forgetting that key detail, contemplating cutting himself free with the knife he always kept in his coat. He was spared the difficult decision, perhaps regrettably, when the branch snapped and fell onto the brunet's head. Dazai's head spun for a moment and he furiously rubbed his bruised scalp, trying to massage away the pain. He was sure he had gotten concussion or at least a long lasting lump. Either way, it certainly hurt like a bitch.
Well now, this left Dazai in an interesting situation fo sorts. He was already soaked and unenthusiastic to reenter the water, so drowning was off the table. His noose was now broken along with the branch, having frayed and finally snapped when it all came down, so that was also out of the question. This meant his only simple options were overdosing, slitting his wrists or neck, or throwing himself from a building.
Dazai could easily vouch for the discomfort of overdosing. He hated the nausea and vomiting that always accompanied it. Slitting his wrists didn't sound too bad, appealing actually, but Dazai's memories were still flooded with images of Odasaku's blood, and he could go another day without seeing the crimson staining his bandages. That left jumping, something the teen was more than happy to do, he just needed an appropriate building, and this was not a difficult task.
The hardest part for the suicidal boy was getting roof access, which really only required some smooth talking and the hiding of his bandages. Now standing on the roof, hair windswept, Dazai took in the veiw.
He stepped forward onto the ledge of the roof, and he suddenly became more aware of the way the wind grabbed his heavy coat and pushed it, and him, toward the edge. The sun was beginning to set by now, unfortunately it would dip below a building so Dazai would be unable to watch the sun set. The colors, vivid reds and oranges reflecting off the glass of the distant building, reminded Dazai of Chuuya. He thoughts of each and every time he stopped his partner when he used corruption, each time he stopped the ginger's anger (too many times to count, yet Dazai remembered them all), each and every time Chuuya had to walk because he couldn't carry Dazai with him using his ability.
The brunet, hair now taking on a reddish hue, similar to that of Odasaku's hair, let out a husky laugh, choked with tears he did not know where running down his face. Odasaku had been far too young to die. He still needed to become a writer, to take care of the orphans, to take care of Dazai! And yet Oda Sakunosuke was in the grave, and Dazai would join him soon, just like Oda's orphans, just like Dazai's victims.
Dazai sighed heavily, trying to lighten the weight placed on his shoulders. His tears had stopped as soon as the breath left his lips and Dazai now wore a relaxed stature. He spread his arms to the side, wondering if maybe he could fly like a bird with his coat billowing around him.
"You're not going to do it, are you." Not a question but a statement, and quite a surprising one at that. The brunet nearly stepped off the building right then and there from the pure shock of it, but ended up turning to be faced with a head of fiery hair instead. Dazai waited, not willing to validate or deny the statement until he was given the reason Chuuya was here.
"Mori says he has another mission for us to do," Chuuya murmured softly, no longer looking at Dazai. The taller boy followed suit, refusing to make eye contact. Damn, Dazai could always count on Mori to send his partner at the worst possible time, the fucking creep.
"Chuuya," Dazai whispered softly, finally speaking. "Will you die with me?" He had meant to inquire about the mission, he really had, but the words were already out of his mouth and Chuuya was already moving.
"No, I've already told you to stop talking like that, shitty Dazai," Chuuya said, but his tone was missing its usual irritation. It surprised Dazai a good amount when Chuuya leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his taller, shittier, partner.
"Eh~? What's this? Is Chuuya worried~?" Dazai asked, never one to miss an opportunity.
"No you shitty mackerel! I was taking your blades!" Chuuya shouted, warmth gone from his voice as his face scrunched up at Dazai's words. He showed off the snagged razors and knife, even a box cutter in the mix. Dazai yelped and made a grab for them, now away from the edge of the roof. Chuuya pocketed the objects and faced his partner with a serious look on his face.
"I don't know what you're going through, but I can tell from your state it's bad. Look at you, you're not even smiling!" Chuuya said, indicating to Dazai's unintentionally dropped facade.
"Shit," murmured the other, drooping his shoulders and letting his face fo slack. He chewed his lip lightly and tipped his head to Chuuya, who continued with a begrudging sigh.
"I know that regardless of all that you'll go on this mission because that's just who you are. I know you'll keep overworking yourself and hurting yourself and I'll keep having to keep you alive. I don't want to do that. It's boring, time wasting, and an overall bore." At this point, Dazai had cracked the tiniest of smiles at Chuuya's prideful antics, refusing even now to let up on his arrogant nature.
"Yes, and?" Dazai asked, really not knowing what the hell Chuuya wanted from him other than to talk his ears off before dragging the boy back to the port mafia head quarters so they could do the next mission.
"Look, what I mean is that even if you have a fucked up sense of fashion and don't know the value of a fancy hat, I don't want an unpredictable partner who I can't rely on to not kill himself in the middle of a mission, so please (Chuuya actually choked on the disgusting word) let me help you when you need to talk to someone."
Chuuya and Dazai lapsed into silence as the former finished his cheesy and humiliating speech, both unsure what to say to the other, leaving Dazai to break the silence eventually.
"Thanks but... that won't help. Just take me back and let's get on with the mission." Chuuya, only slightly pissed that he got nothing for his kind words, nodded slowly before leading the way down. He pointed harshly at the roof exit and turned to Dazai with a sadistic grin.
"Ladies first~"
He was honestly impressed that Dazai managed to keep a straight face.