Chapter Text
It had been really interesting to go to the side that saved people, as an old friend said once. The years Dazai spent out of the radar had been refreshing, and his mind was now a bit clear after the storm has gone.
Of course, there were still things that never quite left him. Such as the reason he left the Mafia, all his knowledge on torture techniques and strategies, and last but not least, you.
It was… hard for Dazai to admit his own stupidity.
He recognized he could've dealt with you better. He could have hurt you less or even maybe could have explained to you what was happening.
Half of his mind was still attached to the past, while the other half reassured him that it was for your own good too. Both parts did equally miss you.
It didn't escape him that keeping you after he left the Mafia would've been dangerous.
He sighed, as he always did when he got himself thinking about you, and proceeded with his boring agency work.
He wondered what had happened to you after all those years. Last he heard, you had become a successful academic, was respected by intellectual people and all.
How about your love life, though? Did you love anyone else after he left you?
The half of him that missed you badly wished that you hadn't found anyone else. This side still longed for your embrace in dark cold nights.
The other half of him shrugged it off the best it could, never quite effective enough to ease his mind.
That was how he spent most days, if not all of them. You weren't even living in this city anymore, why bother wasting so much energy regretting his own decisions? You wouldn't be back, and even if you did, you certainly wouldn't want him back.
He was only half wrong about his own conclusions, it seems. Not that he wasn't used to that now or even was complaining.
He was out on a mission that day, feeling particularly tired and unmotivated. It was so bad that Kunikida had been shouting at him more than usual, and even resorted to dragging him around by the collar of his shirt.
It should have been pretty awkward, if he didn't give a single fuck about it. His thoughts were in another place.
This place in particular being one park where he took you on a date once.
The scene in his mind was perfect.
You walked towards him, a shy smile on your beautiful lips, hair perfectly framing your face. You looked so ethereal, so divine that day, under the sunlight.
You were in a white flowery dress that seemed to flow around you, being completely inconsiderate to how gravity was supposed to work. Hell, maybe even gravity would have bent to your will if you wished.
There was something wrong with his vision, though.
In the memory, you were wearing a white dress, were smiling and looked ethereal. In his eyes, things were different.
You had a serious expression, hair tightly tied into a ponytail instead of loose around your face, and in a tight black dress instead of a white and flowy dress.
Reality finally hit him, and he straightened his back, stood in front of you.
You were in front of him. You were there.
He was sure Kunikida was saying something, but then again he couldn't hear it at all. Time had frozen around him.
There was something in your eyes, something that made him flinch internally. It was not hatred as he would expect, not anger or pain.
Just an empty… disdain.
Your lips moved and you spoke. Your voice had changed a bit, but all he could hear was the voice that he had dreamt about so much.
Time didn't freeze around him, no. He was the only one still frozen in that time. The only one still in the past.
Kunikida spoke with you, and you with Kunikida. Dazai knew he used to walk around the town trying to convince random ladies of committing double suicide with him—but for you, he was speechless.
You threw another look of disdain at him and then went on your way. He had to catch himself before he could tell you not to leave.
When he finally unfroze from the strange spell that had taken over him, he could finally hear Kunikida’s voice.
“It is a miracle you didn't bother our client today. What happened to you?” There was a slight hint of worry in his tone.
Dazai just smiled lazily and shrugged, “Maybe her beauty was too stunning for me.” He tried to joke, but his voice sounded foreign even to himself.
Kunikida decided not to press the matter, and Dazai was left with his own thoughts again.
‘Client’, huh?
He wondered what had brought you back to the town, and—secretly—if he would see you more.
He did see you again and that was good, but in a bad time. It seems you had contacted the agency after one valuable piece of art had been stolen from your house. It was supposedly a safe place, in a rich area of the city, but mostly importantly, no one knew the piece of art was there.
Apparently, it had been shipped to your home in secret right after you bought it in an auction.
The problem was that… No one knew about it.
You had bought it in secret, using someone else as an agent, and even had brought it there in secret.
“Why the secrecy?” Kunikida asked.
“It was supposed to be a gift to a dear friend. I didn't want them to know about it, and they nose around art auctions too much,” you sighed, “It was all legal, you know.”
Kunikida nodded, said he would look around a bit and then left you with Dazai. Alone.
He stared at you, and it was clear that you didn't want to look at him again. He was alone, dying to speak with you. It was just a matter of time before he opened his mouth and regretted his stupidity.
“So…” he started.
“I don't know why you are back, and I don't really want to know,” you said sharply.
You walked away, probably going after Kunikida.
The pain that crossed his heart was unlike any other physical pain he had felt before. Maybe it was comparable to how he felt every time he thought about you, and how much he wanted you again, but worse.
Because it was clear that you didn't want him, and would never want him again.
Oh, well. He already expected that.
In the end, the agency tracked down the piece of art. You were more than happy to have it back and not see Dazai in front of you anymore.
But that was by far the last time you both crossed paths. Misfortune seemed to follow you.
The stolen art had been the first of a path of crumbs that would lead to something big. Something that Dazai in his own pain could feel that would come, but couldn't quite predict. He thought that giving his all would be enough for you.
Maybe he would've given more if he hadn’t been so attached to the past.
The second crime was a break in into your house. Nothing was stolen but it seemed someone went through your personal and most recent research files.
The files’ copies were found and taken down quickly, the research frozen, and you finally got the clue. You had to find a new home.
The problems only followed you, no matter where you went. Only got worse, too.
The next thing you've found in your new home was one of your maids dead in your living room.
Once again, the agency took charge of the case. The murderer’s body was found in the city's sewers not long after.
That was it. Someone out there was after your blood, and the government was put in charge of your security.
Not that Dazai didn't keep an eye out for you, too. The government's security was so bad he managed to watch you from the tree outside your new bedroom every night.
Doing his rounds of keeping vigil during the entire night, slacking off during the day and contacting as many informants as he could in the meantime, Dazai went on.
He had no idea of who could want you dead so badly, and he could only hope he could find that person before they found you.
He could only hope. He should've known by now that hope always failed him.
One night, he was walking to your new house once again. He always had this routine, always knew how to sneak past the security around the place. It wasn't needed that night.
The area around was quiet. The calm before the storm.
He felt as if he had been walking in a dream, didn't bother to take his usual path in the shadows, walked right in the middle of the streets.
Cars were pierced with so many bullets that calling it a war zone would be an understatement. The bodies of the government security were still fresh, carelessly left in the streets.
He wished he was in a dream.
A sharp cry followed by a few gunshots called him back to reality. He ran to the entrance of your home as fast as he could, eyes wide in shock and fear.
He was so afraid.
He wished he could wake up.
The path to your bedroom was all a blur in his memory. He remembers drawing his own gun, running upstairs as fast as he can, seeing the last resistance of the government die, and then seeing one attacker enter your room.
He saw red, his arm raised by reflex and he shot down the remaining attackers before they could even perceive his presence.
He heard another gunshot.
Ran past the bodies and shot the other attacker down before they could raise their gun at him.
The last doll fell in his dream, and he woke up to your body curled in a corner, in the darkness.
He wished he could embrace you as the darkness did every night. He longed for it so much.
His body moved before his mind, and he dashed to you, kneeled beside your body and clutched it gently, as close to him as possible.
He held you tightly in his arms, buried his face in your neck and whispered apologies and other things you couldn't quite understand.
Your mind was still fuzzy and things were a bit funny for you, but even so, you felt a strange peace take over you. You felt safe.
“Shhh… It's… fine.” You tried to reassure him and raised a hand weakly, barely being able to hold it up at all. Your fingers searched for his hair, but when you touched it, your strength left you and your arm fell again. Or it would have fallen if Dazai wasn't quick enough to hold your hand against his hair.
“It’s okay if you hate me, but please, stay,” he said a bit more coherently.
You smiled, the coppery taste in your lips never quite leaving your tongue, “I was angry… for a long time. It… hurt so much… But… I never stopped loving you.”
A strange silence followed your declaration, only Dazai’s quick breaths on your neck could be heard.
You didn't know how to take that, but it was not like you needed to think much. The darkness embraced your conscience effortlessly, and in the arms of the one you loved, you found it hard not to give in.
“Please stay” were the last words you heard before the world became empty darkness.