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“You can’t do this,” Dazai’s voice cracks into a thousand splinters, much like the way the Dostoevsky’s headquarters have been reduced to the rubble around them post-victory.
Throughout mankind, success has always been built upon the efforts and backs of many. The concept of sacrifice isn’t an alien one to him, but it is a concept that’s never been at the forefront of his mind, at least in relation to Chuuya. Always-angry, eternally-small, too-strong Chuuya, who’s always managed to crush his enemies tenfold, who’s always surpassed whatever expectations were placed on him, who’s always been a thorn on his side by always shining much more brilliantly that it hurts to look at him sometimes.
It hurts to look at him now too, now that the light has been snuffed out.
Chuuya’s chest doesn’t rise nor does it fall. It lays still, without a hint of motion. Compared to Chuuya’s almost manic thrum of energy simmering under his skin at any moment, this kind of behavior is too surreal. Too unacceptable.
Dazai himself is injured and battered in so many places, that he can’t even slither closer forward, that he can’t even place his ear against the other’s heart. He can only watch in horror that grows increasingly loud, the sight of Chuuya being—
“You can’t do this,” he says again. Pleads. It’s probably for the best that he can’t quite hear his own voice, his own words, past the roar inside his head. “You can’t just leave me… you’re strong, right… you’re the strongest martial artist… you’re going to rip me to shreds, you promised…”
Chuuya’s chest still doesn’t move. Or maybe it does, but Dazai’s eyesight is too compromised to really notice, blurry as it is.
“You complain that I talk about suicide and yet you go ahead and leave ahead of me… isn’t that rude of you? Chibikko… dying ahead of your master… leaving me alone… isn’t that so cruel of you?”
He doesn’t have the right to accuse Chuuya of true cruelty, not when the sheepdog is forgiving enough to still follow his unreasonable plans, even when they’re on separate organizations. He doesn’t have the right, and yet he still—
“I’ve made lots of plans… after we’ve defeated The Rats, we’re going to work together in rebuilding Yokohama… I’d make arrangements so that we’re always paired together… I’d make you jealous by flirting with waitresses in front of you, and then I’d eat from your plate… and then… and then… I’ve made lots of plans, and yet you go and do this…”
He feels his face grow sticky with an unpleasant and unfamiliar wetness.
“Now that I’ve realized that I’ve been in lo—”
“—hnnnnnn…”
“—ve…?”
Is that sound a—?
Another sleepy “hnnnn” and then, as Dazai hastily wipes his face free of any evidence, he sees Chuuya’s chest start to move. Even through his still-quite-blurry eyesight, the sleepy expression on Chuuya’s face is obvious. “Why are you so noisy? I’m so tired after using Corruption and I can’t sleep, you shitty mackerel.”
Dazai sucks in a breath, and promptly plays dead.
What realization?! What falling in love?! In the end, he really does hate that chibi, after all!!!