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The words echoed in Chuuya’s head as he paced up the stairs of the apartment building.
‘I know you’ve been seeing him. The truce with the agency is ending soon. It wouldn’t reflect well on us if you were seen having a relationship with the enemy. Your loyalty to the organisation would be questioned by the lower ranking members.’
He arrived at the apartment he had grown so familiar with over the past year and knocked on the door. A few moments later, it opened to Dazai’s surprised expression.
‘Chuuya!’ Bandaged hands quickly pulled him into a warm embrace, swiftly followed by a kiss. ‘I didn’t think you were coming today, babe.’
Chuuya resisted the urge to wrap his arms around Dazai, to forget the rest of the world existed for a while. But he couldn’t. He came here to do one thing, and one thing only.
‘With the Rats and the Angels defeated, the truce will end. Dazai is much too large a threat without an enemy other than the Port Mafia.’
He detangled himself from Dazai, stepping away from him, surveying the apartment. The kitchen was a mess, though the fact it had been used at all since Chuuya had last visited was a good sign, at least. It meant progress was being made. The number of take-out boxes and the saucepans with burnt rice piling up on the counter suggested it was little progress, but they were small steps. The bouquet of red camellias still sat in their vase on the coffee table, now starting to wilt. The succulents sat on the windowsill looked healthy, though. Learning to take care of plants was another small step on Dazai’s journey to learning to take care of himself.
A path they had been taking together. A journey neither of them would finish.
Dazai seemed to sense a change in his demeanor. ‘Is everything okay, sunshine?’
‘You have a choice, Chuuya.’
One of the perks of Dazai’s apartment was the large floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the bay. The evening sun was beginning to shine through, illuminating the apartment in golden rays. Chuuya smiled softly at the memory of Dazai insisting on an impromptu photoshoot using nothing but a phone as their camera and the golden hour as their backdrop.
Chuuya had some of the photos hanging on his wall in neat frames.
The apartment was high enough that Chuuya could see most of the city from his position - the cherry blossom trees where they had had their first of many secret meetings, the stone fountain in the park they frequented for midnight strolls, the quaint coffee shop at the corner where their routes to work split, where they shared a kiss over coffee every morning, where arrangements for dates and dinners and decisions over whose apartment they would spend the night were made.
He could also see the balcony of his own apartment - much larger and more lavish than Dazai’s, far away enough that no suspicions would be raised, but close enough that Dazai could make out Chuuya’s figure on the balcony as he smoked his cigarettes, and Chuuya could see Dazai’s silhouette as he wrapped and unwrapped bandages.
Chuuya took a deep breath. ‘We need to talk.’
‘A sniper is waiting on a rooftop across from his apartment.’
Dazai visibly stilled. ‘About?’
‘Us.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We’re done.’
Stunned silence filled the apartment. Chuuya fixed his eyes on the sun setting on the horizon. It was easier to stare into its blinding brightness than it was to turn around and face Dazai.
‘I’m not sure I’m following you, my love,’ Dazai’s voice was quieter than before. ‘Done...in what sense?’
They both knew what Chuuya meant.
‘Break his heart, or the sniper shoots.’
Dazai slowly shook his head. ‘You’re joking. You’re trying to get back at me for putting salt in your coffee last week, aren’t you?’
How Chuuya wished that were true. Instead, he spoke again. ‘The truce between the Port Mafia and the Armed Detective Agency will be ending soon. Even you must have worked that out. Better to end things now before we start trying to kill each other again.’
Each word hurt to even speak. Each lie dragged through his throat, like barbed wire cutting into his skin.
‘You have until nightfall.’
But he was running out of time.
‘I mean, really. Did you honestly think I’d just forgive you for betraying us - betraying me - all those years ago? Did you truly think I cared at all? That I wanted to spend hours putting up with your childish antics? That I didn’t mind teaching you to take care of yourself?’
Dazai was silent behind him. Chuuya’s voice was straining, but he forced out the words he had been rehearsing.
‘Did you honestly believe I ever loved you?’
He heard a soft thud behind him as Dazai’s legs gave way and he collapsed on his knees. Chuuya finally turned, schooling his features into neutrality. Dazai’s face was pale, tears welling in his eyes. ‘You’re...you’re lying,’ he whispered. ‘This isn’t you. Something - someone - is making you say this.’ He looked up at Chuuya. ‘Right?’
Chuuya wouldn’t look him in the eye. ‘I only stayed because you were useful to the Port Mafia. And with the truce ending, I don’t have to put up with you anymore. I really did have you wrapped around my finger, didn’t I?’ A sly grin made its way on his face as he knelt down to cup Dazai’s face. ‘And now look at you - the infamous Demon Prodigy, reduced to a detective begging on his knees for me to stay.’ He stood up, brushing away the hand that tried to follow his. ‘Pathetic.’
Chuuya walked towards the door, his chest burning from holding in sobs. Just a few more steps. Then this nightmare would be over.
A shaking hand caught his coat. ‘Why?’ Dazai’s voice trembled. ‘Chuuya...I chose you over everything else.. I woke up every morning to see you. I saved your life, you saved mine. I tried to live for you. You...Everything you did...don’t...don’t tell me...none of it was real?’
The way Dazai’s voice broke almost made Chuuya drop the pretense and run back to him, hold onto him like there was no tomorrow. Almost.
The red glint of a sniper awaiting in the evening sun told him not to.
‘You saved my life, I saved yours. Do you really think that makes us even, Dazai?’ Chuuya pulled his coat away and made it to the doorway, looking over his shoulder to face Dazai. ‘Four years ago, you had to choose between a life as a detective or me, and you chose being a detective. Now I’m choosing being in the mafia or you. And I choose the Port Mafia.’
The door slammed shut behind him, and the charade shattered. The sobs from behind the door were loud and clear as Chuuya marched onward. As he stepped out the building, the last glint of sunlight left the bay, and deep shadows overtook the city.
Chuuya didn’t return to his apartment that night. His tears led him to Kouyou’s manor and her extensive wine cellar. Only alcohol would quell his tears that night.
If he had returned to his own home to drink himself to sleep, he would have woken up to see the body hanging from the noose in the morning sun.