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Don't stay awake for too long, don't go to bed
I'll make a cup of coffee for your head
It'll get you up and going out of bed
Dazai thought he'd seen enough of hell. Apparently, fate was set on giving him a miserable life.
Soon to be death.
Dazai almost laughed at the irony. Just after the entire Decay of Angels fiasco, too! When he actually wanted to live, when he just recovered completely from his bullet wounds in Meursault - when he thought he'd finally be happy with Chuuya - boom.
Life decided to drop a bombshell on him: he had only three months left to live.
"Non-small cell lung cancer," the doctor had informed him and Chuuya. "I'm sorry, the cancer is already in its final stages. We aren't able to buy more time or treat the cancer anymore."
Chuuya took the blow stoically enough, at least in front of the doctor. As soon as they got home, though, Chuuya exploded.
"Why?" he choked out, and Dazai saw tears forming in his eyes. "Why does this always happen when we're happy?"
Dazai couldn't answer. He had so many things he wanted to say, but he could say none of them. He could only drop next to Chuuya and wrap his arms around the man, conveying in his hug everything he wished to say.
It's okay.
We're still together.
We can still be happy.
Chuuya just sobbed, hugging Dazai tightly. Mumbles of "I don't want to lose you" and "Please don't leave me" finally made the tears swimming in Dazai's eyes spill. Each could feel the other's tears on the back of their necks.
Yeah, I don't wanna fall asleep, I don't wanna pass away
I been thinking of our future, 'cause I'll never see those days
Over the next few days, Dazai's health slowly deteriorated. Chuuya's happiness followed it.
"I've arranged with Mori to give me a holiday this year," Chuuya told Dazai as he sat beside Dazai, one leaning against the bedrest and one lying on the bed. "The best he could arrange for early dismissal from the Mafia every day. That'll give us more time together, until-" He swallowed and didn't continue.
Dazai tried to smile, but a burning pain stretched his lips and he couldn't help a cough instead. "'S fine," he mumbled as he curled up next to Chuuya. "'S okay..."
"No it's not!" Chuuya's voice cracked with emotion, but he didn't care; he looked at Dazai through tear-filled, enraged eyes. "It's not okay and it's never gonna be okay again! You're gonna leave me all alone again!"
Dazai closed his eyes, not wanting to face the truth. He was going to leave Chuuya alone. Chuuya was right. Never would anything, in either of their eyes, ever be perfect again.
His throat felt like it was clogging up. He felt the burning of tears in his eyes, and the suffocating feeling in his throat. A fit of coughing shook the bed, and with it came the first splatters of blood.
I don't know why this has happened, but I probably deserve it
I tried to do my best, but you know that I'm not perfect
Dazai felt like whichever deity up there was having fun toying with him and Chuuya, taunting them with happiness like a hanging cat's toy and whenever they came near to grabbing it and keeping it with them forever, the deity would jerk the toy away, dropping conflict after conflict on them until they were left alone and hurting.
Maybe he deserved it.
Sometimes as he lay on his bed alone, waiting for Chuuya to come back home, he reflected on his life. That was when he really realized the true extents of the horrific lengths he had gone to to achieve his means. Sure, it all worked out in the end. But maybe, he thought, maybe this was karma - payback from all his victims in Heaven or living, payback for every drop of blood he'd forced out of them, payback for every bit of pain he'd watched them suffer through.
In the dim, drawn lights, of the room, Dazai focused on writing letters. He did this in secret, kept hidden from even Chuuya. He knew death was inevitable this time. They'd been playing a thrilling game of cat and mouse ever since his birth - with almost every time Death closing cold, clammy fingers around him and Chuuya rushing in and saving him, in one way or another. Every second he spent in bed was a second closer to closing his eyes forever, and for the first time in a long while, he wanted nothing more than to stay awake.
I been praying for forgiveness, you've been praying for my health
When I leave this Earth, hoping you'll find someone else
Chuuya always left someone in charge with looking after him while he was gone working in the Mafia. He'd entrusted Atsushi, Yosano and Kunikida, the latter of which the least, since Chuuya knew few about him and not exactly how he was trustworthy.
With Atsushi, there was more comforting than anything. Dazai knew his apprentice didn't want to see him go. He hated to see himself laying so vulnerably in a bed, and even more that someone younger than him and close to him had to witness this sight. But he tried to keep up character just for Atsushi, so the younger could at least be a little happy while in his presence. Atsushi, per Chuuya's firm instructions, always obediently gave him food on time. Also per Chuuya's instructions, Atsushi told Dazai that he at least had to finish three-quarters, due to his decreasing appetite as the cancer progressed.
In those rare moments of peace between visits, Dazai wrote and wrote. He wrote and dedicated a letter to almost everyone he knew, making sure to consider everything he'd written, down to every last letter and even the style of his handwriting. Sometimes the words flowed easily on the tip of his pen, sometimes he paused and considered for a long, long while until he could find the right words.
Yosano was more understanding. She possessed the sorrowful maturity that very few had; being a doctor, Dazai knew she was working literally hand in hand with Death sometimes. Yet, as Yosano always said, it wasn't easy to see people go. When Yosano was caring for Dazai, there was less words and more deeply meaningful silence. Yosano didn't pry when Dazai was writing letters, to which Dazai was grateful, knowing she was probably one of the very few that wouldn't ask what he was doing.
Days passed, slowly and achingly. Gradually, Dazai's health became worse and worse. Coughing out blood progressed from a rare condition to an everyday experience. Chuuya had gotten him medicine that helped with pain, but as the doctors said, there wasn't much they could do except ease his suffering.
'Cause, yeah, we still young, there's so much we haven't done
Getting married, start a family, watch your husband with his son
I wish it could be me, but I won't make it out this bed
When it got worse - Dazai felt aches in every part of his body and it hurt so much he couldn't move - Chuuya completely ditched working in the Port Mafia for the time being to focus entirely on his ailing partner. It may have hurt to be Dazai at the moment, but Chuuya thought the pain in his heart could compete with the pain in Dazai's body. Every time Dazai let out little whimpers or groans that signified the amount of pain he was feeling, Chuuya felt like something sharp was piercing its way through his chest, making it hurt oh so terribly. All he could do was hold tightly on to Dazai's hand, caressing his sweaty brown hair and whispering words of comfort over and over like a prayer. He wished so much that he could take away Dazai's pain. He'd even be willing to bear the pain himself if that meant that Dazai wouldn't suffer, and that he would be perfectly happy and that idiotic mackerel Chuuya knew so well.
As the cancer slowly ate its way through Dazai's body, what was left of his cheery personality slowly disappeared. Smiles became an almost impossible occurrence, and jokes were replaced with muffled, sobbing pleas for the pain to stop.
"Ngh-" Dazai let out a cry of pain as he shuddered on the bed, Chuuya squeezing his eyes shut as he ran reassuring fingers through the brown hair that was once so fluffy and soft. "It hurts - please -"
"Chuuya!" Dazai cried, and Chuuya's heart broke a little more. "Chuuya - please - just o-one more painkiller, please, it's too much, I can't-"
"Dazai, you already took the maximum limit today," Chuuya whispered. "You can't take any more, you'd overdose."
And Dazai had sobbed, begging for release. Chuuya pulled him closer to his chest as hot tears ran down Dazai's face, entire body convulsing. He didn't dare open his eyes, not wanting to crack at the pitiful sight that would surely be awaiting him. It hurt to see the once confident man reduced to nothing but a mess of tears and pain, hands clawing desperately at Chuuya. Dazai's sobs mingled with Chuuya's stifled sniffles as the two of them cried together, one from the pain in his entire body and the other from pain deep in his soul.
They were so young.
So young it was hard to believe everything they'd gone through.
And yet, they'd experienced even more than, Chuuya daresay, a typical forty-year-old.
They had so much to live for.
Yet they were slowly losing each other.
I hope I go to Heaven, so I see you once again
My life was kinda short, but I got so many blessings
Happy you were mine, it sucks that it's all ending
There were, very rarely, moments of sanity. Moments of peace where Dazai regained hold of his mind and his body did not hurt as much. Those were the moments where they would sit and talk together, just the two of them, about the most trivial things that used to come from their mouths so casually yet now were a testimony of everything that had happened and was about to happen.
"Dazai," Chuuya said one afternoon.
"Hmm?" Dazai was curled up against him, but he didn't open his eyes. Even when he tried to hide it, Chuuya saw that the pain was already getting worse as he spoke.
"I've been considering," Chuuya murmured after a while. "And ... I think I want to ask you something."
Dazai struggled to open his eyes, and when he did so, his pupils immediately dilated in surprise. Chuuya was holding a ring in his hand.
"Will you marry me?"
Dazai's mouth opened for a second, and for one terrible moment Chuuya thought he'd say no. Then Dazai's weary, pain-filled face broke into the largest, most genuinely happy smile he'd sported since he was diagnosed with lung cancer. As way of answer, he leaned up with all the strength his trembling muscles could muster, and Chuuya, getting the message, leaned down and pressed his lips against Dazai's. Their kiss was passionate, grateful, delighted; yet each of them could feel the other's tears slowly coursing down their faces.
Later, Chuuya said it wasn't required for Dazai to wear the ring, which was a simple silver band with a single midnight blue diamond. But Dazai insisted on slipping it on his fourth finger. Afterwards, when Dazai had fits of pain, Chuuya would see him actively straining to reach for the ring and clutching it in his hands, biting back cries of agony as Chuuya cradled him in his hands, tears blurring his vision.
Don't stay awake for too long, don't go to bed
I'll make a cup of coffee for your head
It'll get you up and going out of bed (yeah, ayy, ayy)
Dazai loved coffee. It was a little-known fact, but he drank almost as much coffee as alcohol. He enjoyed dark coffee, but with lots of sugar and cream or milk. Every day, Chuuya faithfully prepared one steaming mug for breakfast, and it was the only thing Dazai could still consume completely. He always seemed a little better after the coffee, and one day when Chuuya asked him what he saw in that specific coffee recipe, Dazai replied, "That recipe's filled with love. I always prefer coffee with love."
It had, Dazai said afterward, been sappy. But Chuuya would not had had it another way.
Meanwhile, the days were slowly slipping away, and with it Dazai. His already slim figure became skinner and skinnier, until he was skin and bones. He couldn't stomach too much at a time or he'd throw up, and the pain was worse than ever. He'd lost so much blood from coughing Chuuya had to buy at least three more bed covers and pillow covers to replace at regular intervals during the weeks.
But Chuuya cherished every moment with Dazai, knowing each could be their last.
Dazai refused to go to the hospital, even though it would be less painful with doctors knowing more than Chuuya about medical information.
There were still visits from the ADA members, but less and less frequently. Chuuya was often too busy to answer their messages, and nowadays he barely went out of the house, calling Akutagawa to help him deliver the supplies he needed straight to door. He barely slept or ate himself, only focusing on caring for Dazai, until the latter noticed.
"Chuuya," Dazai had said firmly, "go take care of yourself, get like - get a bath or -" he hastily broke off and held a tissue up to his mouth, coughs shaking his frail frame. Chuuya hastily rubbed Dazai's back, helping him cough it out.
"-go eat," Dazai finished. "I know you've been staying awake at night, but please ... take care of yourself. I don't want you to suffer because of me."
Looking at Dazai's dark, serious orbs, Chuuya could only nod his head.
Don't stay awake for too long, don't go to bed
I'll make a cup of coffee for your head
It'll get you up and going out of bed (ayy, yeah)
And so the routine continued. Two months passed, and gradually Dazai spoke less and less. It became difficult for him to even breathe, and the moments where he could speak were filled with begging for painkillers.
"Dazai, you can't," Chuuya whispered for the unkempt time that day. "You've already taken the maximum number the doctors let you."
"Why-" Dazai spasmed in Chuuya's arms, and tears flowed freely from his eyes. Looking at Chuuya through hazy, pain-delirious pupils, Dazai sobbed, "Why won't you let me, Chuuya - w-why - I thought you loved me!"
Chuuya's heart shattered at the notion and he squeezed the younger closer to his own body, Dazai's tears mingling with his own. Dazai's voice was filled with hurt and betrayal, and Chuuya couldn't stand it.
What a cruel world, Chuuya thought. How unfair it is. It's like a cruel experiment on me and Dazai, like building up pain on our shoulders and seeing who snaps first.
I'm happy that you here with me, I'm sorry if I tear up
When me and you were younger, you would always make me cheer up
Sometimes Chuuya thought of the carefree self he had been when he was younger.
How far that seemed from today, where pain and suffering stifled the atmosphere around him and Dazai! How long ago did those happy, teasing times seem!
He'd taken Dazai for granted, just like everyone else had.
As the saying goes, You never miss it until it's truly gone.
The Dazai Chuuya knew was drifting away, being eaten alive by the monster called cancer. And Chuuya was powerless to stop it.
The strongest ability user? What a joke. What use was his ability when he couldn't even save his husband, his beloved, his one and only?
He could only watch as Dazai died. Slowly, agonizingly, life ticking away by the hands of the clock hanging on the wall.
Dazai had saved him so many times. So many times.
And yet, when Dazai truly needed him, Chuuya could do nothing.
Taking goofy videos and walking through the park
You would jump into my arms every time you heard a bark
"Chibi," Dazai had muttered one day. "Y'know, you always used to say that you wanted a dog."
"Where did that come from?" Chuuya asked, honestly taken aback.
"I just thought of it," Dazai mumbled. Tears were forming in his eyes. "And ... 'm sorry that you couldn't get one because ... because I hated dogs."
"Oh, Dazai," Chuuya breathed. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Dazai's tear-stained cheeks. "Don't ever say that. It's not your fault, okay?"
"'M'sorry," Dazai continued, taking a shuddering breath. "I'm too weak, and I've caused you so much pain."
"Don't say that!" Chuuya shouted; he immediately lowered his voice when Dazai flinched. "Please, Dazai, don't say that. You're my everything, and I don't even want a dog anymore. You're not weak. A lesser person would've given up from the start. Never say that you're weak."
Dazai let out a stuttering sigh as he pressed his face against Chuuya's chest, eyes drifting into another bout of fitful, troubled slumber.
Cuddle in your sheets, sing me sound asleep
And sneak out through your kitchen at exactly 1:03
Dazai was always a light sleeper, even before lung cancer. After cancer struck, though, it seemed like he barely had one peaceful moment of rest.
It frustrated him to no end, and Chuuya could only watch.
Dazai wanted so badly to sleep, craved it like a man in a desert craved water, yet he couldn't grasp it. Every time he closed his itching eyes, he was transported to a world of harsher pain and seizures, and he could never get more than thirty minutes' worth of healing sleep at one time. He was constantly desperate for sleep in the day, and he'd often cry when he just couldn't go to sleep. It was like every time he closed his eyes, something inside him would flick and he'd be forced to stay awake, bearing the deliriousness of sleep all the time yet dazed from the lack of it. Crying didn't help, either. It'd just make him wearier, and then he still couldn't sleep. And when he did sleep, he was constantly jolted awake by the tightening in his chest or the excruciating pain in his body.
Chuuya always felt like his heart was being squeezed to pieces when he saw it. He couldn't sleep properly, either, but it wasn't a habit. He'd always been a decent sleeper, but he just felt it was wrong for him to sleep peacefully while his beloved was next to him, suffering.
Dazai, however, still insisted on him, at least, getting a good rest. He always said when Chuuya slept, he'd be able to sleep better too.
So Chuuya consulted a doctor about giving melatonin pills to Dazai. The answer was yes, but only in very small quantities. So Chuuya changed coffee time from morning to night, and he'd crush a melatonin pill into the coffee and let it dissolve before bringing it to Dazai.
It helped, but only a little. Dazai found it easier to fall asleep and he'd generally have longer periods of sleep before waking up.
Dazai was dragging Chuuya down with him.
It was a realization made by both of them but lamented only by Dazai. Chuuya's health had nearly been as bad as Dazai's, without the lung cancer. He wasn't sleeping much, eating only when Dazai probed him to, and the showers he took were very, very brief. And as much as Dazai hated it, as much as he wanted to tell Chuuya to take care of himself for a change, he knew the fiery ginger would never agree.
Sundays, went to church, on Mondays, watched a movie
Soon you'll be alone, sorry that you have to lose me
During the rare times where both of them were rested enough, they would spend quality time together. Mostly it was small things, like playing games together on the bed, or watching some movies on Chuuya's phone. It was one of the only chances Chuuya had had left to see Dazai's smile.
And Chuuya was just happy that his partner could be entertained as much as possible before they would part forever - one into the mysterious depths of Death, the other into the spiraling pits of depression.
Those small moments were what Chuuya treasured most of all. Through all the pain, Dazai still fought, for Chuuya.
And with every small, shared smile, every whisper of Chuuya's name, every touch they gave each other, each knew that they had found the perfect partner for themselves, yet it was hurting them to stay like that.
Falling in love was, as they say, a double-edged sword. As delightful as it is dangerous. As corrosive as it is cheery.
But Chuuya didn't care that he wasn't taking care of himself. He thought only about Dazai.
Don't stay awake for too long, don't go to bed
I'll make a cup of coffee for your head
It'll get you up and going out of bed
Finally, the third month started to come to an end.
How bittersweet.
After three months of intense pain and suffering, Dazai would finally be released, never again to suffer so much pain, but leaving everything in the hands of Chuuya, who would in turn be devastated.
After three months of bonding, close calls and time spent together, they were more in love with each other than ever.
But Death never waited for no one.
Soon Dazai found it harder and harder to breathe. Every single gasp of air was a struggle, but Chuuya was always there, holding his hand and reassuring him through the own tears in his eyes.
And as the final evening drew to a close, Chuuya moved the bed closer to the huge windows so that Dazai could see the beautiful, serene sunset one last time.
They lay as they had for the past three months - Chuuya cradling Dazai in his lap. Dazai's breathing was ragged and shallow, but he was smiling a genuine smile, and the look on his face told Chuuya that he was ... really ... content.
Dazai coughed, the final spasms shaking his body. More blood splattered on Chuuya's hands and body, but he didn't care.
"Dazai," Chuuya breathed; that was all he could say, and with that, a dam broke.
He bent over, every sob rasping at his throat, and he felt Dazai's tears too, running down into his lap. "I'm sorry," Chuuya said over and over, and even he didn't know why he was apologizing.
"Chuuya..."
Dazai's voice was weak, but it was still beautiful. Chuuya blinked at the blurriness in his eyes as he stared at Dazai. Dazai's eyes were slowly closing and his breath was fading away. Chuuya pressed two fingers against the pulse in Dazai's neck and found it slowly thrumming to a stop.
And he knew he could do nothing to stop it.
"I love you, Chuuya." Dazai smiled one final time, and it was content. Satisfied. His eyes closed, and his breathing began to ease.
"I love you too." Chuuya paused to swallow down the tears threatening to burst out again. "Dazai."
Dazai's ethereally beautiful face was forever lingering, with that nostalgic smile that Chuuya had grown to love so much.
His pulse thrummed weaker and weaker under his ever-cooling skin, until...
Chuuya sobbed the loudest yet as it stopped altogether. "Dazai... Dazai... Dazai..." he cried this over and over again, clutching at the body of his lover. Tears mixed with blood as they ran down Chuuya's lap. Dazai's face was fixed forever in that smile, pearly tears still on his cheeks, but looking so peaceful Chuuya couldn't find it in his heart to disturb him.
He was gone.
Don't stay awake for too long, don't go to bed
I'll make a cup of coffee for your head
It'll get you up and going out of bed
It wouldn't come off.
Chuuya scrubbed at his hands desperately, eyes staring so hard that he was sure he bore holes into his fingers.
The blood wouldn't come off.
The dark red that had dried on his fingertips wouldn't wash away.
The blood.
Dazai's blood.
It had taken him so long to just move a muscle after Dazai had ebbed away in his arms. A blessing, yet a curse; he was free from pain, yet he'd left so much behind.
He could still smell the stinging of metal in the air. The blood on his clothes wouldn't go, either. He'd already submerged his clothes in cold water, repeatedly.
It always worked before.
It wasn't working now.
He thought the image of Dazai's blood would be etched between his eyes forever.
Blood that should have been inside his body.
A living, breathing, laughing body.
It was spilled all over Chuuya now.
Dazai's lifeline was spilled over Chuuya.
He couldn't get rid of it.
In the end, he decided to just hang his clothes in his room in a separate section, and he never wore them again.
Don't stay awake for too long, don't go to bed
I'll make a cup of coffee for your head
It'll get you up and going out of bed
He scrubbed and scrubbed his body until it was red raw. Washed away all lingering scents of death. Yet, it seemed to be drilled in his nostrils.
It wouldn't leave him alone.
Death would be following him forever.
His hands still bore the stains of Dazai's blood.
It would never come off again.
How he managed to get the body for burial he didn't know. How he made it through the funeral he didn't know. People offered their condolences. He just nodded, dazed, and walked away.
He made it all the way back home before breaking.
It took him two days to open the curtains in his house.
Another five was spent on trying to get out, but the bright setting was so unfamiliar after two months of solitude that he immediately closed the door.
Another five to face anyone Dazai knew again.
They all offered their sympathies.
They didn't seem to notice the blood on his hands.
It was a total of twenty-two days before Chuuya could bear seeing a sunset again.
Don't stay awake for too long, don't go to bed
I'll make a cup of coffee for your head
It'll get you up and going out of bed
And then, on the thirtieth day after Dazai's death, Chuuya found a letter addressed to him, tucked away in Dazai's pillowcase.
Dear Chuuya,
If you're reading this, that means I'm most likely already dead.
Than
k
you
I want to thank you
You took care of me so well during the last few months. You were everything I could have asked for.
I think
I know you'll be really sad after my death. But Try to move on, okay?
There's more to life than just me! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა
You
I always knew that you deserved so much more. You love me, and you took such good care of me. You were always there for me, even when you feel like you weren't.
I'm sorry I have to leave you alone.
Try to be happy, ok? ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ You'll join me one day!! Then I'll forever annoy you in Heaven!
I'll always love you
From
Your very own
~Dazai
P.S. The coffee I drink isn't too bad! You should try it. Also, I wrote everyone else a letter like this one. It's scattered across the house. That'll give you something to do! Don't I know you will Please don't blame yourself for my death, ok? Take care of yourself!!
Chuuya didn't realize he was crying until the first tears dropped onto the letter.
He noticed that there were already many more dry tear stains dotted across the paper that he knew he had not made.
Don't stay awake for too long, don't go to bed
I'll make a cup of coffee for your head
It'll get you up and going out of bed