Chapter Text
The chatter was deafening, and music played dully in the background. Some random, mundane radio pop music.
The Agency office was crowded with jovial members, celebrating god knows what. No one knew what this night meant for Dazai. He hadn't told anyone.
But, if he had, they wouldn't care anyway.
Dazai held his cup loosely in his hand. It had some sort of cheap alcohol, but he'd long forgotten what kind. He just needed to get drunk, he didn't care what he drank to get there.
The golden-looking liquid swished around in his cup as he looked around the room again.
Atsushi and Kyouka were folding origami at a desk. Kenji and Ranpo were conversing by the table. Kunikida and Yosano chatting lightheartedly amongst themselves.
No one paid any attention to him.
He didn't know if he wanted them to.
Dazai pulled on his trenchcoat, moving out of the crowd of people. His head was pounding and the fluorescent lights in the ceiling pulsed in his eyes.
He couldn't take it anymore.
He slipped through the office door, silently leaving.
A certain weretiger was the only person who noticed the flicker of beige fabric as the door closed quietly behind Dazai.
~~~
The scratchy, rustling plastic of his shopping bag swayed at Dazai's side as he walked.
Alcohol.
Pills.
A flower bouquet.
The soles of his shoes softly clacked against the paved ground beneath him as he walked to the graveyard. The cold, night air burnt his lungs and squeezed his throat. But he liked the feeling.
Any pain that came his way, no matter how big or small, he liked, in some twisted way. He felt like he deserved it.
To Dazai, it was sickeningly comforting to suffer.
Maybe that's why he was going to Odasaku's grave.
The graveyard gate screeched as he swung it open, and he walked, eyes blurry with unshed tears, until he found the familiar headstone.
'Oda Sakunosuke.
Died age 23.
Rest in Peace.'
With tender fingers, Dazai took the bouquet out of the shopping bag, gently placing it on the grass by Odasaku's headstone.
His hand brushed the grass as he lifted his hand away. It was soft.
Dazai knelt down, tears starting to slip down his face.
Fuck this day. This horrible day.
"I'm sorry, Odasaku." he said in a choked voice. "I'm sorry for all those times I ignored you. The times I'd pretend to forget my wallet and get you to pay the tab at Lupin's."
Dazai finished the bottle of alcohol he was holding.
He opened the pot of pills.
"I'm sorry I didn't appreciate you enough when you were still with me."
One pill.
"I'm sorry I was too late to save you."
Two pills.
"I'm sorry I didn't stop you sooner."
Four pills.
"I'm sorry."
Seven.
"I'm so sorry."
Twelve.
Dazai wiped his eyes.
Fifteen.
He opened another bottle of alcohol.
Seventeen.
He dialed a number into his phone.
Twenty.
Dazai raised the bottle to Odasaku's grave.
"To the Stray Dogs."
He swallowed the liquid as the dial tone rang out, and there was a click from the other end as the person he was calling picked up his phone.
"Dazai?! The fuck do you want?! Do you realise what time it-"
"Chuuya." Dazai said in a raspy voice, choked by sobs. "Chuuya, I'm so sorry."
The muffled sound of Chuuya's confused shouting faded out to radio static as Dazai's vision fogged, and the world went black.
The bottle slipped out of Dazai's hand, smashing on the gravel path.
And Dazai slumped over, his body sprawling over Odasaku's grave.