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Was this really what Chuuya’d wanted?
His throat was dry as he stared at the billowing, the choking clouds of smoke drifting away from his car.
Sure, he’d fought with Dazai. It had been a royal pain in his ass, and he’d never failed to return the favor.
But, when push came to shove, they cared about one another. Not for Double Black, not for some stupid title. Dazai fascinated Chuuya. He wanted to know Dazai for what was beneath that mask, below those bandages. That thing Dazai didn’t think was worth keeping alive.
And, up until now, Dazai had been his whole world. It had been there when no other could. Through The Sheeps’ betrayal, and through The Flags’ bitter deaths, Dazai remained a central person in Chuuya’s life.
Chuuya thought he’d had some importance to it, but that was hard to believe now, left choking on the ashes of a burning relationship, (not to mention his car), and he felt disgusted.
The feeling only grew, sinking into something darker. Chuuya couldn’t stand to look at the car anymore. It looked too much like an end to him.
A fiery, burning end, fit for a rageful god.
He had to give credit to Dazai for that much, at least.