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"Goodbye, Chuuya." He sang, leaving their apartment. That was the last thing he'd be heard saying.
He did what he usually did, take a stroll by the river, debating jumping in but opting not to drown. It makes your eardrums explode, he'd heard. And that'd hurt. Osamu Dazai was a man who hated pain, yet he was constantly in it. His entire existence was pain. He was drowning in darkness. The only light he had, was Chuuya. He loves Chuuya. He always will, the word will never be used in the past tense referring to him. But he also hates Chuuya, because how could someone as human as he is, love a person like Dazai? It confused him, he was sure that Chuuya would be better off without him.
He went up the elevator, stepped up some stairs, and was now on the roof, overlooking Yokohama.
'Yokohama doesn't need me anymore, I'm free.' He thought. Yokohama will be peaceful, for oh so very long now. Ranpo told him that Yokohama wouldn't be in trouble for quite some time, he knew it too, but with confirmation from the genius, he was sure of it. Yokohama is at peace, he won't be needed anymore. He did his job, saved an orphan and in turn, the orphan he saved had saved another orphan. He became a good man, he may not think he is, but his actions dictate otherwise. His sins may take him to hell, but that's okay, he'll pay the price for his crimes.
Dazai's tired, so very tired. He looks down at Yokohama one last time. Has he improved? Enough. He's improved enough. He's sure that Oda's proud of him. Now, he can join him. He takes a deep breath one last time and steps off the ledge.
"Goodbye, Chuuya." These were the last words heard from Osamu Dazai.
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It was 1 in the morning when the police knocked on the red-heads door. They were holding his ring, his husband's ring. Dazai's ring. It was the same sheen black, gems of red and blue dotted around it.
"Where did you get this? Where is Osamu?" He asked.
He was staring at the floor after the police's explanation. His husband, his other half, his partner, was dead. Jumped from the tallest tower in Yokohama. 'Why would he do that?' The ginger would ask himself. 'Why? Was I not good enough? Did I miss something in his demeanor? If I made him stay home would he have lived? It's my fault. It's MY FAULT.' The line echoed in his mind like a mantra, 'My fault, my fault my-' it continued, and continued. The police had left long ago, how many hours had it been? He didn't care.
He looked around, there were wine bottles scattered everywhere. When did he fall to the floor? Why is he crying? Why does he only cry when Dazai leaves? Why does he care? He hates Dazai, he hates... he, he hates Dazai. But in truth, hate is just a code word for love. He loves Osamu, that sounds right, he loves Osamu.
He left his house, it wasn't home without Dazai. He wandered the empty streets, it was raining, how fitting. He was walking, where to? A place where his friend was buried, a man with long black hair and a white hat. What was his name again? Chuuya couldn't remember, he didn't want to. He arrived at the shore. He looked at the cliff. Wow, he was thinking like Dazai now. How ironic.
"Grantors o' Dark Disgrace, You Need Not Wake Me Again." He uttered those words and red lines crawled over his arms, legs, and face. They circled his chest, spiraling around his heart, slowly draining the life from him. Destroy, Destroy... DESTROY. That was all he could hear. A monster is what he became, a monster. The... thing inside him took control.
He saw black, he bled red, he felt blue. But it wasn't Osamu's blue, it was... sadness. The most simple yet most complex emotion all the same. There he lie, spent, bleeding, unable to move his body anymore. He was pale from the bleeding, he was out of breath and soaked to the bone in blood. His blood, others' blood. Blood. It was raining blood.
Chuuya Nakahara is dead. Osamu Dazai is dead. They were buried together at the shore, they were commemorated with two black gravestones, their rings placed atop. Even in death, Double Black will never be separated.
"Rest in peace, Dazai-san, Chuuya-san." Was all that was left said.