Work Text:
“I’d die for you.”
Words that every star-crossed lover had whispered under the guise of moonlight.
Yet, for Dazai Osamu and Chuuya Nakahara, those words were less an empty declaration of love, and more a ticking time bomb- a prophecy of what was to come.
To Dazai, it was just a normal day. Nothing too much out of the ordinary. A small gang had popped up on the eastern block of Mafia territory, and Mori had sent him out to “negotiate” a deal. Despite Mori’s incessant pestering, he refused to acquiesce and take a group of grunts, nor did he take his apprentice. Instead, all he took was a pocketknife, tucked into the inner pocket of the worn leather coat draped around his shoulders. After all, he was the Port Mafia’s Demon Prodigy- Mori’s loyal dog.
The greatest mistake Dazai’s enemies ever made, was, after all, becoming Dazai’s enemy in the first place.
Little did Dazai know that Mori’s intel had been faulty.
The gang was no small group of ambitious teenagers with the desire to escape the abusive system of Yokohama, nor a collection of the ever ubiquitous homeless banding together in hopes of gathering petty change.
Instead, it was what Yokohama now knows as the Guild. A secret society of ability users from North America, with a forte in weapon design and strategic planning.
Dazai was not an invincible man, despite the beliefs of many- his lover included.
Despite his many attempts to die, he’d never succeeded. It was as if a guardian angel had been watching over him for all 17 years of his sorry, pathetic life.
But, as they say, life is miserable- and Osamu’s guardian angel only worked when he didn’t want her to.
“I’d die for you,” Chuuya whispered, pressed gently up against Dazai, staring at the rose garden across from them.
Dazai paused for a short moment, his breath wavering.
Chuuya stared at him, puzzled.
“Have I uttered something that upsets you, my dear?” he murmured, looking into his lover’s chestnut eyes.
“No, Chuuya. I’m just thinking,” the other responds, his voice hushed, his hand resting on his partner’s ginger hair, stroking it warmly.
“I’d say the same, but it’s not the truth. I’d have died for pretty much anything,” Dazai murmurs, his voice thoughtful and grim. “Perhaps… there’s another way to say it.”
Chuuya stares at him, his expression puzzled.
“For the longest time, I’ve been flooded with the existential desire to die, but you… Chuuya… change that. You make life worth living,” murmurs the brunette.
“I wouldn’t die for you, Chuuya. I’d live. That’s harder.”
As Dazai tread over the piles of broken glass that littered the abandoned warehouse, he wasn’t too much on edge, one of his calloused hands rested in the pockets of his tight pants, the other idly tapping away at a mobile game.
Moments later, a string of expletives came out of the brunette’s mouth as the “game over” graphic appeared on his phone, followed by a faint chuckle.
Dazai first took no notice of the chuckle. Perhaps he hadn’t heard it, or perhaps he just didn’t find it worth his time to comment on.
Moments later, a cold sweat ran down his back. He was supposed to be alone here.
Whipping around, his eyes dart to find the source of the noise that was now grating against his heart.
He didn’t have to look far, though, to find what he was looking for.
Behind him stood Francis Fitzgerald, the blonde mastermind behind the Guild, and an ability user that even Ango Sakaguchi had failed to document.
Yet, Dazai never once let himself be trapped by thought. For his dear lover was one to think of everything.
“Love,” began the red-haired man, “I’ve been thinking of you. And I’ve been worried. Real worried.”
“About me? Why? I’ve gotten better…” responded the dusky-haired man, his voice flooded with guilt. He hated when people worried over him .
“Perhaps you’ve gotten better at keeping yourself on this earth, but you’ve gotten worse at keeping yourself on these… death-traps of missions that Mori sends you on. I wish you’d let me join you. Come on… do you not remember? Me, you, Double-Black?” Chuuya hummed, staring into his lover’s caramel eyes.
“Double-Black…” the other hummed in return.
“I don’t mean to disparage your fighting ability, Mackerel. But I worry… you’re not invincible.”
“I….”
“Dazai.. I don’t ask for much from you. Just, please. Take this with you,” the ginger murmurs, taking the taller one’s hand in his and gently placing a ring around his pointer finger.
“What… a ring?”
“A ring that has a tracker in it. If you’re in trouble, press it down. It’ll tell me where you are. So I can… protect you. Help you with your dream of staying alive.”
Dazai took a breath and pressed his sweat-drenched hands against the ring. The soft surface of his fingertips dug into the hard, sharp metal, leaving a dark red mark.
It hurt him to admit defeat to Chuuya. Hurt him to admit that his lover was right, that he did need to be saved, that he really was weak.
He hated weakness.
“Shut it. The weak do not deserve to even speak,” Mori murmured into Dazai’s ear as he pressed a scalpel against his cheek.
Yet, he’d never let anyone see that. Let alone his enemy. Fitzgerald had already trapped him physically. He didn’t need to know he had the mental advantage too.
“Mm… Francis Fitzgerald, is it?” he murmured, a smirk playing at his chapped lips. “I see you’ve had quite a lucrative few months, have you?”
He really had. The excessive rings around his thin fingers, designer suit, and gold chains around his veiny neck confirmed it.
“Ah… Osamu Dazai. The demon prodigy of the Port Mafia,” came the collected voice, raspy and thick with condescension. “It’s a pleasure to finally be the one in charge of your sorry fate. I am only disappointed that it had to end in this. After all, I’d much rather have a duel of sorts, but fate is cruel to me. I suppose I will just have to dispose of you the traditional way.”
Thantophobia- the phobia of losing someone you love.
Chuuya awoke with a start as his phone rang with the notification sound. His breath was thin and his hands shaky as he held the phone, the alarming notification staining his screen. He felt like he was dreaming as he threw on a coat and dashed into his foyer, throwing his shoes on, the backs smushed down by his feet.
Grabbing his car keys with haste, he sprinted down the stairs of his apartment complex, swings open the door to his ratty sedan, and throws himself inside. Not even bothering with a seatbelt, he mashes down the gas pedal, barely taking notice of the speed limit, before choosing to break it.
Speeding 98 in a 40, he barrels down the road, his car making a loud growling noise as the engine strained to keep up with his worries. With one eye he stared at the map. An empty warehouse. Just an empty warehouse.
Faster.
Come on, Faster.
Please. Go faster, please. Please.
I’m sorry.
He strained to see in the foggy night, swerving, no, drifting into the parking lot of the abandoned building that he prayed his partner was still in.
A loud bang that made even Chuuya flinch escaped into the night air as the car came to a screeching stop.
Any Mafia veteran like Nakahara could recognize it. The sound of a gunshot.
“Dazai!” came Chuuya’s desperate shout seconds later, as he dashed out of the car.
“Mm… a beautiful sight, isn’t it?” murmured Fitzgerald. “Great Dazai… on the ground before me. My doing… all mine.”
Dazai let out a strangled gasp, lying on the ground at the feet of Fitzgerald, clutching his chest. He felt horrible. He barely cared about the pain. All he cared about was Chuuya…
He wanted to see his Chuuya one last time.
Odasaku had left him with a goodbye, and yet it still tore at his chest. He didn’t even want to imagine the agony that his dear Chuuya would go through without one.
As if right on cue, into the room walked his lover, a mass of ginger hair resting atop his pale blue silk pajamas. He’d ran as fast as he could.
Fitzgerald paused.
“I suppose it’s time for me to take my leave. Say farewell to Dazai for me, will you, Chuuya? I’ll come back for you some other time… bullet reflector,” murmured the blonde, before strolling away calmly.
On a normal occasion, Chuuya would have chased after Fitzgerald and ended his life right there.
But today wasn’t a normal day. Today was a day when his lover was lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, clutching his chest and clinging to consciousness.
“Dazai!” came Chuuya’s agonized scream, his voice crackling and snapping. He could barely breathe. His hands felt frozen. His mind felt broken.
With the last of his strength, or perhaps through pure adrenaline, he dashed forwards, falling to his knees before his lover.
“Chuuya…” came the choked murmur of his beloved. “Listen to me…”
“No… no. Dazai. You are not dying here. Not now. Not here. Please. Please wait.”
“No, listen, Chuuya… I’m not making it much longe-”
“DAZAI! I’M NOT SAYING GOODBYE TODAY!” came the yell. An agonized shriek as he gripped his lover.
“Chuuya… I’m sorry.”
“No.. no… Mackerel. Mackerel. Mackerel. No. Please….” a gentle whisper. “Don’t leave me here alone.
“I love you, Chuuya,” came the words- faint and gentle- from the brunette’s mouth. “Don’t lose yourself without me… please. Don’t become me.”
“Dazai… what…? What are you saying? You’re…”
“I’ve always wanted to die, Chuuya… but now, faced with death in the arms of my lover… I want to say that I no longer want to. So thank you, Chuuya. For making life worth living, if only for a little while,” Dazai whispered, breathy and choked. “I love you. Check my inner jacket pocket for something to remember me by… if you want. I know sometimes it’s easier to forget.”
“Dazai… I…” Chuuya murmured, staring into his dying lover’s eyes. But he said nothing more. He just gripped him tightly and pressed a tender kiss to his forehead.
Standing at his lover’s grave, months later, Chuuya takes a deep breath. The rain beat down on the cold marble of Osamu’s tombstone, but he didn’t care. The rain soaking through his coat felt calming.
Gently, he placed down a bouquet of roses atop the grass before the grave, the engagement ring he’d found in his lover’s pocket still on his finger.
“Osamu…” he began to speak, a gloomy look in his usually bright, blue eyes. “You know, I’d rather give you these roses myself than bring them to your grave. I’d also rather be holding you now than sitting at your grave. But perhaps this was our destiny…
“Lovers found in a Mafia. It sounds like the premise for a depressing novel, not a true romance. But somehow we made it work, didn’t we?
“Mori said you were scared. But he never said what you were scared of. Tell me the truth, Dazai.
“Were you scared of yourself? Scared of what you’d become?
“Why didn’t you fight back?
“Either way… not like I’ll get an answer.
“I still refuse to believe this is our end…
“Despite your absence, despite my falling apart… I still want to make you a promise.
“I’ll avenge you. I’ll destroy the Guild and personally destroy that… that disgusting being that did this to you.
“And once I’ve fulfilled that promise… I’ll throw myself to the pits of hell.”
Chuuya rose, his knees aching from kneeling. Slowly, he walked to his car, opening the door and sitting down. The photo of them from their 2nd anniversary still sat pinned to the dashboard.
“And I hope you never see what I’ve become,” Chuuya mutters bitterly. “You’d hate to know I’m just like how you once were. And there’s nobody to save me.
“Why, Osamu…
“Why didn’t you take me with you?”