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Dazai had known for years, thanks to the information bestowed upon him by another version of himself using a silky blank book of fate, that he and the man who had saved his life could never both live in the same universe.
That one would perish no matter how much he fought and clawed at the strings of fate to free himself from its closing fangs. He understood it completely, and he knew that in some universes, perhaps out of ignorance or selfishness, he had let Odasaku die by letting himself live.
He hated and envied those versions of him the most. The ones who freed themselves from fate by throwing a good soul into its awaiting throat.
He wasn’t one of them. He was too selfish, or perhaps not enough, to be able to live without Oda Sakunosuke at his side to guide him. He knew no version of him did, no matter the universe. It hurt nonetheless.
It was as he sat in front of his right hand man, memories of a gun pointed at his head replaying in his mind, when he realised. He had known his decision all along. That he knew which one would disappear in this universe to light up the path of the other.
They all hated him, and they were right to, even through the misplaced familial bond Atsushi and Kyouka sometimes seemed to direct towards him, deep down, they couldn’t help but hate him. He was not a man of love, all the love that was directed at him, he consumed until it disappeared into neutrality which quickly morphed into hatred.
All except for one, one that he couldn’t stop himself from going out of his way to meet in every universe, if only for a brief instance. The one sitting in front of him, looking down at a document with an expression of disdain he had never bothered to hide through years of working at the most dangerous criminal organisation of Yokohama.
A beautiful man of ginger and blue, only stunted by his height and quick temper.
One that hated him as much as he loved him. His only solace in this empty world where he knew his time was counted. No matter his love for Odasaku, they were a ticking time bomb when put together in the same theatrical play, being by his side always meant a limited time and counted moments.
Perhaps that was why he had decided to spend his final moments with his vertically challenged partner.
Or perhaps it was because despite how perceptive he could be, he had always been too late when it came to Dazai.
“What is that?” Dazai refocused his gaze, watching the paper slowly fall onto his desk where Chuuya had let it go. Chuuya's mouth was pulled down in a frown, his brows furrowed and eyes down turned.
“Well, it’s a passpo-” In another universe, he would have used a pet name disguised as an insult. Sometimes he wished it was compatible with his dynamic with the Chuuya of this universe. Regrettably, he had to stop himself from letting slip a ‘dearest’ or a ‘chibi’, Chuuya was his subordinate before being his partner in this universe, lines Dazai had drawn himself that couldn’t be crossed.
Lines that Chuuya had tried, time and time again, to brush off only to be rebutted until he stopped. He still tried, once in a while, his perseverance was part of his charm afterall. It made Dazai feel alive whenever he dared to.
“I know what it is. Why are you sending me across the world so suddenly?” Because you are too loyal, too loving, to let me do what needs to be done.
“Because I said so, and you will obey.” He could see Chuuya’s jaw clench in frustration, see the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he ground his teeth together to keep himself from snapping at his boss.
“Yes, boss.” Chuuya's eyes were downcast, maybe slightly dejected. Dazai had been more laidback lately, more gentle as a self indulgence of his desperate inner plea for Chuuya’s attention, from a time when he was still a child meeting his first friend. With his due date approaching, he could not afford to indulge any longer. He hoped Chuuya never forgave him.
Chuuya’s arms moved to his back and he knew he was waiting to be dismissed, he just couldn’t get himself to let the words ‘you can go’ out, it would be last time he would say them and probably the last time he would see Chuuya if he didn’t catch a glimpse of him leaving the building for his assignment.
“Chuuya.” He let the words roll off his tongue, he wanted to slouch on his desk, the whine for Chuuya to come closer, to feel his skin against his hands for the first and last time as a lover.
Chuuya nodded in ascent, unmoving and waiting.
“Will you be happy when I die?” He could figure it out, if he put his mind to it, but it was one of the few things he refused to think about, not wanting to know the conclusion he would come to. The last string of self preservation of a genius.
“Ha?!” Chuuya made that noise, the one that came from his throat and made the hair on Dazai’s neck stand on end, made his hands clench in anticipation for something that would make him feel alive. It had always been a punch but deep down he had always wished for something else.
“You don’t need me to repeat that.” His back stood tall, his expression dark and scrutinising as always. His heart didn’t beat in his throat, and his mind wasn’t any faster than usual but he knew he was waiting, felt it on the rumble underneath his skin.
“Of course I wouldn’t be happy, I’d have to pick up all the crap you’ve been slacking off on.” Chuuya's arms moved from behind his back to cross over his chest. Dazai’s traitorous mind rejoiced at his success of keeping Chuuya by his side when he looked for an exit.
“What if I finished all my work?” He rubbed his hand against the scarlet scarf that always rested on his shoulder, the material felt frayed, he had always hated feeling it against his neck through the bandages, a weight bigger than the building always resting on his shoulders.
“Then I’d have to hunt you down in hell whenever more work came by.” Dazai saw Chuuya relax slightly, no matter how tense the conversation was, this was a friendly conversation Chuuya hadn’t been privy to in quite a while. Dazai’s heart didn’t ache at the sight, but if he was slightly more human, it would have.
“That reminds me of a conversation we had, long ago, do you remember it, Chuuya?”
“Chuuya!” Chuuya was hiding behind Kouyou’s skirt as he so often did, his eyes lit up for a second as he noticed the arrival of his companion, Dazai ran up to him and grabbed his shoulders. His expression was as emotionless as always but a very small twinkle was present in his eyes, hidden to anyone who wasn’t looking close enough.
“Yeah?!” Chuuya nearly bounced on the ball of his feet, waiting for the news that made Dazai so happy with slight apprehension. Dazai was a force to be reckoned with and his version of good news wasn’t always accurate to the rest of the world. He still couldn't help himself, seeing his friend so excited.
“Look what I got!” He opened his hand to reveal a handful of white pills, Chuuya looked down at them confusedly, the bouncing of his feet coming to a stop. Kouyou looked down at the pills from her place behind Chuuya and raised her hand, as if to grab them from his grasp.
“I got these from Mori!” Kouyou’s hand froze midair and she retracted it back into her sleeve. Chuuya didn’t have such qualms as he made a leap for them, Dazai’s hand quickly closing over the pills.
Dazai remembered he had lied that day, they hadn’t been given to him, he had stolen them from the medicine cabinet.
“Don’t eat those!” Chuuya had yelled, trying to throw himself at him with his ability, their abilities consistently canceling each other out until he was left panting.
Dazai had taken the opportunity to swallow them dry, to which Chuuya had stuck a dirty stick down his throat to make him throw it all up.
It had been a joyous day for Dazai. Though he had never quite managed to figure out why Chuuya had looked so crestfallen that day, even if he cared, a part of his mind had only known hatred and couldn’t figure out the opposite.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve to dredge up all my fears, Dazai.” Chuuya looked near ready to pounce, but a single pointed look from his boss had him forcefully settling down.
“So you do remember.” Chuuya answered with a nod and a clench of his fist, Dazai didn’t know there were things Chuuya was so desperate not to remember that were related to him. Unlike the laboratory, this was purely about Dazai.
It wasn’t all that similar to their conversation, Dazai had mostly been indulging himself, wanting to know if Chuuya remembered that day, if it had marked him enough to make him dread it. He was perversely happy to know Chuuya remembered, that he would mourn his death if he mourned the day he had nearly ended his life in front of him.
“Come here, Chuuya.” He did a singular pat on the desk, demanding his subordinate to cross the distance the desk created.
He did so without complaint, standing in front of the desk and looking down at the documents. Dazai let him, Chuuya could read whatever he wanted, he would never betray his boss and previous partner. Dazai would betray him sooner than Chuuya could ever think of it.
“What did you need me to look at?” All the documents were inconsequential, either outdated or not important enough to warrant showing his right hand man. Any information he needed for his little trip was neatly laid out in the envelope that came with his passport anyway.
Dazai wanted to grab his partner, pull his head down and kiss him until the will to live was breathed back into his heart through Chuuya’s fervor. He knew he would be welcome, that his pining had never been unrequited.
He just wasn’t ready to give up on Odasaku’s life for a lifetime with Chuuya, it was too selfish of him. To choose one’s happiness over another like a god without telling either. He would do it anyway.
If he let Chuuya have more of him than he already unknowingly had, then he wouldn’t be able to sacrifice himself for a greater good.
He made a wide gesture with his arms, trying to encompass as much of the desk as possible. “That.” Chuuya frowned at him ever so slightly, despite already leaning forward to get a closer look at the documents.
He desperately wished for it, though, to beg Chuuya to make him live. He would be locked up for his own survival if it wasn’t for the fact he couldn’t live without freedom.
He would die soon, but he didn’t want to die, he wanted for his life to not be an exchange for the survival of one of his dearest souls.
It wasn’t, though.
When Chuuya put a hand down on the desk to take a look at the documents further away from the edge, Dazai let his own ghost over it. Never touching or breaking the unspoken lies in his actions. He was a selfish and cruel man, but when faced with Chuuya– the most human man in the world– he couldn’t help but want to replicate it.
He watched Chuuya’s eyes trail down to their hands, feeling the cold of No Longer Human activating in close proximity. He observed the twitch of his finger, the way he raised it ever so slightly, as if to take ahold of the hand of a slippery man.
His expressions always were too open, he remarked to himself once more as his partner's mouth hung slightly open, eyes darting between their hands and the documents. As if unsure whether to address them or not.
Chuuya had never been one to hesitate long if at all, so he expected it when Chuuya decided to confront him head on.
“What’s up with you?” He leaned forward, his long bangs falling over his eyes as he towered over his boss for once. Studying him as if his every thought was written on his face. Maybe they would be if he was a different, lesser man, who hadn’t been hardened by years in the mafia, where the slightest slip of composure can be fatal.
A smile wanted to sneak onto his face, a personality trait from a version of him that he was simultaneously foreign and deeply familiar with. He held it back, resting his hand upon his closed fist, his elbow resting on the desk as he looked into Chuuya’s bicolored eyes, beautiful and unique.
“Nothing of importance.” His voice sounded stern despite the fondness he could feel deep inside his empty heart, like a colorful handprint in a black canvas the size of a galaxy.
“You’ve been weirder than your usual,” His hand raised to gesture to all of him “gothic persona.” Dazai raised an eyebrow, his ‘gothic persona’ wasn’t something Chuuya had ever bothered to bring up.
“What about my gothic persona?” Chuuya didn’t look abashed in the slightest as he leaned against the edge of the desk, Dazai’s eyes were fixed on his face and his every expression, the way he blinked a few times in surprise when Dazai called him out, the very slight tilt of his lips upwards at the rare slip of the persona he put up to engage in banter.
“Your goth attitude isn’t strong enough to explain how you’ve been acting.” No explanation was forthcoming about the gothic part. Dazai didn’t believe the gothic subculture only came from being stern and wearing black clothing but he had never actually looked into it.
“I’m simply wishing you farewell.” His other hand stopped hovering over Chuuya’s to rest upon some trivial reports about cargo arrivals, he didn’t miss the twitch of Chuuya’s hand but chose to graciously ignore it. There was nothing he could say anyway. No teasing comment, no flirtatious quip, nothing. He wasn’t the man he used to be, nor the man he could’ve been in another universe. He was Dazai Osamu, the only leader of the port mafia. A dead man walking. Even considering him a man was overly philanthropic to his broken mind.
“I’ll only be gone for a few weeks, two months at most if something goes deeply wrong.” Chuuya fingers tapped repeatedly on the desk, no rhythm in the erratic noise not unlike Chuuya’s mind. “You never cared that much before.”
“I am simply expressing my appreciation to a valuable subordinate.” Chuuya’s eyes narrowed even further. To be entirely fair, Dazai was toying with him–if only slightly.
“Yeah, yeah, keep those sweet words for whatever poor soul you’re gonna try to honey up next.” Chuuya pulled back, his eyes immediately going for the door much, to Dazai’s increasing dismay. He had to stop his own thoughts from going where they shouldn’t. Chuuya's presence always made him weaker, prone to illogical thinking and dare he say, emotions no inhuman being like him has any right to experience.
As Chuuya walked through the door, not even knowing this was the last he would ever see of his partner, Dazai couldn’t help but rise from his seat.
“I’ll accompany you to the airport.” Chuuya froze in his tracks, his foot hanging in the air as it was about to pass the threshold.
A hesitant nod was given to him as an answer.
And then Chuuya was gone.
Chuuya was sitting next to him in the black mafia limousine, looking out the window quietly. Dazai could easily guess he longed to be out there on his bike, the wind hitting the reinforced glass of his helmet. The idea had been promptly shut down, burned and its ashes buried when Chuuya had proposed taking the both of them on his bike.
“Are you sending me on a suicide mission or something?” Dazai's gaze snapped from the hole he had been burning into the driver's seat when Chuuya suddenly decided to depart from his reveries.
“I’m not.” Simple as that, Chuuya wasn’t going on a suicide mission.
“It just feels like I’m an old dog enjoying time with its owner before being put down.” Chuuya’s hand rested carefully on the collar held snug in the middle of his neck.
“Being a dog doesn’t mean I’m gonna put you down.” It was a very hasty conclusion, even for Chuuya, Dazai wondered about the thought process that had led to this result.
“You never take me anywhere, let alone without a good reason, and now you’re sending me on a mission I’m not needed on and taking me to the airport.” Chuuya gestured to the front window where they could faintly see the airport.
It did sound slightly suspicious, but he hadn’t been sleeping for some time now and everyone felt significantly dumber around him at the moment. He wasn’t in the mood for Chuuya’s imaginary scenarios.
“I have my reasons.” A groan resounded next to him and he turned to glare at his partners insubordination. Only to be met with a glare just as fierce on the other side.
“If you’re sending me on some secret mission, so covert you can’t share anything with me, I at least deserve to know I’m not just going on a holiday.” Dazai kept quiet, they were close enough to the airport that stalling was well within the realm of possibility.
“So?” Dazai ignored him again, he had timed their arrival perfectly so that Chuuya would barely have the time to make it to the plane if he rushed himself. For this very reason.
The car screeched to a stop in front of the glass doors of the airport. Taking the opportunity, Dazai stepped out of the car, leaving the door open behind him for Chuuya to follow.
Chuuya trailed after him, not uttering a word while his eyes bore into the side of Dazai’s face.
Dazai wanted to look back, but he had plans that could not be delayed. Even taking Chuuya to the airport had been a lapse in judgement, a split second decision manifested from the pleas of a dying mind.
“Have fun on your holiday.” Chuuya turned around, holding his suitcase in one hand, a soft red glow emanating from it.
“Yeah, I will.” The last warning for boarding resonated from inside the halls, they could barely hear it from their spot just outside the plane. He had, mostly to delay Chuuya, decided to make him fly business class in a public plane. Chuuya had complained about it for so long that Dazai had wondered if they would miss the plane.
“Don’t die on me while I’m gone, yeah?” They were standing close together, so close he felt No Longer Human activating and the red glow disappeared from the suitcase, forcing Chuuya to actually hold it instead of floating it around.
This was truly the last time he would ever see Chuuya, and the last time the other would see him alive. There was no delaying their last moments together anymore.
When Chuuya returned, Dazai would be long gone.
The flight attendants fluttered nearby, obviously waiting for the last passenger to board so they could finally depart. Dazai paid them no mind, these people were so far beneath him they couldn’t possibly matter, not when Chuuya was right there.
“You’re going to be late.” Chuuya nodded, his head turning towards the door. Maybe he could feel it, that something would be broken when he returned. He just didn’t know what.
He suddenly decided none of this was worth it, that spending his last moments with Chuuya in regret wasn’t the way the demon prodigy lived.
And so, as a final selfish goodbye, he grabbed Chuuya’s ponytail and swung him around, crashing their lips together in something that was less of a kiss and more of a fight.
Chuuya resisted against his grip for less than a second, then his hands quickly made their way onto his neck, his fingers digging painfully into the bandages wrapped around Dazai’s neck. Pulling him closer just as Dazai had expected. It made him regret ever doing this even as he finally got what he had been wanting for so long.
Chuuya must have felt his slip in focus because his lips were bit harsh, his eyes opening in reprimand only to be met with Chuuya’s slitted eyes in apparent offense.
He could give Chuuya at least this much, as a parting gift.
He enjoyed the closeness against the body, the intimacy he had never known as Chuuya held him close, reverent and violent all at once. Just as their relationship had always been.
At some point between when Chuuya shoved his tongue into his mouth and when they pulled away, Dazai took a few seconds to leave close mouthed kisses on Chuuya’s lips, sighing delightfully when he was allowed to. Chuuya's eyes had closed once more when Dazai’s full attention had been back on him and so Dazai could enjoy watching him for the last time as he pressed kiss after kiss against his lips.
But their time was coming to an end, and when he felt Chuuya chasing after his lips when he pulled away, it was as if his heart was doing the same. Chasing after Chuuya, desperate for a contact he had always denied himself.
The flight attendant yelled about final boarding once more, looking at the two of them pointedly.
“We’ll talk about this, Dazai.” Chuuya warned, pressing one last kiss against his lips and turning around with apologies slipping from his lips towards the flight attendant whose nose was scrunched in distaste.
“Farewell, Chuuya.”
When he turned around, away from the plane, away from the airport and later, away from the edge, he regretted nothing. This was the prophecy of his life, what had to be done no matter what he truly desired.
Because an inhuman being such as him didn’t have desires further than being a puppet of a fate written time and time again. Even the warnings to his other selves using the book would not change what fate reserved for him and Odasaku.
He wouldn’t fight it until he was dying. In fact he would give his dying breath for it.