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Snow covered the whole of Yokohama. It was so white that it blinded eyes.
An empty field in the middle of a forest on the outskirts of the city, deers running in group from time to time, seeking for warm somewhere, leaving tracks on the ground. Winter birds singing as beautifully as the purest symphony they had ever heard.
It wasn't just the deers running for warm place, it would be a silly metaphor to call death a warm place and the souls of two evil geniuses in love deers.
Their intertwined, interlocked fingers, though frozen, generated heat through adrenaline, their legs practically tripping over each other, one of them falling every now and then, even on branches dried under the snow or hard stones, but they didn't care, they got up and ran on, laughing and kissing, drunk with their poisoned love. Finally, Dazai pushed Fyodor into a kiss so intense that the other didn't feel his head hit the hard ground and snow fall into his ears. The birds played orchestra for them, their funeral march, ringing like church bells passing judgment.
They were ready. Ready to punish themselves in the most pleasant way possible. To die together as they had been commanded.
They had thought everything through
The only problem was whether Fyodor would trust Dazai.
Whether he wanted to die was one thing. Whether he could live without Dazai was another, and the man was his only goal. He understood him, the only one who saw him differently than everyone else, the only one who loved him with a love he had never felt so strongly before. But did he trust him? What if it was still a trick, all that wonderful time spent together, that moment when he thought about it, when Dazai unbuttoned his coat in the snow and goose bumps appeared on his skin as a result of the piercing cold. With every touch, he felt shivers, with every thought, he felt fear.
What if Dazai was lying and just wanted to get rid of him?
Dazai wanted to die; he saw no meaning in life beyond Fyodor. He had never felt a greater need to exist. After Odasaku death, he never felt that he could rely on anyone, become attached to anyone, spend hours talking and laughing with anyone. With Fyodor, he felt an intimate relationship mixed with desire and grip. He comprehension him. He saw in him someone who was written in the same way but in a different font. At that moment, their souls were closer than ever, neither of them wanted to live, they did not want to live without each other and in a world full of harm and misunderstanding. In a world of stupidity and hatred. In a world of sinners, unwilling to give a chance to those who wish for that second change.
Two black and gold daggers, engraved with their names, lay ready beside them. Fyodor took off his glove, revealing bony, cold but sweaty hands. He took the one with Dazaia's name on it and looked deep into his eyes, his expression as if he were about to burst into tears.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Fyodor asked, taking a deep breath. Dazai sat on top of him and gently grabbed his jaw, placing a delicate kiss on his exposed neck.
“I wish life had more value than just sacrificing yourself for other people.”
Without letting go of Fyodor, he took the second dagger in his free hand and squeezed it, looking at its shiny tip.
“Fyodor, trust me this last time. Unless you don't want to.. I'm determined, but you still have time to escape.” Fyodor looked at his knife, then back at Dazai, signaling that he also was determined but needed a moment. They understood each other without words, so strong was what they had, stronger than any other relationship either of them had ever had. Neither Chuuya nor Nikolai meant that much to them. No one ever had. The Russian pulled Dazai into another long kiss and slipped his fingers under the bandages on his neck, quickly removing them. Dazai helped him unbutton his vest, then his shirt, but left his coat on his shoulders to keep him warm. They felt it was time. They analyzed each other's faces one last time. They touched and kissed each other one last time, one last time as human beings and bodies, immersed in excitement about what was about to happen. They had their hands clasped so that Fyodor's ability would not work. He trusted him. He had nothing to lose, he was afraid, but he knew that Dazai knew his ability, he couldn't do that to him, he couldn't give him his body. At most, he could only kill him and keep him, he didn't care anymore. He squeezed his bandaged hand, putting two fingers under the white fabric to be sure, which made Dazai chuckle. I've always loved watching you be afraid, you look so helpless then. Dazai put the dagger to his neck, scratching him lightly.
“Come on, dear, let's do this, on our behalf”
On our behalf
Fyodor looked deep into his eyes and began to cut the skin on his neck, deep enough to hit a vein. He panicked because Dazai wasn't doing anything back.
“Dazai..?” Blood slowly began to spurt in delicate droplets onto the snow that had just begun to fall, and the terrified Fyodor finally felt a pinch-like pain. He felt the dagger dig into his throat, and Dazai squeezed their hands tighter. He relaxed and, with a smile, pulled Dazai, who had laid his head on his shoulder.
“Thank you for trusting me, it was the best thing last thing hat has happened to me in this life..”
Dazai's warm, weak breath lulled the russian to sleep, who could only whisper two divine words that only his beloved deserved. Their blood slowly soaked the white snow that was falling more and more, the birds fell silent, and the only sounds were the wind rustling in the leaves and their barely perceptible breaths. He trusted him, and someone trusted him. He loved someone, and he loved him. He fell asleep for him, and he fell asleep with him.
The eternal peaceful sleep of their bodies was to begin an eternal time for their sad, misunderstood souls.