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The cold winter night air danced between Chuuya’s hair strands. It whirled under his chin and under his fingernails. It was the last night before he left. He was on the small balcony of his apartment, he was leaning on the chilling black metal of the railing. It was peaceful, nothing like his life nowadays. Speaking of which…
“Hey chibi, what are you doing out here?” A man in a white button up shirt entered from the sliding door behind Chuuya.
Chuuya rolled his eyes and dug his nails into the railing, “Just debriefing I guess, it’s nice and quiet out here.” He cleared his throat forcefully, “Unlike someone I know.”
The man laughed and stood beside Chuuya, putting his hands on the railing. Chuuya turned his head to look at him, noticing the very obvious bite mark on his neck, along with other bruises. He raised an eyebrow and asked, “You’re not going to cover those up? Lots of rumors would stir if you didn’t.”
“Look at you, telling *me* to cover them up, I thought you were proud of your work.” The man continued, “Plus not as many rumors would stir as you think.”
Chuuya exhaled sharply, narrowing his eyes slightly. He looked down on the city, humming softly to himself, “That may be true… Then again do you want a repeat of last time? Boss looked suspicious and Akutagawa looked borderline jealous, I know I got second hand embarrassment.”
The man half laughed and did that plastic smile that he loved to do more often than not, “You have to admit it was funny though.”
Chuuya just rolled his eyes to the back of his head, again.
The brunette started dryly out into the horizon, his hand moving to his pocket. He pulled out a black lighter and a cigarette, bringing it to his mouth.
— — —
*click*
— — —
“I didn’t know you smoked.” Chuuya observed, tensing his grip on the railing.
The man hummed in acknowledgment, lighting the cigarette. A line of smoke drifted upward from it once lit. He took a breath, tilting his head up, he exhaled that intoxicating gas. It clashed with the night sky.
— — —
*whoosh*
“Shit. The wind is a bitch today.”
— — —
“I only smoke around people I trust and in places that it wouldn’t matter.”
“I see, so.. what does that say about me then?”
“What do you think, dumbass?” The man half laughed and took another breath. He looked at the stars longingly and turned to face Chuuya, “You want a puff?”
“Ew no fucking way, I don’t need a one way ticket to lung cancer.” Chuuya grimaced, leaning away slightly.
“Heh, loser.”
“Why you little-“
— — —
‘I miss those days, I almost wish I took that offer.’
Inhale, exhale, in and out.
— — —
“Hey Chuuya,”
“What?”
“I don’t miss you, you’re destroying yourself for nothing.”
— — —
Chuuya sat up straight in his bed, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. He took a deep breath and clenched the sheets below him. He blinked slowly and looked up at the ceiling, admiring how simple it was, if only his relationships were like that. He put his head down after another deep breath. He put his head in his hands, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the beating headache he had.
He turned his head to the bedside table.
It’s been years.
He didn’t miss that bastard.
He sat up and ran his thumb over his lips, slowly and gently. His hands ran down to his neck, outlining crescents on the crook of his neck. He turned to his balcony, looking at the bustling city outside. The moon shined, but not as bright as he remembered. Chuuya crossed his arms, hugging them tightly to his chest. He threw his legs over the bed and ran his fingers over the edge of the night stand. He felt the grain of the wood, it was rough, but in a way that made Chuuya’s skin crawl. The bugs under his skin hurried around under his chest as he grabbed the box without much of a second thought. He reached for the lighter as well.
He opened the sliding door, it took a lot more effort to do so than he remembered. The cold concrete on the floor seeped through his socks, giving his bones a slow chilling feeling. He took a few more steps forward, leaning on the black metal in front of him. He looked down at the things in his hands, did he really want to do this? Was he doing this because of pure loneliness- or maybe even pure loathing? He put the pack of cigarettes on the top of the railing, taking one out. He tried to ignore how empty the packet seemed to be.
His attention turned to his other hand with the lighter. It looked like it came from the dollar store. It was coated in a cheap black paint and was made of that low quality metal that wouldn’t last more than a few years. Then again, here it was. It was mostly clean, besides lots of thin scratches all over the outside. They were in a grid like pattern, obviously not there by accident. The scratches shown only in the moonlight, the light giving them depth. Chuuya opened the lighter, not lighting it, not yet.
Chuuya just started blankly at the objects in his hands. It wasn’t worth it.
It was only one though.
.
.
.
He said that last time,
and the time before that.
*click*
Chuuya looked at the flame that emerged from the lighter. It was warm, a feeling that was alien to Chuuya now a days. He admired the flame deeper, not thinking of much, just watching it dance and glow in Chuuya’s hand. He wondered what it would feel like if this flame swallowed him whole, it would sting at first but maybe he would get used to it and appreciate its warmth.
Chuuya brought the cigarette in his other hand to his mouth, his lips gently grazing the end of it. He brought the lighter to meet the other end before-
*woosh*
“Shit. The wind is a bitch today.” He muttered to himself before lighting the lighter again.
Maybe it was a sign, like the universe wanted him to let go. To just admit and accept their fate.
Chuuya put out the flame and let the end of the cigarette smolder and pour out smoke. The smoke didn’t clash as much with the sky as he remembered, it almost looked like a cloud that cued rain. Chuuya kept smoking, to his own dismay. It was stupid, doing this for one man.
Now that he is thinking about it, he wished he wouldn’t have been such an ass to the guy. Sure he was annoying, but he didn’t really know how fleeting their time together was. Chuuya thought back to his memories with him, they were quaint and anything but comforting. But maybe he could grow to love them, accept that he was a part of who he was. He could also throw them away, just like all the others. Everybody else has accepted it, he was gone, so why was it so hard for him?
Chuuya put his elbow on the railing and leaned his head on his hand, a frown twisting onto his face. He looked at the packet of cigarettes next to him. He scrawled and it in the pocket of his pajama pants along with the lighter and left the balcony, going out his front door. It was pretty late in the night, so there was barely anyone on the streets, thankfully.
He arrived at the place, the cigarette in his mouth halfway done.
He walked over to the stone on the ground, reading the engraving on it.
‘Osamu Dazai
1990-2008’
Chuuya remembers the day he over dosed. For some reason, he couldn’t cry, he just became a blank slate.
Chuuya kneeled down to the grave, whispering to it, “I hope you’re happy, you waste of bandages.”
He threw out the half used packet of cigarettes and the scratched lighter to the foot of the grave. He took out the cigarette in his mouth and threw it in front of his foot, stomping on it. The corners of his mouth turned down and his eyes narrowed. He read the name over and over again, he was dead.
It’s been years.
Chuuya took a step back and mumbled, “I like you, Dazai, but I could never bring myself to love you.”
He took a deep breath and added, “Tell me how Hell is, dipshit.”
That was the last time Chuuya saw him, and the last time he filled his lungs with blood and stars.