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Summary
"Why are you asking me to stay?"
A broken chuckle escapes Chuuya's lips, as he grabs the brunette's wrist and guide his hand around his throat; Dazai squeezes it lightly.
"I thought you were dead." The slight crack in his voice betrays his apathetic tone.
A glint lights up Dazai's darkened irises. "And that makes you cry?"
"I told you I'm not crying."
or; Chuuya and Dazai don’t know how to love each other, they don’t know how to live without each other, either.
