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“Oh, do you think I should report this to the police?”
Dazai Osamu asks as an after-thought, perking up but not stopping in his slow waltz in the middle of a particularly gruesome crime scene, graceful feet painting small waves and smooth arcs against the cement with fresh blood, outstretched hands dripping beads of blood and pieces of dislodged teeth as he twirls about.
Without waiting for the new arrival to speak, Dazai continues glibly: “Ah, silly me~~~ You are the police~~~♥”
Nakahara Chuuya lets out a breathy, put-upon sigh. “I keep on telling you to stop playing about in the crime scene.”
“And I keep ignoring you, so what’s your point?”
“Fucking asshole.”
“Hmmmmmm~~~” Dazai tilts his head as he approaches Chuuya, his bare feet not leaving identifiable footprints because the entire warehouse floor is flooded with blood. “Why is Chuuya in a bad mood?”
“Because I’m going to clean up after you.” Chuuya rolls his eyes and dodges Dazai’s grabby hands when they move to pinch his cheeks. “Again.”
“You don’t have to, though.”
Dazai doesn’t make sense most of the time, so it makes the times that he does display some lucidity all the more annoying. “You left a goldmine of evidence here, jerkwad. Of course, clean-up is needed.”
Chuuya bristles when Dazai whistles long and low. “Chuuya’s such an angel, then? Helping out the poor me~~~♪”
“If you know it, stop playing with the crime scene.”
“Eh, not ‘stop killing people for funsies’?”
A sharp inhale.
“…It’s not like you’ll ever listen to me.”
“Chuuya can be smart when he tries!”
“Are you implying I’m stupid?!”
“But you kind of are?”
He kind of is.
Because there’s no other way to explain why he follows Dazai like this to each and every one of his kills before they’re officially reported to the police—why he brings with him a thorough set of equipment able to erase DNA evidence, CCTV footages, anything that can link Dazai back to his very messy and violent pieces of art—why he doesn’t just let Dazai be rightfully imprisoned for the long list of kills that he’s done with such panache that he’s dubbed as ‘No Longer Human’ by the country’s police network.
It’s not enough that they’re childhood acquaintances – because their only connection is that fragile thread born out of being next-door neighbors with families that are both of old money and same affluent social circles.
It’s not enough that they’ve been consistent classmates ever since elementary all the way until high school – because they didn’t even have the same set of friends or even the same after-school clubs or even the same hobbies.
It’s not enough that they rebuilt their lives back-up after they attended a party that ended up changing their lives forever – because Dazai’s family has been murdered brutally by some madman in that party to the point that once Dazai woke up from his coma, he had expressed the desire to see more of that brutality, to feel more of that scenario where one’s life hang in a precarious balance.
It’s not enough that they’ve started living together in the flat that Chuuya rents in the middle of Yokohama since then – because they’re hardly close roommates as they live their lives differently from each other, with Chuuya continuing to juggle his life between his shift to the police academy and his part-time activity of selling poems and songs, with Dazai alternating between dropping off the radar and calling Chuuya at odd times in the night while complaining about how ladies who refuse his invitation for a double suicide are really much more beautiful if they’re ground like mincemeat and hey, would Chuuya like to eat a burger after they dance around in a house soaked in blood, Chuuya’s treat?
—!!!
Chuuya blinks and dodges almost a second too late – a dagger nearly cutting off his bangs.
“What the fuck?!”
“Chuuya was ignoring me!”
“So you try to kill me?!”
“But you dodged, so it’s no biggie!”
“You fucker!”
“You’re part of police so you should be prepared for such things~~~♫” Dazai claps his hands together, gleeful as always, even though he’s still pouting at being ignored, the stupid attention whore. “Aren’t you glad that I’m keeping you on your toes?”
“Unnecessary.” It really is. Chuuya’s the best rookie the police force has ever seen. He’s got the best scores in history. “And stop spreading your goddamn DNA around!”
“You’re such a mother hen.” Dazai pouts still and Chuuya has this urge to rub it away with his own lips. How unsanitary and disgusting. “It’s kind of cute. As long as you don’t do this with anyone.”
“Fortunately, I do not know any other serial killers.”
“Haaaaa, well, even if you do…” Dazai pauses as he gets distracted by Chuuya bending down and cleaning off some parts of the floor where the footprints are more distinct. “…hey, what was I saying again?”
“Senile pervert,” Chuuya makes sure to keep his ass out of Dazai’s view when he retrieves the pair of shoes and clothes that he always packs with him, because Dazai is a fucking idiot who has no sense of self-preservation. “You were going to make some vaguely creepy threat about killing off serial killers that I get assigned on.”
“Noooo, I think I was gonna call you a midget.” Dazai grins when Chuuya visibly restrains himself from throwing the shoes to his face. “It must be so great for you, that you need to constantly wear your uniform with a hat. How many inches does that give you?”
“More than you ever will,” Chuuya snarks just loud enough for Dazai to swoon like a mortally-wounded fool.
Dazai’s smile is full of teeth. “I can always fuck you here, Chuuya~~~”
“No, thanks.” Sanitation concerns aside, they’re pressed for time because after the fortieth body, everyone is on high alert. The trust rating for the police is probably swimming in negatives right now. “Can you wipe off the blood yourself or do you need assistance like a goddamn child?”
“If anyone’s closer to children—”
“One more word and I’ll drown you in bleach.”
“You will?!”
“And what, give you the pleasure of dying early and spiting me with even more clean-up?”
“Ah, I see, I see, Chuuya’s gonna be soooo lonely if I die.” Lonely isn’t the right word. Go fucking crazy with happiness, probably. And then go fucking crazy in rage, after the novelty of having a peaceful moment, definitely. “We can always commit a lovely double suicide! Even though you’re not really my type of a beautiful lady.”
“No beautiful lady in their right mind would even touch you with a ten-foot pole.”
“Good thing you’re not in your right mind, hmm?”
It's true, in a way.
Because who does these things?
Dazai’s certifiably insane, yes. Probably got knocked in the head during that massacre, got catapulted into insanity, which is an easy job, given how strange he’s already been before.
But Chuuya?
Leaving behind his privileged life, so he can slum it up in some discreet but cramped flat—leaving behind his name and the rather sizable fortune that came with it, so he can stay with this annoying annoyance and wipe his feet off blood and clear his hands off evidence that can spell a death penalty at their luckiest—leaving behind his ascertained path in life that will allow him to just write poems and songs and be rewarded with crates of aged wines, so he can become a part of the police force so he can stay one step ahead of the people who make it their life’s work to capture Dazai and rightfully so.
Sometimes, he wonders if he’s really the more insane one.
To be considered crazier than Dazai Osamu—what a fucking blast.
“You’re ignoring me again and I don’t like it!”
“Will you stop throwing a temper tantrum like a child?!”
“Again, you’re the one closer to being a c—”
“I’ll dunk your head in a vat of acid.”
“Wow, you really love me so much!”
And Chuuya does, unfortunately.
Even though one of these days, he’s pretty sure that he’d have to make a deal with the devil in order to clear all the records of Dazai’s existence. He’s very sure that he’s had to make a choice between shooting Dazai and shooting his work colleagues, flushing down months and years of enduring the same rigorous training together.
He’s certain that he doesn’t even have to decide, things having been decided since a long time ago.
“…unfortunately.”
Dazai’s quiet for a moment – and for a split-second, Chuuya’s heart soars against his own will.
As always, he gets burned down like Icarus reaching towards the brilliance of being loved by someone like Dazai.
“I always make it worth your while though~~~♥” Flippant and tinged with insanity, Dazai grins and hugs Chuuya, his blood-soaked clothes already inside the special evidence bag that Chuuya will dispose of later. “Because I love you too~!”
“…and that’s the problem, isn’t it?”
He hopes against hope that one day, Dazai will snap out of this feverish dream and realize that he’s wrong and that he should take therapy and Chuuya wouldn’t mind enduring a life-long prison sentence with him if that happens.
He’s willing to sacrifice a lot, not just because he suspects himself to be crazy in love, but because everything is his fault anyway.
If only he was better at hiding their relationship from Dazai’s very conservative parents, if only he was able to calm Dazai down on that party that introduced a hand-picked fiancée for Chuuya, if only he was strong enough then to stop Dazai from snapping and killing off his own family in rage, if only—
“Ah, if you frown so much, you’d get wrinkles like an old man!”
If only they can survive to growing old together.
“Yeahhhhno.” Chuuya smiles though when Dazai tugs at him with his now-cleaned hand. “Let’s just go.”
“Mmm, I wanna eat some tamagoyaki!” Dazai’s eyes sparkle like before, the insanity now curbed for a moment. If only it can stay that way forever. “Can you cook for me?”
“A goddamn slave driver, that’s what you are.”
“Oho! Chuuya, call me ‘Master’!”
“How about no.”
“Eh?!”
If only—
Chuuya takes what he can get.
So for now, he allows Dazai to swing their hands like some happy couple, as they leave the warehouse that Chuuya has rented under the name of one of his coworkers that he’s planning to implicate No Longer Human, all in the name of saving Dazai.
“I want you to spoonfeed me, Chuuuuuya!”
Chuuya whispers a quick apology to the dead bodies that they’ve left behind, to the people that he’s deceiving, to the ones he’ll destroy in the future, to himself.
“What was that??? Is Chuuya now talking to himself?!”
“Just shut the fuck up and walk.”
If only they can be like this forever.