Chapter Text
It’s currently 3AM and Dazai found himself going to the rooftop of his apartment. He slowly climbed on the edge, letting the wind flow in his hair, he didn’t even bother to take off his shoes nor his coat. All he could do was to stare at the ground before him.
All he could think of and remember, was *Chuuyas* scream “DAZAI!!!” he shouted, it wasn’t a scream of worry, or anger, it was a scream of pain, the only thing Chuuya could say when he's in corruption, when it’s eating him alive, was Osamu’s name. The brown haired man was there, he was so close to his partner, yet he couldn’t touch Chuuya in time, Just when he was about to use his ability but then, the ginger just fell down, the corruption taking more and more of his body, he became more red with corruption scars and his face became paler and paler it was almost white, his eyes were open, and they stared like nothing existed, no light in them.
Dazai was too late. 2 seconds more was all he needed and Chuuya would be saved.
He failed him.
He failed his partner. The person that trusted him with his life.
So he doesn’t deserve to live anymore.
He turns his body to face the door, and walks backwards, before he starts falling. The air is moving against his back, as if trying to push him back up, his eyes begin to tear up as he closes them. This feeling is nice, the air against his body is nice, all it took was to close his eyes. He will go with gravity, he will go with Chuuya, to hell, or heaven, or whatever exists after living. ‘Chibi would be mad if he saw me like this’ he thought before his mind became blank. He could hear some screams with all that ringing in his ears and he barely saw the lights of an ambulance- or maybe Yosano's new installed lights she was bragging about? He doesn’t even know, he soon closes his eyes, smiling, knowing that he will be with Chuuya again.
But, death hates Dazai, like always. He soon slowly wakes up, but something is wrong. He isn’t in Yosano’s office, he isn’t in his house, he isn’t even in the hospital. But it seems so familiar, and realisation hit him hard. He was in the port mafia’s doctors office.
Panic hit him hard, he remembered all his memories with Mori, the men he despised. But when he looked around a bit more, it looked different, no it looked the same, but it felt different.
He tried to sit up, but just then, the doors opened, it was Chuuya, but he seemed different, it wasn’t his Chuuya, that’s for sure. Chuuya was dead. And this ginger was wearing the… Port Mafia boss’s scarf…? “Osamu! You’re awake…” He smiled tiredly, his eyes as dead as ever. He walked to Dazai, and pulled him back on the bed. “Don’t even fucking try to stand up. You’re really hurt… What the fuck happened anyway…? Huh, Makrel?”
He sounded like Chuuya, too much, same voice, same manner, cursing every 5 seconds… He didn’t know if it was real but he could use a Chuuya for a while. Even if he isn’t real.