Chapter Text
The seasons change.
Life moves on as it always has.
The river flows.
The breeze isn’t as soft as it should’ve been. Chuuya only felt its harsh pounds against his back.
“I trusted you to not get yourself killed. So why…?” He mutters, choking back tears as he clutches a soft, rosy petal in his hand. Its natural shade of pink is stained with red.
Was I not clear?
Day 1
The day Dazai had shown up at his door was the day Chuuya knew something was bound to go wrong.
Shutting the door in his face, Chuuya had waited, hoping the other would go away.
The quiet sound of his lock being picked was heard.
Leave me alone.
“Good to see you too.” Dazai had said, watching the glass as it had flown past his head and shattered.
The once callous and veiled expression had dwindled. A pleasant humane sense of hope stood in its place. Holding the other’s gaze, Chuuya still sensed the ebony singed roots at the heart of the familiar copper forest.
'This couldn’t have been a simple visit. It’s never that simple with you.'
“You’re right.” Dazai had said, his eyes drifted to a dark vase holding a set of reddish orchids. “This place hasn’t really changed.”
He left without saying anything else.
Day 2
Having been thrown to the ground and dragged along the road by his subordinate, Dazai, through all of the suffocating chest pain he felt and his recently “injured foot,” had noticed him standing alone.
“Can you not bother me on the one day I am off.”
“If I did that, I wouldn’t be able to see the tacky hat you wear on your days off.” Dazai stifled a cough. His eyes wandered to the dark hat atop Chuuya’s head. “This one’s different.”
“What? It’s always been the same.” Chuuya pulled the hat down to fix his gaze on the single, white rose. It was just as he remembered.
“No no no. Your hat is even tackier with a petal missing.”
“This isn’t-” He noticed the vacant spot. A petal was missing.
“Tch.” Walking away, he placed the hat on his head once more.
“Are we done here?”
Dazai noticed the drop in his tone. For a moment, a hurt expression crosses his face. “I was going to give you a tip but,” he gestured at the lost cause, scowling as the pounding in his head returned.
“I guess chibi-chan is already satisfied with how captivating he is.” There was a falter in his steps as he turned away.
“Quit ca-” Chuuya’s words hang in the air. He looked back, but Dazai was gone.
Day 3
The weather was getting colder.
The grey sky remained still.
Having gone for a walk, Dazai enjoyed the breeze even as it nipped at his bandaged skin. It sent another chill down his spine. The cool wind did nothing to prevent a rough cough.
He stood, facing the shop’s shaded windows. Clutching his head and shivering from the cold, he set his gaze on the door.
“You look sick.” A voice had said.
“I’m not. It’s just cold out.” He studied the other’s expression before averting his eyes back to the shop. “You’re looking awfully upset.”
“I’m not.” Chuuya had responded, entranced by the window. “I’m just wondering what kind of person leaves without his coat, knowing he’s bound to get sick.”
“It doesn’t hurt every once in a while to want to feel the breeze.” Dazai hummed, ignoring the suffocating weight in his chest.
Day 3: Night
The recurring pain.
the pain he had hidden from Chuuya.
The pain he was not fond of.
As sudden as it was, it wasn’t natural.
Nothing he did could have caused it, not even a suicide attempt.
He was only around the individuals he saw daily.
And Chuuya.
Who was quick to get Dazai out of his hair.
The dislike was mutual.
There had been a spark of joy as Chuuya told Dazai he was pleased by his departure.
Was it genuine?
Or was it an act?
Why was he starting to doubt someone he knew so well…?
'I wasn’t thrilled to see him. His forward actions are…'
Dazai’s head swims with nauseating thoughts. Blurry vision greets his peeking eyes. The pain in his chest is stronger. Another thought hits him. One he felt was closest to the truth.
Perhaps he could sleep away the pain.
Day 4
The same spot. The same time.
The sky had not changed and the breeze was stronger than before.
“What happened to ‘wanting to feel the wind?” Chuuya mirthed. A smile lined his face.
“Every once in a while. Unlike your dull sense of hats.”
The smile had faded.
“Changing styles is inconsistent.” He murmured as he glared at Dazai.
The two fall silent.
Day 5
They met again. Their attempts at small talk had gone nowhere.
'Nothing I do will get to him…'
The air was freezing. The sky remained the same. Its grim tone had darkened the earth.
“And… that’s blood.” Dazai had chuckled. Night had fallen.
Some days it was a curse to be right.
An unfamiliar condition. One he would be told ‘walk it off,’ or be in debt from if he went to a companion.
The restricting feeling in his chest and the shaking from constant coldness…
There was a possibility. One that had not left his thoughts.
Even if it was all in his head, Dazai had wondered if Chuuya had anything to do with it.
If not…
'When could I have stumbled upon its poisonous leaves?'
Day 6
Chuuya had slammed the door that day. Only one person would have been there without warning and while he was out.
“Get the hell out of my apartment and leave me alone.”
'What does he not understand?'
“I won’t take long.” Dazai had said. His flat tone matched with his sharp glare.
'Was there anything to say? Why is he so insistent-'
Chuuya noticed the dark shadows under his eyes and the slight alertness to his gaze.
Has he s- Chuuya smothered the thought, remembering the times he had worried for his partner’s life. Those days were gone.
“There’s nothing to say. You left and ended any possible connection that could have been… Are you regretting it?” He wasn’t hellbent on getting Dazai to leave, but a lingering emotion had festered.
He ignored the outstretched hand. The hand that tried to help. The hand that tried to calm the storm and pull him from the rising tide.
“Or did you enjoy leaving the hell you had made? The place you left for me to pick up after. As shitty as it had been, it felt better without you in it.” The disdain in his voice was clear.
There was a cold, burning desire.
'If I just…'
A strained laughter came from Dazai as he failed to suppress a cough.
The flame dies.
“As if I can control when the sun rises with your displeasure.”
“Get out.” There was an edge to Chuuya’s voice as he tossed his coat at Dazai.
“And take that cold with you.”
Dazai fixed his gaze on the object in front of him. Chuuya wouldn’t forget the solemn yet wistful look shadowing his face.
“It’s not a cold.” He murmured.
“It’s the flowers.”
The five, carefully placed orchids had a duller tone than before.
He turned from the rose-colored bunch, coughing once more.
The door silently shut.
Day 6: Night
Dazai had wanted to act as if it would pass in a few hours.
As if he weren’t sitting at his desk at the agency.
As if Dazai hadn’t heard the fractured part of Chuuya that he tried to hide.
As if the source of his poison wasn’t internal. He had never believed it existed, but he could not deny the strangling feeling in his chest and the thousands of thorns piercing him inside.
“Maybe my suicide attempts are failing.” A hollow laugh passed his lips.
The buzz in the air had gone quiet as the room froze over.
An empty feeling fills the room.
Any normal day he would have been content with dying.
Dazai clawed his way out of his seat, in an attempt to keep from collapsing from the pain.
Day 7
The breeze was soft.
The sky was dark.
If not for the rhythmic drumming of the rain, it would have been a day like the rest.
The street bustled with people. The only idle figure stands alone.
He was early. A rare occasion.
The rain had darkened his coat and seeped into his bandages.
He had not wanted to stand under the sky’s woeful cry.
Dazai gazed into the shop window. He sighed, scanning its contents. His eyes rest on a single item. It barely stood out against the glass. It was as simple as it could have been. A dark grey rim laced with a soft velvet fabric. One could tell its worth at first glance.
Time had gone into that hat. Time that could not be regained.
He shut his eyes, taking in the dreary but calm moment.
He hadn’t planned on going out that day.
“Why hats?”
The rain fell around him. The soaked coat stuck close to his body. Remaining still, he opened his eyes to observe the shelter above his head.
His gaze trailed to the gloved hand that carefully held the umbrella.
The moment felt like eternity as they held each other’s gaze.
They shared a vacant expression.
“Why bandages?” Chuuya’s apathetic tone broke the silence. His eyes drift over the display. He didn’t catch the smile. Nor the empty, lonely look Dazai had.
“I meant what I said yesterday.” Chuuya murmured, his somewhat hostile tone didn’t match his stony expression.
“You know…” Dazai removed his arms from the drenched coat. He passed something to Chuuya, who eyed it with suspicion. “Your ability could be of use right now.” He gestured to the umbrella, stifling a cough.
Chuuya glanced at his own hand before glancing at the soaked coat.
“You’ll get cold.” He muttered, swiftly letting go of the umbrella and grabbing his coat from Dazai’s hand.
“Anyone willing to stand in this downpour is a fool.” He had said, watching the faint outline of hurrying people. Those getting caught in the sky’s lament and those walking noiselessly with the rain.
Dazai met his gaze expectantly. He didn’t say anything, perhaps waiting for an insult to come.
“Go home before you get sick.”
'Why do I care?'
“I don’t know why you saw being out in such gloomy weather as a good idea. Having to make sure you didn’t die of some rain inflicted illness…” The wind picked up the last of his words as he left.
Dazai stood.
Cold.
Rain rolled down his covered shoulders.
He shakes, unable to stifle the series of coughs plaguing his ailing body.
Blood stained his coat.
Something thin and white floats to the ground.
How many times will we walk away before this kills me?
Day 8
“Chuuya was right.” Dazai had said as Atsushi walked him home.
Attempting to go in sick had failed.
They had come to a halt as a convulsion rippled through his body.
He recovered rather too quickly as his head spins.
“Just a common cold. It’ll pass in a day or- oh! Look at that.” Dazai hurriedly walked to his door. A laugh strangles his chest as he assured Atsushi he was fine. The door shut as he waved goodbye.
A flaming rod burned his chest. Sharp pins pierced his organs. Dazai clutched the door handle. His grip tightened with each short breath. His hand slipped as a shuddering gasp escaped.
The flames were hotter. The air was fleeing. He froze in his crouched position. Tasting the warm, thick, metallic liquid, Dazai pulled himself to his feet, barely able to carry himself to the side room.
He choked back a cough before dipping his head into the sink. The dancing lights distorted his vision.
“Of course it would,” He coughed and shakily inhaled.
He frowned at his disheveled reflection, his eyes trail to the bloodied sink. A light shade of red floats in the crimson pool. Hunching over, he coughs once more, adding to the other petals drowning in blood.
Day 9
“Shouldn’t you be at-” Chuuya sensed the faint, ailing stench. “You’re ill.” He realized, closing the door Dazai had left open.
“I told you not to-”
Yeah, I know.” Dazai took a step forward. There was a burden in his walk as he slowly paced the floor.
“You’re sick. Are you t-”
Dazai waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry. This illness isn’t contagious,” his sorrowful tone had faded as a look of pain crossed his face. It threatened to crash the facade, the mask he had painfully put on.
“Anyways…,” he pulled something from behind his back.
“The little guy was hiding in the corner of the window…” Dazai’s murmurs were barely heard as Chuuya eyed the hat in his bandaged hands.
How the hell did Dazai get his hands on it…
“He’s definitely a special- or she- it’s impossible to tell with hats.” Dazai rambled, examining it through a curious lens. He turned it halfway so as to leave Chuuya to wonder how the front looked.
“The stitching is care-”
“Dazai.”
“Each thread i-”
“Dazai.” Chuuya’s impatient tone caught his attention. Peering down the bridge of his nose, he noticed the wistful look Chuuya tried to hide.
“Do you need something, Chibi-chan?” Dazai inquired.
“Why’re you here?” Chuuya asks, running a hand through his hair.
Dazai watched, knowing how elegant and dangerous a single touch from him could be.
“This… this simple design. As dull as a hat with one unique trait is…” his gaze softened, holding the object close.
'It’s strangely attractive.' He ignored the thought.
He sighed, placing it on Chuuya’s head.
“I thought you’d want it.”
The words sunk in as Chuuya reached for the hat.
'A gift without a reason doesn’t seem like you.'
There’s a small gasp as he turned the hat in his hands.
“You’re right. There’s more. Yet… it can’t be done. A simple task… humans just aren’t capable of it.” Dazai coughed as he walked to the door.
The room was bitterly cold.
He was straining his body. Putting himself in ‘peril’ and risking his health over and over. For what? Something he tried to put aside for several years.
For someone a handful of his plans had heavily relied on.
It was only natural.
Only humans put themselves in danger for someone they cared for.
The hat was an almost identical copy to the one missing a petal. It’s older, perhaps the first version of the white rose hat. This one held an orchid- white like the “Rosa Laevigata,” as the seller had called it. Chuuya wasn’t a flower expert, but a select few held his attention. One being orchids.
“It’s almost as if...” Chuuya averted his gaze from the hat.
“Dazai wha-” He watched the other shake as he broke into a fit of coughs.
“Dazai?!” Chuuya found himself hurrying to the other, sinking to his knees with Dazai in his arms.
“Well… this is…” There was a choked laughter as he continued to cough.
There was blood.
“Dazai?” Chuuya’s voice filled with concern as Dazai continued to cough. Each one was worse than the last. Each time he choked up something lighter than the blood.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I- cough- said this was from- cough- the cold?” His breathing was heavier. “Would you?”
Chuuya didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Not as he watched Dazai wince with pain.
Dazai’s weak grip tightened on his arm as he heard Chuuya’s small voice.
“You’re… dying.”
They locked eyes. Dazai’s empty look couldn’t express everything he felt. A gaze could only tell so much…
His grip loosens.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have-”
“It’s not your fault.” Dazai had cut him off, choking on blood.
Chuuya closed his eyes, feeling Dazai’s slowing pulse.
“Was it worth it?” He asked, his tone was soft.
“Was it worth it? Coming here just to give me a shitty hat?” Chuuya’s voice broke. Dazai winced, he could hear that same emotion…
He couldn’t let his orchid wilt in the dying light.
“Every second of it.” He closed his eyes.
A small chuckle comes from Chuuya. “Tch. You’re like a weed. You couldn’t let go of me.” He looked at the other.
It was quiet.
The warm pulse had stopped.
“I… couldn’t let go of you.”