Chapter Text
“So ...is that anaemic jackass dead?” Chuuya’s impatient voice sounded from behind him.
“Yeah, Fyodor is no doubt dead.” He was sure Fyodor was dead, yet somehow, it didn’t feel...real.
“I see.”
Nikolai was also stood behind him; approaching from the side of the tower. Dazai reached down and picked up Fyo - Dostoevsky's arm.
He didn’t know why; but Dazai felt emotionless - he wasn’t exactly sad, although he would miss being able to have a challenging round of chess. He just felt...empty.
“Congrats Nikolai.” He couldn’t let his smile drop - not yet at least. “You wanted to kill him, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I certainly did. Although, at the same time, I didn’t.” Nikolai reached out, taking Fyodor’s disembodied arm from him. “No, you’re right. Fyodor and I... we never exchanged many words. But still, my life since meeting him has felt like... nothing I did before had the same purpose as it did afterwards.”
Dazai knew what he meant.
There would never again be anyone quite like Fyodor Dostoevsky.
“Fyodor was right,” Nikolai’s words snapped Dazai out of his inner monologue. “He told me I fought so I could lose myself.” Nikolai placed Fyo – Dostoevsky's arm to his face. “And so now, I just... ”
Dazai turned and walked away from the helicopters remains.
“Not going to grace us with your usual snarkiness?”
“Nah. Don’t feel like it.” He didn’t feel like doing anything at that moment, it was as if Dostoevsky had taken Dazai’s happiness with him onto that helicopter. “I’d better take the antidote now.”
It didn’t feel like it really mattered anymore, but still, Fyodor wasn’t quite a beautiful lady for him to die with.
Beautiful he may have been, but he was still a man.
Anyways, it wouldn’t be double suicide, just... double death.
Fyodor had wanted to live after all; whilst Dazai didn’t really care - one of the only major differences between them. Dazai didn’t usually like to admit, even to himself,how similar they were, but now Fyodor was dead, it didn’t matter.
But Fyodor had chosen to use his intelligence to force his own botched sense of justice upon the world, using his pawns to target ‘sinners’, whereas Dazai used his to attempt to save as many lives as possible.
Once he was past Chuuya, he could finally let that bright smile drop from his face.
He didn’t miss Dostoevsky exactly - well, he missed being able to interact with someone as smart as himself and he missed being able to understand another human being, but – okay, maybe he missed Fedya a bit.
Fedya?!
He sighed; shaking his head.
Why did he call Dostoevsky Fedya?!
“Something wrong Dazai?”
Chuuya startled him out of his thoughts.
“Chuuya-sannn , I was just thinking of how short you are!”
“YOU-”
Dazai quickly reached for his pocket, about to pretend to get a call – Crap. He had forgotten he was still in his prison clothes.
“Chuuya-sannn , I’ve got to leave, now.”
“Need a ride?”
“Yes, please.”
Dazai was thankful for Chuuya’s company on the ride home.
Chuuya could tell something was wrong; Dazai could tell by the fact that Chuuya kept talking with him even though Dazai brushed him off multiple times.
Chuuya didn’t know what was wrong, though. Hell, Dazai didn’t even know himself.
That night, he dreamt of Fedya.
“Dazai dear, did you miss me?”
Fedya was standing almost uncomfortably close to him, his piercing violet eyes gazing deep into his soul.
“Ah, I see.” Dazai responded, quickly adjusting to the situation. “You just can’t keep yourself away from me.”
Fedya’s eyes suddenly coldened further, Dazai could even have sworn he saw a spark of red amongst the magenta.
“Homosexuality is a sin.” Fyodor’s upper lip curled slightly as his posture stiffened. “I would never commit such a sin.”
“Ah well.” Dazai shrugged and crossed his arms. “Well, if you ever change your mind...”
Fedya’s cloak (Since when did he wear that? That’s really tacky.) swayed as he leant back, now standing fully upright.
“I-”
Dazai walked into the bathroom and splashed some water onto his face, mentally preparing himself for the workday. Ugh.
He raised his head, staring at his damp reflection in the mirror as water dripped from a strand of his wavy brown hair. In the golden morning light coming from the small bathroom window, it seemed almost red.
Suddenly, behind him in the mirror he saw a glimpse of sparkling magenta. He spun around quickly, knocking the mirror to the floor where it shattered into a million fractals of light.
Fuck. He was hallucinating again.
He slumped to the floor, his body splayed limply upon the tiles.
Why am I... disappointed?
I was the man that killed him, why-? A heavy weight rested in his stomach, pulling him down into the depths of despair.
His head felt clouded, like it had yesterday.
His thoughts spiralled around his head, overpowering yet numbing at the same time.
A heavy weight rested in his stomach, pulling him down into the depths of despair. He couldn’t breathe, thoughts running away from him as he lay helplessly on the floor, unable to think, to move, to even feel. His body was frozen, barely noticing the glass digging into his back and numb to the warm blood seeping into his clothes.
His vision started blurring as tears fell from his eyes, leaving silvery trails on his already moist skin.
Yet he wasn’t sad, just... empty.
He needed to feel something, anything.
His gaze alighted on a sharp, glittering shard.
Dazai went to work with a new, unseen bloom of red staining the otherwise pristine bandages winding around his upper arm.
The fragments of metal and glass lay on the floor of Dazai’s bathroom amidst a pool of blood, reflecting light around the ivory room.
In the glass you could see the room’s reflection from a hundred different angles, shattered into a million different pieces.
The room’s reflection, alongside a glimmer of magenta and a flash of navy blue.
“Well, isn’t this interesting.”
On the outside, Dazai looked especially cheerful that day.
On the inside, he wanted to cry.
“Kunikida-kunnn-”
“Kunikida-kunn-”
“Kunikida-kunnn-”
Kunikida finally snapped, whirling around with a murderous glint in his eye.
“ OSAMU DAZAI, IF ALL YOU’RE GOING TO DO ALL DAY IS BE ANNOYING, YOU MIGHT AS WELL GO HOME.”
“Okay!”
Atsushi winced as Dazai skipped cheerfully out of the room.
‘Kunikida-kunn’ sighed, lifting up his glasses and rubbing his eyes.
“Sometimes, Dazai makes me want to kill him. I’m sure he’d like it though.”
“You should probably go after him if you don’t want him to go home;” Ranpo interjected, looking up from his bag of mochi.
“No, it’s fine. I don’t have the energy to deal with him. I’ll just let him go.”
Dazai lay on the rug of his apartment, staring blindly at the ceiling.
He didn’t know why, but he felt depressed - even more so than usual. A tear slowly spread across his eye, turning his vision blurry as the film obscured his sight. The room was slowly blurring into simple blocks of blank colour.
The salty tears ran down his face, slowly seeping into his hair as he softly sobbed, each spasm shaking his body almost painfully.
His breathing was jagged and irregular - too shallow and fast - making him feel dizzy and faint.
He felt like he was slowly falling out of his life, a simple side character in the story of someone else’s life, the people around him detached and unimportant.
Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit.
It had been a while since he last felt like this, but it was not a new sensation; almost as far from it as possible. Like a watchful parent, always just over his shoulder.
Usually he was with someone else - both Kunikida and Chuuya knew what to do if he began to feel like this.
But by himself, he couldn’t do anything at all to stop this indescribable feeling of despair from dragging him ever deeper.
“You really should check on him,” Ranpo insisted.
“Alright, fine-”
A loud ring interrupted him from Ranpo’s bag.
“Oooh, Poe’s calling me!”
Ranpo dived under the table to answer the call from his supposed ‘rival’.
They act more like lovers than rivals; Kunikida thought. Oh well. I’d better see if Dazai is alright.
Suddenly, Dazai felt a hand running through his hair, bringing him back almost immediately.
His breath began to calm, his tears slowly drying.
Once his vision began to clear, Dazai felt the hand move away and he heard steps walking away from him.
He shakily rose up on his elbows, his breath still unsteady but almost normal.
His vision was clear enough to just catch the edge of a cloak as it flew from the faceless figure as they leapt out the window, unwilling to be seen.
Without a second thought, he leapt out the window after the figure.
The harsh wind ripped open his eyelids, causing fresh tears to leak out his eyes.
His vision began to fade, splotches of black filling the gaps in his vision as his oxygen-deprived brain struggled to come up with an explanation for what the hell just happened.
The last thing he saw before he blacked out was a pair of sparkling magenta eyes.
That rat bastard?!
Oh shit, I fell right into his trap.
Suddenly, as he was only about two floors away from the ground, he heard Kunikida’s voice screaming his name
“DAZAI!!”
Oh sh-