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The rain pitter-patters unceasingly. The cold penetrates through thick coats and warm atmospheres, the sound and smell almost soothing. The staccato beat of heels dominate the rain's droplets crashing against the pavement along the street. A tan trench coat and white soaking bandages stand out amongst the picture of monotony. The man's face was shadowed by dark tufts of hair, and he had walked, uncaring that he was wet from head to toe. His hands were casually in his pockets and the socks of his feet felt like stepping on mud constantly. The rain stops pestering him with its droplets. Beside him was a man with lively auburn hair but had been dampened by the rain's water as well as the atmosphere. He held a black umbrella and shielded the bandaged mackerel from further getting wet than he really is. The duo doesnt say a word as they walked towards their destination. Not a single sound was uttered between them. The silence between the two partners had always meant understanding and comfort.
“Hey, Odasaku. It’s been a while,” the young man in the black coat said. “Is it too early for a drink?”
The grey atmosphere dulled all colors in Yokohama. None had visited the cemetery, due to the weather. Only two had entered through the main gate and slipped in. There was a faint splish-splash against the stone walkway. Rows and rows of blank graves rested on the side giving way to the two people who had their sights set on the middle; where a tree covering a single grave lies, one gifted with a view of the ocean and melancholy given by the rain. The man with a black coat stops walking. The brunette ascends the small flight of stairs that leads to that single grave resting peacefully.
“It was dreadful,” the young man muttered. “It was really dreadful. To fight against Mimic without you, to take Mori-san’s place after he was killed, to make enemies of everyone and expand the organisation. It was all for this world’s—”
He grips the metal handrail tighter. To steady himself. To get a hold of his emotions. To keep the mask from breaking. To forget the needle-like pain in his chest. It was only a few steps. Several steps, then he'd see him again. But why was it so hard to move? Why does it feel like you're carrying a huge weight in your chest?It feels cold. It's... it's freezing. His hands began to shake, along with the rest of his body. The cold was seeping into his bones, muscles, skin... it was hard to move. Dazai was hesitant in taking a step, maybe it was a bad ide- A warm gloved hand placed itself on his shoulder. He was back on earth again. Drenched in rainwater and sweat, with damp hair clinging to his face, a huge weight settled inside of him."Dazai?" It was too soft to be heard. Too gentle, and concerned to be normal. Yet he still heard it. It echoes in his mind, in his soul. He looks at the grey heavens, hoping that someone may take pity on him. He knows it won't work. Miracles only happen because they can be your own doing or others, with results that may or may not be from the logic you possess."Every time I walk under the rain," Dazai speaks. Devoid of emotions. But it's shaky. Broken. Like a child... lost in the dark forever, not knowing what to do, what to see, or feel. Restricted by adults and their orders, bound by strings and blood.Chuuya waits for Dazai to continue. Stuck in the rain, under an umbrella, with an emotionally-constipated asshole trying to keep himself from pouring everything. He had worn his coat properly this time. He had covered the bastard with his umbrella, without a word. Without any text message or manipulative order from him. It was rare. And it unnerved him for Dazai to be like this.Because the Dazai Osamu he knows, is on constant guard. With his cocky smirk and smug attitude, Who talks about a beautiful suicide and his plans with it's absolute foolproof strategy... It's a drastic change from his usual persona. Chuuya knew that he is capable of reading Dazai. Not only because of years of spending time with each other through pain, silent moments, and teasing, but it was the absolute trust placed on each other that made the bond strengthen and solidify. It was annoying to read at the mackerel's mind, knowing what he was thinking, feeling, planning as minutes and days meld together in a blur. Chuuya cant see his eyes. The bastard knew what to hide, but not Chuuya. He would never hide things from him. Because he was different from the rest of the world.He was an energetic flame in Dazai's hollow existence. A guide Dazai blindingly follows. To be grounded for the sake of this world's peace. And to stay behind a facade.Chuuya's okay with that really. Even after four years apart, and half a month of dancing around with each other as well as the Shibusawa incident... "I can't help but wonder... if I'm really a good person, myself." -!!! If the rain wasn't there to keep himself from thinking that the world had come to halt, he would have punched Dazai. Chuuya grips the handle of the umbrella tighter until his knuckles have become white under the gloves.". . . "He puts down his pride and drops the umbrella.
A calico cat snoozes on the side of the bar. Amber lights warm up the atmosphere of being suspended in time.
"N-no. . ."
A pair of glasses under the rain. Green eyes tell a fate set in stone.
"No, p-please. . ."
The soft clink of three glasses echo in the empty bar.
"Stop, STop, sTOp, no. . . "
A splash of red against a black intricate envelope.
"ITHURTSiTHUrtSithURtSitHUrtS. . ."
A tan coat covered in blood.
"ODASAKU!!!!!"
Dazai opens his eyes.It was still raining. There was still the sound of traffic from the distance. The faceless people of Yokohama walked and talked. But something was different. He could feel something. . .He looks down and sees his partner wrapped around his torso. There was a tight grip on the back of his trench coat and Chuuya's face was obscured from view.The silence spoke everything. The tears finally - f i n a l l y - escaped the dark crevices and cracks of his mask.Years and years of pent up sorrow and despair finally spilled.Tremendous loss and emptiness was present than before.His hands were trembling - hesitation filled with each move as he gently hugged the lithe frame of his partner.
“‘It’s been a while’?” While walking towards the man, I asked, “Have we met before?”
The man waiting in the bar smiled, a smile like he had mastered it from the moment he was born.
“No. It’s our first time meeting each other,” he said, and he clinked the ice in his glass against the side. “First time coming to this bar, first time drinking here, first time meeting you, Odasaku.”
He was sobbing now.The tears didnt stop. The thunder rumbled, the lightning crackled, and the wind howled angrily.Every part of Dazai shook not from the coldness of the weather nor the fatigue clouding his vision. The coldness that was his own chilled him from his core to his skin.Chuuya held him tighter. He buries his face against the brunette's chest, hoping that the heartbeat never goes silent.To keep him from crashing head-first to the ground.To keep him stable.To keep him from falling apart. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm- I'm sorry, I'm so... so sorry, I'm sorry. . ." It came out as broken stutters and painful hiccups.
It tore Chuuya's heart to pieces.
Seeing shitty smartass Dazai - Dazai, sweat and rain soaked, a waterfall of tears cascading down his face, shaky form, and. . .
Pure sorrow.
". . ." It was supposed to be Dazai's problem not his. It was supposed to be this bastard's problem. But now. . . He had started crying too. The rain - no, it wasnt rain anymore - the storm's assault had grown stronger. Pouring all of its water down to the ground. Human tears had mixed with Mother Nature's like mutual understanding. They hold in each other in the rain. They stand against the world. Dazai. . . (nohe'snotnohe'snotnohe'snotnohe'snot) Osamu discards the mask of vice known as Dazai and. . . Just grieves.
"Ne, Odasaku?" The young man in black said. Peering at the man who sipped at his drink.
"What is it, Dazai?" He places the drink back on the table. The red-head turns his head to fully pay attention to the brunette.
"Have you tried my superhuman strength hotpot yet?~" He giggles while his shoulders shake at the thought.
"Odasaku-san, please don't indulge in Dazai's whims..." Ango silently nursed his drink while looking at the pair. Even before Dazai had said a thing, he could already feel the headache coming.
"Hmmm... that sounds tasty. I want to try it." Odasaku stoically said.
Dazai blinks. Twice. Thrice.
Then he wholeheartedly laughs. Ango and Odasaku notice a light in their brunette friend's eye. It dances earnestly like a fire lit for the first time in a dark time of a century.
It felt warm, like a lantern illuminating and warming up a cold and dark cave. A warmth that can never be snuffed away by the harsh wind nor the hollowness of the cavern.
"Alrighty, then! I'll bring it next time. Better be prepared Ango-kun!"
"I-i-i don't like the sound of that!!! Odasaku-san! Please tell Dazai to restrain himself!"
"He's been telling me how tasty his hotpot is. I'm sorry Ango, but I want to try Dazai's cooking."
Dazai's laughs ring in the air and Ango's despair continues.
They never got to try the hotpot.
“Don’t call me Odasaku,” I said, with a sharpness even I was surprised by. “There’s no reason for an enemy to address me in that way.”
"Ch-chuuya. . . I-i. . . it hurts so much. . ." Chuuya only grips tighter. Hoping to never let go. Because he can't bear it if this. . . stupid, stupid, mackerel dies on his watch. Dazai says something more, but it's muffled and he can't hear it over the storm.Over this overbearing pain. Somehow in the midst of it all, the umbrella has been flown away to somewhere outside the cemetery. Chuuya couldn't care any less. "He... he didn't l-let me c-c-call him Odasaku..." Chuuya doesn't know what he's talking about. He knew who the man was. The lowest ranking mafia member. The 'Handyman' of the organization. The guy who never kills. A former assassin. Dazai's best friend. "Osamu. . ." He doesnt know the difference of his warm tears and rain droplets. But he knows its dripping down his face as he says his name. It continues to be like that, until the storm has calmed down to a light drizzle. Dazai's sobs had subsided to a silent blank look. One that was stuck in the past. With too much memories of pain, regret, and anger.He slowly removes his hold on Osamu and looks at him. Mustering up all the understanding and patience, Chuuya whispers, "You've changed a lot, Osamu."The brunette closes his eyes, not wanting to feel the weight of the mafioso's gaze.
"You've done good, Osamu."
In a flash, Dazai tackled Chuuya to the cold ground. His breath was knocked out of his lungs and he failed to register what happened for a moment.No words were said. Only silence and mutual understanding spoke."...Chuuya?" The red head lays his hand on Dazai's wet locks of hair and had begun to massage his scalp. "...Thanks for coming..." The taller of the two breathes out. Dazai pulls away and hovers over him on eye level. "No problem, partner." Chuuya smiles at him. A bright ocean glimmering with joy. A small but bright fire in his eyes. With that, a kiss was sealed to a brighter future. To where hope and camaraderie lies. To mutual understanding and everlasting trust. To a reason living and forgiveness. To a world where people live to save themselves.
Osamu smiles. Pure happiness and hope filled the emptiness.
The wind caresses his cheek as if saying,
"I'm proud of you."