Dazai Osamu x Chuuya Nakahara Fanfiction Book

A Stone in the Ocean

(Hi

Yes, this is heavy, heavy, HEAVY angst.

If you don't want to cry, DON'T READ THIS

just a random Drabble I thought of when I woke up.

CONTENT WARNINGS⚠️: Major Character Death (see I told you), Sad shit, Sad shit, Sad shit

Word count: 2624

That's about it, if you are reading this, grab some tissues.

"Enjoy" :,)

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"Where the hell are you taking me?!"

"Shhh, slug! Just keep quiet, you'll know soon enough!"

"Oh my God—you're so annoying."

Chuuya grumbled, shaking his head to somehow make the blindfold fall off his face, but all in all just failing when he has Dazai directly behind him— firmly holding the cloth shut and over his field of vision.

"You really had to bother me on my day off?!" Chuuya yelled, as always— pissed towards the stupid ass brunette ex-partner. "I'm not even getting fucking paid at all today, so this better be good."

Dazai lightly laughed, though it's a bit hard to hear when all you hear is the cawing and chirping of what must be hundreds seagulls surrounding you. "Just a little bit further, you goblin."

Chuuya groaned, letting himself be guided by the large bandaged hand resting on the small of his waist.

He doesn't know why exactly he lets this man bother him at all on his days off of work. He barely gets any rest days— and when he does, he ends up just spending them with this mackerel of a man.

"I swear, I'm gonna kill you someday."

It's not a lie.

Chuuya really wants to see the man dead.

He would love to see the look on Dazai's face when he draws his final breathe, his throat closing in on itself when the one holding it firmly is the ginger himself.

He would love to see his red blood splattered across his own shirt, staining it crimson and keeping it as some sort of fucked-up memorial in his dresser—hell, maybe even make it a goddamn shrine at some point, keeping it in his bedroom and worshipping the fact that Dazai is dead every day and night.

He would kill innocents just to see the sight of Dazai's guts splattered from maybe a suicide per say— the height of the fall crushing all of his internal organs and making them spill, painting the cement ground of Yokohama a beautiful and sadistic color.

"Okay~we're here!"

He can see it— so clearly in his mind. The vision of killing the brunette— it's just so clear, so wanting.

"Whatever. Just take the damn blindfold off, moron!"

It will happen— one day.

"Okay, okay! Jeez, so high maintenance."

But... maybe today is not that specific day.

Maybe today, he'll push that need to kill in the backs of his mind.

So— if he does that, all he feels for the other is a single pulse of warmth radiating in his chest, a foreign feeling to them both— but a very interesting one indeed.

When the cloth is slipped from his eyes, Chuuya is met with a light flare of whiteness covering his entire vision— due to looking into the darkness for so long.