𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗞𝗢𝗞𝗨 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗧𝗦

No Children

I hope that our few remaining friends give up on trying to save us.
I hope we make up a fail-safe plot to piss off the dumb few that forgave us.
I hope the fences we mended, fall down beneath their own weight.

———

"The difference between us, is that I'd choose you in every universe." Dazai looked up from the ground, staring at Chuuya with a blank face. "I am only human, Chuuya." The ginger eyed him, scoffing, "Like hell."

"Don't look at me like that, Chuuya, I might think you actually hate me!" It was so fake, the liveliness in his voice, so unbelievably fake, it was almost offending, the way Dazai Osamu was so— so.

"You just found that out?"
Chuuya lit up a cigarette.

"Well then, Tell me Dazai. Would you do the same?"
It wasn't really surprising when Dazai didn't respond.

Chuuya sighed, looking away, he's been put into this scenario too many times to count, all those times ended with the same feeling of sadness, jealousy, anger lingering inside him. Dazai Osamu was genius, unpredictable— It was the opposite to Chuuya. To him, Dazai Osamu was somebody he hated, he hated him so much because he loved him.

But Dazai Osamu was stupid.

Dazai Osamu was the cruelest of all devils, one who tore humanity apart, one who made Chuuya feel human— Chuuya always wanted to feel in love like a human. It feels horrible, it was better when there was no light in his life.

It was better without hapiness.

Without the want to be human and not some vessel for a god.
Without the want to not be some lab experiment.

It was better just being, horrible, a monster.

Because you would disappoint no one— or maybe you disappoint everyone and you'd be used to it. If you were good, do something bad and they'll hate you.

It was so much better being some make-shift god of destruction.

With no words of goodbye, Chuuya walked away, tossing his cig on the ground and stomping on it, leaving it's insides on the floor. Dazai didn't even walk to him, talk to him.

It's always the same outcome, anyways.

———

And I hope we hang on past the last exit,
I hope it's already too late.
And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here—
Someday burns down.
And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away, And I never come back to this town again.
———

"You're a fucking piece of shit, Dazai." Chuuya spat out in hatred. Dazai looked at him, pitch-black void meeting his dark tainted blue ones. Dazai merely ignored him, playing deaf to his words.

Chuuya doesn't care anymore.

He loved the bastard.

But he fucking hated him too.

Maybe he hated him more than he loved the other.

He despises him.
He loathes knowing him.
He hates him.

Dazai doesn't care about him, his feelings, his actions, he really doesn't. Chuuya was no different. He couldn't care anymore, he cared too much, he lost it long ago. He knew caring wouldn't change anything, absolutely nothing— It wouldn't make Dazai feel anything else than nothing for him anyway.