Each song, each chapter

Gallowdance

He has always feared betrayal.
And he was, he really didn't want to, but he was betrayed. Multiple times.
As if life hasn't granted him enough pain.
But how beautifully his emptiness fed on him, how good it felt to be dead inside. He also enjoyed being hated.
It's crazy, he knew it.
But the depression, each feeling, felt good for him. It was comforting, really.

It's always been a simple routine for Chuuya. Get attached, obsessed, even, let them leave you, then regret.
Maybe it hurt.
He liked pain.

Ah, what a foggy and dark night it was.
Footsteps could have been heard from the Port Mafia apartments, presumably two people fighting.
There wasn't any yelling.
No, not fighting.

The two rivals, who happened to be partners, were enjoying each other's presence, dancing as if their life depended on it.
If I said it wasn't romantic, I'd be lying.
The partners always had something going on. They didn't want to confess that, they indeed, liked each other.
Every touch was full of hate.
Every stare meant death.
Every movement meant pain.
But they loved each other's presence to the point they couldn't let go.

A foot hitting the other's ankle, a tooth piercing through the other's lips.
Blood drawn from each spot of skin, staining the white, not clean anymore, shirt.
The ginger couldn't care less. No one would notice the blood, not much of a change on him. He's still his old self, always aggressive, and incapable of feeling empathy.
Maybe he needed to feel love, to be obsessed.
But he did. He loved a person so badly, he obsessed over them that much, that every hit from the other didn't matter to him. Love blinds people, that's true.
But you have to blind yourself, it's only your fault you fell for it.
Right?

The brunette was an empty person. His gaze never contained emotion. His eyes empty, searching for something to brighten them up.
A reason, a reason to keep going.
Every mortal needs to find a reason, unless it's time for them to go, and there's no more chance to live.
It's said that everyone has lived their part in life. But the brunet understood that he never has, and never will.
His soul feels empty, craving comfort that, of course, will never stop the thoughts.
Nothing, no action, can stop the haunting thoughts.

His nonexistent emotion is infectious.
Every human being he meets,
Gets infected by his cold, lifeless gaze.
It pains him to know that people don't appreciate it. Unlike him.
He enjoys feeling his soul get torn apart, he enjoys torture.
These people could never understand.
He liked dancing.
Mostly with his stubborn partner.
Both understood each other, without any words needed to be said. They enjoyed the company of each other.

The taller had one hand on the other's waist, the other was holding his hand.
The younger was dancing perfectly, while the older has had slipped on his shoe occasionally.
But Chuuya didn't mind. He didn't comment on any odd behavior of Osamu's.
It wasn't any of his business, so it shouldn't concern him.

Their bodies met in a harsh, painful hug. Dazai's nails dug into the older's waist, blood slightly dripping down his legs. It hurt, but they enjoyed it.
Pain was enjoyable, in the mafia.
They've been through so much pain, that they cannot feel it, nor mind it no more.
Chuuya grunted in pain, as the other kicked his leg. No words were shared, no need for that.
They understood what was happening. They wanted this to continue.
Even though they hate each other an insane amount,
They still love these moments.
Moments when they can forget everything, forget all the thoughts.

The song stopped playing, and their bodies separated. No one said anything.
The brunet picked up his book, silently leaving, and laying down in the grass.

They repeated this cycle a few more times. Seen