The last sunset

Chapter 2: Beneath the Surface

The quiet hum of Yokohama surrounded them as Dazai and Chuuya continued walking, their footsteps rhythmic against the cobblestone streets. The air was cooler now, the remnants of the day's warmth long gone, replaced by the cool embrace of evening. The city lights glittered like stars in the distance, and the river they'd just left behind wound through the heart of the city, always moving, always flowing—much like time itself.

For a while, they didn't speak. It wasn't awkward, though; silence was something that had settled between them long ago. After everything—the battles, the arguments, the years spent on opposite sides—there was an unspoken understanding that words weren't always necessary. But the heaviness of what had just transpired lingered, hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

Eventually, it was Chuuya who broke the silence, his voice gruff but quieter than usual. "You're not gonna try that again, are you?"

Dazai's smirk flickered back, but it was more out of habit than genuine amusement. "I can't make any promises, Chuuya. You know me—death and I have a long-standing affair."

Chuuya stopped in his tracks and turned to face him, his blue eyes sharp, cutting through the dark. "That's not funny."

Dazai's smirk faded, replaced by something more serious. He looked away, his gaze drifting to the ground. "Maybe not to you."

Chuuya clenched his fists, frustration boiling beneath the surface. "You're such an idiot, Dazai. You think acting like you don't care makes you stronger? Like it's some kind of shield?"

Dazai's eyes remained on the ground, but he didn't respond. Chuuya's words hit closer than he wanted to admit. It wasn't a shield—it was armor. And he had been wearing it for so long that he'd forgotten what it felt like to be without it.

Seeing Dazai's silence, Chuuya's voice softened, though it still held an edge. "You're not invincible, you know? You're not some... some untouchable force. You've got people who—" He stopped himself, the words catching in his throat, then grumbled, "People who... put up with you."

Dazai chuckled, a low sound that carried a trace of his usual mischief. "Put up with me, huh? I guess I should be grateful."

Chuuya huffed and started walking again, though his steps were heavier, more deliberate. "That's right. You should be. But I don't know how much longer people are going to *want* to put up with you if you keep pulling this kind of crap."

Dazai fell into step beside him, his gaze fixed ahead now, his hands still buried in his coat pockets. The city lights reflected in his eyes, giving them an almost ethereal glow. "You're still here, aren't you?"

Chuuya shot him a sidelong glare. "Yeah, but I'm not everyone. You can't keep testing people, Dazai. Someday, they're going to get tired of saving you."

Dazai's expression shifted slightly, the playful mask slipping for just a moment. "Maybe that's the point."

Chuuya stopped again, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What the hell does that mean?"

Dazai met his gaze this time, his eyes darker than usual, shadows playing beneath them. "It means I'm not sure I want to be saved, Chuuya."

The raw honesty in Dazai's voice sent a jolt through Chuuya. For all the times they'd fought, for all the insults and sarcastic banter, this was different. This was real, and it terrified him in a way that battles never did.

"Dazai..." Chuuya's voice softened, but he didn't know what to say. He wasn't good at this—the heart-to-heart stuff. He was better at punching Dazai in the arm and calling him an idiot. But this was a wound that no amount of fighting could fix.

For the first time in a long while, Dazai looked vulnerable. He looked human. And that, more than anything, made Chuuya realize how fragile this moment was.

Chuuya let out a long breath, his shoulders dropping as he tried to find the right words. "Look... I get it, okay? I get that life's not exactly a picnic. But you don't get to just... decide that you don't want to be here anymore. You don't get to make that choice for everyone else."

Dazai raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "For everyone else? You're saying I should live for other people, then?"

Chuuya crossed his arms, frowning. "No, I'm saying that people give a damn about you, whether you want to believe it or not. And throwing yourself into a river or whatever—" he gestured angrily toward the direction of the bridge, "—is a pretty selfish way of ignoring that."

Dazai chuckled again, but this time there was something softer in it. "Chuuya, you're getting sentimental. I didn't know you had it in you."

Chuuya glared at him, but it lacked its usual heat. "Don't change the subject, bastard. I'm serious."

Dazai's smirk faltered, and he looked up at the sky, which was now a blanket of stars stretching above them. The city lights below created a surreal contrast to the vast, unending darkness above. "You always were serious," he murmured.

There was a long pause as the weight of their conversation settled between them. Dazai felt it pressing on his chest—the heaviness he couldn't shake. But something about Chuuya's presence, his stubborn refusal to let Dazai drift away, anchored him in a way he hadn't expected.

"You ever think," Dazai said after a long silence, "that maybe some people are just... broken beyond repair?"

Chuuya's eyes narrowed, and without warning, he grabbed the collar of Dazai's coat, yanking him close. "Listen to me, Dazai. I don't give a damn how broken you think you are. You're still here, and as long as you're breathing, you're not beyond repair. Got it?"

Dazai blinked, genuinely surprised by Chuuya's intensity. He'd seen Chuuya angry before, but this was different. This was fierce, protective. It was almost... caring.

"Chuuya..." Dazai's voice was quieter now, almost contemplative. "You really are something, you know that?"

Chuuya let go of Dazai's coat, shoving him back with a scowl. "Yeah, well, someone's got to knock some sense into you."

Dazai straightened his coat, his usual smirk returning, though there was a softness in his eyes now. "I'll consider myself lucky, then."

Chuuya grumbled something under his breath, but Dazai could hear the underlying relief in his voice. Despite everything—despite the years of tension, the fights, the constant bickering—Chuuya was still here. Still standing beside him, refusing to let him slip away.

As they started walking again, the tension between them eased slightly. The city stretched out before them, alive with movement, with people who didn't know the battles being fought in the quiet shadows of their lives.

"You know," Dazai said after a while, his tone lighter now, "if you ever want to talk about your feelings, Chuuya, I'm always here."

Chuuya punched him in the arm, hard enough to make Dazai stumble. "Shut up, idiot."

Dazai laughed, a real, genuine laugh that echoed through the night. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn't feel the overwhelming urge to run away. Not from Chuuya. Not from the world.

Maybe Chuuya was right. Just maybe, there was still something worth sticking around for.