Chuuya opened his eyes. His surroundings weren't what he'd been told death would look like—especially for a man like him. He glanced around. The space was a dark greyish-blue, dotted with millions of stars, close enough to touch. He reached out and brushed one.
"Fuck," he muttered, pulling his hand back. Apparently, pain still existed here. Chuuya looked around, noticing a blanket laid neatly on the ground. It had a tag: From Chuuya. How odd.
He examined the blanket, then took it. If he found—no, stop it. Dazai is dead. He isn't. He doesn't think.
Chuuya sat on the warping grassy ground. It never really stayed the same color or shape in some parts. He took a deep breath, trying to remember how he had gotten here.
He sat there going over it again and again, and each time the last thing he remembered was going to bed, craving for Dazai to be near him.
Chuuya shivered, hugging the blanket closer. He never really felt cold. Why was he cold?
The male stood to his feet. "I need to get out of here," he mumbled underneath his breath. As the ginger walked across the warping ground, it stopped wherever his feet laid. That was weird.
The man picked an imaginary line and started walking. There was definitely some type of wind, due to his hair flowing back a tad. It was bothersome, his bangs blowing into his eyes. He attempted to use his ability to stop it, though his ability wasn't working. Great.
Time warped by. He wasn't really sure how long it had been — the sky never changed, except for the dark greyish-blue having a thin line of lightness to it. It felt like days, but he wasn't hungry or tired. He felt at ease, as if everything was okay.
After walking for a while longer, he came upon a little town. These odd creatures watched him with such love and pity. Safe to say, Chuuya didn't stay long. After getting directions to the next town, he took off.
His journey continued until he came upon a tree. It was shocking, as little as the importance of it may be. It had these apples in the tree—or at least he assumed they were apples. They looked... unique, to say the least. Chuuya plucked one, examining it closely. It looked safe. One bite would be okay.
𝓒𝓻𝓾𝓷𝓬𝓱.
Okay, yeah, that was good. The ginger sat beneath the tree enjoying the fruit. It was the best thing he had ever eaten. Maybe Dazai—he shook his head. But nonetheless, he wrapped one of the tree's fruit within the blanket and continued his journey. As more time passed, and each village he went through, the sky grew lighter. The blanket never dirtied, the fruit never rotted, and the ground never stopped warping unless it was for him to walk across it.
As he entered another village, the people there were just as creepy — their eyes wide, their smiles curved uncanny, their limbs resembling something human but not quite. Something felt different, as if he should stay, so he did.
Chuuya ventured through the village and felt drawn to this little cabin a short walk from the edge. He didn't know why, but he felt a need to hurry, so he did. His feet pushed against the odd ground, carrying him without struggle despite no rest in who knows how long.
Soon enough, he arrived outside the cabin door. Now he was anxious. He never felt scared — that just wasn't who Chuuya Nakahara was. Yet here he was.
Chuuya raised his hand, instinctively forming a fist, and hit it against the cabin door. For a long moment — then again, he wasn't sure how time worked — nothing could be heard. But slowly, the door creaked open.
...
...
...
Huh?
Was this some sick joke?
How was he—?
"Chuuya?" A familiar voice cut through his thoughts.
"Dazai?" His own voice startled him. How weird.
Chuuya's gaze met the brunette's. He looked... healthy? No eye bags. Not as skinny as usual. He didn't have that taunting smile — he looked horrified, though.
"Where am—where are we?" he asked. He had a feeling he knew.
Dazai didn't reply, at least not right away. He brought him into the cabin, having him sit on the couch. For once, Chuuya didn't argue. Dazai sat beside him.
Was he still cold?
The blanket.
He removed the fruit, still ripe just as when he had taken it.
Without a second thought, he put the blanket on
Dazai.
He heard a chuckle.
"A blanket? Really? Is that what you wanted most when you died?"
...
So he was right. He was dead. Wait—wanted most?
His confusion must not have gotten past Dazai's keen eyes. So he explained.
"When you die, you are given what you want most, or you're able to do something you regret not doing. In my case, I wanted a home. Hence the cabin."
Chuuya looked for any hint of deceit. There was none.
"Then why did it give me a..." Chuuya trailed off into thought. Then it hit him. "You were cold when they took you away. I wanted to warm you up."
Chuuya prepared for the laugh or look of disgust on Dazai's face, but instead, the taller male's face softened — something he'd never seen.
"Thank you, Chuuya. I won't be cold anymore, I promise."
Chuuya's eyes welled up with tears he refused to let fall. Dazai saw. He knew he did. But instead, he pulled him into a hug. Chuuya hugged back.
Dazai would never be cold again. He'd be sure of it.
♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡
Yes more angst is on the horizon, but for those who want something a little happier, enjoy this.
