gO-Ose
The lonely, hollow apartment was silent, still asleep in the early hours of the morning. But Dazai wasn't.
"Chuuya," he said softly. "I just the worst dream ever. You were in it,"
"Oh really?"
"Yeah, we were laying in the cherry blossom grove again and you were leaning your head against my shoulder," the brunette murmured, staring at the ceiling somberly.
"That doesn't sound bad at all,"
Dazai ran a hand up his face, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Yeah, the dream itself wasn't that bad. The worst part of it was that I knew I'd wake up and you'd be gone again." Dazai looked over at the cold, empty space his lover used to occupy, his heart aching for Chuuya again.
gO-Ose
“Dazai, we’re all worried about you, the ADA and I. We know that it’s been hard, especially since it was just his… anniversary,” he said
“I’m fine. Really. I was just sick. That’s why I didn’t come to work,” I kept the smile on my face, even though it hurt. “Come on in, it’s cold out there,” I said, opening the door a little wider and stepping back. “I just started making toast, if you want some,”
Kunikida sighed and stepped into the apartment. As he got closer I noticed it wasn’t just his expression that was off. There were bags under his eyes. His ponytail was loose, some strands falling out. The ribbon he wore around his collar was crooked, the ends uneven.
You did that, a voice in my head sneered. It’s all because of you and your stupid, selfish emotions. You don’t get to grieve him like this.
A wave of guilt passed over me and my smile faltered as the thought entered my mind, but only for a second.
“I’ll go get the toast,” I said quickly. “Would you like some tea as well?” Kunikida nodded and I stepped out of the room, into the kitchen. The toast was a little bit burnt as I took the pieces out of the toaster, but Kunikida wouldn’t mind. It was expected of me to burn at least one thing while cooking at this point.
I filled the kettle halfway with water and turned it on. “Just a few more minutes, Kunikida!” I called from the kitchen.
Moments later, I returned to the living room with two mugs of tea and a plate of burnt toast.
gO-Ose
My biggest regret is not having moments like that with Chuuya. I know that if he had been healthy, if we had been able to live like a normal people, we could have had tender moments, like the way Atsushi would make me waffles when I was having a hard time eating, and how he would wrap my bandages for me when my hands were too shaky to put them on myself. But I also know that if he had been healthy, he wouldn’t have let me in the way he had. Me and Chuuya were simply fated to never be together. Not for long at least.
I grabbed the bread out of the mostly-empty pantry and tossed it in the toaster. Toast was all I could stomach for now. I leaned against the counter while I waited for it to be done, gazing out the window. My thoughts wandered back to Atsushi. Then work. Then the fact that I haven’t shown up or even called in almost a week. I groaned, dreading the lecture Kunikida would give me when I eventually went back to the office.
A distant ding interrupted my thoughts. I glanced at the toaster, the bread still warming up, and it took me a moment to realize it had been the doorbell. Who would be here? I sighed and walked over to the door, opening it to find Kunikida standing there in the late spring rain. Instead of his usual scowl he wore when in my presence, he looked worried. And instead of yelling at me, he softly said, “You look like hell,”
I didn’t like it. The look he gave me was too close to pity, his words too close to sympathy. So I tucked my hair behind my ears and smiled. “What do you mean? I’m fine,” I said, knowing that he knew it was a lie.
gO-Ose
It’s been over a year. I still can’t take a full breath without thinking of how he won’t get to again. I wonder if the dead miss the living. I wonder if he misses me like I miss him, like there’s a gaping hole in my chest that no one but him could ever fill again.
Morning after morning, night after night, I’m still waiting. Waiting to join him. I rarely sleep, not anymore. Maybe I’ll die the way he died and then we’ll be together again. Maybe I won’t. Maybe there’s no such thing as an afterlife. It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Life without him is too hard.
I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed, so I just lay there. The early morning light is filtering through the curtains, shining in my eyes. But I can’t move. The weight of grief is too heavy today, all of it sitting on my chest. So I just lay there and stare at the ceiling, thoughts racing through my head.
You weren’t there for him. You don’t get to feel this way.
I don’t get up until the sun has moved high up in the sky and the gnawing hunger in my stomach is too painful to keep ignoring.
I groan as I lift myself onto my forearms, the effort of it all leaving me shaky. I don’t know what I’ve become at this point. I’m only a shadow of who I used to be, of the person I was for Chuuya. Because of Chuuya.
I push myself up, off the bed, my stiff body aching. I walk over to the curtains and close them. The light hurts my head. With heavy steps, I walk out of my room towards the kitchen, shutting the blinds and curtains of each window as I pass them. It’s probably about noon, maybe a little later. I couldn’t care less.
I often have days like this, especially lately since it’s spring, where I’m just a useless lump of a human being. Back when his death was still fresh, it was so bad that Atsushi had to stay with me for a few months. I kind of miss that. He was so gentle and patient with me.