Atsushi disappeared from his sight and Dazai felt like another piece of his soul had been chipped off.

How had he fucked up so badly?

Wasn't he supposed to be the one with the grand plan? The one to make everything better?

So, then why couldn't he ever do it when things really counted? Why did his so-called genius falter when he really cared?

Rain began to fall from up above, just as a hand settled on his shoulder.

Chuuya.

"He'll come back. He's just gonna need some time. So c'mon, let's go home."

The walk back to the safehouse was silent.

By the time they got back both of them were practically soaked.

Dazai couldn't help it, as he found himself subconsciously glancing towards the room that Atsushi and Akutagawa had stayed in.

If he had come up with a better plan would things have been different?

If he had trained Akutagawa better and taught him to put himself first, would things have been different?

If he had never placed Akutagawa in a position where he felt like he had to protect Atsushi would things have been different?

The answer was yes.

He'd always known that.

He just didn't expect the consequences of his actions to hurt this much.

His entire life, Dazai had tried to think of people as pieces on a chess board. It was easier that way because if you thought of people as little wooden inanimate objects on a checkered board, you could pretend that they weren't real. That they didn't have feelings or lives or blood running through their veins.

His parents taught him that. The old boss taught him that. Mori taught him that.

Every single parental figure that he ever had growing up had taught him that it was safer and all around easier to pretend. So Dazai had grown up dancing around the grip of reality. It was easier than admitting that every death hurt. It was easier than admitting that he hated himself. It was easier than admitting that all those jokes and so-called gags about wanting to kill himself weren't just him kidding around.

So, hiding from reality, Dazai turned Akutagawa into a chess piece.

A wooden pawn. Not real. Inanimate. Fake. Like a puppet on strings.

By letting that cold thought process plague his mind, he'd done terrible things to Akutagawa. He'd beaten him, broken him, and played with his head.

Dazai had done things to him that no one should have to grow up with.

But that was what Dazai himself had grown up with. So, in some sick way, he thought that what he was doing was the right thing. He even thought that he was truly helping Akutagawa because it worked. Right?

So, he ignored the twisting feeling in his gut, every time that he brought Akutagawa to tears. Just like he ignored the guilt, every time Akutagawa looked up at him in adoration.

But now time had passed and things were different.

Akutagawa was dead, and Dazai was just beginning to realize how terribly he'd treated him.

Atsushi's outburst had only solidified the fact.

Excuses still ran through his head, though, despite his acceptance of the facts in the aftermath of Akutagawa's death.

He told himself that since he grew up in a similar way to how he'd brought up Akutagawa, he didn't know any better. Besides, Dazai had been only a teenager himself when he was his apprentice.

But such excuses were futile in a mind as quick as Dazai's.

As much as he was grateful for his genius, sometimes he hated how it forced him to face the dreaded reality of things.

Dazai's mind reminded him that even though he grew up raised in chaos and abuse, it didn't permit how he'd treated Akutagawa. After all, he'd personally known how terrifying and damaging his upbringing had been.

Instead of making sure that no one else had to go through what he did,
he continued the cycle of abuse.

What he would give to go back and fix it all.

But it was too late now. Time was fleeting and Akutagawa was dead.

At least he had told Akutagawa that he was proud of him before he'd left. Although Atsushi was right, he should've done it sooner.

A hand grabbed his wrist, pulling him back to the present. Dazai glanced over to see Chuuya eyeing him worriedly.

"Why don't we get changed? We're both soaked."

Right...

At the reminder, he suddenly became hyperaware of the feeling of the cold, wet clothes claustrophobically hugging his body.

"Yeah, okay."

Twenty minutes later, Dazai found himself on a kitchen stool, while Chuuya cooked some kind of stirfry. The latter of which kept sending nervous glances at his ex-partner.

"You know it wasn't your fault, right?"

"I know."

"Dazai, I'm being serious. Atsushi's still young, and just lost someone who he loved. He didn't actually mean what he said. Akutagawa chose to sacrifice himself anyways. No one ever could've forced him to do something like that."

Dazai's hand curled into a fist in his lap, his nails biting into his skin.

"I know."

"Dazai, please-"

Anger exploded within the pit of Dazai's stomach.

Not at Chuuya, but rather at himself.

"Well, what do you want me to say Chuuya?" Dazai snapped. "That I'm innocent? That I didn't do what I did? I ruined Akutagawa. I made him the way that he was and to make it even better I told him to kill himself to save Atsushi. So yeah, I murdered him or whatever you want to call it. But it's fine because everything is great, isn't it? It always is! But look, I don't deserve to keep getting away with all the terrible shit that I do!"

Turning off the burner, Chuuya started to make his way around the counter, holding his hands out in front of him.

"Dazai-"

"No! Don't try to comfort me. Don't tell me that I didn't know what I was doing. I knew exactly what I was doing, every step of the way, because I'm sick, Chuuya. I'm fucking demented. And I… I don't deserve to be here. So just stop trying to defend me, okay? Back at Mersault, you almost died because of me. I've failed you countless times as a partner and as a friend. You don't deserve that, Chuuya. You're so kind and you always come back. It doesn't seem to matter how many times I screw you over and I just... I don't deserve that. So please just stop."

Standing up, Dazai tried to leave, but a hand reached out grabbing his wrist.

He didn't turn around, but he didn't tear free of the grip either.

"Dazai, you're right. You have done terrible things, but so have I. Don't forget that. Neither of us is perfect, but I don't think anyone is. Yes, you have done terrible things to me, Akutagawa, and many others. Just don't forget that you're not the only one with red in your ledger. I've killed people Dazai. Probably more than you. People with lives. People with friends. People with families. Back in that prison, remember that one guard? She seemed so cold at the time. Cruel even. But was she really any different from us? I mean, she was just doing her job and trying to survive. Y'know, before I killed her, she begged me to stop. She begged me to let her live. Her name was Camille and before I killed her, she told me that she had a daughter. Her name's Yuan and look, I had a friend back when I was back with The Sheep with that name, so it made me freeze up. Gave me pause, y'know? Because at that moment I realized that I was committing the exact same act that had left my Yuan feeling so helpless. I still did it anyway though, I mean I had to, or at least that's what I'm telling myself. It doesn't make the whole thing haunt me any fucking less though. In killing Camille, I left a child motherless and with a lifetime of trauma. You're not the only one who's guilty Dazai. Everyone is. But that doesn't take away your worth nor does it take away your humanity. Giving up does. Refusing to change does. You're not a good person Dazai, but neither am I. Maybe no one is. I mean look how fucked up the world is. Still, I'd like to at least think that we can at least learn from our mistakes. That we can maybe become better with time."

"And what if I can't?"

"You can. I know it."

Dazai turned around, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Why don't you ever give up on me? I've been so cruel to you."

"I already told you."

"You still shouldn't. Chuuya, the people in my life don't get happy endings."

"Then, maybe we can change that. Together." Chuuya reached out a hand, cupping Dazai's cheek, who found himself subconsciously leaning into it with a foreign feeling settling into the pit of his stomach.

"Okay, maybe we can try."

"But I also stay, because Dazai… or well, look I need to tell you something…" Chuuya's glanced away falling silent. His hand fell from Dazai's face.

The air felt like glass. One touch and it would break.

"What?"

Dazai's voice was whisper quiet. His eyes searched for Chuuya's own, which slowly returned to meet his gaze.

"It's just… I, well-"

Chuuya almost jumped out of his own skin at the sound of someone loudly banging on the door.

The previous conversation was immediately forgotten, as both of them quickly headed over to the beaten door, expecting to see Atsushi.

That however was not the case.

Dazai opened the door.

An old VHS cassette tape lay on the ground. Whoever had knocked was long gone. It was almost as if they'd never been there in the first place, if not for the tape that had mysteriously appeared.

Picking up the tape, Dazai felt Chuuya stiffen up beside him.

"The hell? A fucking VHS? Who in the fucking hell uses that fucking shit anymore? Better yet, who the hell found us here anyway? Actually, lemme take care of that. I'll find out and make sure they don't come back. A fucking VHS? I mean fuck."

However, before Chuuya could actually leave to try and pursue whoever had left the tape, Dazai caught him by the arm.

"Don't."

There was something about this whole situation that didn't feel right. Dazai couldn't quite figure out what it was just yet, but he just had this gut feeling that he should watch the tape before making any moves or he'd regret it. So, shutting the front door and making sure to lock it, Dazai forced Chuuya to follow him into the living room, where the sole Tv sat.

The Tv was, quite luckily, rather old, as the safehouse hadn't been updated in quite a while. So, Dazai was able to easily slip the tape into the player.

With the click of a few buttons the video began to play and what Dazai saw caught him so off-guard that his jaw almost fell wide open in shock.

There on the screen, wearing his stupid hat, was Fyodor Dostoevsky.

He smiled widely and a chill ran up Dazai's spine. Why couldn't he ever catch a break?

"Did you miss me?"