Chapter Text
"I, Dazai Osamu, take you, Chuuya Nakahara, to be my husband."
"Thanks be to God. O God, whose blessed Son was laid in a tomb in the garden."
"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse."
"Bless, we pray, this grave, and grant that he whose body is to be buried here may dwell with God in paradise"
"For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish."
"And may come to thy heavenly kingdom."
"To annoy you till you start beating me up, to laugh at you when you fall, to always remind you that you are my dog."
"Forgive whatever sins he committed through human weakness and in your goodness grant him eternal rest."
"Till death we do part, according to God's holy law, and this is my solemn vow."
"In peace let us take our beloved man, Dazai Osamu to his place of rest."
Chuuya has been standing in this place for his whole life. When the flags died. When his friends died. When any Port Mafia member under him died.
But then he married the asshole he had sworn to kill, right here in this very place, and foolishly thought that he would stay by the brunette's side forever. Or at least long enough to wash away the memories of the dead people he loved but couldn't save.
Turns out, God really hates him. Because now, he was standing here again by the head of the casket where his dead husband laid, dressed in a matching black coat that looked just like the one he had worn at their wedding. The only difference? He didn't have that smirk on his face, his eyes were closed and they would never open again.
There were the same people here once more. But today, they weren't laughing like last time. He could hear a muffled sobbing somewhere in between the crowd. Probably the weretiger, probably more people.
He didn't care. He couldn't care less. All he wanted was to look at his husband, to soak his beauty, to engrave his face in his heart forever. Before they took him away.
The day was perfect. Dazai would have loved the cool air. He was always whining about the sun making his bandages itch. He would have been happy today. He was probably happy now too, after finally getting the death he had desired so much.
"Chuuya-san..." A voice he was all too familiar with and a hand that he had held too many times came to rest on his shoulders. It was Akutagawa.
"Don't touch me." his mouth said, and the hand disappeared.
Chuuya was only two seconds away from burning down the world, the only thing holding him in place was the man in front of him.
Oh how he had loved this man. If only he could have told him that once more. If only he could have been able to be with him a little longer. If only he would have gotten there sooner. Then maybe there would still be a person beside him making fun of him. Maybe it was all his own fault. Of course it was. It always was.
There were so many things he wanted to say to that bastard. There were so many hands he wanted to break when they touched his husband, but he couldn't. They were paying their respects. They loved him too. Dazai would have wanted them here too.
Chuuya could only watch as all of the agency and a few of the Port Mafia came to take a look at their friend, brother, son. He could only hear when every one of them stopped beside him to share their sympathies with him - beside him not in front of him because he would have killed anyone who dared enough to obstruct his view of his beloved.
He only looked up when the priest came to ask him to pay his final respects and to deliver an eulogy, so that they could complete the ceremony and bury him.
"I have nothing to say." Of course he had nothing to say when the only one who he'd like to hear him couldn't. But on second thought maybe he should have said something, even if it gave him two minutes more with Dazai.
Nobody protested against his decision. Not even Mori-san or the Agency's boss. Especially not them.
"I just need a few minutes with him." he turned his head to pointedly look at the agency members and said, "Alone."
There were a few murmurs of 'Of course' before everyone scattered to talk in small groups. Even the priest who had seen him too often in his life- probably enough to remember his face and call him a curse- left him alone.
Chuuya knelt down beside the coffin and reached out to stroke Dazai's hair out of his face, rubbing the soft locks between his fingers one last time.
"I told you your hair was getting too long bastard. You should have let me cut it." He murmured. A sob broke through his chest, he'd been trying to hold it in for too long. "You should have waited for me. I told you I'd be there. You fucking suicidal maniac."
He wasn't crying. Even now, even after all this. But his voice trembled, "Did you want to leave me that badly? I guess asking questions from a corpse is useless huh?"
A few more seconds passed as Chuuya continued to stroke down Dazai's arm till he reached his fingers and entwined them together. They had always been cold so it wouldn't have been that different, but the familiarity had vanished from them.
He hunched over, one hand tightening on his husband's and the other coming up to press against his own mouth to muffle his sobs.
"Come back. Please. I know you can. You're supposed to be a genius you fucking idiot. Please come back. Please." His eyes were filled with tears but he wasn't letting a single one out, that would mean he has accepted his death, and he wasn't ready to do that yet. He didn't know if he would ever be ready for that.
He brought both hands to press against his eyes and calm himself down. Breaking down right now wasn't what he needed to do.
He stood up once again and brought up Dazai's hand to kiss every knuckle, taking time to delicately kiss the black wedding band on his ring finger, before placing his hand back on his torso carefully.
Then he shifted to Dazai's head to move his bangs and kiss his forehead lightly. Leaving little kisses on his eyes, nose and mouth because Dazai used to love those.
"Bet you would've laughed at how I don't have to bend that low, wouldn't you? Bastard." He chuckled, before leaving a little more lingering kiss on his mouth than the previous ones, "I love you, I hope you find peace in whatever shithole you were looking for all these days."
He stood there for a few more seconds trying to soak up whatever he could, before calling the priest.
They gathered around the casket once more, for one last look, and then the lid closed over Chuuya's life. People were looking more at Chuuya now that Dazai had been covered, like they could see the light being snuffed out of Chuuya's eyes.
Chuuya had never minded the attention, au contraire he had quite liked being in the spotlight. But right now he wished he could be invisible. He didn't need the sympathetic looks he was receiving, they wouldn't help him anyway.
The sleek black coffin was lifted up, to be carried down to the concrete burial vault that had been prepared for it. Chuuya could have used gravity to carry that himself, afterall he didn't want strange hands anywhere near his husband, but he also didn't want this to be a matter of convenience.
Chuuya's brain had still not completely registered what had happened. It was only yesterday when they had been laughing over Dazai's horrible cooking, and now he was lying inside a grave, with people sealing him up.
A strong urge to rip their arms off overcame Chuuya again but he stopped himself. It had to be done. It had been done to a dozen people in Chuuya's life. What's one more?
But this was Dazai. That Dazai whom he had loved since he was fifteen, that Dazai who had saved him countless times, that Dazai who had come back to him even after leaving, that Dazai who told him countless times that he was human, that Dazai who he had hoped would be the one to never leave him.
That Dazai.... who has left him.
A tombstone was placed at the head of the grave. In simple words it said 'O. Dazai'. It would have said 'O. Nakahara' instead if Chuuya hadn't insisted that he take Dazai's name instead. Now, he was glad he did, at least Dazai would live on in his name.
Bright coloured flowers were placed on his grave. Dazai would have hated those. He had never been a fan of loud colours, he said they hurt his brain somehow. The only white gardenias that were on his grave, were from Chuuya.
People patted his back again, murmuring words of comfort he couldn't care less about, because in one hour everyone except Hirotsu-san, Akutagawa and Atsushi had left.
A few minutes later even Akutagawa and Atsushi left, at least for once they weren't bickering.
Chuuya was sitting on the grave, trying to arrange and rearrange the flowers in the most eye pleasing way when Hirotsu-san knelt beside him and said, "Chuuya-kun, it's time to go. You can't stay here forever."
Chuuya didn't reply, he couldn't. What was he supposed to tell him? That he was afraid to go back to his apartment where there would be no one trying to burn his things? That the walls would scream with their silence? That he would break down as soon as he saw the extra silverware that he no longer needed?
Half an hour and a few more words of coaxing later, Hirotsu-san also left.
Chuuya laid down on the grave, surrounded by flowers.
He stayed there.