This day.

This damned, dreaded day.

Chuuya can't say he truly hates a whole lot of things. But this day was one of them. Every time he looked at his calendar and the date June Thirteenth hung over his head, he felt a gnawing sensation in his gut. Like a piece of his heart has broken.

Damn that idiot ex-partner of his.

Just six days from now would be said idiot ex-partner's birthday. Oh, how Chuuya would love to spoil him rotten like that brunette so deserved. Chuuya cared more for that brunette's birthday than the brunette did. The detective never cared for his birthday, never liked celebrating it. But Chuuya wanted something to use as an excuse to see that man smile.

But now, he can't. Just six days prior to his beloved ex-partner's birthday, he succumbed to tragedy. A tragedy Chuuya swore he couldn't let happen. A tragedy Chuuya bit his tongue and swallowed every time it crossed his mind. A tragedy that the brunette took very lightly until he moved in with Chuuya.

In the blink of an eye, the redhead finds himself in a dreary place. A place he finds himself this same day, every year. Chuuya hates this place. He can feel the souls dismembered from their bodies around him, missing their loved ones. He can feel the heaviness in the air, the sorrow tangled in the branches of the dead trees.

But this is the only place he can go where he can see the brunette again.

The mafia executive stares down at the arched, engraved stone in front of him, the escription O. Dazai staring back at him in the face, its sharp, poisoned talons wrapping around his heart and pulling it to his abdomen.

Every time he reads it, he cries, and then laughs. Cries at how much he misses that man. Cries at how he let him slip through his fingers. Laughs at how soft he's become for that traitor. Laughs at how stupid said traitor was.

Chuuya takes his hat off and holds it to his chest, crouching down on his knees. He places the bouquet of roses down in front of the stone, closing his eyes. He feels the salty wetness drip down his cheeks as he hears the bouquet come in contact with the grass and his fingers graze the stone.

"You damn idiot."

Are the only words that can come from the redhead's mouth. Not that they matter. The words disintegrate into the wind and fade away, tangling into the trees, for the man six feet under him will not hear them. He will never hear them again.

I loved you.

"Chuuya..."

Every time he comes here, the redhead swears he can make out the brunette's voice whispering to him from the trees.

"Chuuya...!"

Perhaps it's his foolish heart playing tricks on him. Mere hope scaring him into thinking the brunette might be...

"Chuuya!"

The redhead's eyelids shoot up as he feels a shooting pain up and down his arm. What the hell...

He rolls over in darkness and his eyes meet whiskey-colored ones staring back at him. Hands that belong to those eyes are squeezing his arm tight. "I know it's so early. But you were crying! I couldn't just leave my chibi like that!"

Chuuya rolls his head the other way and looks at the bedside clock.

12:17.

June fourteenth.

Chuuya's eyes meet the brown ones again, when he pulls the shaken brunette down to him, holding him close, said brunette sputtering slightly at the sudden action.

"Ch-Chuuya? What's wrong?"

Chuuya sniffles. "Bad dream. I don't want to get into it. But I'm so happy you're here...Osamu..."

The brunette blinks. Every year, this day, Chuuya seems to say those exact words.

In another life, Chuuya watched his beloved brunette as his body zipped past him, plummetting to the ground from the top of the building...

He doesn't question his lover. He just holds him close.

"Of course I am, Chuuya. I made you a promise, did I not?"

Chuuya nuzzles the taller man. "You did, yeah...but I can't help but be scared of you doing something stupid—"

"Chuuya. I'm not leaving you. I promise."

Chuuya looks into those eyes once again. Every time his ex-partner claims a promise, he can always tell by his eyes that it's not a true one. But now...he sees the heartfelt message behind his eyes.

This time, it's the truth. This time, he can exhale.

He sighs. The image of that stone does not wash away. Nothing can wash it away. But at least, Chuuya knows now, that he won't be face-to-face with it. Not in this life.

"I love you."

Dazai won't leave him. Not in this life.

Chuuya sighs, letting his eyes flutter closed again.

"I love you too, Osamu."