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あなたがうそを言うならば、それを一貫性のあるものにするほうがよいでしょう。

"I thought, I want to die. I want to die more than ever before. There's no chance now of a recovery. No matter what sort of thing I do, no matter what I do, it's sure to be a failure, just a final coating applied to my shame...
I want to die. I must die. Living itself is the source of sin."
- Osamu Dazai (No longer human)

• • •

Chuuya felt in the shadow for his garments as muffled rummaging escaped into the larger part of the room.
Dazai waltzed through the makeshift 'door' which was actually an old curtain.
He held it back while waving the almost empty bottle of Bourbon at Chuuya.

"Tch, what the hell?"
Chuuya turned over, keeping the covers near his chin as he squinted.
The shade of the room hadn't allowed his eyes to adjust. He tossed the blanket aside and got up to dress himself.

"It's not even nine yet and you're already drinking like there's no tomorrow."

"Chuuyyaaa..." He drawled. Dazai trudged over to him, throwing his arms around his neck. He held his breath for a moment as the loud and overwhelming smells of tobacco and liquor dared to grasp his consciousness.

He stepped back, bringing his hand to his nose as he did so. "Lay off the drinking would you?"

"You're one to talk."

"I'm not some damn alcoholic." He scoffed.

"Yeah, it's no fun cause you can't hold your liquor."

Dazai ignored his comment, bringing the bottle to his lips in the feeble attempt of washing away every last one of his troubles.
Those of which Chuuya was incognizant.

They sat there for a moment as a familiar silence fell between them.
One that mocked and toyed with them at best.
It was a distressing stillness worthy of pity.

Dazai sat at the stool near a coffee table watching intently as Chuuya got himself ready.

"Are you leaving?" Chuuya could read his expression. It was a face that he knew all too well. One that pleaded not to be left alone.

"Later." He ran his finger languid against the neck of the bottle, resting his chin in his palm after he did so.

"When's later?" Chuuya, annoyed, turned to give him a condescending glance.

"...I'll call you."

Dazai offered a bleak smile. A leer which seemed to manifest even through such melancholy darkness.
There was a song in his voice that rung through the air. It sailed through Chuuya's ears like a sour note in G minor.

A poetic justice of some sort to say the least.

Chuuya worriedly turned away from him and into the hallway. This silence of his was condemning in a sense that there was something he wanted to say.
But it was something he couldn't quite find the words or the courage for.
And in those moments Chuuya felt that he'd never again have the chance to speak them.