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.

So there Dazai sat, in that shrouded room, drinking away the sorrows that smothered him and eventually himself.

• • •

A look of utter disturbance crossed his face as he looked down at his phone.
Dazai had sent a string of weird texts.
Texts that were weird even by his standards.

They were short and he'd received them every thirty minutes for the past six hours.
Until within the last hour when they had suddenly stopped.

Chuuya tapped his foot rhythmically against the elevator floor as it descended.

Dazai proclaimed that he'd call him within the day, but with it being as late as it was he threw that possibility out the window.
He stomped down the street to the brothel, thinking that Dazai would definitely be there.

Inside was the usual scenery. Quite different from the outside world. Women and men alike, drunkenly falling over themselves.
There were a few that bumped into him, but Chuuya was too focused on getting to the front desk to be bothered by it.

"Excuse me."
The woman tiredly shifted her eyes and upon seeing him she perked up a bit.
"Hello," she whistled. "Would you like a room?" She pulled her silky black hair behind her shoulder, revealing a red spaghetti strapped top that was two sizes too small.

Chuuya quickly dismissed her.
"No. There was a man here earlier? Pretty drunk, tall, brown hair, looks like a priss."

The girl laughed flirtatiously, causing her hair to fall in her face once more. "There are loads of guys that come in here like the one you're describing. That could be anybody."

He impatiently tapped on the desk.
"Where's Fukkā?"

She said nothing, pointing to a small room behind her as she clucked her tongue to her cheek. "Might wanna wait though."

Chuuya maneuvered through the tight space towards the space where little to no light seeped through. "Fukkā?-"

Chuuya stopped before his foot hit the floor. He wheeled away sharply, closing the already opened door in a haste.
After a moment of gathering themselves a man emerged from the room, his plaid shirt in his hands and pants settled just below his waist.

He had light brown cropped hair and hazel brown eyes with freckles that blotted his face, especially near his nose and cheeks.

He was of a rather muscular build for a Japanese man...was he even Japanese?

The man gave a swift bow, one that seemed to be very unnatural, before turning and leaving down the hall.

Chuuya looked up at the ceiling, fidgeting with his fingers as he did so. The awkward atmosphere made him quite uncomfortable.

"Ahh~ Chuuya."
She pulled her silk blue robe closed on her chest as she surfaced from the small room.

"I didn't see anything." He hurried.

The woman ran her hand through her shoulder length fawn hair as she laughed.

"You shouldn't be conducting your business in your cubicle." He shook his head.
"You scandalous woman."

"Anyway what brings you here? I know it's not to talk about who's gettin' the nookie in my office."
Chuuya rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall. "Where's Dazai?"

"Whaaat?"
She mockingly drew her hand to her mouth, a sly smirk crossed her red stained lips.
"If you don't know where he is then how could I possibly know? Hmm?"

"I don't have time for games wench."

"Ha, he left earlier with Fukaina."

Her sister? "The blonde one right?"

"Yep."

"Where'd they go?"

"Sabūrai?...Probably? It's the closest hotel."

"Thanks, I owe you one."

"Preferably a pack of Marlboros."

The night air was chilled.
Quite unusual for a May evening.

The blossom trees blew against the breeze with little effort. The effect caused small pink petals to fall from great heights, creating a rosy sheet on the dry pavement.

All the while he could think of nothing but Dazai. He was furious with himself, simply over the fact that he couldn't be mad with him.

He was use to this, as sad as it was.

The lies, the prostitutes, the drugs and alcohol -- All of it had tainted them, but it seemed they were both too invested in separate fantasies that would evidently be for naught to even notice.

Chuuya lowered his head at the thought, shoving his hands in his pockets as he orbited the curb to the main entrance.

It was a swanky ole inn possessed by Mayazuki corporations, which also chain owned about every damn motel within a nineteen mile radius. The walls were tall, stretching beyond the large glass doors aligned in mahogany.

For a moment he was lost in thought at the intricate structure surrounding him.

He was snapped back however, when a receptionist called out to him.

He fixed his gaze on her as she waved him over.

"Hello sir. How may I help you?"

"Did a Osamu Dazai check into this hotel?"

"Umm let me check the registry..." She went to tapping on her keyboard. She continued to search some more before speaking.

The residence was quiet. There were a few people whispering along themselves and the only thing that resonated through the expanse was the sound of a prodigious godfather clock.

Chuuya balanced himself against the counter, running his hands along the marble top to match the ticking of the clock.
He watched as her blue eyes scanned the screen. "I don't see any rooms registered to a Osamu Dazai? Did they get the room today?"

"Yeah..."

Chuuya looked down at the floor.
There was the possibility that Fukkā's sister could've gotten the room in her name.

He felt in his pocket for his wallet to pull out his credit card. "Could I get a room?"
"Of course." She offered a commercial smile, her hand outstretched to take his card.
Moments later a few of the employee maids emerged from the elevator, they were hauling a large plastic cart filled with cleaning supplies.

One of them, a middle aged woman, was turned towards Chuuya, her countenance a scowl. "-that's just horrible. Detectives have been here since one. It's bad for business."

He overheard their loud exchange of words as the receptionist handed back his credit card.
She shook her head solemnly and grasped at the cart as they stepped into the lobby.

"I know," the other started. "They've blocked off the entire floor...Tsk, it's really a shame what drugs'll do to you though. They're so young too. I heard one of them died."