The Winner Takes It All
He hadn’t meant to stop here. Hadn’t meant to look through the window, hadn’t meant to see you.
Bright, full, unrestrained—
The kind of laugh that shakes your shoulders, that lingers in your chest, that makes you forget the world ever hurt.
Dazai should walk away. He should pretend he never saw. Should keep moving like it doesn’t matter.
Because some things are impossible to look away from. Because some wounds never really close. Because once, not long ago,
That could have been him.
You used to wait for him. Not because you were weak, Not because you were desperate,
And for a while, he let you. You waited through his silences, through his deflections, through the moments where he gave you nothing and expected you to hold on anyway.
And for a while, you did.
But waiting has a limit. And time always runs out.
Dazai remembers the night you left.
You stood there, hands clenched, eyes tired, voice quiet.
“You don’t have to love me.”
“You don’t have to stay.”
“But you can’t keep doing this to me, Dazai.”
You waited for him to say something. To stop you. To give you any reason to believe this—
But he only smiled. His most well-practiced lie.
You had looked at him then—
And he had never felt so hollow.
For a moment, he almost said your name.
Loving someone who isn’t him.
Chuuya says something, something Dazai can’t hear, and you lean into him like it’s natural.
He lets you. No hesitation. No fear. No second-guessing. Everything Dazai never gave you. But you hadn’t always looked at Chuuya that way. Once upon a time, you had looked at him like that.
How you’d hum softly under your breath, a single line of a song repeating on your lips, over and over—until he found himself humming along without realizing.
How you’d dance around the apartment, not because there was music playing, but because you simply felt like it. And the one time you had caught him watching—
You had grinned and held out your hand.
“Come on, Dazai, dance with me.”
He had scoffed, rolled his eyes, but the next thing he knew? He was spinning you in circles. And when you had laughed—soft, breathless, bright—
He had wondered, just for a moment, if this was what happiness was supposed to feel like.
He remembers the small things. The way you’d pucker your lips in deep thought, how you’d mumble nonsense words to yourself while reading.
How your hands always seemed a little too warm against his skin. He remembers the way you never asked anything from him. How you would just sit beside him, close enough to touch, but never pushing, never demanding.
And somehow, that had been more terrifying than anything else. Because love, real love, meant losing something real.
Dazai doesn’t survive loss.
He should be happy for you. Isn’t this what he wanted?
Didn’t he say you deserved better? Then why does it feel like his chest is caving in?
He wants to blame Chuuya.
Wants to make this easier by pretending
That his old partner stole something from him.
Chuuya didn’t steal anything. Dazai gave you away. Handed you over without a fight.
Chuuya just did what Dazai was too much of a coward to do.
For the briefest moment, he lets himself imagine.
What if it had been him? What if he had chosen differently? What if he had stayed?
Would it be his name you laughed with? His hand you reached for? His love you clung to like it was something safe?
Would you still hum that song under your breath? Would you still pull him into that silly, ridiculous dancing? Would you have stayed, If only he had asked you to?
But that’s the thing about regrets. They don’t change anything.
Dazai is just the ghost of something that never had the chance to exist. So he does what he does best. He walks away. Because he always leaves first. Because he always lets go before something can slip through his fingers. Because he always runs before grief can catch him. But the thing about grief?