Chapter Text
"What's a beautiful girl like you doing here?"
Mikan Tsumiki startled. A little, aborted movement, a flinch. Besides her, a boy around her age smiled, a hint of something dark in his empty eyes.
"I-I'm sorry? Wh-Who are you?"
"A lover of suicide," the boy replied, humor wry on the lips of his grin. She notes the corners of them are bitten. A nervous habit, she concludes, but the boy doesn't look nervous. He looks knowing. "If I'm not mistaken, I recognize that look in your eyes. You're here to die, aren't you?"
Mikan feels something cold slide down her back at how casual the boy says it, smiling like her death didn't effect him. But, then again, it didn't, did it? No one would care if she really did jump, certainly not a stranger.
"A-And if I am?" She challenged him, tilting her head up.
"Then I would ask if I could join!"
His eyes sparkled, but his excited, rushed words fell flat. A silence stretched out between them, as Mikan stared at him, expressionless. The boy just continued to grin, even at her non-reaction.
"It's always been a dream of mine to die with a beautiful lady my age," he continued. "If you're really going to jump off this bridge, I would love to join you."
"...What's the point?" Mikan mutters, and the boy blinked, tilting his head.
"Hm?"
"In dying with me," she elaborated. "Why would you want me? You don't know me. I don't love you. If you're going to die with someone, wouldn't you want it to be someone you love?"
"Ah," the boy sighs, and somehow, even that sound is fake, theatrical, "But who could love me? There's no one out there like that, miss. I'd settle for not being alone."
Mikan is struck silent. "I suppose I'm the same," she whispers, after a moment. "I suppose no one could love me, either."
"Oh? But you seem so nice, miss!" The boy chuckled, a gleam of curiosity lighting his eyes. "Not like me, really."
"I'm not nice," Mikan denied. "My whole life, I've been a mistake. A screw up. Everyone hurts me, so I must deserve it... How could everyone be wrong? I just... I just wish anyone would forgive me."
"Hmm. I can't really relate to that," the boy considers, "If I wanted to, I could charm just about anyone. But really, what would be the point in that? People are dull, and boring. They only use you. So why would I need people like that?"
"But I'd rather be of use than ignored!" Mikan countered, passion briefly lighting up her face, catching the boy off guard. "S-Sorry. I just... I can be useful, can't I? And yet, people hate me so much they won't even use me. They're digusted by me. They think I'm useless."
"I'm not digusted," the boy spoke. His face wasn't smiling, for the first time in their conversation, and that's why Mikan believes him. "People who want to be used like you are my favorite types of people. And I love useless things the most, even more than those who want to be used."
Mikan sniffles. She reached her hand out, only to falter in question at what she expected from such an action—for this stranger to comfort her? He doesn't know her. Just as she started to put down her hand, the boy's own seized it.
"Oh," he said. "We're matching."
"H-Huh?"
She blinked, her eyes still watering, but even through her tears, she could see his sad, sad smile.
"Our arms and hands are both bandaged."
"O-Oh... Are you injured?" She questioned.
"Are you worried?" His eyes shined. "It won't matter, where we're going, if we're injured or not."
"S-Sorry," she apologized. "It's a habit. I-I'm a nurse, so I..."
"A nurse?" The boy laughed. "Ah, I seem to attract medical professionals, don't I? Well, it's better a nurse than a doctor. I hate doctors, you know?"
Anxiety formed around her heart. "A-Are you... upset that I'm a nurse? I-I'm sorry!"
"It's okay," the boy said, "I forgive you."
Her hand tightened in his grasp.
"Are we going to jump?" He wondered, still staring at her with that melancholy smile. Like they were in it together. Either both of them die, or neither. His life in Mikan's hands. The power is dizzying, addictive.
This boy has been kinder to her than anyone else in her entire, pathetic life. She has known him less than an hour.
"Do you really want to die?" She asks, and a startled laugh burst from him.
"You're asking that? Shouldn't you know?"
"I want to hear it from you."
"Then... Hmmm, no." The boy grinned widely, his eyes slipping shut in his mirth. "No, I don't want to die. I just don't have a reason to live. If I had to choose, I suppose I wish I never existed in the first place."
"I'm the same," she expected that answer. "I'm the same."
His hand was the one who tightened in her grip, this time. He laughed, a small, quiet thing.
"Life is truly pointless, hmm?" He mused. "Are you ready to go, then, miss?"
"Mikan Tsumiki." The boy blinked, and she elaborated, "That's my name."
"Osamu Dazai," the boy returned. "That's my name."
With a breath, Mikan guided them to the ledge.
"I'm ready to go," she says, "If you go with me. If I don't go alone."
The boy smiled at her, and it was an unfamiliar expression to Mikan. She would almost call it warm. He trailed after her, to the ledge, still gripping her hand.
"Then let's go," he agreed, before he tipped over the edge.
Hand in hand, Osamu Dazai and Mikan Tsumiki plummeted.