Before You Were Born Until You're Gone

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Vivienne Westwood, Cigarettes, Tiramisu, and Lotus flowers.


Tsuki's favorite things never seemed to change. It seemed so cool to Chuuya because he changed his mind so often. He never knew why he was so drawn into her. There was always something about her that captivated his mind.


"Ah, Chuuya, you made it!" a loud voice hollered at them. The same short-haired girl from before was sitting on a couch, a cigarette tipping between two of her fingers.


"Tsuki, what did I say about smoking," Chuuya said with a sterned look, snatching it and using it himself.


"Smoking causes cancer, heart disease, strokes, lung diseases, diabetes, blah blah blah," She snickered before standing up.


Tsuki was a bit taller than Chuuya. She was a good 174 cm while the older male was 160 cm.


Embarrassing...


"It's been a few years hasn't it?" she said before pulling him into a hug. "How have you been?"


As much as Chuuya missed her, he couldn't help but feel hurt. His thoughts and feelings were rock bottom, and though he was happy she had come back, he couldn't help the feeling.


"I've been alright," he sat down with her.


It was bittersweet.


"Who's your friend?" she said, looking towards the male who sat silently. "Speak darling,"


"My apologies," Dazai could feel shivers on his back, and though he might not show it, he was a bit taut. "Osamu Dazai," He said, a grin plastered on his face. "And you are a very fine lady," The comment itself was enough to push Chuuya over the edge.


While the two seemed to have started a riot against each other, Tsuki stayed in place. He hand laid on her crossed legs and her eyes were closed shut.


"YOU BASTARD." Chuuya roared.


"IT WAS JUST A COMPLEMENT!!"


"NOT A VERY GOOD ONE!"


"Must you two act like children? Quite embarrassing I must say," she tsked. "Chuuya be a dear and with bandages will you?"


Chuuya hurried to her side to assist her. Like a puppy, or a duckling. In Dazai's eyes the names fit him. Almost exact with a costume on.


"May I ask why the bandages?" the boy asked.


"Shouldn't I be asking you the same?" she raised a brow, the bandage ripping underneath her. 


"Being a singer consists of lots of practice, as well as making an appearance,"

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