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Summary
“You love him, don’t you?” Hirotsu had asked him that question when they were at the bar, a quiet question that was muttered so lowly that Chuuya might’ve missed it if he wasn’t paying attention.
That question rang in his head the entire night, but he couldn’t give an answer to Hirotsu, though he knew that he didn't have to; Hirotsu knew it all already.
“Love?” Chuuya laughs bitterly in the emptiness of his own home. “Yes, I love that bastard.” He throws back the drink, the alcohol burning unpleasantly in his throat. His mind was tipsy, but it wasn’t enough.
He needed more… he needed more to forget about that mackerel, to forget about that bastard whom he loved- no, whom he still loves.
OR
Chuuya drowns in alcohol as he ponders over why Dazai doesn't love him back (A peek into Chuuya's mind) (Warning, nothing is happy and everything hurts)