Chapter Text
I bring with me an unconscious impulse that I scribbled down—
If everything ends up broken,
I can begin again from the impossible
—there is a reason by konomi suzuki
***
“Hey, chibi.”
Chuuya stretches a leg out in an attempt to trip Dazai in response. But then again, the fact that his legs aren’t that long is probably the reason why his countless attempts to trip the bastard never work.
“And now, you realize your own… shortcomings,” Dazai narrates like those voiceovers from documentaries for kids – sounding so calm and the slightest bit patronizing. “And now, you’re scrunching your nose like a rabbit…”
“Shut the fuck up, goddamn it!”
“Hmm, you’re in a foul mood~~~♪”
“You think?!”
“I do,” Dazai nods with all the composure of a priest, which is all sorts of freaky.
“It’s fucking obvious I’m in a bad mood!”
“Mm, are you actually mad at me, though?”
“I’m mad at everything!”
“Must be exhausting,” Dazai points out rather callously, reacting immediately to the swipe of Chuuya’s arms. “So, hat rack. Tell me. Why do you like Tachikuro-kun?”
“It’s Tachihara, you asshole.” But the strange question does alleviate some of the anger, if only to channel it towards confusion. “And it’s none of your business!”
Dazai drags him towards his just-barely-presentable room (courtesy of Chuuya’s nagging and housekeeping, really, but does he get the gratitude that he deserves, no, of course not) so that he can presumably ask weird questions out of the earshot of the Port Mafia’s more opportunistic members who would jump on the chance of any sign of Dazai’s weaknesses.
Chuuya fumes and crosses his arms over his chest, even as he sinks to the couch. There’s an odd crunching sound, but Chuuya doesn’t pay it mind, stubbornly remaining seated even as he suspects he managed to sit on a game console. That would teach Dazai to not maintain the level of cleanliness that Chuuya (and the rest of humanity, probably) finds acceptable. It’s not like Dazai doesn’t have the funds to buy ten more replacements if this one breaks from Chuuya’s weight.
“So?”
“So what,” Chuuya grouses out. He keeps his arms crossed even as Dazai fiddles with his TV with its attached gaming system.
“So? Why do you like Tachishiro-kun?”
“You—” Chuuya cuts himself off before he goes on a rant about Dazai disrespecting Tachihara Michizou’s name. While Chuuya considers himself as someone who’d dutifully defend his beloved from others’ slander, there’s not much point in hashing things out with Dazai – it’s not like Dazai listens, he’s just a waste of breath, really. “It’s none of your business.”
“We’re partners, aren’t we, Chuuya?”
There’s something about the way Dazai pronounces his name – like there’s heavy meaning behind it. It’s probably because he’s prone to mangling and forgetting other names. It’s probably because he’s always smirking in that particular way of his whenever he says Chuuya’s names. Honestly, it gives him the creeps.
“We are, unfortunately.”
Dazai’s eyes are twinkling as he hands a controller to Chuuya, the loading screen for Wii Tennis flashing on the TV. “Oho, are you dissatisfied with the order from Boss?”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it, you fucker.” Chuuya quickly selects the character under his name… or a close variation, at least. “I told you to stop changing my handle name to CHUUYA-PYON~☆, goddamnit.”
“Buuuuuuut, plain old Chuuya is so boring!” MELOsDRAMATIC complains with a pout, which is all sorts of wrong, given that he’s complaining about someone else’s actual name. “Not as boring as Nakahara, so at least it’s good that nobody calls you that?”
“Stop insulting my name!”
“It’s not my fault that you’re so easy to find faults with!” Dazai shrugs his shoulders like he’s really hopeless. Chuuya hits him on the arm with the hand not holding his controller. “And why can’t you answer my question properly, are you that dumb?”
“Dumbness has nothing to do with it?!” Chuuya shrieks as Dazai immediately serves without warning. “Stop prying to my private life!”
“But we’re partners, right? So we should know everything~~~ about each other!”
“No, no, and how about NO?!” Chuuya takes his revenge by beating Dazai handily in his service game in under a minute. “I have zero interest whatsoever in you!”
A pause, and then the smash from Dazai has a record-high speed. Chuuya ducks as the controller slips from Dazai’s hand and almost hits him.
“Hey! Be thankful that I didn’t instinctively smash it away from me!” Chuuya picks up the controller from the floor and checks it for scratches. “And, don’t you know that you should use the wrist handle properly?!”
Dazai’s expression is… oddly neutral. Then he looks up, smirk on his face heavy and almost-suffocating. “I guess I was stronger than I thought~~~♪”
“Pfffft, don’t make me laugh.”
“Why not, you sound like a strange, dying dog when you laugh~~~♫”
“LIES! And why do you know the sound of a dying dog, in the first place! What kind of hobbies do you have?!”
“Oho, so you are interested in me!”
“That’s not interest, that’s self-preservation! And common sense!” Chuuya throws the controller back to Dazai, who catches it with a flourish. “I’d like to know ahead of time if I’m partnered with someone with gross hobbies.”
“Chuuya, we’re in the mafia, don’t you know?”
“Mafia or not…”
“Ah. What a pure angel you are, Chuuya~~~”
“Somehow, that sounds really annoying and insulting, coming from you?!”
“Annoying is a bit… Hm. But I really am insulting you, so congratulations, you managed to read it well!” To further add to Chuuya’s irritation, Dazai makes a show of slow-clapping while he laughs in that snide way of his.
“You’re really fucking annoying,” Chuuya concludes, even though he feels a lot less irritated compared to earlier. He figures it’s like a routine now, the two of them blowing off steam together after a mission that doesn’t go along with their expectations. Or rather, more accurately, when a mission goes against Chuuya’s expectations, while only hitting the lower tier of Dazai’s possibility matrix. (After all, Dazai can predict everything. It’s part of his annoying package, really.)
“So you like Tachitomo-kun because he’s not annoying?”
“He’s definitely not annoying. Unlike you.” The first set concludes in Chuuya’s win after a 7-5 tiebreak. “And why are you so set about that topic?”
“…interested?”
“Just spit it out, damn it.”
“Wellllllll~ I’m supposed to help you out in your hopeless crush, right?”
“Don’t say hopeless!”
“Sooooo~ I need to know what you like about him so I can plan better.”
Chuuya frowns, because the answer seems logical. Too logical, actually. He’d rather cut his own tongue and serve it as dinner for himself than admit that he can read Dazai fairly well – but, well. It sounds too reasonable and Dazai is definitely not that. At least, not when it comes to anything involving Chuuya.
“…Oooookay. That sounds like a bunch of lies, but whatever.”
“Then? Your answer?”
Chuuya bites his lip as he focuses on making sure his serves are all no-touch aces. It’s annoying to admit, but the question actually makes him think. It’s hard to articulate, hard to offer an explanation about memories that have drowned him ever since his birth, the ever-present bandage and love, the lightning strike to his heart when he’s picked up by the Port Mafia that day.
“Because he’s… Tachihara Michizou.”
Dazai frowns, but because Chuuya’s staring at the screen intently, he doesn’t notice at all.