Work Text:
Yokohama was a restless city, always bustling with life even into the late hours. However, there came a time during the night when even the most energetic inhabitants settled down into a relative quiet. It was the hour when mortals sleep, and spirits rest.
For Chuuya, however, it was yet another sleepless night, but he did not mourn the fact. On the contrary, he enjoyed the silence, relishing the calm sensation of being left alone while he leaned idly over the balcony. He closed his eyes, a cigarette cradled in his lips, and let the hours pass. When he opened them again, the cigarette had had long burned out and the sun’s first rays were peeking over the skyline.
Chuuya turned around to walk through the glass doors, the sunlight streaming through his curtains fell on a picture frame. The man he had always loved, and still loved, smiled back at him. Chuuya picked up the picture frame and pressed a soft kiss against that smile, curving his lips to match it.
Dear ghost,
Did you rest well?
***
Work was just as tedious as ever, although it kept him occupied and complacent. The fatal flaw in his peaceful life was that complacency could never satisfy a man as volatile as himself. To keep himself entertained, Chuuya settled into a quiet bar and nursed a glass of amber cognac. It wasn’t long before the barstool beside him creaked, signaling an interested visitor.
“I don’t see you around often. What’s your name?”
When Chuuya glanced over, he saw a set of dark eyes and short, messy hair. The stranger looked pleasing enough, but what drew him in was how similar they seemed to him. Large eyes that were ultimately empty, a smile that meant nothing, he was a hollow man.
“Nakahara Chuuya.” He finally answered.
“Chuuya-kun. It’s nice to meet you.” They smiled in a way that was overly friendly, but so achingly nostalgic. The stranger never gave them their name in return, but Chuuya was fine with that.
Come nightfall, Chuuya returned home feeling satisfied and worn out. He wanted to crumple into bed and lie there until morning, but he still had something he had to do. Pulling out a pen and some stationary, Chuuya began to diligently write.
Dear ghost,
I met someone today, at the bar where you used to spend all your time. They reminded me of you, from the way they talked to the way they smiled. For the few hours we spent together, I also found myself smiling.
Chuuya paused for a moment, tapping the pen against his chin, then continued.
Sometimes, I imagine a world where I can live without you. It would be a happy world, I think, if I could learn to forget. On nights like this, I can see that world more clearly than ever, and I find it easier to smile.
Before turning in for the night, Chuuya neatly folded the letter and tucked it away in his desk. Then, he turned to the picture frame and saw that ever lingering smile. He picked up the frame, smiled sadly, then kissed it goodnight before placing it facedown.
***
In the morning, Chuuya woke up feeling awfully tired. It was why he preferred not to sleep, because most of the time he would just wake up feeling drained. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Chuuya stood in front of the mirror and settled into autopilot to brush his teeth.
Then, a distinct feeling prickled at his shoulder, like a breath ghosting over his neck.
He opened his eyes and froze to see a pair of dark amber eyes staring at him, lifeless and hollow, looming over his shoulder. A building pressure prickled against the inside of his skull, but Chuuya snuffed it out before continuing to brush his teeth. For the rest of the morning, Chuuya held his breath until he left his apartment.
Work was mundane once again, such is the life of a mafia executive during peaceful times. He decided to have lunch at a nearby bistro where he could sit outside and soak up whatever warmth the sunlight allowed him. Quietly enjoying his coffee, Chuuya pulled out a small journal and a pen.
Dear ghost,
I saw you standing next to me in the mirror today. It felt like you wanted to say something, you always look like you want to say something. I cannot hear your voice anymore, so you’ll have to make peace with the words that will never reach me, alright?
His appetite was forgotten by the time he finished, so he pays for his meal, thanks the waitress, and leaves. Yokohama was crowded around this time, so Chuuya took the less frequented route back to work, but even among all the pedestrians, Chuuya spots his face immediately. Chuuya felt cold and dumbfounded as he stared at the figure across the street. Hollow eye sockets stare back at him, and he blinked several times, waiting for the image to disappear, but it never does.
Finally, Chuuya forced himself to avert his gaze and walked back to the Port Mafia. His office was awfully quiet; not even the clock on his wall makes a sound as the seconds pass. In this silence, all of his senses are heightened, so he feels terribly exposed and sensitive when a pair of cold hands rest over his shoulders. Chuuya doesn’t have to turn around to know who it was.
That night, Chuuya idly wrote poems on the stationary at his desk. He doesn’t plan to sleep tonight. Eventually, Chuuya pushed the scraps of poems away and begins his letter.
Dear ghost,
Sometimes I see you lingering around, and sometimes, I feel your touch as if you were still here. I saw your eyes today, or rather, the black sockets where they would be. I know you never mean harm, but sometimes, you terrify me.
Chuuya leaned back in his chair and breathed deeply, closing his eyes to rest for a moment. In that brief span of time, Chuuya saw a bone white face, dead eyes, and flesh rotting away into a putrid mess. Fear ate instinctively at his heart, and left him deeply disturbed.
Hours passed, and Chuuya spent them staring at the ceiling. Then, he reached toward the picture frame, which had been left facedown, and flips it up. That smile is no longer there, and all that stared back at him is a blank, soulless expression. He sucked in a deep breath, feeling grief well up in his chest, but he no longer had tears to shed.
The sun rose in his window, but offers no warmth or comfort. Chuuya considered staying home today, and fell asleep to the feeling of gentle fingers carding through his hair.
Dear ghost,
Please go away...
***
In the smallest compartment of his desk, Chuuya kept a letter. It wasn’t written by him, but he could recite every word by heart. Today, Chuuya reached into the back of the drawer and pulled it out. He thumbed through the pages gingerly, eyes tracing over the neatly inked words. It was odd to look at, because the familiar handwriting on the paper was never this neat.
You were being considerate, weren’t you, despite your selfish last actions.
Chuuya pressed his lips together and tried to remember his voice, desperately wishing that it hadn’t faded from his memory. He never thought to save any voicemail on his phone, there was never any reason to. Despite everything, Chuuya had always thought that he would always be by his side.
Dear ghost,
I wish I could be with you again, so I could hear you speak your heart in person, instead of leaving it in a letter for me to read. All I’m left with are memories of you and this letter, and they can hardly be considered good, but I cherish them regardless. We always argued and fought, but every moment with you was always vibrant, and while I was always riled around you, something within me always settled comfortably.
Pretending to be happy was a lot easier when Chuuya still had his memories. A smile slowly crept his way onto his lips as he stared down at the letters, until a wet sheen glossed over his eyes. He hardly flinches when the pen in his hand snapped in half, spilling ink over his trembling palm.
The depths of the unknown called out to you, and you finally answered...
So why do you still haunt me?
***
Chuuya was not worried about missing work. He’d spent the last few months making changes and arrangements to make sure that the Port Mafia could run smoothly in his absence for a day, or indefinitely.
The weather was nice today, chilly but still pleasant. Chuuya tucked the letter into his pocket and took a long stroll through his beloved Yokohama. In the morning, Chuuya passed by his favorite coffee shop and ordered his favorite drink. By noon, he made it to a park where gingko trees lined the path, and gazed up at the golden leaves fluttering around him. In the evening, just when the sun was about to set, Chuuya took a train to the seaside and watched the glittering waves pass by.
The ride was long, so Chuuya took out his pen and journal.
Dear ghost,
You once dragged me to the top of the tallest building in Yokohama, only to be disappointed that we couldn’t see the stars. Still, we sat up there with our legs dangling off the edge, talking about trivial things, arguing every other second. Then, you pointed up at the sky, and even though we couldn’t see the stars, you told me how beautiful the moon looked that night.
The train rolled to a stop, and when Chuuya left the station he found himself in a mostly secluded place. After a short walk, he made it to the top of a cliff hanging over the sea. While the waters below were pitch black, he could see an infinite expanse of stars above. Chuuya stepped forward, reaching out as if he could feel the stars on his fingertips. The moon was nestled among them, full and beautiful just like that night. He cupped his hands, framing the moon within his palms, and smiled as its pale light shone in his eyes.
With one more step, the earth disappeared beneath him, and the moon fell from his reach as he plummeted.
Dear ghost,
I’ll see you soon.
☆☆☆☆☆☾☆☆☆☆☆
Dear ghost,
Time passes so slowly now. Sometimes, it feels like the sun never moves, leaving the sky in eternal dusk. It’s quite lonely here, but now, I can hear your voice again, I can feel the warmth in your touch, so It’s not so bad.
“Chuuya, are you still writing those letters?”
An arm wrapped around his shoulders and held him tight. Chuuya sighed and turned his head to press a loving kiss against Dazai’s lips.
“It’s a habit. I used to write them to let you know how I feel.”
“Hmm? Do you really need to?” Dazai pursed his lips into a pout, but Chuuya quickly kisses it away with a smile.
“No, not anymore.”
Then, they fade away into their own little world together, leaving behind a pen and a letter.