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There's no way Chuuya can escape this situation.
His clothes were torn, his arms and face littered with cuts and bruises. To make matters worse, he can't even use his ability to lift the blocks of cement off his legs due to his lack of energy. Corpses lay around him, blood splattered across the floor and walls.
With his squadron annihilated and his strength drained from him, he can barely pull out the knife embedded in his stomach yet leave the building when the bombs go off.
The man who Chuuya had been assigned to kill off was a mastermind; he could even rival Dostoyevsky when it came to planning. The son of a bitch had placed bombs under the building beforehand, then lured Chuuya into the warehouse. And Chuuya had been stupid enough to play a part in his hook, line, and sinker plan. Now he's stuck here, leaning against a half-demolished column for support.
He had underestimated his opponent - unable to activate Arahabaki in time.
Chuuya's black phone lay discarded several inches away; a feeble attempt at calling last-minute backup. Grunting, Chuuya reaches for the device despite the pain in his legs that beg him to stop.
Much to Chuuya's relief, only the screen has broken during the chaos. Licking his lips, he shakily presses the first contact on his list.
But, it's not Mori or the Black Lizard or Kouyou.
It's Dazai Osamu.
Dazai's jittery.
Though he keeps a composed expression, his palms are slick with sweat and his lips dry. Albeit the encouragement from his colleagues, Dazai still feels a sense of anxiety as he fumbles with the black box in his hands.
"It'll go smoothly," Atsushi had assured him.
"It'll be fine. Just be yourself," Yosano had added on.
Dazai thought otherwise.
He'd decorated the apartment with candles and rose petals, hoping it would set the scenery (at least he thinks it will; Wikipedia is known to be untrustworthy).
You see, Dazai had planned this two months ago - had bought the ring just a week before.
Dazai Osamu is going to propose to Chuuya Nakahara tonight.
He's certain that Chuuya will accept, after pointing his middle finger and spits out a string of profanities at Dazai first, of course.
With his leg bouncing up and down subconsciously, Dazai opens the lid of the black box, taking another glance at the ring (just to make sure it was still there). It was a golden band, with the words "Je T'Aime Toujours, Mon Cher" inscribed on the outside.
"Je T'Aime Toujours, Mon Cher", or "I love you forever, my dear", had been Chuuya's line at first, then developed into their catchphrase. Dazai would always use it to tease Chuuya in public just for entertainment. Sometimes he tosses it around carelessly, usually whenever Chuuya was angry at him, but in spite of that, it was a sentence that holds a deeper meaning for Dazai.
Swallowing, Dazai closes the box, turning his attention to the clock.
Five-thirty one.
Chibi must be late. Dazai internally cursed Mori for holding Chuuya back on this important night.
Suddenly, Dazai's phone rang, the device vibrating in his hand. Dazai's heart swelled with affection and hope at the caller ID.
"Chuuuuya~" Dazai sing-songs.
"I'm sorry," is the first thing Chuuya says. No 'hello's, no 'sorry I'm late', no profanities - just an apology.
Dazai's smile falters. Was it just him or did Chuuya sound beaten up?
"Why? You have nothing to be sorry about," Dazai replies hastily, "Hey, when are you-"
"I'm sorry for throwing away your supply of bandages," Chuuya cuts in with a raspy breath.
"What? That's a minor thing. I can always replace it-"
"I just hated your bandage wasting personality so much I wanted to get rid of them," Chuuya laughed lightly, followed by a soft grunt of discomfort.
"Chuuya? Are you okay? Where are you?"
"I'm sorry for eating your yogurt cups."
"What-"
"I'm sorry for setting all the clocks to 2 A.M. to spite you."
By now, Dazai's heart is thumping rapidly in his ribcage, threatening to burst out of his chest at any moment. "Chuuya. Where are you?"
Dazai stands up, the ring box forgotten at his side. He reaches for the car keys, his hands shaking.
"Don't leave the house. Stay there." Chuuya's voice is breathier and lighter than it had been before.
"I'm coming to get you. Tell me your location."
"Please," Chuuya's voice is desperate, pleading even, "Stay. Promise you'll stay in the apartment. Please."
Dazai halts, his breaths labored. A cold sensation runs down his spine, his grip tightening around the phone.
"Okay. I'll stay." Dazai forces his voice to remain steady.
"Thank you."
Despite the moment of silence during the call, Dazai can hear Chuuya shifting around on the other side, as well as several sharp gasps of pain. Dazai's eyes are watering and a large lump has formed in his throat. He feels the sense of despair, the sense of foreboding and loss. If he'd known this would happen, he would have forbidden Chuuya to work at all today.
But he didn't.
"Hey, mackerel."
"Yes, Chuuya?" Dazai doesn't bother to choke back his wavering tone.
"Je t'aime toujours, mon cher," Chuuya says softly as a low rumbling sounds in the distance.
There's no point of adding on to Chuuya's sorrow. Dazai doesn't tell him that he'd planned to propose this evening, nor the fact that he had gone through all the trouble decorating the place.
"I love you too, Chuuya."
There's a soft chuckle at the end of the line before an explosion swallows all further noises.
Dazai's still there when the line goes dead.