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Dazai doesn’t save every message. There would be far too many of them. He’d have run out of voicemail storage within months. Besides, most of them start to blend together, rehashing the same sentiments and wishing for a different response. But some of them… some of them he keeps. And sometimes when he’s alone and bored during the day, or when it’s late at night and he can’t sleep, he listens.
“Listen shitty Dazai, it’s not funny anymore. It’s time to come back. I’ve been running around all night looking for you. I’ve been to all the usual places, even checked the damn river, but I have no idea where you’re hiding out this time. The others, they’ve been saying that you’ve defected. I know it's ridiculous, but you need to come in. They’re branding you a trai-”
His sentence is cut off by a loud explosion, followed by a long and colourful string of curses.
“Look, I’ve got to go. We’ll sort this out, okay, just call me back.”
The sound of Chuuya’s earnest voice is enough to make Dazai’s chest tighten, even now. It’s impossible to miss the poorly concealed desperation and worry in his ex partner’s tone. Despite all of the evidence staring him in the face, Chuuya believed in him. He’d trusted him right up until the end. These are the last words Chuuya ever said to him without the space of betrayal, radio silence, and the title of traitor standing between them.
There’s no regret in the complicated mix of emotions swirling in Dazai’s head. He knows he made the right decision in leaving it all behind. But there’s still the tiniest prick of guilt every time he listens to the message.
“I hate you so much, you good for nothing bastard! I do, more than anything. I’m so glad you’re gone and I’ll never have to see your stupid face again. I was so happy when Mori told me you left, I had my own celebration. I’ll never have to work with you again! You lazy piece of shit who’s always slacking off and dumping everything on me. It’ll probably be easier for me now that I won’t have to deal with all the problems caused by your ridiculous schemes. What kind of decent partner gets themselves kidnapped on purpose? Or throws themselves into gunfire? Always causing problems, damn it! I’ll be so much better off on my own, you’ll see. I’m plenty strong without you.”
The rage Chuuya must have been feeling is palpable, his voice quivering with the force of it. It might have been easier for Dazai if Chuuya had been shouting. However, for most of the message his volume was measured, becoming almost quiet by the end. His tone, though, was frigid and filled with vitriol. The complete opposite of the loud, hot anger Dazai is accustomed to from their usual bickering. Of all the times Chuuya has proclaimed his hatred of him, before or since, this was the only time that Dazai believes he might have meant it.
“How could you just disappear like that, and leave me here alone?”
Chuuya pauses, clearly struggling with himself for a moment.
“Tch. You’re really gonna make me say it, huh? You know I can’t... reach my full potential without you. And Mori knows it too. Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but is it… Was it me? Was there something I could’ve helped with? Something I should have noticed, should have done? If I missed it, I’m sorry, alright? I can… I can do better. Whatever happened, I’m sure we can fix it. Together. We’re partners, right? Just tell me what I can do. Please, I- I need you here.
It’s strange now, to listen to a Chuuya without his signature unwavering confidence. In all the years he’s known Chuuya, this is the most unsure of himself he’s ever sounded. Dazai can’t fault Chuuya for asking him to come back. Not when Chuuya had no idea what really happened, and he’d been left to deal with corruption alone. His loyalty and usefulness outside of Double Black was probably being scrutinized. Even so, no matter how many times Dazai listens to it, it just sounds wrong.
Notably, this is also the last time that Chuuya has ever talked about Dazai coming back. If Chuuya ever did find out what really happened with Mimic, he never let on in any of his other messages. It would seem that after this, he accepted there was no going back. Dazai knows the work that Chuuya put in to rise up as a leader independent of their former partnership, and become revered within the mafia even without full access to his destructive capabilities. He’s seen it himself now, and he can’t help but be a little bit proud when he compares Chuuya at 22 to the voice coming through the speaker.
“Oi, you shitty bandage wastin’ device. You must be happy now, right? No work, no… no responsibility. Or you’re happy you finally got your wish and managed to off yourself. I guess I’d have no way to know, either way. I hope- I hope you’re not dead. You’re not s’posed to be able to die unless I do it, ’member? But a slippery fish like you can’t die, even if you want to. ‘M doing fine now handling things on my own, but I still kinda miss your mackerel face. Jus’ so I can punch it. And maybe I miss you, even with your bratty personality and terrible taste. Things’re so much more boring now. Do- is it boring for you too? Hope not, I know you hate boring. I wonder if one day you’ll answer. I- I wonder if one day I’ll stop calling.
There’s a long pause, enough to indicate that Chuuya forgot he was on the phone or maybe that he fell asleep. But then he speaks up again, his tone suddenly serious.
“Dazai, I think I-”
The message cuts off.
In some ways, it’s easier to listen to Chuuya’s drunk rambling. There’s none of the earlier anger or desperation as he slurs and stumbles over words. In other ways, it’s worse. The sadness is out in the open instead of being masked by everything else. It makes it too easy to remember there was something between them beyond rivals forced to work together. They were partners, maybe even a twisted sort of friends. And then they weren’t.
When Dazai does this, when he hears Chuuya’s uncharacteristically soft voice admitting that he missed him, he allows himself to admit that he misses Chuuya back. It’s a feeling Dazai keeps locked away, and only takes out for the briefest of moments when there’s nobody around to witness it but himself.
No matter how many times he replays this message, Dazai never lets himself wonder what Chuuya was about to say.
“Hey.”
There’s a pause, a deep breath.
“I’m not sure what you’re up to but I hope you’re okay. This week has been pretty good for me, actually. I ran a pretty big operation that was touch and go for a minute there, but it turned out well for us in the end. No losses. I’m actually meeting some of the men for a drink. They should be here soon, so I should get going.”
More hesitation. Another breath, this one sounding closer to a sigh.
“I hope you’re doing better over there. You seem to be, anyway. Lighter, somehow, or something. I guess I just wanted to say good luck, you stupid Mackerel.”
This was the first of many that started shortly after their brief reunion several months ago. Messages like these came semi-regularly now. They consisted mostly of Chuuya telling him about his week. Dazai had heard about the new wine Chuuya bought at an auction two months ago, and listened to a rant about how he accidentally ruined his new coat three weeks ago. Dazai knew when Chuuya had a good week at work, and when he didn’t. He knew when Chuuya was celebrating or when he was mourning a loss. There were never any details of course, Chuuya was smarter than that. But that didn’t make it any less strange. He had no idea if Chuuya even knew his messages were being listened to. Dazai never indicated he’d listened to any of them, but… the phone still hasn’t gone out of service either.
Not for the first time, he wondered what Chuuya got out of this. Chuuya had worked through a lot of pent up emotions by dumping them into his mailbox, but these felt different. Listening to them made Dazai feel hopeful in a way he refused to name. When he heard Chuuya talk so easily, it felt as if the past could be forgotten. If just for a few minutes, it felt like a tension he didn’t even realize he’d been holding eased away. Maybe at first, he’d listened to Chuuya’s voicemails to torture himself, just a little. Now, each new message feels like relief.
He wonders if maybe it's the same for Chuuya.
Almost as if reading his mind, his phone starts ringing. His old phone. He knows the caller ID reads “Slug” before he looks. Nobody else calls him at this number anymore.
It’s certainly not the first time he’s held the phone while it rings. In fact, it’s usually the case. He lets it ring and ring, because if he just sent it straight to voicemail then Chuuya would know. This time though, Dazai let’s himself make an impulse decision. He pressed the button to accept and hold the phone up to his ear.
“Hello?”
~Bonus~
There are multiple missed calls, a string of texts, and a voicemail from “Slug” on Dazai’s phone. Instead of checking the messages, his attention is caught by single notification from an unsaved number. A small smile spreads across his face as he picks up his phone and dials.
“Hello chibi~”
“Hah, what’s this? You ignore me all night and then call me like it’s nothing?” Chuuya’s words come through the phone clear enough, though the loudness and anger in his voice indicate he’s had at least a couple drinks.
“Of course I couldn’t answer, you were at the bar with your subordinates. You know it would be a bad idea to flaunt the fact that we’re talking.”
Dazai can practically feel Chuuya pouting through the phone.
“Fine, I guess that makes sense,” Chuuya aqueises, as if he hasn’t made the same concession half a dozen times before.
“It is cute though,” Dazai teases, not bothering to hide the fondness in his tone.
“What are you calling cute?” Chuuya already sounds scandalized, and Dazai can’t help but let out a chuckle.
“Even after all this time, you still can’t help but call me every time you drink,”
“That’s not true!!”
“You know it is. I never lie about these things.”
“How did you know who I was with, anyway?” Chuuya asks, not so subtly changing the subject. “Actually, how did you know I was alone now?”
“I have my methods.”
“More like spies,” comes the grumbled reply.
“Ah, well if you’re really so upset, I suppose I’ll just have to make it up to you,” Dazai says thoughtfully. “I’ll bring dinner when I come over tomorrow.”
“... and wine.”
“Yes, and wine,” Dazai agrees.
“Deal. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mackerel.”
“It’s a date!” Dazai chirps back cheerfully before ending the call.