Chapter Text
Tenth of November.
Sky constantly grey and cloudy, humidity high and coldness lingering in the air. It's a pleasant month, not much work to do, night getting longer and small clouds forming from your mouth when you breathe.
His red nose is stuffed in the thick, black scarf tightly wrapped around his neck and hands stuffed in the pockets of his black coat. Maybe he should’ve brought actual gloves, and maybe he should've picked some other pants rather than ripped jeans, but hopefully, this matter is short, and he can leave as quickly as he'll arrive.
Perhaps he should’ve put his hair up into a more proper ponytail too since it’s messily flowing before his face, forcing his hands to escape the warmth from the pockets to tuck the hair behind his ears. His blue eyes search for the location provided in the message, more so the café provided in the message, and he finds it, so he crosses the street and enters.
There's a sweet aroma of coffee and the café is small, an old man with grey hair cleaning coffee mugs with a white tissue. He removes the coat from his body, folding it above his forearm along with the scarf when he enters.
It’s empty besides the one reason he came for, his ex-partner.
He scuffs when amber eyes look up at him, somehow having missed that face four years ago, but now it makes his gut twist and turn with a tinge feeling of betrayal. With a profound inhale he tries to swallow his feelings and anger for the man, taking a seat in front of him and putting his coat and scarf next to himself.
The man has never asked to meet like this, and his usual mischievous smile and playful eyes are filled with something he can’t place his finger on, and so he leans back into his seat, crossing his arms above his chest with a frown on his face.
“What do you ‘need my help’ with, Dazai?” Chuuya snarls.
He could wonder why he’s here himself, he could’ve easily denied it. But for one, the message seemed sincere enough, rather important and urgent too, and two, for some reason unbeknownst to himself, he felt unsatisfied whenever considering not going.
Chuuya hates the brunet with every fiber of his body, there’s too much to him that he can’t bring himself to forgive, he knows Dazai knows that as well.
So, question remaining, is why does he need his help, and what for?
Dazai undoes his scarf and shakes off his tan coat, doing the same as Chuuya to put it beside him. He then intertwines his bandaged hands on the table, looking at the elder who has a questioning expression on his face.
“Chuuya, you’re- the last resort for this- not fond over this myself, so bear with me-“ Dazai sighs, looking up to the ceiling.
“What’s with you?" Chuuya gawks, "And just spill it so I can leav-“
“Marry me.”
Time stops, frankly, it feels like everything stops.
There’s a beat of silence and he stops to breathe, glaring at the brunet as if he’s grown a second head. Chuuya raises a sole eyebrow, about to steady himself on his feet, taking this as a mere joke to harass him, but the newly discovered sincerity in those brown eyes causes him to freeze in his seat.
Chuuya wants to laugh, but he keeps silent, his eyes piercing through Dazai’s very soul.
“Pardon?” The ginger blinks, placing his hands flat on the table.
Dazai scratches his neck and shifts where he sits. He knows how it sounds: barbaric, but much to his shame, he’s asked everyone else. No one took him seriously, why would they? But he knows Chuuya’s different, he wouldn’t call him over if he weren’t serious.
They both know that.
“I know how it sounds, but- I just need you to pretend to be my fiancé for two months-“ He bites down on his lip, letting Chuuya progress that.
And he does, but he’s still pondering whether Dazai is drugged or not, because why the hell-
“Are you insane? Two months? Me?..." Chuuya groans, looking out the window before glancing back at his ex-partner, "What did you do this time?”
He’s not even sure why he wants to know, it’s so easy to walk out, pretend it never happened. But for some reason, he sits in his seat, peering at Dazai who opens his mouth on repeat, but nothing comes out.
Personally, he doesn’t believe that Dazai deserves the help.
Why should he put himself through two months of hell with someone he despises to his core? Just because he put himself into some mess he needs to drag someone else down with him? It’s ironic, to say the least.
Chuuya has lost most if not all trust towards the Dazai in the last four years, why should he put his trust in him now?
“It- goes back to when Odasaku died…”
Chuuya looks back at Dazai who out of nowhere fiddles with something glimmery in his hand. He grabs it with his thumb and index finger, looking at it. Chuuya can identify it as a ring, a golden, if not an engagement ring.
“Apparently he had someone he wanted to marry, and then before I left- I- took both the engagement rings laying on his des-“
“You just stole two engagement rings?!” Chuuya fists the table, “Of a dead man at that?”
He instantly quiets down from the way the other flinches and nearly shrinks, putting his hands up in attempted defense. Of course, he knows what he did, he thought it through over and over again, but-
“I didn’t want them landing in anyone else’s hands, better than to let them dust there too… Anyways…” Dazai exhales, looking back at Chuuya who tucks orange strands of hair behind his ears, nodding for him to continue with arms and legs crossed, “I joined the Mafia when fifteen, right?”
Chuuya questioningly raises a sole eyebrow but nods nonetheless, looking out the window, seeing drops of water running down the window from the light rain pouring down from above.
“Ever since then, I didn’t keep in contact with my parents, and a month bac-“
“You have parents?” Chuuya interrupts, feeling like he gets to know more about him during ten minutes than what he’s done over the course of his life.
He always assumed- or mistook Dazai for an orphan, but when he thinks of it, he never paid much mind to it, so he leans back into his seat.
“… Continue.”
“And my mom came to visit me and just so happened to- catch a glimpse of the two rings on my desk and assumed that- I was engaged.”
‘Didn’t you just say you didn’t want the rings to get dusty on someone’s desk?...’ The ginger internally sighs while trying to keep up with this whole conversation. He furrows his eyebrows, his blue irises nearly glowing in the dim lightning when stabbing through Dazai's amber ones.
“And you didn’t say that you weren’t because?-“
“She seemed so happy, genuinely… And- I had to keep his death to myself because she doesn’t know that I have an ability, nor that I work at an agenc-“
“So- you want my help to fake being your fucking fiancé for two full months because your mom caught a glimpse of two rings on your desk?!” Chuuya exasperatedly throws up his hands, rolling his eyes to the ceiling in pure disbelief, “What’s this whole circus in for me?”
He should just go, just leave… so why isn’t he?
“Chuuya, please- I’ll- I’ll do anything if you go along with it, promise…”
That catches Chuuya’s attention, and he inspects Dazai’s eyes.
If there’s anything he’s learned from being Dazai’s partner, it’s when he’s telling lies and when he’s not. There are specifics to his body language when he does lie, the tone of his voice changes and despite how much he tries to hide it, Chuuya can still sense it.
But now, there’s nothing the like showing.
The rain is still hitting the window, and it’s the only audible sound aside from the few clinks of porcelain, the soft jazz music playing in the background. He can hear his heartbeats from the silence placing itself like a lid above them.
For a moment, he considers it and his gaze wanders downwards onto his hands where he opens them, following meaningless creases on his palms as he thinks, and thinks.
“You’re insane.”
“Look-“ Dazai leans forwards, gesturing with his hands, “I wish I was joking, being within a two-meter radius with you makes me nauseous, b-“
“That’s spat out of the wrong mouth.” Chuuya shoots daggers at the brunet who lopsidedly smirks.
He’s seen that grin too often, it never holds any positive meaning- at least not when it comes to Chuuya.
“But-“ Dazai continues as if Chuuya never interrupted him to begin with, making the ginger frown, “I’m in too deep with this, I can’t turn back now, and I’ve literally asked everyone.”
Chuuya sighs, feeling the urge and tempting feeling to figure out this whole tangled knot, but he’s just tugging at it, not making any sense out of it.
“What in the name of God makes you think I will help you?”
The smile growing on his lips makes Chuuya want to strangle the man.
“Whenever have you denied me?”
A red-like aura immediately emanates from Chuuya’s skin, his eyebrows get furrowed and he’s clenching his fists until the knuckles turn white. He’s tensing his jaw until it hurts, despising the calm expression on the other’s face.
He retains himself, letting go when lumping back into the seat as he looks at Dazai. It’s quiet for a moment, a silent staring contest until Dazai breaks it and leans back into his seat.
“As I said, I’ll do anything.” He repeats, acting as if the last minute was only a hallucination.
“…” Chuuya looks up to Dazai’s eyes, and he looks so pleading, “Anything?”
“That just sounded dirty-“
“You know it wasn’t.” The ginger grits his teeth, losing his patience slowly but surely.
“I do.” The brunet replies with a lopsided smirk, though it quickly vanishes to his previous expression, “Then yes, anything.”
Chuuya sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he thinks if there is anything Dazai could offer hi- Why is he even considering going along with this? It’s stupid, it’s Dazai, it’s two full months and- His mind can barely keep up with what he’s feeling, causing him to rest his face into his hands.
Something in him wants him to leave, to tell himself that it’s not worth it, because why would it be? But then there’s the other side of him, that stupid empathetic and sympathetic side of him.
This is probably the most stupid thing he’s been part of.
“On one condition, and one only…”
Dazai immediately lightens up, placing his hands on the table, and attentively looks at Chuuya. If that face doesn’t make him even more punch-able, he doesn’t know what does.
Chuuya bites the inside of his cheek, giving himself one last chance to stand up and leave without another word to speak of. He wants to, but it isn’t like him.
Honestly, has he ever turned his back on Dazai despite his mistrust against the man?
No, he hasn’t.
“After those two months, I don’t want to see your face ever again. Not. Ever.”
For some reason, it stings in his chest as he says it, staring into Dazai's bottomless and generally unamused irises. The brunet looks at the other, breathing calmly, but his eyes are deeper than the deepest of seas, explaining more than what he knows of himself. He feels somehow disappointed.
“That’s the deal?” Dazai gives a pointed look towards Chuuya.
“That or nothing.” Chuuya clarifies, already starting to stand up in case Dazai won’t have the condition.
He waves his hands frantically before himself, causing Chuuya to raise his eyebrows as he sits down again. Dazai exhales, looking out the window as he fiddles with his fingers before nodding, looking back at Chuuya with seriousness filling every single inch of his eyes.
It causes a shiver to run through his spine and he doesn’t know why his chest sinks.
“Okay, after the wedding is done, I’ll never bother you again, promise.”
He knows he’s the one who gave the condition to begin with, but-
‘You’re gonna leave me hangin’ again, just like that?’
It leaves an uneasy feeling lingering in his chest when he looks at the brunet. Chuuya nods to confirm when deciding that there’s no mischief in Dazai’s eyes nor expression, starting to stand up to which Dazai lets him this time.
He grabs his scarf and coat, throwing the coat over him, and slides his arms through the sleeves before wrapping the scarf around his neck. He inhales, deeply, wondering what the hell he’s gotten himself into.
“Was that all…?” Chuuya looks at Dazai from the corner of his eyes.
"I'll send you all the necessary information you'll need…" The brunet says lowly, scratching his neck with a certain tone of uncertainness clinging onto his voice, “Thank you, genuinl-“
“Whatever.”
And he turns on his heel, walking out with only silence left behind.
The bell rings as he opens the door and exits, holding his hand above his forehead to somewhat protect himself from the rain. Chuuya follows the sidewalk past the windows where they just sat, glimpsing Dazai standing up himself and putting on his tan coat.
He looks away, nearly stomping his way back to his apartment with feelings swirling in his gut.
Confusion, madness, uncertainty?
Yeah, what the actual hell has he put himself into?
Mackerel: Chuuuyaaa
Chuuya glances down towards his phone on his dinner table, picking it up, and sighs mentally. He just decided he might as well try to get along with Dazai if they’ll be in each other’s presence for two full months, so he puts down his chopsticks and places the phone in his hands.
He tries not to scroll up to the last conversation they had via their phones, but he does and nearly flinches from the texts they’ve sent each other. Or more so, the texts Chuuya sent Dazai four years ago.
24 July 2016 01:23 am
Chuuya: Dazai where the fuck are you
Chuuya: HEY!!
Chuuya: Don’t ignore me dumbass
2 attempted calls 01:57 am
Chuuya: Fucking mackerel, answer me
24 July 2016 03:01 am
Chuuya: Please…
1 attempted call 03:24 am
Chuuya: Come back…
SLAM
He fists the table with the phone in his hand, looking to the side as he bites down on his lip, hard. His fingers are threatening the crumble his phone until he drops it onto the table, putting his face in his hands with an exasperated exhale.
He vividly remembers that night four years ago when everyone searched everywhere for the missing executive. He was never found, and later that same evening when Chuuya was hung-over in a very specific bar, he got told that the most probable scenario is that he'd left.
And left for good.
His attempts of contact were deemed meaningless, and he got himself drunk, he smoked, a bad habit he has when getting stressed. He honestly thought he’d discarded it, but he got proven wrong.
And now, he looks at the message he received, a tinge of regret in his actions earlier the day to go along with this, but he starts typing.
Chuuya: mm?
Immediately his text gets seen, making him follow the three dots moving up and down with his eyes, feeling himself getting low on sleep and progressively more tired.
Mackerel: So, we'll be heading to Goshogawara, I'll expect you at Yokohama airport at 11:30 tomorrow~
He throws his head back, looking at the ceiling with wide eyes before looking back down onto the screen. Is he serious?
Chuuya: TOMORROW? LITTLE SHIT WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME
Mackerel: You have time! Calm down, Chibi
Chuuya: CALM DOWN? Fuck off
Mackerel: Yeah, yeah… and then head to terminal 1, gate A2
Chuuya: Isn’t A2 for private planes?
Mackerel: Kind of my point, Chibi, it IS a private plane
“What?” Chuuya whispers to himself when turning towards the sink, filling up a glass of water.
With the glass in hand, he strolls towards his bedroom, placing the glass on his nightstand before plunging into the bed.
But Goshogawara? That’s all the way up to the Aomori prefecture, that’s hundreds of miles away from Yokohama. Is Dazai out of his mind?
Honestly, when is he not?
Chuuya: Since WHEN do you have a PRIVATE PLANE?
Mackerel: My parents own it, not me, idiot
Chuuya: I- okay- fine, sure, whatever- Anything else I need to know regarding this whole charade?
Mackerel: I suppose we can cover more of it tomorrow, good night ChibiChuu~
A beat of silence follows.
‘That’s the first time he’s ever said, “good night” to me, wha-?’ He shakes his head, clenching his hand into a fist, and roughly pounds it onto the side of his head, making him grimace. Wincing at the pain, he checks the message over and over.
This is already weird and nearly too much, his feelings fighting over the other, making it difficult for him to differentiate between what's genuine and what's fake.
He looks at his phone, feeling a burning ache in the back of his throat.
Chuuya: … night
He undoes his choker and removes his vest after throwing his phone face-down onto the bed, turning towards his nightstand where the glass of water stands.
Chuuya bends over to search through the drawer, finding the familiar little box that rustles when shaking it. On the packaging, ‘Sleeping pills’ is displayed, making him wince. He pops out a pill out of the aluminum packaging, holding it flat in his palm, looking at it as if judging it.
He grabs the glass of water with his other hand, placing the tablet on his tongue, and swallows it with the water, downing all the liquid. Shrugging, he puts the glass back on the nightstand, removing his pants and dress shirt, making himself ready for some attempts of sleep.
Rain is still hitting the windows when he closes his eyes, and behind his eyelids are the memories flashing.