Chapter Text
The bar was long empty by now, the only patrons remaining being three men with so many layers of clothing on. It wasn’t the first time this group had stayed here until the eerily silent hours of the morning, working to break the thick quiet of the dead world around them. Some would have called them friends, others would have said that drinking partners were rarely so.
The shortest man who wore wire-framed glasses looked absolutely terrified at the actions of his associate, “Dazai! You can’t just lay down on tables! I swear you want us kicked out-”
The horrible person in question had draped himself across the bar like a renaissance painting of a woman waiting for her hero to arrive.
“Fabulous isn’t for everyone, Ango~”
He half sat up, kicking his one leg into the air and dramatically pointing towards the ginger (derogatory) slouching over the bar. He tossed his head back in mock offense. “Tell him, Odasaku!”
The man -Odasaku- looked up with a vaguely amused expression and nodded, “Some aren’t born for stardom my friend.”
“Ha! Take that, you blind nerd! I have won yet again!”
“My god, why do I drink with you two.”
“Because you loooooovvvvve us~”
Oda simply smiled and ordered another round of drinks for him and Ango, “I was under the impression we were quite close?”
Before Dazai could open his big dumb smelly stupid mouth, his phone buzzed from deep within his coat pocket, paired with an annoying ringtone that sounded suspiciously like an older executive’s screaming.
“Well, boys, the wife’s calling. Guess this is the end of our fun little outing.”
Ango gave a scandalized look. “I don’t believe Nakahara-san would appreciate being called your wife-”
“Oh, shush, Ango. Of course, that’s my wife, she’d be sooo upset if she found out you were besmirching our holy union.”
As annoying as Dazai was, it was hard to ignore the sparks of joy shining in his eyes, accompanying a smile that looked a little too soft to fit his antics. He seemed brighter recently, fewer and fewer empty smiles came with more mentions of his so-called ‘wife’.
“I should probably get some rest too, I’ve been alerted I have an important assignment for tomorrow, I should be well-rested,” Oda spoke with an easy smile, the lights in the bar casting a soft orange glow on his face.
Dazai nodded and walked out of the bar with an exaggerated bow. For reasons he could never voice, those words struck some kind of fear within him, so cold and real it was all he could do not to run back to his apartment. To Chuuya. Always, to Chuuya.
The door to their apartment swung open to reveal a certain tiny redhead curled up on the couch with wine on the table and a tan coat in his vice-like grip. He hadn’t even noticed Dazai yet but a warmth spread through his heart at the sight of his chibi who seemed to miss him quite dearly, “I’m home Chuuya!”
“Osamu?”
Oh, this was simply too much for his heart to bear.
“I’m sorry I was out so late, chibi, the boys are such loudmouths.”
The man he was addressing was nothing short of comfortable, with obnoxiously pink fluffy socks kicked up onto their living room table with grace. He lounged back into the pillows of the couch, cradling a glass of wine in one hand and balancing a tray of cake on the other. The most important part of the whole image, however, at least in Dazai’s opinion, was the fact that Chuuya’s damp hair was held back by a large headband and a suspicious-looking acne mask covered his perpetually handsome face.
“Didn’t even notice you shitty Dazai, ‘m just sleepy.” Dazai simply smiled down at him, a surprisingly sincere smile resting on his face. His eyes were less cold now, as though the emptiness of winter had been filled with the warmth of a flame.
“Well, I suppose we ought to get you to sleep, can't have you shrinking any further, I won’t be able to see you at all!”
“Wa wa, gimme ‘til I finish another glass!”
Dazai loved to argue with Chuuya. It was one of the few true joys he found in life, but yet he did not fight him on this one. Call it what you will, but Dazai Osamu loved to see someone smile and laugh more than he loved the moon herself. He loved someone so dearly he could sacrifice his own wants for them. And so Dazai allowed Chuuya this. He sank into the couch next to him, wrapping an arm around his side.
“What do you say, partner?” He asked as he leaned forward and poured himself a glass of Chuuya’s wine. It swirled in his cup like a potion, hypnotizing and timeless. “What shall we toast to?”
Chuuya mumbled under his breath lazily for a moment before thrusting his arm into the air. “To the stray dogs!”
Dazai smiled back at Chuuya. How could he not?
“To the stray dogs.”
The two of them would stay there through the night, together, as lovers do.
~
Dazai awoke to a cold bed, (this wasn’t an unusual occurrence as Chuuya was the only one allowed to use the stove to cook breakfast) the early morning light flitted in through the curtains. Something was wrong, very very wrong. His calculations were never off yet he never accounted for fate itself working against him.
His phone sat face up on the bedside table, next to the empty wine bottle his lover used as a paperweight. Several unread messages greeted him as he checked the time, nine am, much later than he usually sleeps, but he had Chuuya in his arms and drank into the night, he was exhausted, he was happy.
Chuuya
4:16 am
Hey, shitty Dazai, boss assigned me a mission for pretty early in the morning, apparently it’ll be a challenge, I’ll be back later tonight okay?
6:35 am
This is causing some trouble I didn’t account for, please respond Dazai.
8:44 am
I love you
Akutagawa
8:45 am
please hurry.
I’m not strong enough to save him, Gin was hurt.
Chuuya-san is using corruption
Everything seemed to pass in a blur, the run to the port mafia headquarters, not even bothering with the bandages, leaving a myriad of scars visible to the world. Storming in, the gunfire that met his arrival was muted in his haze, he couldn’t hear Akutagawa crying over his new mentor’s lifeless body, he couldn’t have heard if he tried.
The way to the boss’ office was one he couldn’t forget no matter how hard he tried. And he tried. So hard. The doctor sat in his chair with an air of regal indifference and a hint of confusion, “have you come here to kill me Dazai? Even after I so graciously got your friend to the medical ward? I will say the chances are low for survival, though I’m sure you already knew.”
Dazai couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, it was like this haze had trapped him endlessly, a sea of blood roaring in his ears and his hands trembling with a force violent enough to kill Mori where he sat. He didn’t recognize himself pulling out the gun, or planting three shots into Mori’s head, he only thought of red hair and late-night drinks at Lupin’s, he thought of a feisty gravity manipulator who changed his life forever without him needing to ask.
Everything I never want to lose is always lost the moment I obtain it.
“I can fix this.” It was a whisper to the winds. A promise, though he could never quite seem to keep them.
“I can fix this-“ His eyes burned, and Dazai caught himself holding onto the thought that somewhere out there was someone who could hear him. Anyone that could convince him that what he said was true.
Odasaku always said that your harshest critic will forever be your own mind. Chuuya said that you cannot place your worth in the hands of anyone else. Dazai knew now how wrong they were. Nothing strips you down to your very bones quite like the emptiness of an equally worthless world.
“ I can fix this. ”