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Chuuya comes to slowly, and he’s very well acquainted with the circumstances that leads to this manner of awakening. He knows he’s in his large bed in his luxurious apartment by the well-tempered room that he doesn’t find in hotel rooms, and he feels the silk sheets rub comfortably against him as he gently stirs.
He blinks a couple times to let his eyes adjust to the natural lighting seeping through the cracks of his blackout curtains that must have been closed haphazardly the night before by someone else, but he welcomes the calm and silent wake up alarm so he doesn’t stay in bed all day, even if it’s more than deserved.
He’s learned to live and function with the aftermath of Corruption, and he welcomes the consistent sluggishness as if he just woke from a nap that was too long. He pushes the comforter off of him and notices that his arms have already been wrapped and he’s in comfortable clothes, different from his usual Mafia attire. He doesn’t know which of his subordinates could have had the foresight to take all these extensive measures with him after Corruption, considering there is only one person who had experienced all stages of Corruption with him in the past. The only one who could truly resolve it.
He shakes the person from his mind, happy to be rid of him after their one-time only reunion the previous night. It was only under the circumstances of having a common enemy, and Chuuya would make sure to not miss his next opportunity to eliminate his former partner and rid himself of the perpetual headache that was Dazai Osamu.
Chuuya swings his legs over the edge of his bed and stands up, sauntering across his expansive bedroom and making his way toward the bathroom when he hears noise coming from the rest of his apartment. He stops in his tracks and spots his knife on his dresser, beside the neat stack of his folded jacket with his hat on top of it which he wore the night before. He quickly grabs it and quietly, slowly clicks his bedroom door open and stalks down his hallway.
As he trails closer Chuuya determines the sound is originating from the kitchen, hearing the clanging of pots and pans together and against various surfaces in his kitchen. While the other executives surely has chefs and cleaning staff and Chuuya could very well afford them too, he decided against hiring any for the fact that he wanted to be fully self-sufficient despite his hectic and fast-paced lifestyle, and he had come to terms that he is a control freak over his own spaces and belongings. He also had to be careful with who came in and out of his safehouses, considering he had surely turned into a feared and targeted man over the years from his impressive work.
Chuuya reaches the end of the hallway and he pauses just before it, electing to attempt to gauge the intruder’s identity and take care of them before they had the chance to find him out, let alone try to defend themselves. He veers his head out slightly to gauge their position, and he sees that their back is to them which gives him the advantage.
He steps out and pulls his arm back to attack when he realizes who the intruder is, and he can’t help but let out a noise of surprise upon seeing him.
Dazai is standing in the middle of Chuuya’s kitchen, leaning over his stove as something sizzles.
“Chuuya! I didn’t exp-“
He is cut off after Chuuya quickly gets over his momentary shock, throwing the knife directly at his face. Dazai easily sidesteps it, which results in only the end of a strand of hair being cut off frustratingly enough for Chuuya. The knife sticks firmly into the cupboard door that Dazai was previously standing in front of, and Dazai glances over at it with a smug grin.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing here?” Chuuya spits, balling his hands into fists, ready to have another go at Dazai.
“Oh, has Chuuya forgotten? I’m your sole caretaker for all post-Corruption affairs,” Dazai muses, easily pulling the knife out of the cupboard.
“That was before you decided to turn traitor.” Chuuya easily fires back. “I have people who would’ve brought me back here. What happened to the rendevous point?”
“Do you now?” Dazai raises his eyebrows. “As if you leaked this address out to anyone, the only ones who know of this location are Mori and me, and I seriously doubt that Mori was raring to drag your near lifeless body back here, let alone waiting for you.”
Chuuya launches himself told Dazai, winding his arm back again, this time with a fist. Dazai doesn’t move, standing still until he’s within reach and he catches Chuuya’s fist in his hand, albeit without grace as it makes his hand hit the wall behind it. Dazai winces for only a split second until a smirk replaces the pain.
“You’re still so predictable,” Dazai shakes his head. “It’s like I said last night, I know your every move, Chuuya. I also remember how weak you are after Corruption, when you go back to being the weak teenager that you were when you first joined the Mafia.”
Chuuya scowls at his words, knowing that everything he’s saying is true. Chuuya feels that he isn’t at his full strength yet, and he doesn’t feel like destroying his apartment surely beating Dazai to death with his bare hands but not without Dazai putting up his own defense in the process. He knows that Dazai wouldn’t be fighting back out of self-preservation, but just to spite Chuuya and cause as much damage as possible before he succumbed.
“How did you get in here? What makes you think you can make yourself comfortable here?” Chuuya steps away from Dazai, allowing him to straighten himself.
“Like I said before,” Dazai replies. “You keep your spare under the doormat like when you were 17 and you first moved in.”
Chuuya decides that he’s going to change that as soon as Dazai is far gone so he doesn’t get anymore surprise visits from the bastard.
“Well, I’m back here and alive, so you can get the hell out.”
“So unhospitable Chuuya, I’m just a guest who’s just earning their keep for being so gracious to allow me to spend the night by cooking one of your favorites, Western breakfast.” Dazai whines, and Chuuya feels a headache coming on.
“Yeah, maybe when I was a teenager,” Chuuya rubs his temple, but his resolve is diminishing when the smell of bacon and pancakes grows stronger in his senses. “Are you stalling for time so your Agency buddies can get here and take me out?”
“Why, that’s no fun. I wouldn’t be able to kill you myself then, one of them would get in way and take that pleasure away from me.” Dazai then turns his back to Chuuya and redirects his attention toward the stove. Chuuya can clearly read the lines behind his answer, picking up on some sort of promise and respect of privacy. Turns out Dazai did develop some morals in their years apart. “Besides, this is still the only thing I can cook without burning the building down.”
“Clearly, since you’re still so damn lanky and most likely don’t cook for yourself,” it doesn’t come out with as much malice as Chuuya intends. It almost all gets redirected at himself that he’s looking up and down Dazai too many times after already having made his point. Dazai peers over his shoulder and Chuuya looks away a millisecond too late, cursing the both of them as he flinches at being caught.
“Checking me out Chuuya, hmm?” Chuuya glances back and sees a shit-eating grin on his face, and he almost decides to disregard his living space anyway and murder Dazai in the most painful and gruesome way possible. Chuuya lets out a yelp of protest and Dazai waves him off, “calm down. Your temper hasn’t improved any. Go get washed up, the food is almost ready.”
Chuuya remains right behind Dazai for a couple more moments to calm down and he finally relents, unclenching his fists and relaxing his shoulders. He trudges out of the kitchen and back down the hallway and he hates how strong the effect of Dazai is on him still, how he rile him up and then qualm him in only a matter of seconds. How Chuuya still allows himself to turn to putty in his hands at the very chance.
Chuuya knows that logically and historically Dazai is the only one who could’ve gotten him back home in one piece and known the proper measures to help Chuuya fully recover from Corruption. He had never disclosed it to the Mafia infirmary or to the workers a treatment plan given that Dazai was always there to disable it and handle the fallout, then he never bothered after Dazai because nobody else would have been able to prevent his fate and he had accepted the possibility. He also knew that Dazai could have easily dropped him off at the door of the Mafia building and he would’ve been moved to the infirmary, but that had only happened once.
The headache had fully emerged from all of overthinking, so Chuuya makes sure to take a pain reliever before joining the other human-sized headache currently in his kitchen. He comes back out and there is a plate on the island in front of an empty seat, and Dazai is sitting across from it, eating… canned crab?
“Where the hell did you find that?” Chuuya settles into the empty seat, observing Dazai’s plate more closely.
“It was in the back of your cupboard, probably from the last time I was here about four years ago give or take.” Chuuya scrunches his nose in disgust, knowing it wasn’t spoiled thanks to all of the preservatives, but knowing it was still 4 year old crab nonetheless. He also felt his face slightly burn at the realization that he seemed to have missed a spot in his erasure of Dazai’s presence in his apartment, which had been done in a drunken state fueled with both anger and heartbreak, but Chuuya doesn’t care to disclose the latter sentiment.
“Maybe it’s festered enough to be poisonous and kill you.”
“We can only dream, Chuuya. It would be a kind death coming from you.”
“It would take a lot less effort than finding a woman as unhinged as you are.”
They sit in a… silence as they both eat, Dazai moreso picking at the crab with his chopsticks that is both out of disdain due to his perpetual lack of appetite and probably also from the lack of taste due to sitting for literal years. Chuuya doesn’t know how to feel about the lingering feelings of normalcy settling the longer they sit, and he wants to lash out and destroy it, keep up the hatred and fully notify Dazai of his resentment and feelings of betrayal.
He has so many questions, but he doesn’t know where to start, how to start, if to start.
“Why are you still here, Dazai?” Chuuya decides that’s all he can manage for now, possibly forever.
There is pause, but Dazai stops poking at his food, putting down his chopsticks and resting his chin on that free hand. He looks up at Chuuya with an earnest look, and it’s suffocating.
“Because I made a promise to always look after you in these situations.” Chuuya can’t look at Daai anymore, so he looks down at his food that isn’t appetizing anymore. “These situations are so few and far in between, it’s almost as if it takes more effort to break this promise unlike all the other ones. You know how lazy I am.”
Chuuya lets out a sharp laugh, but it’s void of any humor. “You are very lazy.” He agrees. “But what of the broken ones? Were they not effortful?”
“They were, but then I made one promise that was more important.” Chuuya feels as if he’s being torn apart all over again, and he regrets ever asking a thing. He does not know why this still mattered so much to him, he has surely moved on from Dazai’s actions. He never forgets, and he certainly never offers any forgiveness, but forgiveness is never for the wronged, only for the perpetrator. He will never give Dazai that mercy, but he finds himself still giving him respite.
Chuuya doesn’t know how long they— or he sits in silence but when he comes to his plate is gone from in front of his eyes and Dazai is standing at his side with his tan trenchcoat on. He is holding an expression of detachment, but Chuuya can also read Dazai well enough to know it is feigned.
“I think it’s best I take my leave before people at the Agency come looking for me.” Dazai nods. Chuuya wants to say something to him, but he’s unsure of what; To thank him, ask more questions, ask him to stay? The decision is made for him as Dazai shoves his hands into his pockets and turns on his heel, showing himself out. “Be well, Chuuya. Until we meet again.”
Chuuya watches as Dazai exits, the door slamming shut behind him. He wants to chase after him, but he’s unable to move, letting Dazai slip through his fingers once again without a chance to argue or yell.