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Verlaine had never had that great of a memory, but unfortunately he was perfectly able to recall every detail of the saddest moments in his life.
The suffering he had gone through in the laboratory was probably his oldest memory, immediately followed by fragments of faces, voices, colors.
He also remembered plenty of times he had seen Chuuya, his little, innocent brother, being tortured. He remembered his screams, his tears, and the pain that once he had felt too.
Another terrible memory was the night he and Rimbaud had run away with Chuuya, but Verlaine’d had other plans: the sound of that gunshot still haunted Verlaine even though it had been years since that night, slowly leading him to lose more and more of his sleep.
Then, Rimbaud’s death. He had passed away in his arms, with a smile on his face, as Verlaine cried for the first time in his life. Rimbaud had sacrificed everything only to see him one more time and apologize, even though he had nothing to feel guilty about.
After being defeated and having lost the only person who had always been kind to him and had loved him unconditionally, Verlaine’s heart had become even harder to break. He had accepted to work with the Port Mafia he used to despise, and he was now going strong on two years of being miserable.
Verlaine could afford the most expensive suite in Yokohama, or he could kill every single member of the Port Mafia and run away, but he doesn’t. He lives in the same basement he’s been in for the previous two years, only going out when he needs to and never speaking to anyone unless it’s necessary.
He has his favorite people, of course. He gets along well with a young girl called Gin, whom he probably likes because she never asks invasive questions. Despite not having an ability, she learns fastly, and Verlaine has no doubt that one day she is going to take his place and become the Queen of Killers.
Gin has a brother called Ryuunosuke, but while Verlaine genuinely likes the girl he can’t stand her brother. He always complains, and Verlaine can never get him to do anything. The boy’s mind is still a mystery to Verlaine, despite having had to deal with him for months.
But of course, Verlaine has an all-time favorite Port Mafia member. He is the one he actually talks to sometimes, the one who gets him. The guy is Chuuya, who is now eighteen and probably Verlaine’s only friend. Maybe Chuuya only talks to Verlaine because they’re brothers, or maybe he’s started to genuinely like the guy, but Verlaine doesn’t care about the reason why they get along. Two years ago he had different — and wrong — means, but the end never changed: wanting to protect Chuuya.
Verlaine managed to take care of his brother for two years. Chuuya was one of the few selected people that Verlaine let visit him, and the only one who could temporarily help him forget everything he didn’t want to remember. Verlaine, in exchange, knew how to help Chuuya with his attitude, his breakdowns over his inhumanity and obviously his special ability. Unfortunately, to exploit his ability to its full potential, Chuuya was forced to pair up with another guy, extremely annoying in both Chuuya and Verlaine’s opinion.
His name was Osamu Dazai, just a couple of months younger than Chuuya but already a Port Mafia executive. He was the boss’ right hand man and he always — always — had a plan. Verlaine tried his best to deal with Dazai, even though he always lost his patience by the end of the day. He couldn’t even imagine how stressful it had to be for Chuuya, who was forced to work with Dazai every single day.
Or at least, every single day until now.
Verlaine is in his room in the basement, as usual. There aren’t a lot of people who visit him just because, so he spends almost every evening alone. It’s late at night today and Verlaine has already decided not to waste any further time and go to sleep. He usually falls asleep pretty quickly, but tonight the mafia members seem to be even more chaotic than usual.
For the first fifteen or so minutes Verlaine doesn’t react. It’s not the first time his coworkers stay up late — even though they usually don’t make too much noise — and he believes they’re going to finally shut up at any moment.
When the bustle only increases, though, Verlaine makes up his mind and decides he’s had enough. He wears his work suit and he marches to the door, ready to yell at the responsible for the chaos.
Still, Verlaine is left speechless when he doesn’t see anyone. He can still hear the noise, and now it’s much louder, but it doesn’t come from upstairs. At this point he is more curious than angry, so he follows the voices. He finds himself in a corridor — a pretty meaningless place, but at least there are people who can give him explanations. Verlaine makes his way to the small group of people and clears his throat.
Three pairs of eyes fix their gazes on Verlaine. They immediately recognize him and stop running around with their hands full and yelling orders at each other.
A young lady approaches Verlaine. She’s probably the leader of the other two, since she is the only one who isn’t wearing the standard suit. Her hair is blonde and despite the visible insecurity in her eyes she embraces her role as an authority.
“Mister Verlaine,” she greets him, “What can we do for you?”
“First of all, tell me your name,” he says, “And then explain to me what is going on here. I keep hearing unpleasant noises that keep me from sleeping.”
The girl does her best not to show the surprised look on her face and stays professional. Verlaine lowkey appreciates it.
“My name is Higuchi Ichiyo,” she states, “And these are two subordinates of mine. As for the chaos you’re hearing, we unfortunately don’t know much. All we know is that someone important went missing and we don’t know whether they are going to be back or not.”
“Who told you that?” Verlaine sharply asks.
“It was a public announcement the boss shared,” Higuchi replies, “If you want to know more about it, he will surely tell you, mister Verlaine.”
Verlaine nods and walks away, leaving the small group alone. They immediately begin to chat again, but he doesn’t care. Now his goal is to find the person who can give him an explanation, and that man is none other than the Port Mafia’s boss, Mori Ougai.
Verlaine doesn’t think of himself as a friend of Mori. He doesn’t expect Mori to even consider him an equal, but they respect each other. Verlaine has quite a reputation of his own and for all the time he’s been in the Port Mafia he has never done anything to piss Mori off. If he wants an explanation, he’s going to have it.
Verlaine knocks on Mori’s office’s door. Despite the common sense of panic, Verlaine is sure that Mori is handling things relatively well and is still in his office. As expected, Mori tells him to come in, which Verlaine does.
“Paul Verlaine,” Mori mumbles when he sees who is entering his office, “I had thought about the possibility of seeing you tonight, but I had marked it as unlikely almost immediately. I’m guessing you haven’t heard the news yet.”
Mori is clearly unhappy. He usually hides his true thoughts behind a mask of cheerfulness, but he dropped it tonight. There must be something really important going on.
“In fact,” Verlaine nods, “Would you do me the favor of telling me?”
“I would rather keep this to myself and only a few other people, but unfortunately it’s not possible,” Mori frowns. He pauses and then sighs, “You would find out anyway. Osamu Dazai has left the Mafia.”
Verlaine has to remind himself of the neutral expression he is supposed to mantain. It’s hard to keep a straight face, but he manages to speak without sounding like he’s freaking out.
“Are you sure he isn’t just trying to kill himself again?” Verlaine asks, “Maybe this time he finally succeeded.”
“I’m sure,” Mori’s voice is slightly hostile now, “He packed his things and there’s nothing left in his apartment, or container should I say. Nonetheless, he took his stuff - not that he owned many prized possessions anyway, blew up Chuuya’s car and left without a single word. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have his mess to deal with.”
Verlaine takes the hint and leaves the office. Both Mori and him have other problems to fix. While Mori’s consist in basically restructuring the whole Port Mafia and trying to find Dazai, Verlaine’s job is technically easier but morally heavy. He prefers to face it now though. He doesn’t want anything bad to happen.
He starts walking through the building, looking for faces he recognizes. Specifically, he’s searching for Chuuya. His brother surely knows that Dazai left and is probably under shock. Verlaine is well aware that the two couldn’t stand each other, but he thought they cared about each other at least a little. Probably Chuuya considered him something close to a friend, and Verlaine knows how strongly Chuuya is able to love.
Verlaine speeds up, checking every room he hears noise from. As he is walking in a corridor, his attention is stolen by loud voices and something that sounds like glass breaking. He enters the room and he sees a group of people chatting and laughing.
Among them, there’s Chuuya. He has his right arm wrapped around a younger guy’s shoulders and they’re both smiling. Verlaine recognizes the boy as Ryuunosuke Akutagawa and he makes his way to his brother.
“Verlaine!” Chuuya happily exclaims as soon as he sees him, “Are you here to celebrate with us?”
“You’re drunk,” Verlaine points out.
The whole room smells like alcohol. Probably nobody in there is sober, especially Chuuya. He and Akutagawa seem to be holding onto each other trying not to fall to the ground.
“Of course I am!” Chuuya’ smile only widens, “The bastard left. This is the best thing that has ever happened to me since I was fifteen!”
“You shouldn’t be partying,” Verlaine frowns, crossing his arms, “This is going to cause you so many problems. Dazai probably knew that as well.”
“I don’t wanna ever hear his name again,” Akutagawa drunkenly chimes in, “He is not here anymore. I hope he finally dies.”
“I hope he finally dies,” Chuuya repeats, laughing.
Verlaine grabs Chuuya by the arm and drags him away. Akutagawa quickly loses balance and falls on the floor, which Verlaine would find amusing in any other context but this. Now he and Chuuya aren’t in the center of the room anymore and nobody is paying attention to them.
“How can you be so happy?” Verlaine asks, “Aren’t you angry he left you?”
“Not even the slightest bit,” Chuuya shakes his head, “Why would I be? I hate him.”
“You and I both know that isn’t true,” Verlaine coldly replies, “You care about him. I’m just worried.”
“Well, you fucking shouldn’t be,” Chuuya snaps, “It’s none of your business. Don’t break the mood.”
“I’m your brother,” Verlaine starts, “It’s my duty to…”
“You’re not my brother!” Chuuya loses his patience, “I don’t have siblings. I don’t have parents. I don’t have a family, and neither do you. You decided that I’m your brother to feel less alone.”
“Chuuya,” Verlaine is beginning to rile up as well, but Chuuya keeps going off.
“I hate Dazai,” he marks his words, “I’m glad he left. I don’t need to pretend like he and I were friends, or a family, or whatever. You’re the one who wants me to be sad. You think it’s unfair that I’m happy my partner left me while yours fucking died in your arms and you cried over his dead body.”
Chuuya’s expression immediately freezes. Even though he’s drunk he realizes he’s gone too far. Yet, his pride kicks in and doesn’t take anything back. He keeps staring at Verlaine, who is showing the blankest expression ever.
“Well then,” Verlaine says, his voice filled with hatred, “Good thing you’ve had better luck than me. Hate Dazai as much as you want. Get wasted. Enjoy your party.”
Verlaine turns around and marches out of the room. Chuuya doesn’t chase after him.
***
It’s not the first time Verlaine loses sleep because of the feelings. He should be used to it, but the guild that devours his soul is too rough to ignore. He knows Chuuya didn’t mean to slam the truth in his face, but he also knows that everything Chuuya said is right.
He never realized — or admitted — that Chuuya and Dazai reminded him of when he was young and the tragic, majestic story of him and Rimbaud had just begun. A living calamity and their partner who is convinced they’re a human isn’t your everyday story after all. And Rimbaud was the only person who always trusted Verlaine and believed in him, even after Verlaine betrayed and shot him.
Verlaine bitterly smirked. Rimbaud’s last moments would never stop tormenting Verlaine, would they? His last gift, his last words, his last smile. At first Verlaine didn’t understand why Rimbaud had been so sweet even on the verge of death, then he realized.
Rimbaud didn’t see him as perfect because he was a genetically modified god. He thought Verlaine was the most precious thing in the world because he was in love with him. It’s the only explanation Verlaine finds, and he knows it’s true. Rimbaud never actually did anything to hide his feelings, Verlaine was just so focused on himself that he never understood. The contempt he used to feel for himself overwhelmed every other emotion, every other thought, including the little voice in his head that whispered “you too are able to be loved.”
Verlaine came up with the conclusion shortly after Rimbaud’s death. He was still staring at the ground, as his tears ran down his cheeks. This time Rimbaud was lost forever, and Verlaine never had the chance to tell him that he loved him back.
This was what finally broke him. After the only person who had ever cared about him died, Verlaine began to feel more and more empty every day. He agreed to join the mafia to at least be close to Chuuya, who had already started to elaborate the events and forgive him. Verlaine filled his days by training the new recruits, doing an excellent job and quickly earning fame and respect. It didn’t matter though, because every compliment or fearful look couldn’t make him feel half the emotions he went through whenever he seemed to glimpse the shadow of a long.haired man next to his own.
The truth was, Verlaine had secretly learned to build a wall that protected all the feelings that had died in front of him. He thought he’d done a good job, but now Dazai has left his little brother and he can’t help but feel like it is that night again. He keeps seeing Rimbaud’s sad, yet smiling, face overlapping Dazai’s. He hates Dazai, but he loves Chuuya and he knows Chuuya loves Dazai.
He’s sure that Chuuya is going to be crushed by the news in the morning and he won’t be able to do much. The best help he will be capable of offering is to distract Chuuya and be available at any time. This means he won’t get many chances to give in to his own feelings from tomorrow, so he better do it now and quickly.
“I just hope he doesn’t end up like me,” Verlaine whispers, staring at his shadow in the dark room.
He is alone, but he doesn’t care. There is one minimal probability that Rimbaud isn’t really dead and is trapped in his own ability. Verlaine has waited years for Rimbaud to come back and he refuses to accept that he’s given up. Still, he has a secret, pretentious hope that, even if he can’t see Rimbaud, Rimbaud can see him. If that’s the case, Verlaine is always going to talk to himself as if he was having a conversation with Rimbaud. He does it because at least, if Rimbaud is really there, he will know that Verlaine never forgot him and never will.
“You know, Chuuya has a beautiful soul,” Verlaine murmurs, “You guys did a great job with him. He feels so much. I always envied him, because he learned how to be a human. How to fit in. I thought I’d never be able to share an emotion with him, but now I know exactly what he’s going to feel. Sorrow. And loss.”
Probably Verlaine is just tired, sad, angry, overwhelmed. It can’t be happening and he knows it’s all in his mind.
Still, Verlaine’s left shoulder feels a little heavier as though a leaf had just rested on his shoulder. Rimbaud always did this as a small gesture of support, and this is what breaks Verlaine.
“Look at me,” Verlaine smiles through his sadness, “It’s the second time in my life I cry and both times it’s because of you.”
He is still trying to hold back his tears but he knows he can’t. His cry is silent and he takes deep breaths before speaking. He finds it comforting, but if Rimbaud is really listening he wants to sound secure in his words.
“Chuuya is going to miss him so much,” he says as soon as he has enough strength, “But I think I’ll always miss you more than anything.”
Tears are now rolling down his cheeks.
The light weight on his shoulder doesn’t go away.