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“Chuuya!”
He stiffens, his heel freezing as it settles on the ground to the shout of his own name.
He expects the boisterous voice of Albatross to catch him somewhere. He'll get startled and then he’ll sigh in irritation while the other laughs at him. He would always be lurking about headquarters, waiting to pick up Chuuya and escort him into a brand new sports car he acquired and talk excitedly about the specs, nothing that Chuuya hadn't paid much attention to at the time. Albatross was the ultimate chatterbox.
He regrets tuning out. Chuuya can almost unearth the echoes of Albatross's imparting knowledge whenever Chuuya finds a vehicle passing by. It's simply not the same without an audible gasp followed by the urging for the redhead to look, tone mimicking a child finding a toy they'd love their parents to buy for them.
“Slug, have you finally gone deaf?”
It’s not Albatross. The redhead has to remind himself he’s dead. It’s Dazai who calls and Chuuya swallows thickly before turning on his heel to glare at the brunet who is standing at the end of the hall. Chuuya calls out, “What do you want?”
“What’s this? Eager to serve me already?” Dazai goads with a playful smirk.
“I don’t have time for your shit," he grumbles in response, tiredness bleeding into his tone more than spite.
“You certainly have time to stare at a wall.”
“Fuck off,” Chuuya bites back as he spins and begins to walk off.
A clearing of the throat. “I didn’t permit you to leave. Bad dog.” The redhead’s teeth grind together as he fastens his pace, not bothering to respond. A quick set of footsteps follow him. “Now you’re ignoring me? This won’t do, Chuuya!”
Chuuya groans, hunching his shoulders as he finds Dazai’s pouty face beside him, the brunet caught up in mere seconds. Through gritted teeth, he implores, “Will you leave me the fuck alone?”
“Come have a drink with me, Ango, and Odasaku.”
Chuuya blinks and slows down to a complete stop. He stares at Dazai, expecting a mirthful smirk and some playful tone, saying, "Just kidding! You think anyone would want to babysit you?"
But Dazai is staring at him expectantly, his visible eye wide with something akin to hopeful. Chuuya carefully asks, “You want me to do what?”
A weary exhale flows from Dazai's lips. He runs a hand through his bangs. “It’s an invitation, Slug. Catch up already.”
An invitation to drink. With Dazai. And his asshole friends. Well, Chuuya’s never actually met his friends, but anyone who willingly associates with Dazai must be the exact brand of insufferable to hang out with him.
“Like I’d drink with you!”
"I see Ane-san's lessons on courtesy have failed."
"Don’t act like I don’t know what you’re doing.”
The brunet’s eye widens a bit before it's carefully blank. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I don’t need anyone’s fucking pity. Least of all from you,” Chuuya murmurs before he walks off, hands in his pockets.
The footfalls behind him are empty and his heart lurches to fill his shadow in the absence of his partner.
If you close the door, the night could last forever
Leave the sunshine out, and say hello to never
He thought very long and hard about this. There was constant debate between a multitude of reasons why this was a terrible idea and then the stellar ultimatum of ‘fuck it, I’ll do it’ as he was dressing himself to leave and while he walked on the way there, but his train of thought derails when he’s outside of the location. Chuuya ends up wandering in front of Bar Lupin, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He burns holes into the sign with his eyes, his feet rooted to the pavement.
What in the hell is he doing here? This is stupid. He doesn’t even like being around Dazai, so why did he bother coming here?
He shuffles on his feet, turning back to scurry a few paces before he groans to himself and marches toward the door. He’s in need of alcohol and logically, this is the quickest way right now. Beyond that, there doesn’t have to be a purpose.
When he steps inside, he’s met with stairs and he blinks, taking in the coffee-colored wood. He descends the steps, but around half-way, he halts upon hearing faint laughter. Faint laughter that’s familiar.
Dazai.
Chuuya’s hands begin to itch. He doesn’t need to be here, does he?
It’s just awkward to show up right after vehemently denying Dazai. And he sounded childish doing it too. He cringes internally still from the memory of what transpired.
Why would he assume Dazai’s pitying him? He doesn’t know, but ever since the aftermath of defeating Verlaine, Chuuya has been trying to get back to normal. Everyone stares at him funny however, and it makes Chuuya’s skin crawl. They all look sadly at him, but the ginger is brushing those looks off. He is trying desperately to return to normal.
It’s proving to be impossible.
He swears he can hear his comrades, his friends, calling to him sometimes. Every time he turns, it’s someone that isn’t them and he blinks back tears to remind himself that they’re not here.
They will never be here.
He sighs dejectedly, about to turn around and flee the scene before he bumps into someone. He staggers back with a gasp, about to catch himself with his Ability when a hand grips his arm to steady him.
“Whoa there. Are you okay?”
Chuuya sees none other than Oda Sakunosuke. He’s gazing down at Chuuya in mild concern as the redhead shakes his arm free. He grumbles, “I was fine. Didn’t need your help.”
“I see,” Oda replies, stepping aside. “Apologies, Chuuya-san.”
“Don’t call me that. You’re older. It’s weird,” the teenager reasons.
“Odasaku, what took you so long– Oh,” Dazai’s chipper voice drops when he gazes up the stairs. Chuuya freezes, cursing internally. He whips his head to meet Dazai’s distant stare. “I didn’t think you’d meet the bridge-dwelling troll here. Well, he’s more like a goblin.”
Chuuya’s immediately incensed. “You’re a dick and I was just leaving! Go fuck yourselves!”
Dazai’s dimples show before he breaks out into a laugh. “You just got here. You clearly took my offer. Odasaku, catch him!”
“Roger. Apologies, Chuuya-kun,” Oda says, grabbing the redhead and carrying him down the stairs. Chuuya kicks and hits Oda’s back with his fists, screaming the whole time. He can obliterate this man, but he holds back his strength. It totally has nothing to do with the fact that he’s Dazai’s friend.
He just doesn’t seem that bad. Plus, he listened to Chuuya and switched honorifics.
“What are you two doing?” another voice enters the fray as soon as Chuuya is planted on a barstool. He turns to glance at the owner of the voice, Sakaguchi Ango, sitting to his left. “I believe it’s not mutual, but for me, I can say it’s a pleasure to meet you, Chuuya-san.”
The redhead exhales tiredly. “Don’t call me that, nerd.”
Ango’s lips form into a thin line as he hears Dazai snicker and Oda snort in the background. He pushes up his glasses and nurses his glass of what seems to be tomato juice. “Duly noted.”
“Don’t let the shortie bully you, Ango! He just gets cranky whenever he's shy!”
“Who says I’m shy, asshat?”
“You’re the asshat. You and your stupid hat,” Dazai mutters with a gleeful smile.
“Fuck you,” Chuuya grunts. The bartender wordlessly slides a wine glass full of red wine to Chuuya and the teenager raises a brow. “What? How’d you…?”
“Dazai ordered it for you,” Ango explains, ignoring Dazai’s whine of denial.
Chuuya stares at it, plucking the stem to take a sip. It warms him up and he withdraws with a gentle sigh, decompressing. Everyone else watches out of the corner of their eyes.
“Well, what the hell do you guys talk about?” Chuuya starts, the discomfort of being in an unfamiliar environment coming back full force.
“Adult things that are too much for your tiny brain to contain,” Dazai answers easily. He adds a couple of pats onto Chuuya’s hat to really drive the point home. “It’s okay though, Chuuya! Just listen.”
“Asshole,” the redhead grumbles, but he takes the advice. He listens the whole time to their long winded conversation. They don’t really ignore him however. Oda and Ango ask him questions occasionally, mostly to check up on him as he drinks the wine, pretty much going for the whole bottle at this point.
Dazai’s laugh is pleasant to his ears, and that’s how he knows he should probably stop. This will be his final glass.
All the people are dancing and they're having such fun
I wish it could happen to me
Past Oda’s shoulder, right by the stairs is a small ball of light. And Chuuya’s mouth falls open as he inhales sharply; so painfully he breathes as if he’s taking in the last breath of each loved one he’s lost. He sees them, not ghostly or mangled or in a faint glow. Just them, the Flags, beaming as a memory he cherishes. He’s frozen as they descend the stairs.
They love me like I was a brother
They protect me, listen to me
"Hey, Chuuya! Finally catching a drink with you," Albatross greets, lowering his sunglasses to wink.
An IV drip is wheeled along the wooden floor, scratching the polish in a squeak as it stops. Doc steadies his posture before sitting on an empty chair near the door with the silent assistance of Iceman, who only offers a curt nod as he saunters off to a wall further away from the group to light a cigarette. Doc watches their quiet companion with a disapproving gaze before that gaze is directed on Chuuya. "I don't need to do a standard checkup to understand you're looking worse for wear."
The redhead stiffens, his chest heaving as he struggles to breathe. The gruesome memory of Doc's body beckons his mind and he refuses to look Albatross in the eye. For the white lie he told.
Doc was saved.
But that was only to give Albatross peace of mind as he drew his last breath, believing he had done a noble deed before his death.
Chuuya felt like a monster for lying to him, and now the phantoms are materializing to make him pay.
"You guys are…," he stops at the precipice of uttering the word dead. The finality and cold sense of the word is what stops him. He certainly doesn't know what to say, because saying the word ' gone' doesn't lessen the pain or make it easier to phrase his disbelief. Chuuya's finding precious lives that were taken away to horrific ends standing before him as if none of that happened. He eventually murmurs with a lifted shaking finger, "You guys can't be here."
“Your face has never looked worse, Chuuya dear,” Lippmann comments, a concerned lilt in his tone. “You haven’t been following the self-care routine I’ve given you? Your beauty will waste away at this rate and I can’t let that happen on my watch.”
The redhead shuts his eyes in lieu of rolling them as he groans. More tears spill regardless. “Who gives a shit about that right now? You guys are here. That’s impossible.”
“We never left,” says Piano Man.
Chuuya’s eyes fly open as he voices his debasement, “What?”
“We do watch over you sometimes,” Piano Man explains as he places a hand on Chuuya’s shoulder. He weeps under its weight. The man offers him a sympathetic smile. “And sometimes, we’re busy playing billiards or doing our own thing.”
Chuuya wipes his eyes, blinking up at him. He scans every single one of the Flags, spread out around the bar before him. “How’s watching over me work?”
“It’s pretty much like observing you. We mostly do it around headquarters,” Ice Man suddenly says in a blow of smoke.
This brings up another question as Chuuya furrows his brow in concern. “You guys don’t watch me all the time though, right? ‘Cause that’s creepy.”
“Hell no. I just told you we have other interests,” Piano Man says with a chuckle.
“I saw you shower once,” Albatross blurts, smirking afterwards while waggling his eyebrows.
“Tross,” Lippman chides.
Chuuya flushes. “Fucking pervert!”
“Only kidding, sheesh! Ignore Doc and this guy though,” Albatross loudly whispers with a jab of his thumb toward Lippman, who scoffs. “You’re looking good already!”
The redhead rolls his eyes with a small smile gracing his lips. “I missed you guys so much.”
They all widen their eyes, ceasing activity for a moment before they accept the tenderness into their own features.
“We’re not going anywhere, Chuuya.”
They dug me my very own garden
Gave me sunshine, made me happy
“It seems he’s out,” Ango observes in a gentle voice.
Dazai exhales softly through his nose as his gaze flicks over Chuuya. His arms and head are resting on the bartop. Even his cheek is mushed against the surface and it looks so innocent and childish that Dazai chuckles. “He’s such a pathetic lightweight. So vulnerable… I could draw on his face.”
Ango fixes Dazai with a sharp look as he pushes up his glasses. “I advise not doing that, please.”
“It’s not like I have a marker at this moment,” Dazai pouts. Then he brightens up, visibly indicating he stumbled on an idea. “I can ask our lovely barkeep.”
“Definitely don’t think he would like that. Besides,” Oda trails off to glance at the little smile on Chuuya’s sleeping face. It’s the most serene he’s appeared in months. Oda continues in a hush; an indirect plea for reconsideration, "it looks like he's having a nice dream."
The mischievous smirk Dazai has ebbs away in an instant at those words. The brunet’s focus on the sleeping teen is something Oda can relate to when he checks after his five kids. The warmth in Dazai’s unbandaged eye spills fondness like the first sunray to shine after a storm.
Oh, someday I know someone will look into my eyes and say,
“Hello. You’re my very special one.”
"Right. He must be running in his sleep," he muses, relenting the rest of his dog insult as he reaches out and carefully brushes an unruly tuft of red hair that hangs over Chuuya’s eyes. Ango and Oda simultaneously arch their brows at the gesture. Dazai scoffs after retreating his hand back to his own lap. “His ugly mane was bothering me.”
Although the two men are clearly amused, they don't comment on the brunet's actions. For the warning glare from Dazai, Oda and Ango silently swear to also not comment on Dazai draping his coat over Chuuya. Instead, they pull back into their previous conversation, much quieter for Chuuya's sake.
But if you close the door, I never have to see the day again.