Work Text:
The rough wind sliced against his skin as he peered out into the rotten, overpopulated slums. He had once resided in that dog-eat-dog world and believed he would die as one. A part of him honestly still thought so.
He snorted as he stared down at his own black, gloved hands. To this day, he vividly recalled how he encountered that tall, string bean who wore such funky-looking bandages around his body in these very slums. He hadn’t noticed it at the time because he had been more preoccupied with other matters, but the way that single, lonely chocolate brown eye was carved out of emptiness struck a chord with him. It somehow deeply resonated with him on an unexpected level he didn’t think was possible. Like it was calling out to him. Perhaps that was why, even though he had been coerced to cooperate with that flirtatious, flippant bastard and manipulated to the very end, he ended up fondly looking back on those memories.
“What a mess.” He muttered under his breath, as he was referring more to himself.
He noticed the lifeless beggars and the decrepit homeless people who sat in the shade, trying to find an inkling of comfort. It wasn’t hard to hear the naive children, innocently giggling as they dashed along the haphazard streets. If only he knew how his life would alter at that single moment.
“What are you looking at, Chuuya?” An impish voice echoed in his brain.
“Nothing. Buzz off, you skinny twig.” Chuuya scoffed, knowing right away that it was Dazai.
However, like in usual Dazai fashion, he giggled and sauntered over, poking his cheek. “You couldn’t do that even if you tried.”
“Oi!” Chuuya lightly swatted Dazai’s hand away from him.
“Someone is touchy.” Dazai deviously smirked.
“No one gave you permission to get close.” Chuuya solemnly frowned.
“But I’m always right next. Right besides you.” Dazai mischievously said with a triumphant grin.
“Shut up, string bean.” Chuuya retorted at Dazai’s irksome remark.
“Aww, at least call me a cute string bean!” Dazai cried out, feeling as if Chuuya wasn’t giving him enough credit.
Ignoring Dazai’s voice, Chuuya mindlessly kicked the air with his foot and sauntered off. He hated how he could get stupidly sentimental, and yet he couldn’t stop his feet from dragging itself over here. He should have known better as he was serving in the Port Mafia. In fact, he was the boss of the Port Mafia. But he refused to kill his heart off, as that was the only piece of him, which was even remotely human. Now that he thought about it, what would Dazai think of that? He could imagine Dazai bombasting him, blasting his ears off and making his blood boil with a string of slanders that grated against his ears. Too bad he would never get to hear that annoying ingrate’s alluring voice anymore.
“Where are you going? Doing some more sightseeing?” Dazai curiously asked as he followed right behind Chuuya.
However, Chuuya didn’t respond as he strolled along the hustling city, jammed packed with a cacophony of incongruous sounds, ranging from the blowing horns of the ships to the weak, low rumbles of every cars’ engines.
“Aww, what’s with the adorable scowl? Are you trying to play hard-to-get again?” Dazai chuckled as he pinched Chuuya’s cheek.
Chuuya slightly flinched at the close contact, but he only clicked his tongue against his teeth. Dazai loved to mess around with him when he was in deep thought. If only he could kill the bastard for himself, then he would teach him a lesson.
“Don’t you ever shut your mouth? It's irritating as hell.” Chuuya scoffed, not stopping in his walk.
“...Do you really want me to do that?” Dazai blinked his eyes several times and sadly stared at Chuuya, who was avoiding his gaze.
Chuuya was about to protest, but someone unexpectedly tapped his shoulder, which made him freeze up for a moment. Fuck. How did he totally let his guard down? He was the fucking boss. He had to be more attentive, more alert. Otherwise, he would fucking die. Luckily, though, he recognized the floral scent, as it was a close ally of his.
“Kyouka.” Chuuya turned his head around.
“Hello, boss.” She professionally greeted him with those cold, blue eyes.
“Little Kyouka got a one-up on you!” Dazai mirthfully giggled.
Chuuya clenched his fist as he gritted his teeth together to prevent himself from beating the shit out of Dazai right now. That lousy string chord was lucky Kyouka was here or he wouldn’t hesitate.
Kyouka silently waited for Chuuya’s greeting and noticed Chuuya became upset and angry. Did something happen to him earlier? Or was she interrupting him doing something?
“Boss?” Kyouka addressed him once more.
Chuuya snapped out of his inner thoughts, then cleared his throat, “Yo. What’s up?”
“You missed out on today’s meeting. I left the notes in your office, but you weren’t there.” Kyouka reported to him.
Shit. There was a meeting today, wasn’t there? Chuuya never liked being at those meetings. He recalled how Dazai, the former Port Mafia boss, used to run those meetings with a stern, solemn face. He never comprehended as to why Dazai, who once cracked morbid jokes, transformed into an even more forlorn, melancholy person than before. He wished Dazai would have consulted with him or at least talked to him, but Dazai, at some point, erected a fortified wall around himself, shutting everyone out. Including him. That part hurt him a lot. Whatever happened to them being that fearsome Twin Dark pair? Did none of that mean a thing to Dazai anymore? He had no idea. He couldn’t even ask anymore and find out even if he wanted to.
“Right. Sorry about that.” Chuuya apologized for his blunder.
Sitting in those meetings only brought on a seething pain that ripped into his soul and cracked his whole being in half. Most people would probably die of boredom, but he could only drown in his sorrowful, pitiful invisible tears. As boss, though, he could never show an ounce of weakness. He had to be strong. He had to be invincible. He had to be a resilient arrowhead that represented the Port Mafia.
“Not at all. I merely came to inform you.” Kyouka slightly bowed once more.
“Oooh, someone skipped out on their work~” Dazai poked fun at him, pointing out his blunder.
“Shut up, you string bean.” Chuuya muttered under his breath.
Kyouka, with a puzzled expression, looked up at Chuuya. “Did you say something, boss?”
She peered around them. In the middle of the street, crowded with people, she didn’t spot anyone close by or tailing Chuuya. Because of her job as an assassin, she was keenly aware of her surroundings, so she never once overlooked the environment. Odd. Was Chuuya just talking to himself?
Chuuya flinched at Kyouka’s voice, then cleared his throat, “Nothing. I’ll see you later.”
“Of course.” Kyouka nodded, then retreated as silently as she arrived.
“Hehe. You almost got caught!” Dazai burst into a light laughter as he spoke in a sing-song voice.
“All no thanks to you, you bastard.” Chuuya frowned at Dazai’s impudent comment.
He sighed about to continue in his walk until he heard loud electronic noises and fake shooting sounds coming from somewhere. He abruptly turned his head up to figure out the source before his eyes laid on a videogame arcade building.
He derisively chuckled with a sad frown. He was about to step forward in his black heels, but he stopped himself. How funny. He had played a silly fighting arcade game in which he got so fired up because of how he miserably lost to Dazai. He remembered the way Dazai acted so coy, but also haughty over his win, utilizing that chance to insult him in a backhanded manner.
Despite how Chuuya loathed his guts, he had to take his hat off to Dazai. That guy could come up with the most mind-boggling, batshit, and yet seemingly functional ideas that were pulled out of thin air. It was the weird way in which Dazai’s mind functioned that Chuuya had gotten used to, as he could tell what Dazai cooked up without him even uttering a single word. In fact, as much as it chagrined him, he highly respected Dazai for his unrelenting wits and ingenious brain. At least that was how things were between them for a long time.
“Oooh! Are you itching for a rematch? I can take you down anytime.” Dazai proudly egged Chuuya on.
“Hell no. I don’t want to hear you singing and dancing to your lame, dumbass victory lap.” Chuuya instantly refused, not letting himself be provoked by Dazai.
“Someone is too afraid to be beaten!” Dazai innocently rolled his eyes.
If only Chuuya could request a real rematch. He yearned for that more than anything in the world. If he had to give up his own soul and forfeit his own life to see him one more time, then he would. He wouldn’t hesitate to trek to the ends of the Earth, not caring what else he might have to leave behind. For Chuuya, he was his whole world; he was the one who smashed the chains around his heart; he was the one who accepted him as a human. But that was a mere delusional fantasy of his.
“Maybe.” Chuuya reluctantly conceded, but he said no more, which seemed to shut Dazai up.
Chuuya had no initial, specific destination in mind. But now that he was unintentionally revisiting these precious, nostalgic memories etched into his heart, he headed out to a very particular place. One that cemented his quirky yet tight knit relationship with Dazai.
He found himself at the seaside cliff where he had officially been ousted from the Sheep and eventually joined the Port Mafia. It was here Dazai playfully conversed with him as if it was another casual Sunday while he had been chugged into the rocks with his ass totally wet from the water. What a hilariously farcical image.
“What brings you back here?” Dazai asked as Chuuya stood in front of him with his back facing him.
“Don’t know. Just felt like it.” Chuuya forced himself to nonchalantly answer despite a part of his throat welling up with an itching dryness.
“Not cold standing here all by your lonesome self?” Dazai approached him, lightly tugging on that red scarf, which hung around Chuuya’s neck and laid over his black coat.
Chuuya blankly stared at Dazai who seemed so real, so warm, and so comforting. He longed for these moments that he could share with Dazai. Moments in which the world consisted of just the two of them and no one else.
“Not when you’re here with me.” Chuuya whispered as he stared up at Dazai’s annoyingly handsome, attractive gaze.
Chuuya wished he could have asked Dazai why even though it was pointless. Chuuya wished he could have said goodbye to Dazai even though it was no use. Chuuya wished he could have held Dazai’s hand one more time even though it was fruitless.
“I’m here as long as you want me to be.” Dazai, standing in front of him, wore that all too familiar impish smile as he had his hands tucked away in his coats’ pockets.
Chuuya openly cursed that abominable guy with all of his guts, but in reality, he actually loved that cute stubbornness and that lonesome smirk which adorned Dazai’s beautiful, charming face. He would do anything to protect that precarious, fragile spirit that had captured his heart. So, why wasn’t he allowed to?
Shit. He didn’t even know when the hell it happened, but he found himself craving Dazai's irritating, irresistible existence. He often found himself fretting over Dazai’s safety after a dangerous mission or panicking whether Dazai had eaten a proper meal. He internally laughed at himself. He was a fucking hopeless fool. If Dazai had ever consciously recognized that he thought of him as more than a friend and a partner, would he have snickered in his face like he was the world’s biggest idiot?
“Yeah, right. You come and go whenever the hell you wish.” Chuuya snorted at Dazai’s untruthful statement.
“Aww, that’s not true! I would never leave you alone.” Dazai closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Chuuya’s shoulders.
That’s a lie, Chuuya thought to himself, but he refrained from moving his lips.
“In fact, I’ve been with you through everything, haven’t I? Even though I really, really hated your guts, you never went away like the little roach you are.” Dazai tapped his finger against his lips.
And yet you shut me out, Chuuya internally responded.
“Someone has to watch over your sorry ass.” Chuuya said instead, sighing as if it was a bothersome chore.
“Ewwww. Are you talking about your own? ‘Cause I’m not as pathetic and short as you.” Dazai plugged his nose.
Chuuya silently watched as Dazai made fun of him without any remorse, as he usually did. He never outright confessed his feelings because Dazai didn’t need the pressure of his emotions hovering over him. Not when Dazai was burdened and saddled with his own complex problems. If anything, Dazai deserved to be unchained from the fetters that pinned him down, and he had no desire to get in the way of that.
Perhaps he was simply content with Dazai being able to freely fly high into the sky and roam the world as a free-spirited, radiant, and magnificent soul, which would gorgeously blossom to its fullest potential. And if that had to happen at the cost of his own feelings towards Dazai, then so be it. He would forever stow it away and lock his heart up with a key before dumping it out into the ocean. Out of the two of them, Dazai should never die as a pitiful, pathetic stray dog. That was all he wished for.
Sadly, however, Dazai had to be the first one to go, leaving him all behind in this dreadful world. There were days he hated this goddamn, cynical society, but at least, he could still see Dazai, the one single meaningful rainbow in his world. It gave him a small smattering of hope that there was something worth waking up to regardless of how tough things could get.
“Chuuya? Are you zoning out again? You’ve been doing it a lot these days.” Dazai interrupted his moment of contemplation.
“Have I? I think I’m beat. I’m going home.” Chuuya tiredly said as he began to leave the scenery.
“Don’t you have one more place to go? Since you’re sightseeing.” Dazai asked in a perky voice.
“No.” Chuuya curtly responded.
“Oh, silly, shortie, Chuuya! My grave! Are you not going to pay me a visit?” Dazai hung his arm over Chuuya, which made him stop in his tracks.
Dazai’s chaste question pounded against his chest, as a raging storm of emotions swirled within his soul. The only time he ever visited Dazai’s grave was when the Port Mafia held a ceremony, honoring his death. There was no changing the harsh facts. But he couldn’t let go of it. He couldn’t let go of Dazai. Not when everything about Dazai’s last days remained a hazy confusion to him. Not when his unwavering love for Dazai forever blazed the inner depths of his heart.
In response to Dazai’s cruel inquiry, Chuuya walked forward without uttering a sound. He continued in this same manner throughout the whole trek. Oddly, Dazai quietly followed along without pestering him further, which was a rarity. Chuuya didn’t mind this assuaging silence, as he had dreamt of this scene many times - strolling in peace with Dazai next to him. There was nothing else that could make him a happier man.
When he arrived and stepped inside of his apartment, he turned on the lights and locked the door behind him. He slowly took off his hat before he gently slipped off that iconic red scarf. He softly fingered its soft, fluffy fabric. He then put it down before slipping off the black coat and laid it down next to the scarf.
Aside from these pieces of clothes that he wore on a daily basis, he didn’t have much else that belonged to Dazai, as Dazai wasn’t one interested in materialistic items.
“Feeling nostalgic today?” Dazai spoke up amidst the thick quietness.
“Maybe.” Chuuya poorly lied.
“Do you remember when we used to stay up late, doing work and eating cheap, premade ramen from those cup noodles?” Dazai fondly asked him.
All of the memories he shared with Dazai were carved deeply into his heart. The memories of them bickering, bantering, fighting, and working together. The memories of them snacking on rice cakes and spending evenings in the bar, wasting their time away. The memories of them being the unstoppable Twin Dark duo out on the field. He would never forget any of it and would carry each and every single one of them with him wherever he journeyed.
However, he also wished he had memories of embracing Dazai as a lover, kissing Dazai as a lover, and sleeping in the same bed with Dazai as a lover. He wished he could have been the supportive totem pole in which he could be privy to Dazai’s unspoken struggles. But in the end, he was left behind no matter how he irrationally pleaded for Dazai’s return. He was abandoned like a wet, soggy dog, left to fend for itself like an ugly stray in the pouring rain.
“Yeah. I do.” Chuuya answered in a hushed tone as he gazed at Dazai.
What he wouldn’t give to hear that jaunty laugh and be graced with that unforgettable, soothing voice in person. But that was no longer possible. He would no longer be able to be blessed with that bratty, persistent asshole who never failed to catch his back at the last minute. This world forced him to accept that crushing, defeating reality. As the Port Mafia’s boss, he had no other choice but to acknowledge such a turn of events. Regardless of how much his heart screamed and hollered into the empty darkness.
Still, his heart wholeheartedly rejected this quashing reality despite his position as the boss. He would never let these feelings he had for Dazai crumble into ashes. How could he half-heartedly surrender what remained most dear to him? The whole world would move on, but he would never forget to cherish this long, deep-seated love he possessed for Dazai.
“Hey, Dazai.” Chuuya called out to him.
“Hmm? What is it?” Dazai keenly stared at him.
“Don’t leave me here alone, okay?” Chuuya swallowed hard as he looked right into Dazai’s single enticing, brown eye that shimmered underneath the light. The very same eye color which attracted him to Dazai at their very first meeting so many years ago.
“I’ll never leave your heart. For as long as you wish.” Dazai seemingly floated in front of him and caressed his cheek with his hand.
He wasn’t particularly religious, but tonight, he prayed to the gods above to let him eternally drown in this hallucination of his. He didn’t care if he was crazy, insane, or a maniac. No one, no one but Dazai could ever hope to grasp these intense emotions that would never wash away.
Dazai slowly leaned in, letting his breath whip against Chuuya’s porcelain skin. Chuuya, understanding Dazai’s intentions, greedily closed his eyes, anticipating those luscious, wet lips. He couldn’t see, but the hairs on his back stood up as he was granted a tender, loving kiss from the one person his heart ached for. At the same time, a single tear silently slid down Chuuya’s face. He ignored the prickling sensation in his heart as he had no concern in mulling over it. All he wanted was to relish in this impossible, imaginary warmth that embraced his lonely body. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else but Dazai mattered.