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Its been around two months since Verlaine, his brother, killed all his friends, yet he couldn’t find himself feeling any better. He knew they wouldn’t want him to waste away like this, taking missions just for the sake of leaving the house, killing people without any care behind it as if he was a robot. He used to pride himself with his caring nature, his ability to see good in people who did him wrong, and not abandoning anyone who ever stood at his side, yet that part of him was gone, consumed by the never ending darkness that swallowed his body.
His place has been perfectly silent for the past few weeks, music doesn’t interest him anymore. It reminds him of Albatross. Turning the TV wasn’t a good idea either, as every movie he saw just turned his mind to Lippmann. He cant do anything anymore without being reminded of them, and while he accepted their death he still couldn’t help but still blame it on himself, after all Verlaine's words did hold some truth to them, "From the very beginning, your birth was a mistake.".
He cant remember the last time he took care of himself properly, or enjoyed the things he used to. Some might say he is depressed, but such a word would offend him, it reminded him too much of Dazai. He found out after the fight about how Verlaine also went after his partner, he was weirdly relieved that at least that dumbass escaped, after all he was proving himself useful now, bringing him some food from time to time.
He didn’t like the pity he received from the rest of the port mafia, most of them now looked at him with sadness, it embarrassed him. Did they think he was too weak to take care of himself now? Were they right? What gave him away? The unwashed hair, the nasty clothes that haven’t been washed properly for some time now, or just the tired look he always seemed to wear on his face? The only person that didn’t pity him was Dazai, who didn’t change anything about them. He was quite grateful for that, after all he didn’t have to play happy just to not worry him, and feeling like this let him understand his partner a little better.
The two even started living in the same apartment at some point, Dazai too lazy to leave and Chuuya too lazy to kick him out. Their routine even melded perfectly around the other, as they started helping each other more and more. Normally he would kick and scream at Dazai for ever assuming he needed his help, yet now he was too tired for such a reaction, letting himself be bathed by his partner every few days, a gesture that used to be done the other way around when he felt the other giving up on his life. No one would ever believe either of them to be this soft, yet behind these four walls they were able to experience gentle touch and care.
His emotions got too much sometimes, yet he didn’t cry, he just stood on his back looking at the ceiling for some time. Dazai left for a mission where normally they would both be sent on, yet he took it on his own. Being alone was the worst thing in the world, he couldn’t stand it, he tried talking to some new people who just joined the port mafia, yet he couldn’t find himself creating the same ties again, and he felt himself cut the ties he held to his old friends, refusing to let someone leave his life again. It was better to leave than be the one left behind right?
His thoughts consumed him as he decided on walking up his apartment block, he always enjoyed the cold air and the view from up there. He reached the top and he deactivated his ability as he sat on the ledge, his legs swinging off as he laid on his back. He picked up smoking around 2 weeks after the whole dispute with his brother, it helped him calm down when he was like this. Even if he understood Verlaine's motive, he still couldn’t help but despise him for his actions, for ruining the group he finally trusted and felt happy with, for killing the man who promised him to take him into the world of light, hell even for trying to kill Dazai, his last person left out here.
He let his thoughts be blown away in the wind just as the smoke that exited his lungs, his eyes tearing up for a second as it entered his eyes, surely not from sadness. Yet he felt a presence behind him and a face he recognised quickly came into his view and inhaled the smoke which exited through his lips.
-"What'chu doin~ Chuuya!" Dazai said, taking a seat next to him, reeking of blood from the mission he just came back from.
-"Sitting. How was the mission?" Chuuya responded blowing the smoke directly into the others face, who inhaled happily. The question he asked was more for confirmation that he was missed, that we was needed, such need for reassurance known by Dazai who answered correctly.
-"So very boring without you! Took so long for those useless bags of flesh to finish killing those losers, if you were here id have been done so much earlier!" Dazai answered, leaning in closer to breathe in the smoke, he never smoked himself but he enjoyed inhaling what Chuuya exhaled.
The two spent the rest of the evening on that rooftop in silence, letting the sun go down behind them and watching the moon rise, the darkness swallowing them fully.
The only light nearby was the lit end of his cigarette, which shined orange every time he took a drag out of it. At one point in the night Dazai didn’t leave at just inhaling the smoke from afar, instead leaning in to take it straight from his mouth, exhaling back into his face.
He didn’t feel any better, something he would hate to say, but as time passed he started living again, he could listen to music again, he could turn on the TV again and even though the memories still flooded in, he would feel more at peace than before. Still some parts of their routine never changed, as they continued washing each other when they were in need, and smoking on the top of the building almost every other night. Yet no matter how much time passed he was never the same, even when the people around him forgot, he can never forgive himself for letting that happen to the people around him, so he got stronger to the point no one can even dare pass him, yet it was never enough, he couldn’t turn back time after all.
Sometimes Dazai didn’t accompany him onto the rooftop, just waited for him in bed, and every single time without fail he whined about the smell of cigarettes, even though he could turn around and not feel it anymore he always decided on burying his face into Chuuya's hair, sometimes biting his ear in annoyance when he got ignored. They were doing worse, but at least they were doing bad together, and when they were going to be doing better in the future, they would be doing better together. He refused to let yet another person leave his life.
Still his wished aren’t always answered to by god. Dazai left the Port Mafia while he was away in Europe for a mission. He heard what went on around here, about Oda's death and everything else, yet he didn’t understand why he left like this. If there was anyone who understood how it felt to lose a friend it was him, and he cant help but feel useless now that his partner for three years left without any notice. Dazai blew up his car, not his bike however, he appreciated that, after all Dazai knew the importance of the bike for him, it was a gift from Albatross.
He searched for days for something, a message on where he went, anything really, yet he gave up. If Dazai didn’t want to be found there was no way for him to spot him, and so he gave up, climbing on the same rooftop they used to sit on, in the same pose he always used, laying on his back with his legs swinging off the building. It wasn’t the same however, and it might never be the same as it was. He can feel himself call out for Dazai as he used to before, yet this time around there was no answer, no person walking towards him to inhale the smoke he blew into the dark sky.
Looking around on the rooftop he found a unopened pack of cigarettes and a piece of paper stuck to it, signed with Mackerel on the back, and he found himself shake slightly as he opened it up. On the paper he spotted an address of a nearby dumpsite and a phone number, yet he decided against calling him tonight. He opened the pack, turning the first cigarette around, the queen, and smoked the next one, letting out a sigh as the fumes from it disappeared into the night.
The next day came around and this time he decided on at least walking around the new address of his partner. He didn’t care that he was a traitor, he will always be his partner. Before he even realised it, his motorcycle already brought him to the entrance of the dumpsite, and his legs walked on their own until a certain container. He didn’t know where Dazai was, yet his body knew, it always found him. He enters the metal box and inside he saw what he was hoping for, his partner, sprawled out on a dirty mattress, nasty bandages all around on every visible surface and enough bottles of cheap alcohol to build a statue.
-"Hey.. What'cha doin~?" Chuuya spoke silently, trying to imitate his partner's way of greeting him back when he was in need.
-"Sitting. Do you want to sit with me?" Dazai spoke raising his head tiredly, speaking as if he never left, and Chuuya nodded taking a seat next to him on the dirty mattress.
-"Y'know Dazai.. You need a shower. Do you want to come back to my place?"
-"Too dangerous, it’ll put you in danger. I don’t want you to get killed because of my mistakes too, Chuuya. I regret leaving you my address, please don’t come back here anymore." Dazai spoke, leaning his head onto Chuuya's shoulder. Leaving that letter behind was his selfish act, he knew it would put Chuuya in danger yet he still did it because he couldn’t stand not seeing him anymore. Coming here was Chuuya’s selfish act, he knew it would cause Dazai more pain, yet he came for himself, needing to help the one who helped him a few years ago. They were both selfish, and selfless when it came to the other.
-"Can you smoke? Please?" Dazai asked, uncaring of the smell that will stick to the walls where he stayed, and Chuuya sighed, pulling out the pack he received from Dazai, turning the queen back around.
-"Choose the queen yourself" He said pushing the pack into Dazai’s hand who picks one of the cigarettes and turns it around. Chuuya takes another one out, lighting it up and feeling the brown haired boy lean in closer, inhaling.
After a while he managed to convince Dazai to come back to his place every once in a while, at least for one night. At least those nights he assured the younger male got some sleep, all wrapped up in his arms, holding him so tightly, as if he wouldn’t have to watch him leave again the next morning.
Every time he accepted to get dragged back to Chuuya's home, Dazai was gently pushed into the bathroom, feeling his clothes being stripped off and thrown into the washing machine, and then pushed into the warm water in the bathtub. He felt soft hands push his body forwards as the warmth of another body joined him into the bath. Chuuya's soft hands wrapped around him, hugging him for a second, or maybe more, they didn’t count. He felt how his partner was washing his hair slowly, almost as if dragging this moment to last longer, but he didn’t mind, he closed his eyes and let his body be taken care of.
Chuuya left the bathtub first, drying off and getting dressed, then helped Dazai out as well, drying him off as well with a clean towel, and leaving him some of the older clothes he left here.
They cared about each other, something they both hate to agree on, but because they cared, they let each other go. And because they cared they made their way back into each other’s life, refusing to leave for too long. Every few weeks they just so happened to stumble into each other on the same roof top they always used to sit on, even if Chuuya moved away, even if Dazai was working on the other side of the city, they still met up here, sitting next to each other in silence.