Chapter Text
~ 🖤 ~
The hum of activity in the Armed Detective Agency was a familiar backdrop as Dazai Osamu lounged at his desk, one leg lazily draped over the armrest of his chair. The day had started like any other—Kunikida barking orders, Atsushi scrambling to meet the others expectations, and Yosano sharpening her scalpels with an unnerving grin.
Dazai played his part well, as always. He joked, teased, and provoked Kunikida into yelling at him no less than three times before lunch. No one suspected a thing. Perfect.
But as the hours ticked by, a hollow sensation grew in his chest. The date sat heavy in his mind, but he said nothing. It wasn’t like he expected anyone to remember. Still, a small, foolish part of him hoped. Hoped the people in his life would care.
What a fool he was.
The day moved on in a blur of paperwork and chaos. Ranpo devoured his snacks and declared himself the “World’s Greatest Detective” (As if anyone had ever doubted it). Atsushi tripped over a chair trying to deliver files to Kunikida, who muttered about inefficiency. And Yosano attempted—unsuccessfully—to lure Dazai into her infirmary under the guise of a “routine checkup." Most likely planning to force him to go shopping with her, or get her new test subject for things.
Not once did anyone acknowledge the significance of the day. Expected.
Around the time the office had began to empty out, the faint hope Dazai had clung to was fully gone. It was a shock it had been there in the first place.
“Dazai, lock up when you leave,” Kunikida said curtly, grabbing his bag. He didn’t spare a glance at his partner as he walked out the door.
Dazai waved lazily. “Of course, partner! Leave everything to me!”
The door clicked shut instantly, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Dazai leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. The usual smirk he wore felt heavier than usual, and he let it drop as the quiet of the empty office surrounded him. For all his dramatics, Dazai had never truly expected anything from them. The people here were busy, with their own lives and their own concerns.
His birthday wasn’t important. It never had been. Even if it was to others...He was just... irrelevant to it all. Or at least that's what he tells himself.
And yet, as he still sat in the silence, an unfamiliar ache settled in his chest.
“Guess it’s just another normal day,” he muttered to himself, standing up. He grabbed his coat and headed out the door without a second thought.
The walk home was quiet, the streets bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. Dazai shoved his hands into his pockets, his mind wandering as his feet carried him toward his apartment.
When he reached his door, he hesitated. For a moment, he thought about turning around, maybe going for a late-night walk along the river instead. Maybe even listening to his thoughts, and jumping into it. But he dismissed the thought with a shake of his head, seeing as how he had already arrived. Too late now.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside, kicking off his shoes. The apartment was dark, save for the faint glow of light coming from the living room.
Dazai froze mid-step. Eyes wide as he looks back at the living room.
He hadn’t left any lights on.
His instincts flared, and he reached for the nearest object— his shoe, in this case—ready to use it as a makeshift weapon.
“Relax, Dazai. It’s just me.”
The familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.
Stepping into the living room, he found the one and only Nakahara Chuuya lounging on his couch, a bottle of wine on the table in front of him, along with two glasses and a small cake.
“What the—Chuuya?” Dazai blinked, finally lowering the shoe. “Breaking into my apartment now? My, how far you’ve fallen. Especially after so long now huh? Usually that's my job, don't ya think?"
Chuuya scoffed, crossing his arms. “As if your flimsy locks could keep me out. You should be thanking me for upgrading them while I waited. Besides...you sucked at breaking into my apartment anyways. Didn't think that became some sort of job or game for you."
Dazai smirked, leaning against the doorway. “Movibg on...So, to what do I owe the pleasure? A Mafia raid? A surprise assassination attempt? Is it finally the end for me??"
“Don’t be stupid,” Chuuya muttered, gesturing to the table. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”
Dazai blinked, suddenly caught off guard. Chuuya rolled his eyes at his silence. “You didn’t think I’d forget, did you? Someone has to remember, and clearly your little Agency friends are useless.”
Dazai chuckled, shaking off the surprise. “Oh, Chuuya. I didn’t know you cared. You know... after the whole, I blew up your car and ditched you, stuff."
“I don’t,” Chuuya shot back, though the strange faint pink tint on his cheeks suggested otherwise. “Now sit down before I regret coming here. Wait no - Too late I already do. Ugh. Besides, we were partners...One simple birthday isn't that hard to remember." He mumbled.
Dazai, for once, obliged, settling onto the couch across from him. His gaze flickered to the cake—small, but clearly handmade. Blue frosting covering it with the words 'Happy Birthday' scrawled in black icing.
“Did you bake this yourself?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Chuuya muttered. “I bought it. I’m not wasting my time in a kitchen for you.” He defended, even though his lie was obviously fake.
“Touching, really,” Dazai teased back, though there was a warmth in his voice that hadn’t been there earlier.
Chuuya suddenly reached into his coat and pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box. He tossed it onto Dazai’s lap carefully.
“Here. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
Dazai unwrapped it carefully, revealing a sleek pocket watch engraved with intricate patterns. He turned it over, noticing the words "Life's Worth It" etched on the back.
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His fingers tracing the engraving, his usually sharp tongue stilled.
“Well?” Chuuya prompted, the silence unnerving, and his voice gruff. “Say something.”
Dazai looked up, his expression much softer than usual.
“Thank you, Chuuya. Really I mean it."
Chuuya shrugged, looking away, his cheeks pink.
"Yeah, well, someone had to do something. Just don’t start crying or anything, okay?” Chuuya said again, still looking away, his gaze on the floor or his shoes.
Dazai laughed, the sound lighter and more real than it had been all day. “You really know how to make a man feel special. Especially me."
"Yeah? Well don't get used to it!" Chuuya argued back.
The rest of the evening passed in comfortable companionship. They shared the wine and the cake, trading insults and reminiscing about their shared past.
For a little while, Dazai allowed himself to relax, the ache in his chest replaced by something warmer. He hadn't felt that way in a long time. He realized he could definitely get used to the feeling.
After awhile, when Chuuya stood to leave, he paused by the door.“Next time, maybe tell someone it’s your birthday, idiot. Not everyone can read your mind. Besides...It wasn't the worst...you know... spending time with you."
Dazai smirked happily, leaning against the doorframe. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, you just admitted you like being around me!!"
Chuuya rolled his eyes but surprisingly didn’t argue. With a final nod, he stepped out into the night, leaving Dazai alone once more.
But this time, the silence didn’t feel so heavy.
Dazai glanced down at the pocket watch in his hand, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. Life's Worth It.
For once, he thought, maybe it was.
He also thought, that he definitely needs to tell Chuuya how he feels about him. Though that will just have to be a problem for his future self.
For now... He'll just keep on living. If not for himself, then for Chuuya and Oda. Maybe even for the ADA or Akutagawa. Either way...
'Life's Worth It.'
Maybe it truly is.