Chapter Text
It’s a bright day for a funeral. Too bright, in Chuuya’s honest opinion.
He isn’t in the position to complain, though, and he means that quite literally. He’s standing by the corner of a street while the Armed Detective Agency is mourning the loss of a not really beloved pain in the ass a couple of kilometers away from him. It was a rather complicated and hectic few days, so he knew it wasn't the best idea to have his presence anywhere near the agency.
After the… incidents , the whole world has gone in shambles. He doesn’t know how they managed to win against the oddest of odds, but they did. Still, they haven’t pushed through the aftermath, a predicament he must admit is much more grueling than the battle itself.
He picked at the bandages on his arm. He should get the gauze changed later today.
He’s covered almost head to toe in bandages, just like that one asshole he knows. That same asshole took too long to nullify corruption, so the marks of his curse burned into his skin. It’s not the first time that it happened, but this one will surely scar.
The whole ordeal almost felt like a fever dream. Sometimes it feels like he still hasn’t woken up. It all happened so quickly that the search and rescue of the dead bodies lasted longer than the entire fight from start to finish. Day in and day out, there were funerals for those they can identify and mass memorials for those they cannot.
That lucky bastard somehow managed to get the longer end of the stick. Despite being buried underneath huge piles of rubble and steel pipes, they still found him intact enough to be recognized.
Or so the records go.
“So, you’re dead now, huh?” Chuuya said out loud.
“Shocking news, isn’t it?” Dazai replied from behind as Chuuya turned to face him with a bored expression. “What a shame, truly. Died too young.” He placed his hand on his chest to mock sympathy.
Chuuya took in his image. He’s wearing a blue sweater and light gray trousers with no hint of bandages peeking from the collar and the cuffs of his sleeves. If Chuuya looks closely, which he admittedly did, he could see the edge of an old scar near his neck. He looks… cleaner .
He watched Dazai look at him, his eyes lingering on the bandaged parts of his body. The situation switched, oddly enough, but he didn’t think to point that out. Dazai would tease him about it if he so wished to do so, and maybe he’ll let him. Who knows.
“Died too late, you mean,” Chuuya scoffed before turning back to the ongoing funeral. He heard familiar footsteps minutes ago, but he didn’t bother looking back to confirm. Besides, he already had an inkling that the bastard is alive. It’s considerably hard to believe that after all the bullshit that Dazai went through, a collapsed building would do him in.
“I expected you to be slightly displeased to see a ghost.” Dazai walked up to stand beside him, but he made sure he’s hidden by the wall nearby. He leaned on the brick wall and turned to Chuuya with the same devious and teasing smirk he’s grown to (unfortunately) memorize.
“You displease me by being alive,” he replied, earning a chuckle from the dead. Chuuya kept his gaze focused on the funeral. He focused on the solemn faces of the people in the agency even though he can barely recognize their features at this distance. It’s no use looking at the coffin when he doesn’t know who’s inside it. “Being dead and all suits you so much better,” he added after an unnecessary pause.
“So you’re not even gonna ask me why?” Dazai elbowed his arm gently to get his attention. “Actually, let me do you one better. How?” he laughs. “Kidding, a good magician doesn’t reveal his tricks." He raised his eyebrows up and down, attempting to get a rise out of his partner. Chuuya only rolled his eyes at him.
When Chuuya didn’t respond, Dazai raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, alright, if you’re so insistent on knowing, I’ll tell you a little bit. I killed myself. Got too tired of that kind of life,” he gestured towards the funeral. “And decided to end it. I jumped down a collapsing building and got buried under it. Quick and easy, typical Dazai Osamu style.”
It made sense. Kind of. His body was found underneath the rubble of a collapsed building. Unlike his disappearance from the mafia before, they found a body to confirm where he went. However, it’s devious Dazai Osamu we’re talking about here, not just some normal suicidal dude. It’s safer to be suspicious around him.
“I think more people would agree that running away is more your style,” Chuuya commented. “Don’t you think they would be a little bit suspicious?” he asked out of genuine curiosity.
Dazai looked at him and smiled. “They won’t. I made sure of it.”
His tone reminds Chuuya of the days back when they were partners. It’s his usual confidence in his plans that somehow always worked out in their favor. It’s almost like magic. Chuuya was rather inclined to believe that his plan to disappear would work.
Chuuya shoved his hands in his pockets. Even with his unserious exterior, the air of certainty and assurance in his actions cannot be missed. In every mission they have together, if he says this will go well, it will. Chuuya trusts that everything he does is planned and well thought of even if it doesn’t immediately make sense to him. And after years of being partners, he learned how to read him well.
He’s a little jealous.
He’s jealous of Dazai’s sureness, and his stupid, cocky confidence in his wit.
Chuuya glanced at his very strange partner. Dazai’s looking at the ongoing funeral. He cannot read what’s behind his eyes, but it’s an odd feeling for sure. He looks way too serene and… light for his liking. It’s weird to see him like this.
He must admit the main reason as to why he didn’t immediately believe that the bastard is dead is because the thought of him dying never crossed his mind. Even though he’s horrendously suicidal, Dazai and dead in a sentence just didn’t sound right to him.
He looked back at the ongoing funeral. There were lesser people there, he noted, but it’s still enough of a community. It’s not anything to be jealous of, especially when he knows that Dazai has never fully felt like he belonged with them, but just the thought that there are people who thinks he does is enough to make him angry. Not angry at Dazai, oddly enough.
Just… angry.
The sad faces piss him off.
But one face stood out to him like a sore thumb. He recognized the expression that she wore on her face. The same glad but jealous look he’s seen evident on his own face many times before.
“Someone helped you,” he said out loud, pointing out the obvious.
Dazai hummed as a response. “Wanna guess?”
“The doctor.”
“Bingo.”
They both knew it was obvious. Everyone else may have a feeling that Dazai still has a trick up his sleeve, but they will never be able to confirm it lest he or the doctor speak up about it, which Dazai knows they won’t do. That’s probably why he showed up today. To make him live with this secret. To torment him one last time.
It’s the downside of knowing Dazai, he thought to himself. Along with the many other downsides there are.
“Whatever, I’m gonna go.” Chuuya took a deep breath as he took a small step forward. The ceremony is wrapping up, with some familiar faces already leaving. If he doesn’t want to be seen around a ghost, he should leave soon. “Congratulations, or my condolences, or something.”
His steps were slow, almost as if he’s giving the bastard a chance to say one more parting bullshit, but he brushed the drag of his feet to his injuries that haven’t fully healed. He admits he would be disappointed if Dazai says nothing else, though. He can’t just leave it at that after he went out of his way to come and torment him and risk blowing his cover, all because he knew that Chuuya would at least show up to see the funeral.
That’s just stupid.
And then, footsteps. Thank fucking God. He heard footsteps approaching him.
Dazai matched his pace when he reached his side. He looked at the street in front of them, his head held high. Chuuya took this chance to look at him closely, although just for a fleeting few seconds. It felt weird looking at him like this. He doesn’t have his bandages under his usual outfits and he feels almost like a normal person, like an oddly lighter version of Dazai.
He’s not connected to anything anymore. He’s just him now. And that feels weird.
Dazai met his gaze. “Loyal dogs are really taught to not ask questions, huh?”
Chuuya rolled his eyes. “Don’t start this,” he grumbled. It’s Dazai’s go-to question whenever he wants to disobey the orders given to them. In hindsight, it was just childish teasing between the two of them, but hearing it now with Dazai’s serious tone, it felt different.
“Again, not a question,” Dazai chuckled as he jogged to block Chuuya’s path. He leaned down to be on eye level with him and tilted his head to the side. “You really don’t wanna know where I’m going?”
When someone’s face is this close to your own, it’s difficult not to notice things. One, for example, is the boyish look of Dazai’s face. He doesn’t look too burdened like before. The bags under his eyes are still there, sure, but…
He didn’t smell like cheap booze anymore. He smells worse .
It’s stupid. It’s actually so fucking stupid.
But Dazai’s wearing the perfume Chuuya gifted him on his 18th birthday and he knows damn well that the bastard can tell he recognized the scent.
“No.” Chuuya answered shortly, sidestepping him. His breath felt shallow in his chest, which is his sign to book it. “I lived not knowing where you went the first time. I’m pretty sure I’ll live this time around,” he spat.
He watched Dazai breathe for a few seconds before walking away. The look on his face felt familiar but it’s not the kind that he would welcome. He doesn’t see this often, this softer side to Dazai’s… mess , but he’s seen it before, back when they were still on the same side.
The first time was Dazai’s first time asking for help. Cut too deep kind of bullshit. Chuuya is convinced that he really wanted to die because the first guy he called was the furthest away from a qualified first aider. He pressed shirt after shirt onto his wrist for what felt like hours until the bleeding stopped and Dazai looked as pale as a ghost.
Dazai’s breathing heavily, probably because of the pain, but that’s sign enough that the fucker is alive. He could leave him alone and hope for the best that he’ll still be breathing the morning after, but he didn’t. He gave him pain meds that could be expired for all he cares, and watched over his partner while he slept on the bloody couch, occasionally staring if his chest was still moving up and down.
While he’s sitting on the floor, surrounded by the blood-stained clothes and the strewn around contents of the first aid kit they used earlier, he tries to convince himself that he only stayed out of pity. The boy was all alone, after all, just like him.
Dazai awoke around lunch time, complaining that he needed some food. Chuuya immediately stood up to Frankenstein something using whatever Dazai had in his kitchen, but before he was able to take a single step away from him, Dazai grabbed his hand tightly.
He muttered a small ‘thank you’ under his breath. Dazai looked at him so softly that Chuuya knew then and there that he needed to leave.
And yet he didn’t. He cooked a sad excuse for soup.
But things are different now. He’s different now.
So, Chuuya began walking away, picking up his pace the moment he heard Dazai following him closely behind. He needed to walk faster, away from him, away from whatever bullshit he’s feeling right now. Dazai can catch up all he wants but it wouldn’t matter anymore. He’s just a ghost to him now and that’s a good thing.
“Okay since you’re being stubborn, I’m just going to say it,” Dazai yelled out loudly.
Chuuya stopped in his tracks to look at him like he’s lost his marbles, which he really might have. “Are you out of your mind? Do you really want everyone to hear and find out you’re faking your death? You don’t know who’s listening right now, dickhead!” he hissed.
They looked around the almost empty street. Everyone was evacuated back then and not a lot of people have decided to come back. Still they both know it was a valid concern. They faced an enemy they almost couldn’t beat— an enemy that they didn’t even fathom could exist. There might be ears listening to their conversation right now that could ruin Dazai’s plan to leave.
Dazai exhaled sharply and, in a quieter voice, he muttered, “I’m going to ███████.”
Chuuya’s mouth ran dry. Suddenly, it feels like he’s 16 again. He could break under the weight of the world above him.
“I’m pretty sure you remember where that is,” Dazai added, shrugging.
“I don’t know why you’re telling me this.” Was all he could say in response.
“Then ask.” Dazai took a step forward.
Chuuya took a step back.
—
Dazai must admit he’s quite cruel. Well, cruel is an understatement.
It’s simple, really. Chuuya doesn’t want to ask anything because he already knows what Dazai plans to ask him. Well, mostly because he’s already asked him a couple of times before.
He’s going to ask Chuuya to run away with him.
They’ve dreamed about it before when they were younger: a small place somewhere out of the mafia’s jurisdiction, and just the right distance away from the sea. It’s not anything extravagant, that dream of theirs, but it was nice enough for two drunk kids’ make-believe.
It started as a joke. The dreaded double black, drunk on Dazai’s 16th birthday, are sprawled on Chuuya’s apartment floor. They ran away from the small party the mafia threw for Dazai with the booze they prepared for that day. With each of them sporting a bottle, Chuuya, very drunkenly, asked him what he really wanted for his birthday because it’s for sure not the newest game he’s been raving about for the past week or two. It’s too simple for him.
He answered both jokingly and truthfully. He wanted to run away and start anew.
They then spent the entire night building that dream together. Chuuya entertained the childish and absurd things Dazai wanted in his home away from the mafia. He listened intently while he cradled a wine bottle he’s drinking, his eyes sparkling under the warm overhead lights. His hair is pushed away from his forehead so Dazai can clearly see how flushed he was due to the alcohol.
It was captivating, to say the least.
Somewhere in the middle of them daydreaming about a shackleless future, Dazai decided he didn’t want to be alone so he asks if Chuuya wants to come with him. It was all a joke to them at that time. Just simple childish dreams.
But Dazai remembers that night clearly because it was the only time Chuuya says yes.
He’s asked him multiple times. The aforementioned night being the first. The other times were scattered in the years they were Double Black, all asked jokingly just like the first. Dazai knows that Chuuya is aware of the serious nature of his offer, wherein if he ever says yes, they will truly, truly disappear. That’s why he always says no. The last time he asked was the first time he asked seriously. It was a couple of days before he decided to finally leave the mafia. And, as always, the answer was no.
Dazai just hopes today will be different.
“Then ask.”
“No need. I’m not that curious.” Chuuya ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to ground himself. He always tinkers with his hair or his hat to self-soothe, and right now was no different. Dazai is a little guilty; he's stressing him out like this after going through all of the things that have just happened. However, he has to. This is the last time he would have to finally leave it all behind. After this, who knows if they will ever meet again.
“Oh, quit the act.” Dazai continued to aggravate him.
“Dazai, I’m not stupid. We’ve known each other for years. I know what you want to say.”
“Then what is it?” he asks.
Chuuya exhales deeply. “You’re going to ask me to run away with you.”
“Pretty much.” Dazai shrugs.
“And the answer to that is no.”
“I guessed that.”
Chuuya rolled his eyes. “If that’s all, I’m going to go now.”
Dazai was aware this isn’t going to be easy, but he’s determined to at least force to change the outcome. The first time he asked seriously, he took the no as it is. He wasn’t in the right state of mind, so when Chuuya said no, he didn’t challenge it even though he knows that Chuuya will budge for as long as Dazai’s the one pushing.
However, in hindsight, maybe that’s why he didn’t push.
But things are different now and they both know this.
He’s not some stupid and impulsive teen anymore, unsure of where he’ll go after leaving the only place he’s known for all his life. The plan they had before is more plausible today than years ago so he’s determined to push, to aggravate, to anger his partner for as long as he’ll let him because after this, Dazai will be gone. Dead. Buried.
“But why don’t you want to leave?” he asked, the inside of his mouth feeling like sandpaper. He’s never asked him this before.
Chuuya opened his mouth to speak before closing it again. He took a moment to think about his answer. “Because I can’t, Dazai.” Was what he came up with.
“I am not like you,” Chuuya answered calmly. He’s trying hard to regulate his breathing. “I can’t just decide I’m done with this life and disappear. I have my troops waiting for me, papers to finish, and people to help. I am needed even more so now because the entire city is still in shambles. I have responsibilities. I have… ” he trailed off. “I am –” he corrected himself. “I am tied to a place that still needs me. I cannot just go away like you and that’s about it.”
Dazai wants to know what he was planning to say before he changed it. “No, that’s not about it and you know it. We both know it. The Chuuya I know is not dumb enough to make himself believe that stupid reason.”
Suddenly, he felt a change in Chuuya’s demeanor. It felt heavier now and he can’t explain it fully. It’s in his eyes, the way the vibrant blue feels a lot colder.
“Knew.” Chuuya muttered. “The Chuuya you knew.”
Dazai felt gutted. Right. The thing about change is that Chuuya’s also different now. He is not some stupid and impulsive teen anymore, too. How foolish of him to think that in eight long years, he wouldn’t have changed. Sure, his breathing pattern is the same. His mannerisms and habits are the same. The way he fights is the same, only stronger after years of honing his skill.
But besides that, he doesn’t know him anymore. For years now. His values, his priorities, his beliefs, hell, even the nightmares that plague him when he sleeps. He doesn’t know all of these and more.
However, one thing's for sure. He’s seen Chuuya’s current expression before.
Chuuya, right now, has the same expression he has when Dazai asked him to run away with him back when they were 18 years old. Chuuya looks… defeated. He looks like he’s accepted his fate. Hopeless . Like he can’t imagine himself free from the shackles of the prison he found himself in.
Dazai walked up to him while silently praying that his partner doesn’t run away as he closed the distance between them. Chuuya looked up at him, stern in his decision to stay.
“I don’t give a shit if you can or cannot leave,” Dazai began. “All I need to know is if you want to. If you do, I’ll do everything to make sure that you can. I promise this. You know I don’t take promises lightly. Remember? We promised each other this before.” He grabbed Chuuya’s hand, and he half-expected that he would flinch or retract his hand immediately, but he didn’t. Chuuya lets him hold him.
“Osamu, please,” Chuuya muttered, avoiding eye contact now. “Let go.”
“Say it to my face that you don’t want to leave and then I’ll let you go. I gave you my conditions and—”
“We were kids, Dazai.” Chuuya interrupted him. “We were just kids. Stupid kids. Barely sober kids,” he blurted out of frustration. “The promise we made back then? We weren’t even serious. That dream of yours—,”
“ Ours .”
“It’s yours, Dazai.” Chuuya finally looked at him. “ It’s only yours now. ”
Dazai inhales a shaky breath. “When did it stop becoming ours, then?”
“Years ago.” Chuuya’s thumb is gently caressing his fingers. He didn’t realize he had let go of Chuuya’s hand earlier and Chuuya’s the one who’s holding him. The same fists that hold such destructive power are caressing him so gently.
“Why do you even want me to leave with you so badly?” he asked, his tone gentler, quieter. “You’ve left me before. Why can’t you just do that again?” He sounded hurt, even though he tried to conceal it from being evident in his voice.
The ache in Dazai’s chest suddenly multiplied tenfold. “Because I can’t just let you let them use you.”
Chuuya’s eyes dulled. A beat passed.
“Oh bullshit!” he spat as he let go of Dazai’s hand. “You waltz into my life, take me away from my friends, recruit me— trap me in the mafia, and make me want to stay . And then you— you show up, ask me to run away one random night right when I finally thought I found a place for me.” They’re both breathing heavily now. “You did this . I am who I am right now because of you. They’re using me because you started it.”
The anger in his eyes didn’t feel like a burning, searing kind of anger that he typically sees from his partner. Instead, it felt dejected and exhausted, even. “And it wouldn’t have mattered that you left me , if you just stopped coming back, acting like you know what’s best for me when you’re the one who did this.”
Chuuya takes a long and shaky breath. “And I know you’ve changed. That’s good. That’s good.” It sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. “I’m glad . You don’t know how glad I was to know you got rid of your ass yourself, how glad I was that I wouldn't witness how the mafia slowly kills you. I never hated you for that, even for one second, Dazai.” He ran his fingers through his hair as he stepped back, putting distance between him and Dazai. “But you know what? I hate you right fucking now,” he grumbled, but his tone lacked bite.
Dazai fell silent. He knows that his past weighs heavily on everything that is happening to the both of them today, but he was too stupid to think that his partner would be as forgiving as he used to be. Too stupid to think that nostalgia and a promise of a new tomorrow would get him what he wants. Come to think of it, it doesn’t really feel like he’s different. He’s still trying to make Chuuya do things— he’s still making the decisions for both of them and assuming that his partner would just come to his beck and call.
It’s difficult to get rid of old habits, but he never really did try anyway.
“Get lost, Dazai.” Chuuya refused to look at him, but all Dazai could do was stare. “And promise me you won’t ever look back again .”
He looked at his long eyelashes and the almost healed bruise that bloomed around his left cheekbone. The bandages around his neck are a little loose around the edges because he can see the curve of a slowly healing burn caused by corruption. The thick and ragged nature of his wound looks like it would leave a scar. His leather jacket covered most of the wounds on his arms, but the bandages still peeks through the sleeves whenever he moves.
Chuuya’s hair is longer now and there are bags under his eyes. He looks thinner than he remembers, but maybe that’s caused by the stress of everything that happened in the past few weeks.
He tried to memorize his features, but it only made him realize that he doesn’t quite recall what his partner looked like before. He’s seen this man battered and bruised, almost black out drunk, on the brink of death, and sometimes all three at the same time, but for some reason, it doesn’t really feel like he’s ever truly looked.
“I..” The words felt heavy in his chest. “I’m sorry, " is what he wants to say.
“I promise,” is what he says instead.
“Okay. Good,” he muttered, sounding relieved. “That’s good.” Chuuya shoved his hands in his pockets as he turned his heel. He began walking away from Dazai without waiting for his response.
This is it. This will be the last time he’ll see him. He should say something. He should grab him and just drag him away from this place that would kill him. He needs to do something.
Dazai swallowed the lump in his throat. “Okay. Bye.”
He watched Chuuya take a couple of steps away from him before he began walking towards the opposite direction. Walking away has always been so easy for him, but realizing his faults made his feet grow heavy. He steeled his resolve to start anew. Chuuya’s right. He’s done this before, he can do this all over again.
Dazai lifted his chin up and faced the path ahead of him. It’s sad that the last time he will see the city is when it’s in a wreck, though he’s not sure when was the last time this place saw continuously peaceful weeks.
The pieces of the shattered glass window of a store cracked under his feet. He briefly stared at his reflection on the barely standing store window, and found his face rather unfamiliar to him. Being free of titles and alliances that shackle him is a new but welcomed look. He wonders if he can truly run away from all those dark years hidden in his shadow.
As if it’s a cruel reminder that he’s leaving Chuuya behind, he can see his partner’s back in the reflection, steadily walking away. There is a barely noticeable limp to his steps that he didn’t notice even when he was mere feet beside him. Right before Chuuya turns the corner, he swears he saw Chuuya look back.
It beckoned him to look back— to run towards him and beg one more time, but he steeled his resolve. The both of them aren’t good at keeping promises, clearly. However, Dazai’s at least willing to try.