Chapter Text
conflicting (adj.): being in conflict or disagreement; not compatible:
Chuuya had conflicting feelings on Dazai's absence.
Port Mafia saved a lot of money when it didn't need to buy extra bandages and gauze to fulfill a certain bandage-wasting machine's needs.
Okay, not really, but Chuuya thought of it that way. And even if Port Mafia didn't save much, Chuuya did- he's lost count of all the damn times Dazai forced him to buy bandages. Being free from that meant Chuuya had more resources to buy alcohol. God, he needed it. Even though Chuuya enjoyed the celebratory Petrus and regretted it not, he still needed a lot of money to rebuy it. And squandering it on his partner's stupid needs would make saving a lot harder.
Nevermind how Chuuya wouldn't have drank the wine if Dazai hadn't left.
Thinking about Dazai made it incredibly difficult to save money. The mere thought of Dazai brought an irritation so deep only alcohol could quell. Chuuya checked his wallet. He had enough at the moment for a fair amount at a bar, but also for a solid investment. What a dilemma.
“You bastard, why do you always put me in these things-” Chuuya began, forming a full sentence before stopping. Who did he think he was taking to? There wasn't anyone around.
Ah, habits. The typical reaction to anything unpleasant was to insult Dazai, because Dazai was always the source of said unpleasantries. That still applied now, even if Dazai was nowhere to be seen. How very, very, very unpleasant.
A small part of Chuuya felt unhappy without- no. There was no part of him that was melancholic. Any sort of negative feeling about the entire situation was just being thrown out of habit. They've been partners for quite some time, and had the same amount of experience in the mafia. Chuuya was simply thrown off balance by a sudden change, that's all.
...
He needed a drink. Investments could wait. These conflicting thoughts would go away with a buzz.