Chapter Text
The last thing Chuuya expected during his overseas mission was a call from Dazai.
He woke to his phone ringing, Dazai’s contact flashing on the screen.
That damn mackerel. What time is it over there anyway?
Chuuya glanced at the clock to see that it was 9:02 PM, meaning that it was around 4 AM back home. Why was this dumbass even awake?
Chuuya reached over to the nightstand and answered the call. After all, there was a slight chance Dazai was calling for an actual reason.
“What the hell do you want, shitty Dazai?”
Silence.
“Oi, Dazai?”
Irritated, Chuuya was about to hang up when—
“I’m leaving the Port Mafia.” Dazai’s voice came through the line.
What the hell? Is this some kind of prank?
Chuuya was ready to snap back with a harmless “Shut the hell up, you bastard,” but he hesitated.
Dazai’s voice sounded different—hoarse, and unsteady. Alarm bells rang in Chuuya’s head. It almost sounded like Dazai had been… crying.
Something’s wrong.
Dazai never cries.
“What the hell happened? Why do you want to leave?” If Chuuya was starting to worry about that damn fish (which he definitely wasn’t), no one needed to know.
The line crackled before Dazai finally spoke. “Mori, he— I can’t, Chuuya. I can’t stay here. I have to leave.”
Goddamn it, Dazai. Damn this dumbass for calling Chuuya in the middle of the night and making him worry his ass off.
He’s not going anywhere without me.
“I’ll be there in an hour, and you better stay alive, damn it! ’Kay?” Chuuya flung off the bed and began packing rapidly.
Now it was Dazai’s turn to sound confused. “What—?”
“You’re in my apartment, right?” Chuuya knew that whenever something was really wrong, Dazai always broke into his place.
“Yes, but—”
“Good. Wait there. One hour. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Chuuya, what—”
“I mean it, bastard. Stay put.” Chuuya ended the call and shoved the last of his things into his suitcase.
He bolted out the door, flew down the stairs, and burst into the lobby at full speed.
Goddamn it, Dazai. You better stay alive.
…
Dazai stared at his phone, the “Call Ended” screen staring back at him.
What the hell does Chuuya mean he’ll be here in an hour?
He got up and began pacing around the living room, quickly getting swallowed by his thoughts.
Odasaku’s gone.
He’s dead.
I should’ve been faster.
He died because of my incompetence.
Pathetic.
Pathetic.
Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic.
I’m pathetic.
I should’ve died instead.
I should just kill myself.
Dazai stopped pacing and made his way to Chuuya’s bathroom. Slowly, he shut the door and locked it behind him.
He reached for the top cabinets—where Chuuya couldn’t reach—and grabbed a blade.
Worthless.
Insignificant.
Just kill yourself already.
He unraveled the bandages on his arms and held the blade to his wrist.
Sorry, slug. I’m messing up your bathroom.
Dazai thought back to the last time he tried to kill himself in Chuuya’s bathroom. Back then, Chuuya had tried to make it seem like he only cared about the mess, but Dazai knew that wasn’t the truth.
For the entire week after that, Chuuya had tried to act like nothing had changed. It was a pitiful attempt.
He always made sure to hit softer whenever Dazai got on his nerves, and he’d started saying things like, “Don’t go dying on me, shitty Dazai.” Sometimes he even went as far as making crab dishes whenever he noticed Dazai was in a bad mood.
The memory stirred something in Dazai’s chest—something odd and unnameable. It was a nice feeling.
You’ve always been there to stop my attempts, but this time… you’re not here.
Goodbye, Chuuya.
Dazai was just about to make the cut. He pressed down with as much force as he could, and—
“Oi! Open the door, Mackerel!”
Knocks.
One.
Two.
Three.
“Dazai! Open this fucking door or I’m breaking it down!”
The knocks grew more aggressive—more desperate.
“Dazai! I swear to fucking god—”
Click.
Dazai unlocked the door.
…
You can imagine the terror Chuuya felt when he got home and saw the bathroom door closed, the light inside still on. More noticeably, a certain bandaged fish was nowhere to be seen.
Chuuya dropped everything and dashed to the door, only to find it locked.
“Oi! Open the door, Mackerel!”
He knocked three times.
No answer.
A pit formed in Chuuya’s stomach.
He remembered the last time—how Dazai had been just a hair’s breadth away from succeeding.
The near death experience had rattled him so badly that he’d ended up coddling Dazai for an entire week afterward.
I stopped him before. I’ll stop him again.
“Dazai! Open this fucking door or I’m breaking it down!”
Chuuya was full-blown panicking now. He pounded on the door with frantic desperation, praying that Dazai was still alive.
“Dazai! I swear to fucking god—”
Click.
The lock turned.
The moment Chuuya heard it, he threw the door open so hard it nearly came off the hinges.
There he was—Dazai, standing just on the other side.
Chuuya rushed at him and wrapped him in a hug tight enough to suffocate someone.
“Fuck you, you asshole. You scared the shit outta me.”
“Sorry, Chibi.”
Dazai’s voice was even worse in person—hoarse and so small it could’ve been mistaken for a whisper.
After a minute, Chuuya pulled back to look at him properly.
He looked like hell. His hair was a greasy, tangled mess. The bandages around his neck and eye were overdue for a change. His eyes were sunken, shadowed by deep, dark bags.
When was the last time this idiot even slept?
Dazai opened his mouth to speak, but Chuuya grabbed his wrist and tugged him toward the bedroom.
“Come on.”
“Where are we going?” Dazai’s voice cracked as he asked.
“To sleep. You look like shit.”
“Wow, rude. Y’know, dogs are supposed to obey their masters, not the other way around.”
Unbothered by his usual antics, Chuuya shoved him lightly toward the bed.
“Sleep.”
“Fine, fine. My dog is so bossy,” Dazai muttered, climbing under the covers.
Chuuya lay down next to him. They’d shared a bed so many times it just felt natural now.
Several minutes passed in silence. Chuuya was on the brink of sleep when—
“Chuuya?”
Can this idiot just go to sleep already?
“What?”
“Why did you come here?”
Chuuya let out a short laugh. “For someone so smart, you can be so fucking stupid. I’m coming with you, dumbass.”
Dazai looked at him like he’d grown two heads. “Why?”
Chuuya held out his hand—a silent invitation.
“It’s like Mori said. We’re partners.”
Dazai’s mouth twitched into a faint smile as he took Chuuya’s hand in his.
“Yeah,” he said softly, ”Partners.”