Work Text:
“Step aside, Dazai.”
A sharp click as Chuuya flicks off the safety, stepping out of the darkness with his pistol already raised.
The sight of Dazai brings back an ache in his heart, an unwelcome feeling that he shoves down quickly. He hasn’t changed: the same beige trench coat, the same unreadable eyes. Bandages peek from his wrists where his hands are buried in his pockets, as though even now he has something to hide.
For a moment, Chuuya remembers a time when Dazai’s coat had been black. When they’d been side by side instead of opposite.
Dazai tilts his head, a smile tugging at his lips but never quite reaching his eyes. “So serious. And here I thought you’d be a little more pleased to see me.”
“Dazai.” Chuuya’s voice is steady, but the way his fingers tighten on the trigger betrays him. “I’m not here for you. Get out of the way before you regret it.”
A low laugh slips from Dazai’s throat, strained. “I never regret, chibi.”
Chuuya scowls, unwilling to let Dazai get under his skin again.
A flash of movement catches his attention. Behind Dazai, Kouyou steps out of the shadows, gun aimed and ready to shoot. Chuuya curses silently, his heart torn and wavering. It would be easy to let it happen, to let him die by Kouyou’s hand if not his. So why…
His gun fires.
The shot rings in the air, sharp and cruel in the silence. But it isn’t Dazai who falls.
Smoke curls from the barrel as the sting of gunpowder fills his nose. Chuuya feels a part of his heart crack beyond repair, dropping his arm to his side as he watches Kouyou stagger and crumple, blood blossoming at her side.
Dazai blinks and turns slowly, smile faltering as his gaze slides from her body back to Chuuya. “…Why?”
Chuuya clicks his tongue, jaw tight. “Nothing. I just missed.”
They both know he never misses.
Dazai’s eyes narrow slightly but he doesn’t reply, his smile pressed thin. Chuuya knows better than anyone that Dazai doesn’t believe a word of his crap, but appreciates that he chooses not to press. He’s not sure what he might be forced to admit if Dazai truly wanted an answer.
“You never stopped caring, did you?”
The softness of his voice punches the air from his lungs, the words hitting a little too close to his heart. His fingers tighten on the gun hanging by his side.
“Neither did you.”
For the briefest second, Dazai relaxes. A smile slips onto his face again, almost genuine. He lifts his hands from his pockets in mock surrender, though his gaze lingers on the barrel of Chuuya’s gun. “I trust you, partner.”
Chuuya scoffs, “You sure as hell don’t. Trust is the last thing you’d give anyone.”
“Ah, you wound me, chibi,” Dazai presses a hand to his chest in mock offense. “You mean to tell me I never trusted you? Not once? Even back then?”
Chuuya’s eyes narrow, concealing the flash of pain at the mention of their past collaboration. He knew better than anyone what trusting Dazai had cost him, yet he trusted him time and time again. Speaks volumes of his willingness to trust someone even after they betray him.
Curse himself and his own stupid loyalty. He’s sure Dazai would have no such problem.
“Of course. You probably never trusted me. Not now, not then.”
“But I do trust you, Chuuya. With my life.”
Chuuya is suddenly grateful for the shadow of his hat. If Dazai were to see his emotions laid bare across his face, he’d see the chaos unfolding in his heart. The words sounded sincere enough, coming from Dazai. But why now, when they stood on opposite sides of everything? Did he trust that Chuuya would be too weak to pull the trigger?
Maybe he was right. The fact is that Dazai is right before him, unarmed, and yet he makes no move to attack. The fact is that Kouyou is bleeding out because of him, and yet he gives Dazai the chance to walk away.
“You shouldn’t.”
Chuuya cocks the gun again, barrel raised. His expression betrays nothing, but his eyes waver despite himself. Don’t make me do this, he pleads silently, hoping that Dazai can read the desperation in his gaze. If Dazai refuses to save himself, Chuuya would have no choice.
I don’t want to kill you. So please, don’t make me.
The second gunshot of the night rings out, cold and crisp. The sound reverberates in his chest, echoing the pain in his heart.
Strange. Chuuya doesn’t remember pulling the trigger.
His heart throbs insistently, a faraway ache demanding his attention. He looks down, confusion flickering across his face.
Blood. Too much of it. A deep, crimson seeps through his shirt, blooming from his chest. He staggers, eyes wide, the gun slipping from his hand and clattering uselessly against the floor.
“Wha—”
The world tilts violently. He barely has time to react before he’s falling.
Except that the floor is warm. Solid, steady, safe — all the things he associates with Dazai. He must truly be losing his mind, if he were to conjure thoughts of him in a moment like this. But when he glances up, he sees he’s truly in Dazai’s arms. Dazai — his partner, friend, enemy, and now, his killer.
“…Why?” Chuuya rasps, echoing Dazai’s earlier words. Ironic, that he should die by Dazai’s hand after all they’d exchanged. After everything, Dazai was never meant to be trusted. He only had his naivety to blame, trusting a man who’d betrayed him before.
Dazai’s voice cracks, “Because I knew you wouldn’t miss this time.”
He never misses. They both know it.
“You should have let me.” Chuuya breathes, his breath shallow, blood staining his lips. He should have gotten to pull the trigger, to finally silence their years of torment.
“You’d have hated yourself.”
Another wet cough racks his body, blood trickling down the side of his mouth. “I already do.” His voice is hoarse and broken, “I hate myself for too many things. For being Arahabaki, because I’m never just me, never human enough. I hate myself for every comrade I’ve buried in this hellhole of an organisation — every drop of blood spilled because of my loyalty. Loyalty and blind trust born of one act of kindness that saved my life, because I give trust too easily. Unlike you.” He laughs bitterly, “But most of all, I hate myself for letting you walk away that night, when every part of me wanted to stop you.”
He’s thought about it a thousand times, if he’d at least tried a little harder to stop Dazai from leaving. Maybe they’d still be partners. Working together as Double Black, not as enemies standing on opposite sides of their war. It’s a cruel blessing, watching Dazai now — genuinely smiling among his ADA friends — and knowing that he could’ve been the one standing at his side.
Weakly, he grips Dazai’s coat, his resolve draining away with his blood. “Tell me, Dazai. How could I not hate myself?”
A moment passes before he feels the press of a forehead against his. Dazai’s voice floats to him, already distant, “I didn’t want it to end like this.”
Chuuya’s voice is barely above a whisper, “Then you shouldn’t have left.”
“I’m sorry.” Is his cheek wet?
His trembling hand slides up to the back of Dazai's neck, brushing against the familiar texture of bandages. “You know…” his breath hitches, weaker, “I still love you.”
He hears a choked sob, feels his head being pressed against Dazai’s neck, the bandages damp beneath his cheek. “I know,” Dazai whispers, lips pressing into his hair with desperate fervor, “I do too.”
Chuuya exhales contentedly, a faint smile curving his lips. Maybe his trust wasn’t misplaced. Maybe it isn’t so bad to die this way.
He lets go, eyes fluttering shut.