Work Text:
Chuuya heard the familiar ring that echoed through his cellphone’s speaker. He’d dialled a familiar number. That being Dazai’s, of course.
Though he knew the bastard wouldn’t pick up. He never did.
He could hear it ringing. He wasn’t deaf.
But when the vibrations of pending connection clicked off and Dazai’s self-recorded voicemail played, Chuuya felt it hard to not feel a tiny bit excited.
He’d thought, for a split second, that he’d been able to reach him.
He listened intently to the same stupid message that he’d heard now thousands of times before. Clocking every little intentional breath Dazai had took before his words so that he could animate them better.
“Hi, whoever is calling, this is Osamu Dazai, unfortunately for you, I can’t grace your presence at the moment, and if I’m honest, I know that’ll make you tear up. If whatever your calling for is about the beautiful act of suicide or you’re enquiring about my advertised request of a partner to perform a double suicide with, please leave a message after the tone. Otherwise, I have little to no interest in whatever you’re calling about, especially if your name begins with C and ends with A.”
It was a rather long winded effort, Chuuya had always thought.
“And maybe you were never trying to reach me at all. Maybe this call was for someone else, and to that, I hope you manage to reach them.”
Right after that the tone played and Chuuya found the seconds stretched into silence, but he eventually found his voice again.
“Hey… So, I went shopping today….” He took a breath and shifted on his feet, eyes darting everywhere as he continued his one sided conversation. “They had some of that really expensive whisky you always had your eye on.”
He bit his lip. “I never knew why you wouldn’t just buy it. I knew you had the cash. Or at least the audacity to throw it into my basket… I would’ve got you it, y’know…”
Chuuya couldn’t help the sting in his eyes as he sucked in another more forceful breath.
He choked on an involuntary laugh.
“I did get you it. I know your birthday is coming up. I wanted to get you something so that you know I… care.”
The word was hard to get out as his jaw was shaky and tense now, making it hard to continue.
A hand shot up to cover his eyes. His brow line was aching.
“You know that I do care, don’t you? I always cared, ‘Samu. I-“ He’d forgotten to breathe.
A broken noise escaped him as he had to shut his eyes. Tears soaked his under eyes as his eyelashes intertwined in the damp.
“You couldn’t have just said something.” There was the flare of anger.
It made him fall silent for a few seconds, with a few quivering breaths being the only noise being recorded through the device.
“Sorry…”
Chuuya looked at the cards sitting atop his mantle.
“I know.”
His muscles contracted his lips into a frown that he just couldn’t help. He grit his teeth to combat it but it didn’t seem to help much.
Chuuya walked into the kitchen and grabbed some whisky. The bottle was almost gone but it stood beside multiple full ones, and a few empties. This wasn’t his first bottle this week. He took a swig and continued talking.
“Mori didn’t take it well. And it’s weird, I’ve never seen him be so… unprepared… I mean it wasn’t a secret… it’s not like he didn’t know…”
Another swig. It was the cheap whisky Dazai usually bought. It wasn’t good by any means, and Chuuya would usually never stoop so low as to drink such cheap liquor. Not when he had the cash to afford better.
He didn’t hate himself that much…
“The agency is devastated. They were there… uh…” He coughed, and took a swig to ease the tickle, though this only made him splutter more from the burn.
“They came… when I called… I already told you this…” He corrected himself.
“But my point is, the Atsushi kid you were mentoring… Came to my apartment yesterday. After I’d last spoken to you. Fukuzawa had gone through your apartment so no one else had to.”
He twirled the liquid instinctively like his favoured wine, but that would do nothing for the taste.
He didn’t care.
As he thought about his next words, he found himself unable to hold himself together well enough.
“Kid gave me your journal.” His voice broke half way through, and he took a hiccuping gasp as he swayed on his feet before deciding he’d better sit his ass down on the couch before he’d fall.
“G-God, ‘Samu, you were so lonely… you were so lonely and you… you tried so hard to get away from all the shit from years ago… and you did, I know you don’t believe you did, I know, but you-you did. You’re a… you’re a g-good man… I promise you that…”
Chuuya felt what he thought was his ribs snap shut upon his lungs. He was finding it hard to take another breath, and his eyes watered through the pain.
Finally, he did though.
His body prevailed on his behalf.
“Some of the pages were covered in blood, I didn’t know you were still doing that to yourself, I-if I did I never ever would’ve let you sit with that alone- I-i know how you get and I know how-how you get confused… like how you went searching for your mom that time… is that where you’ve gone?…”
There wasn’t much hope in Chuuya’s voice, but the smidge that was there was cemented in every line.
“Wherever you are, I hope it’s quiet and warm and full of expensive whisky and crab and-and… not so lonely as you knew here was…”
Chuuya gasped for another breath as he noticed his entire body was quivering now. Another swig went down the hatch to combat this.
“Y’know when we were kids- I thought you were joking when you flir—“ A knock at the door cut him off, he hung up immediately.
Chuuya tripped towards the door, quickly wiping the tears off his eyes. He didn’t care if whoever it was saw he had been crying, but it would be awkward for them if he was standing there with tears in his eyes.
Swinging the door open, Kunikida stood with a stony expression, one of calm and determination. Something Chuuya knew too well already was completely in vain. He didn’t blame the blond man in front of him though. He would be just the same if he hadn’t known better.
“Nakahara, we need Dazai’s cellphone for the investigation. It’ll hopefully give us some leads on what he was doing before he disappeared— are you drunk?” Kunikida stated blankly as the shorter swayed.
Chuuya just stared at him. Deadpan, cold and excruciatingly tired. Before silently marching with staggered, unsteady steps to his bedroom.
The room was a little more watery and fuzzy than he remembered when he’d arrived home after work.
“If you want, I can come back tomorrow for it.” Kunikida called from the door, his voice following Chuuya to the bedside cabinet.
Chuuya didn’t respond. In fact, he just yanked the drawer open, grabbed the damn cellphone, which lit up with some cute little crabs for the wallpaper.
663 texts.
379 missed calls.
184 voicemails.
1 reminder.
Chuuya took initiative and quickly got rid of the reminder through his drunken haze.
Deleting it completely off his phone while making some clanking to keep Kunikida out of his way. To hopefully mislead him into thinking he was still searching.
He cleared any evidence of the reminder in a matter of seconds.
He’d rather let them believe. To hope.
Something he didn’t get to do when Dazai’s phone had pinged with that reminder after he’d left his phone here the night prior to disappearing.
Chuuya wandered back out to the front apartment door and placed the phone in Kunikida’s hand, gripping it for a few seconds more.
“I want it back when you’re done…” He mumbled. “I want it back exactly as it is. Don’t try to fix anything so that I don’t find it later. I want everything there, intact. No matter how bad it is.” Chuuya gritted his teeth before looking away, unable to continue his domineering glare directed at the man in front of him.
“And don’t listen to any of the voicemails from my number. I don’t know anything. If I did, we’d have him home by now.” His hand quivered as he forced himself to let go of the cellphone.
“It’s just nice to hear him say hello. Let me keep my pride.”
Kunikida slowly pocketed the phone, silent for a few moments.
“If you need anyone, call u-“
“Yeah, yeah, ‘nough of this crap, just take the damn thing.” Chuuya cut him off, sharply.
Kunikida nodded, unable to even defend himself against Chuuya’s slight outburst.
“I’ll have it back by Friday.”
With that, Kunikida left and Chuuya shut the door before flopping himself down on the couch.
“It’s time to go.” is a stupid way to say you’re going to kill yourself, he thought.
His eyes caught the ring box on the table.
A small silver band sat inside, matching with Dazai’s own.
A promise ring.
One he’d never put on.
He’d thought it tacky and at the time he’d never known his true feelings for the brunette. He’d thought it strange that Dazai wanted him to wear it.
Now he understood.
A parting gift.
A connection between their souls forever.
Chuuya grabbed the box and slid the band on his finger.
A perfect fit.
And Dazai would never know.