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Dazai sat on a stool, yapping away. The slug, however, wasn’t paying attention.
“Chuuya, be nice and listen to your master!” He smirked, getting a groan in return.
“Shut up, damn it, you demon.” Chuuya scowled back, hunching away and rolling his eyes, glaring off into the distance, a gloved hand clenching his drink before he sipped it and a mafia member came up to Chuuya, and they were taking away, becoming background noise for Dazai as he sighed wearily.
The Lupin bar was filled, damn Mori having an event here.
Dazai made sure to appear unbothered. Since when did he care, after all?
It’s just a bar.
That’s all. That’s it. No reason to get emotional. He was the ‘Demon prodigy’. He was only close with Chuuya in here.
He looked down, at the bar table, the alcohol reflecting his dark brown eye, making him shiver. The chibi had stopped paying attention to him, but Dazai lost the desire to continue. His eyes dulling further.
This place — not the Lupin bar, because if he reminds himself it was there, he might end up killing someone. Someone such as Mori for making any of this happen in the first place… This was Mori’s fault. This was all his fault. This was Ango’s fault. Odas’ for being so selfish. Not being reasonable.
Dazai feels how his clenched hands shake and tighten, glaring down at the table only able to see his reflection in the liquid, feeling his head thump with pain, his face burning with rage, rage. His throat tightening up, he wants to shoot every fucking unimportant person who was looking at him.
He wants to leave already.
He wants to rip the bandage across his eye off (and the skin under it, and his red eye, his devil eye which would make these dumb lights all too harsh — like the sun, if not wrapped in bandages, making him look odd, and he wants to feel the dripping beads of blood down his fingers, leaking into the creases of his skin. He wants to feel every bit of it — except the pain )
This party was so stupid. Chuuyas left him all alone. He should just wait it out until it’s time to leave this damn place.
Dazai closes his eyes to push out the lights. The people.
When Dazai leaves he knows he’ll get replaced. That’s all it will do. Why does Oda think he can do any good. Why did Oda have to kill himself, why does Mori have to be such a scheming creep, why did he have to kill Oda!?
His hands are becoming numb.
It was all their fault!
Or maybe it was his own fault. Of course it was. His face was burning and he was vibrating. He had to leave, he got up from his stool, his legs numb and vision unfocused, tumbling and unsteady, pushing past people with a weak glare. Lupin bar was too busy. It’s never this busy, Dazai just wants to spend some time with Oda and Ango. And that cat whilst he’s at it.
But he can’t.
The air hits him first before he processes he was even outside, then the rain. How undeniably fitting. He’s just drunk. That’s it, this is far too emotional. Everything a degree out of balance, (like himself.) He needs to reset.
He hid his hands in his trench coat, taking a shaky breath.
He knows he can’t leave just yet. He’s being ridiculous…childish.
Dazai doesn’t bother reacting to the footsteps behind him, recognising them as ones he’s used to, done far too many missions with, noting a red glow from the corner of his eye, Chuuya using his ability to prevent getting rained on.
“Chu’” he mumbles, his voice weak looking at the pavement, dingy lights reflecting off the thin layer of water, drops distorting their reflection,.
A beautiful distraction from his partner, and simply, everything swirling in his mind. He takes in a breath.
“What do you want?” Dazai asks flatly, crossing his arms into himself.
“Jeez’ mackerel, the hells wrong with you?! Aren’t you meant to be teasing me, so why are you out here being down for, and getting soaked?” The ginger scoffs, grabbing at one of his wrists, ability canceling, causing him to slowly have drops drip from him,
Dazai resisted, his eyes tracking the vehicles moving past and huffed.
“No reason, Chuuya.”
“No reason,” the other mocked, “sure.”
Dazai watched Chuuya shove his hands in his pocket, hunching.
“Have you not had enough of your fancy wine yet..?” Dazai grumbled back, his hair progressively getting soggier and dripping down his face. Chuuya didn’t reply, leaving the reply for silence. Dazai blinked and looked at his partner.
“Have you had enough? Going home then? Weak.” He gets an eye roll,
“What are you being moody about?” The ginger speaks.
Dazai fights with himself not to look down, mentally playing a video game song in his head.
“Nothing.” Comes his tight-lipped reply. God, he wished Chuuya would stop asking already, decisively humming instead, and letting the silence and background noise of talk and engines settle in. It really was annoying…why should he have to tell the other about how he was feeling? It shouldn’t matter to Chuuya at all, in Dazai’s opinion. Why is he so bothered that Dazai was bothered by the fact he missed his friend? — and his appearance. Dumb dog…
“Your zoning out, mackerel.” He mumbles, nudging Dazai. Dazai looking longingly back at the bar sign, life is so unfair, a pity, but oh well.
“I…just miss Oda.” Dazai admits, making himself slightly surprised, Chuuya giving a stunned look before he looked slightly awkwardly at Dazai.
“Huh, Oda? You’ve…never mentioned him before? I don’t know who that is.” The voice with a tint of confusion.
“Of course I haven’t.”
Dazai slightly laughs, voice bitter as lemon, his eyes tracking the drops of rain on the parent, numb to the feeling of rain by now. Hopefully Mori didn’t need him, that’d be pushing him too far.
“You, uh, don’t need to know.” He adds, his brown eye looking at Chuuya with a hint of softness.
“Nevermind—“
The other cuts him off, slicking hair out of his face. “No.” Speaking challengingly, allowing Sazai to speak. He groans before carefully speaking, and telling how he missed his friends. How everything fell apart, and how he was going to leave the mafia.
The dog didn’t mean to mind his rant, perhaps he wasn’t that bad.