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It was cold. As it always was, around this time in Yokohama. But especially around the waterfront. The wind blew off from the water, chilling the air even more than it already was. It wasn't where Chuuya usually visited, unless he was on a mission.
But lately, he was frequenting one of the hills near the water.
He hadn't planned on it, but he wanted to visit his partner.
And every time he would visit his companion, he would tell him a story. Sometimes it was something that he'd never told anyone, sometimes it was a story about something that they had done together before. And sometimes, he would just tell him about his day.
And his partner was a good listener.
He would just let Chuuya talk as he leaned onto him, resting his head on his shoulder.
Just listening.
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I.
The first story that the mafioso told his partner was a familiar one to the both of them. The story of how they both met when they were fifteen years old. Chuuya remembered it vividly. Mostly because he had hated him, but that was besides the point.
He sighed and elbowed the brunet lightly as he told him what story that he would be telling him, but the boy didn't move. He stared out towards the horizon, and Chuuya began.
"You remember, right? Suribachi City? God you were so fucking annoying." reminisced Chuuya. "After recognizing me as the "King of the Sheep", you called me something like a 'cocky, overconfident child', like you weren't one yourself."
The redhead took a deep breath. "Sometimes I wonder what would have happened had we been a little nicer. We probably never would have been partners, eh?"
No response.
As expected.
But he continued all the same.
"We were bickering for ever before we actually started fighting properly. I remember you being impressed by my martial arts skills, and I remember being thoroughly annoyed at how smart you were." Chuuya mused. "Can't believe that was almost nine years ago. Crazy, isn't it?"
He was sure he saw the brunet nod out of the corner of his eye. But still no words. That was fine.
"God, you were a pain in my ass. And somehow, I still ended liking you. What an idiot, aren't I?"
A memory flashed behind Chuuya's eyes.
He and his partner, at an arcade, fighting over a bet they'd made, especially since Chuuya had lost it. And then two of his fellow Sheep members walked in, and his soon-to-be partner made sure that they spotted the redhead.
Chuuya had, of course, been pissed. After all, why would he have pointed him out like that?
But now, when he thought about that time, he thought back on it fondly. He wished they had more moments like that.
But now he could only see his partner on the hill by the harbour.
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II.
"Hey mackerel." Chuuya muttered, sitting down next to his partner in the soft, verdant grass, which was surprisingly still a nice colour despite the colder weather rolling in. "My day was pretty shitty today, y'know. Mori's a dick, as always."
He might have imagined a soft snort from the brunet, but he was sure that he heard it. Which was good. It was some sort of response out of him. He hadn't gotten one of those in a while. He'd possibly seen a nod last time, but he hadn't been able to be sure.
"He's making me go through that internal debate as to whether or not I'm human. I know… by definition I am. But… Arahabaki is stirring a lot lately. Not enough to trigger Corruption, of course, I only trust myself to do that around you, obviously… but… I can hear it in my head more and more." Chuuya huffs. "It's a little scary, because I think Mori can tell."
He took a breath, and also took the moment to lean onto his partner, as he always did when he walked up the hill.
"And… I've been trying to remind myself what you said all those years ago, before you stopped talking… about me being the most human person you've ever met, after the incident with the Flags, or something. But it's hard." Chuuya admitted, removing the hat from his head and placing it in the minimal space between them.
"It would be nice, you know. If you talked." whispered the mafioso. "Even once. But… alas, I know your stubborn ass won't ever listen to me."
His hand reached up to brush over the black leather choker/collar that the brunet had gifted him. It was a stupid gift, meant to symbolize the bet that he lost at the arcade when they were fifteen, where he became his partner's "dog", but it grew to mean much more than that.
Even though he constantly protested to wearing it, he never took it off.
And he still wore it, even well into his twenties (well, not well into, he was twenty three, turning twenty four soon).
"I know… I always told you to shut up because you were annoying—which you were! God, you were the most insufferable person on the entire goddamn planet… but now… without that annoying voice in my ear every second… everything feels a little quieter." Chuuya said, leaning his head fully onto his partner's shoulder. "I wish you could say something to me. One last time, you know. So that I can remind myself how annoying you are."
But Chuuya didn't really want that.
He also, didn't have much more time, he had a mission coming up that had to be completed hastily, so he pressed a soft kiss to his partner's shoulder, then left him on the hill by the harbour.
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III.
Chuuya trudged up the hill, grumbling to himself, something like "stupid coworkers, can't work for shit.". But he needed to visit his partner. So even in his frustration, he made time to make the trek up the grassy hill.
It was nearing spring, so Chuuya was nearly 24. It was almost his birthday.
Twenty-four.
How crazy.
It would be a shame that he grew old without his partner beside him, because he was stuck on this goddamn hill, and wouldn't move, no matter how Chuuya pleaded with him. He refused to budge.
Sometimes, when the weather was bad during the winter and Chuuya would visit, he would bring a tarp, blanket, or coat, to make sure that his partner didn't freeze. Despite being a suicidal maniac who chased death at every moment, he hated the cold.
Which was why, once they had matured enough to realize their feelings, the brunet had always clung to Chuuya like a leech, because the mafioso always ran hot. Always. He sometimes blamed it on the fact that Arahabaki was always active inside of him, which would be an understandable explanation, but he was also just perpetually warm.
Now, he wrapped his arms around his partner and squeezed, because it was still cold, and even though it was significantly warmer than it had been as of late, he wanted him to feel as comfortable as possible.
"I don't have a story for you today. Only complaints." Chuuya admitted. "Fucking hate my job. Port Mafia's terrible. They've started treating me only like a power source. Sure, I'm fucking powerful, and I know it, but they only talk to me when they need something. Power used to be respected, you know."
His partner knew that. He knew that power used to be respected—that was the only way he got people to listen when he was so young.
He was the youngest Port Mafia executive ever, and he earned that through fear and power, but not via his abilities. He earned it because he was a genius.
Chuuya wished he could lend the redhead some of that.
He could faintly hear a voice that sounded eerily like his partner's in his head saying: "Ah, but the Chibi can inflict fear and gain power back. Use the power to scare them, of course! Even Mori-sensei is afraid of what Chuuya can do."
It wasn't exactly a lie.
"But how? I don't want to get in trouble for threatening people."
The voice in his head spoke again: "Ah, but it's an organization filled with assholes. Fear is part of the game. In fact, if you gain back control, Mori might finally recognize you, despite how short you are!"
"Cut out on the short jokes, dipshit." Chuuya huffed, but he knew that he was simply talking to the voice of his partner in his head. The real partner, the one sitting next to him, was quiet. He had gone mute nearly a year ago.
The redhead sighed.
"I'm considering leaving the Port Mafia, you know. Like you offered when we were 18." he admitted. "To go to that detective agency you worked for, before you went all quiet. I can't deal with it anymore. I know it's a little late to go with you, since you don't work there anymore, but… hey. At least I'm getting out of the place you wanted me out of."
Chuuya sighed once more, and sat there, leaning against his partner, watching the waves from the ocean lap against the shore.
In silence, as they always were.
By the harbour, on the hill.
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IV.
Chuuya visited his partner next, carrying two small cupcakes. One red velvet, and one vanilla. He had never understood why his partner had only liked the most basic of flavours, but he bought it all the same.
"I brought cupcakes. Y'know, since it's my birthday and shit. Bet you didn't get me anything, per usual. I guess I'll have to deal with your shitty presence." Chuuya never really minded. He'd rather spend his birthdays with his partner, alone, forever, than throw a party for himself with his coworkers.
Well, since he'd moved to the ADA, he actually liked his coworkers a lot more, but he didn't know them very well, so he wasn't about to invite them to a party.
And he hated parties without his partner.
Because he was stuck on the FUCKING HILL!
"I don't know if you'll eat it, to be honest, but I tried to make it with ingredients that you could stomach." Chuuya shrugged and placed the cupcake in front of his partner. "I know you can't eat a lot of things cuz you never eat enough. And you still don't."
He didn't end up eating it.
Chuuya ended up eating both.
But he left the cherry that his partner had always demanded he put on top on the grass in front of him.
And hoped that it wouldn't blow off the hill and into the harbour.
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V.
Ironically, the next time that Chuuya visited the hill was on his partner's birthday. It had been nearly two and a half months since he last visited, and he had been getting antsy, and he missed his mackerel.
He even took the time to get him a small present.
Well, it wasn't really a present, it was something he'd lost years ago and Chuuya had searched high and low trying to find for him, just to make sure his present was all that more special.
It was the charm that used to be on his bolo tie—the teal-ish aquamarine one he'd wear when he was with the Armed Detective Agency. Chuuya had finally worked up the courage to search his old dorm at the building, and he had found it.
"Happy birthday, shitty mackerel." Chuuya said, placing the gem on his partner's chest. "I hope you enjoy what I found."
And then Chuuya remembered something.
He pressed on the gem in the middle of the tie, and it clicked open to reveal a small compartment. There was a ring inside, of course. The matching promise ring to the one that Chuuya wore on a necklace that dipped below his shirt.
One that came with a promise of marriage when they were old enough, when they were merely 17 years old.
That promise hadn't been fulfilled yet, but Chuuya was waiting.
And he would wait forever.
So he clicked the gem shut, hiding the ring away, and placed it back onto his partner.
"I also brought you some flowers. Your favourite kind. The stuff that you used to give me on Valentines Day." Chuuya said, placing the bouquet at his partner's feet. "They smell good. I might have to buy some for my kitchen myself."
A memory came to Chuuya, one from the brunet's birthday years and years ago, and he huffed out a laugh. "Remember when you asked me for a gun for your birthday, knowing full well you owned many yourself? You said that if you killed yourself with it, it would be just like me killing you, like I've always wanted."
Chuuya's eyes stung a little at that, but he blinked back the tears that were threatening to well up. This was his partner's birthday, not a sad day where he was crying.
"Funny thing is, I never really wanted to kill you."
He never did.
Even though sometimes he got so mad at his partner that he wanted to fire eighteen shots into him and watch him bleed out, he never actually meant it.
And now the thought hurt.
Because if he did shoot his partner, he'd have to watch the blood trickle down the hill, and into the harbour.
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VI.
It was time to say goodbye.
The words were long overdue, and he couldn't keep pretending that he was going to get the ending he wanted—the ending where his partner magically un-committed suicide and reappeared in front of the redhead.
But reality didn't work like that.
He couldn't just use his ever so powerful powers to bring back his mackerel because his mackerel was gone. And it hadn't been even in his dream double suicide either. It had just been a random Tuesday where he decided to fall off of a building.
It was a dramatic end to a dramatic man.
And Chuuya had been clinging to any last hope that his partner was alive, and had let himself imagine that instead of a gravestone at the top of the hill by the harbour, it was his partner, who had simply shut himself off and would just listen to Chuuya.
Chuuya had known that it was unhealthy.
He created a fantasy in his head where the mackerel was somewhat alive, no matter how nonverbal and unmoving he was.
He had even managed to convince himself fully to the point where sometimes he saw him when he went up the hill. And if he didn't, he'd force himself to. Force himself to see the fluffy hair and russet eyes that always seemed to know so much.
Those eyes wouldn't know anything anymore.
They would never narrow at Chuuya because he was being annoying, and his annoyingly pretty lips would never twist into another smirk.
So when Chuuya finally made his trek up the hill and toward what he now knew was a gravestone, and sighed. He wasn't going to never visit his partner again, he was just ready to accept the fact that yes, he was dead.
Yes, he'd left Chuuya.
And yes, Chuuya would never truly see him again.
He cried against the stone for a very long time, pleading for some miracle where his partner would come back for some moment and he could just say every feeling welling up in his chest.
Because despite everything that he'd said about the brunet, he'd loved him very very much. So much so that he knew the former detective better than anyone had ever.
And he would never be able to say those words again.
Not to his face, anyways.
But he murmured it against the stone one more time, as if he could communicate to the body lying beneath. "I love you. So fucking much."
He might have been saying goodbye, but he wasn't going to move on, like he was sure the other boy would have wanted. He wasn't going to go off and date or marry anyone else, because he'd already promised himself to his partner when he was 17 and stupid.
He would always belong to his partner.
Even if he was gone.
So when he finally stopped crying, he sighed.
This was his partner's idea of a perfect end. Death by suicide. But he was suicidal because he couldn't rest.
And now he was finally at peace.
"It's okay, Osamu. You can rest now." he whispered through sniffles, finally speaking his name for the first time in nearly two years. He hadn't said it before because if he had, it might have made reality crash in on him, and make him realize that Dazai was dead too early.
But at least he was buried on the hill by the harbour, like he'd always spoken about.
It had been he and Chuuya's favourite hangout spot after missions.
And one day, offhandedly, he'd mentioned that if his suicide attempts ever did work, or if Chuuya finally succeeded in killing him, that he'd like to be buried by the harbour, on the hill that they always spent time on.
Chuuya hadn't taken it to heart then.
But when he did die that fateful day, he made sure to request that Dazai be buried there, right by the tree, on the soft grass that he and the redhead used to lay on, arguing about everything and yet nothing at all.
And now he lay there.
Under the tree, beneath the grass.
On the hill by the harbour.