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It was so late it was borderlining early yet Chūya Nakahara wasn’t asleep as he usually was.
However he was long gone.
Wine had made him affectionate but now he was just sad, he was always a lightweight but tonight he had drunk way over his limit.
He was swaying his head side to side as he pushed the dial button over and over and over, yet it never went through.
But still he pressed the button over and over.
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The answer tone beeped again, he could leave a message but that’s not what he wanted.
He wanted to talk to him again, he wanted him to come over and drink with him he wanted to be his friend again.
It beeped again.
Chūya looked up to the ceiling, the lights were too bright but in his drunken haze he didn’t come to the conclusion that those lights could very easily be turned off.
Though even if he did figure that out, his legs would fail him anyway.
So there he lay, draped over the kitchen counter, ginger hair falling sporadically over his shoulders humming a tune absent mindedly.
Für Elise.
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Dazai had attempted to teach him how to play it back when they were both still teenagers, though they had very little success.
Chūya was too clumsy with the keys and Dazai was impatient and an overall horrendous teacher.
Though it was still a fond memory, even if it did result in Chūya taking a bat to the Steinway, that piano was written off after that.
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Chūya groaned to himself, grabbing his head attempting to steady himself and stop the room from spinning.
The bottle was an expensive one, Chūya had managed to empty the whole thing in one night.
However that wasn’t how he did things, of course he drank on occasion but he took his time, savoring the flavour and smell yet tonight he didn’t bother with any of that he just necked it and slumped over the cold counter, not moving from the stool he sat down on.
The answer tone beeped again but this time he didn’t push the red button as he had done countless times this evening.
He had been holding it over the edge arms extended as he mindlessly dialed over and over,
He brought the phone close to his face, the blue screen illuminating his mismatched eyes and freckled face.
The phone clacked gently against the marbel countertop as he put it down, resting his chin onto the stone blinking slowly at the charger port.
“Do you remember when I first joined and my shoes were all beaten up and old”
His words were slightly slurred but relatively calm.
He reminisced about his shoes, they were bright red converse that had been almost completely destroyed, held together with tape and years of built up grime.
The sheep had scavenged them from a dumpster when they first found him, and though he’d never admit it they fit him ever since the day he put them on.
They were still there, rotting at the bottom of his closet along with a few other mementos he couldn’t part with from the sheep.
Though his most memorable memento was the scar he had received from the stab but his mind digressed.
“And yours were all pristine and new”
He continued talking into the phone, smiling as he rested his eyelids.
He used to make a conscious effort to step on Dazais navy converse anytime he pissed him off, he laughed to himself recalling the events and how annoyed Dazai would get when he scuffed them or had to get them dirty.
He glanced over to the wall, that was where he kept his shoes neatly lined up together.
“Well I got new shoes …”
The way he said it made it sound like some kind of terrible confession, like he was revealing a secret affair or confessing a murder.
He glanced back over to the wall, shifting his focus to the corner, the wallpaper was browning and the carpet was dusty.
“But you never did”
With that he began to sob, alcohol really did make him hysterical when he had too much.
Chūya hadn’t moved them since he left them that day.
That was the last time.
The very last time he ever saw Dazai.
It was a couple days before he disappeared into the night.
Which only made it feel infinitely worse, he had a good couple days where he could have seen Dazai, spoken to him, hung out with him but instead he didn’t.
Chūya never changed the wallpaper despite its slow death march as the rot climbed the wall because that would mean he’d have to move them and he couldn’t bear to do that.
Chūya always left his shoes next to Dazais, they were glossy black with a substantial platformed heel, he remembered picking them out.
They were nice.
They made him feel professional, they suited his new life yet Dazai always wore his navy converse.
Sometimes he’d wonder if Dazai left them here on purpose, Chūya hadn’t even noticed they were there until a week after Dazai had left.
“They’re still here yunno”
He wept.
Honestly looking back the day after with a sober mind Chūya was sure Dazai would laugh at him for all of this, to be honest it was a rather pathetic sight.
“Theyre still here”
He mumbled in repetition, he truly couldn’t understand what was going on in his own head.
He wanted to barf.
“When are you coming back Osa ?”
Chūya continued still blubbering, he didn’t even try to wipe his tears, he simply cried into the phone,
Waiting for a reply he wasn’t going to get.
“It’s not funny anymore”
He sniffed rolling his head so his ear was against the cold countertop soothing his face that had become increasingly hot over the course of the evening.
“You can come back, you still have your title”
Chūya added, a mixture of tears and snot streaming down his face, he truly had fallen to pieces.
“Please come back Osa”
His breathing was hitched and his lungs were tight.
“The Port Mafia needs you”
His head was pounding, it felt like it was going to split clean open, he couldn’t stay conscious for much longer.
“I need you…”
He gulped back the spit that had been pooling in his mouth.
“Osamu I need you, please come back please you asshole just this once please stop with the games and just come home please”
He sobbed, bringing his hands up to his face as he continued to cry like a baby.
It didn’t take long after that before he passed out falling into a deep dreamless sleep.
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