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Chuuya grabbed a cup of expensive tea from the wooden table, blew on it and mentally cursed the name of whoever insisted on serving something so hot in the middle of June. He suspected it was either Kouyou's or Verlaine's fault.
"Everyone is here. I suppose the briefing can officially start." Mori announced with a grin.
"Talking about the state of Port Mafia's business in the Jewellery market..."
Chuuya knew he should have paid attention, being the one in charge of gems' trading and all. That was, in fact, the only reason he was allowed to take part to a meeting normally reserved to executives.
Still, he couldn't help it but glance at Dazai's direction. It was ordinary for the idiot to look like shit, but that morning the puffy dark circles around his eyes were even more marked, painted with different shades of purple and brown, the rest of his face pale like death. He had been making his usual awful jokes but his voice was hoarse as if he had been screaming all night long.
"Do you have any ideas regarding the dealings with the Tokyo's commerce agent?" Mori addressed Dazai, who proceeded to explain a complex plan in detail, sitting right next to the boss.
He concluded with a smile. "However, my interest in bargaining is below zero, this useless business has no connection with suicide at all. How unfortunate, someone else must take up this job. Chuuya, wouldn't it be lovely to spend the next month in Tokyo? It would be such a delight, not having to see your ugly face all the time."
Chuuya kicked his leg under the table, but a sharp reply died on his lips as he took a quick glance at Dazai's hand. It was shaking, long bony fingers frantically tapping on a sheet of notes.
The redhead took a sip of his still fuming tea and sighed, resting his chin upon his gloved palm with a frown. Oh, that was going to be a long day.
______
That same evening Chuuya stopped by the station, filled up on gas, and spent the next hour trying to remember his way to Dazai's rotten container.
He was the only person alive who was brave enough to approach that abandoned, nightmarish place; at least to the eyes of others. Chuuya himself couldn't understand what was so scary about that stupid rat hole. Sure, it was creepy and probably intoxicated, but the Mafia has seen worse. How could his own colleagues be so terrified of that bastard? Blood-soaked mafia men, frightened because of an absolute loser of a filthy teenager. Pathetic.
After taking the wrong path three times and swearing enough for the rare passers-by to get concerned, he reached the tiny box and carefully lied down his motorbike. A terrible smell of chemical waste pierced through his nose as he hobbled through the mod. Why on earth did the idiot choose such a decaying place to begin with?
"Dazai! Take your ass out here!"
There was no sound at all in a range of miles, just Chuuya's voice echoing back to him.
"Asshole, did you hang yourself up or something? I know you're in there. Come out before I smash this dump to pieces!"
For some reason, his heart was pounding against his chest so hard it felt about to break through his bones and fall to the ground. If the idiot really did hang himself, Chuuya was descending to hell just to drag his ass back up in the living world and beat him to death himself.
He was about to take that pathetic excuse of a door down with a kick when Dazai appeared.
"Hi! What is my dog doing here this late? You know, your owner needs to sleep, but I'll take you for a walk tomorrow." His voice was cheerful and disturbingly hollow; his face looked even more bloodless.
"The fact that you need to sleep is exactly why I'm here, you complete moron. But I'm reconsidering it, maybe I should just let you die from insomnia."
Dazai for some moments stared at him like Chuuya was the one coming close to a ghost and not the opposite, bottomless black eyes stained with red, mouth opening and closing in confusion like a lost child. Then he smiled creepily again and his tone turned into pure honey.
"Aww, such a good pet, coming all the way here just to take care of me. I'll give you a treat in the future." Next, he dropped the facade all together. "But you need to go away. Now."
The creature in front of him could generally be described as not from this world. That was the Port Mafia's demon, soulless eyes threatening to suck the life away from the prey in front of them, a black hole deep enough to shallow everything else.
Chuuya, however, could only describe him as a total dork. He raised his eyebrows unimpressed and took a step forward, the ground breaking under his boot.
"No."
Dazai blinked, once, twice, still gazing at his face in silence. Summer air was dry and smelling like death around them. The redhead spoke again.
"I've come all the way to this shitty place and now you'll shut your stupid mouth and do what I say. I don't want to take up on extra work for you cause your brain fried itself with sleep deprivation."
Dazai looked down at his shoes in defeat. His hands were still shaking on his sides and the rings under his eyes were so dark Chuuya could see them in the night. Waves were crushing against the harbour behind them. Dazai sighed and he sounded miserable and exhausted beyond belief.
"Alright. Let's hear your grand plan."
Chuuya took a deep breath and pressure was lifted up from his chest. He turned around, walked towards his motorbike and lifted it up using gravity. "Hop on."
"Huh?" Pitch-black eyes widened up.
He couldn't understand why on earth someone so dense was labelled as a prodigy. "We're going for a ride, obviously. Shut up and get on."
"Awww, my dog it taking me for a walk. It's like cross-dressing. With how incompetent you are we'll probably crash out and die. You know what? I've changed my mind. This is a brilliant idea. Let's go."
"I told you to shut the fuck up, you insufferable piece of shit."
Dazai jumped on the rear of the bike with one smooth movement, Chuuya made the engine roar and that rotten box slowly vanished behind them.
In a few minutes the sour stink was replaced with breathable, salty air as Chuuya drove alongside the coast. When he ran over a bump on the street Dazai purposefully leaned towards his left side to throw them off-balance and the redhead quickly stabilised them with Upon The Tainted Sorrow.
"If you do that again I'm drowning you here and now."
"Hurray!"
"No, I won't kill you, that would be too nice. I'll just torture you with lack of air until you faint and then I'll leave you there. With how weak your body is you won't come back for a few days and I'll be temporarily free of your bullshit."
"Mean dog." Dazai fucking bit his shoulder with sharp canines and he flinched.
"Ouch! Get the fuck off me, you useless menace. And you call me a dog!"
The idiot finally stopped moving as scrawny bandaged arms wrapped themselves around Chuuya's waist, and his chin remained on Chuuya's shoulder. The weight against his back felt weirdly grounding. Neither of them mentioned it.
He drove towards a moon shining brighter than a lighthouse as the ocean and the sky blurred into each other in one dark infinity; no other soul existed within miles. Dazai kept yapping about trivial things, breathing on Chuuya's neck.
They headed towards inland and ran through endless grass fields, wild berries plants and old trees. Far from civilisation, far away from their usual routines of strategy, combat and death, he felt Dazai's voice getting strained with tiredness, words dragging themselves out of his lips slower and slower. The heated air around them tasted of sweet summer flowers.
About an hour after the start of their journey to nowhere, Dazai's head fell still against the back of his neck. He drove for an hour more in complete silence, passing through woods and dried rivers and golden wheat lands, Dazai clinging to him in his sleep.
After the third hour he knew he should've headed back to Yokohama. Still, he couldn't bring himself to steer. His own lungs felt open and pleased as he drove and drove forward. That deep into countryside the stars were clear glittering diamonds above his head; he never noticed how vivid they could be.
He was used to taking solitary trips out of town when he himself couldn't sleep, crushed by grief and guilt: he was riding Albatross's bike, after all; but he never fled that far.
It was surprisingly comfortable, sharing the intimacy of a warm quiet night with the moron napping on him. It felt less lonely than usual.
When he bumped into an oak's root, the motorcycle trembled and Dazai shifted behind him murmuring something in his ear. He carefully slowed down.
"Mhhhh, Chuuya, this is a very rough way to wake up the sleeping beauty." His words were still all blurred into each other.
"I did not miss your voice at all. Shut up."
"Chuuuuuuya..."
"What the hell do you want?" He growled at him, quickly growing irritated again.
"Let's sleep here."
Chuuya turned his head to look at him like he grew three heads on one neck. "What the hell?! Here.... Where?"
"Pull over there!" And Dazai attempted to make them tip over to their left again as an explanation, smiling proudly when Chuuya let out a distressed choked noise.
"You damn idiot. Why on earth did you have to wake up?" But he still brought the bike near the side of the gravel road and stopped the engine.
Dazai sighed against the back of his neck before sliding off the vehicle. "I ask myself that everyday."
He didn't sound lighthearted as usual, though. There was something so raw and tired in his voice that it made Chuuya shiver. He regretted his phrasing immediately but remained quiet.
A small grass field expanded across the valley on their right side, enclosed by out-stretched branches of fruit trees, blessed with ancient silver rays from a full moon; but most of all, it was illuminated by dozens of little golden fireflies dancing in the dark. Dazai grabbed his wrist in silence and dragged him to the centre of that mystical garden, pressing his thumb over Chuuya's agitated pulse.
It was such an unmistakably human action, to feel overwhelmed in front of the intensity of nature. Chuuya found it comforting.
Dazai fell to his knees on the grass in the middle of that field, and Chuuya slowly laid down next to him, side by side, heated air clinging to their skin.
Fireflies began flying around them and Chuuya refused to move. Silence stretched again as they both looked up to the sky.
He closed his eyes, suddenly heavy with sleep, when Dazai spoke.
"It's.... quiet."
He was about to reply by mocking the asshole's bright deductive skills, but something in the other teen's tone was very, very frail. Like a snail peeking out of its shell after remaining closed in itself for so long.
"My head is never.... quiet." A deep, shaky breath. "This feels nice."
Chuuya instinctively reached for his hand in the dark and tilted his head to properly look at him. Dazai let him.
"Yeah, I figured that."
The idiot looked surprised.
Yes. I understand you. Even if you don't think I do.
"What do you mean, you figured it?" Dazai finally looked his age, mouth open, eyes wide and strained with something, brows frowned with confusion. Such a painfully human expression.
Chuuya scoffed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's not difficult to read your mind."
The other boy's hand spasmed under his as if burned.
"Dazai, why do you think I brought you here, exactly? I do know why you can't sleep. It's as clear as the day."
Chuuya has never been the best at handling people with delicacy.
To his immense disbelief, the demon prodigy fell onto him like a doll with cut strings. From his seated position, he collapsed on Chuuya like a dead weight, and he did not say another word. Chuuya could feel their breaths synchronising as their chests pressed together.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he carded his fingers through brown knotted hair, untangling it with as much gentleness he was capable of.
Not even Chuuya himself was aware of the reasons behind his actions. His hand moved instinctively, like it was the only natural thing in the world to do. Maybe he wasn't physically capable of being cruel to him when Dazai looked exhausted and defeated by life itself, eyes closed, face in Chuuya's neck, skinny arm resting on Chuuya's chest.
He needed say something. Anything.
"Dazai, do you know that we can do this whenever you want to, right? I usually go on night trips by myself but I don't mind... having you here. I don't."
There was no answer on the other side. Chuuya was expecting that too.
He draped his own free arm over Dazai's shoulders, drawing little circles on the bandaged skin of his upper bicep. The other teen's breath went still for a second, then back to normal. That was alright as well. He pressed their bodies a bit closer.
The grass was dampening the back of Chuuya's shirt, but he didn't mind it. He didn't dare move. He feared that if he did, Dazai would slip from his arms and sink right into the ground like jelly.
His eyelids naturally fluttered closed, chin resting on the top of Dazai's head, but he doubted he could fall asleep like that. He wondered if the idiot could heart Chuuya's heartbeat racing. He probably did.
It only took mere minutes for Dazai's breath stabilise and for him to fall asleep.
_____
The next morning they both skipped their meetings, and Mori complained about their lack of responsibility when they finally came back around noon.
Chuuya couldn't care less about it. Before entering the Mafia buildings again, he managed to shove almost half a meal down the idiot's throat, so he was pretty satisfied with himself.
Speaking of the devil, Dazai looked a bit less like the personification of death. He also, somehow, accepted a copy of Chuuya's apartment keys while they were having lunch.
"Your container sucks, it's not suitable for human life. Why the fuck did you choose such a horrid place? You're absolutely hopeless." Chuuya yelled, before throwing the keys right in the other teen's face, without saying anything else. Dazai didn't say anything either, but he kept the piece of metal.
That, was a good start.