Chapter Text
Chuuya awoke to silence.
Awaking to silence was.. new to him. Even back when he was a member of The Sheep, silence was a luxury.
Someone always needed him for something. After joining the mafia, Chuuya was bothered incessantly by calls from Mori, from Dazai, from the Flags. Even by Albatross’ horrible music taste at 7am. Silence was a privilege, one that has been a longstanding absence in Chuuya’s life.
Silence was threatening, above all else.
Chuuya snapped his eyes open. Above him, the sky was covered in a thick fog. Where was he..? He remembered activating corruption after seeing. . He shudders at the memory, hand reaching up to wipe what he could feel was blood on his cheek. Chuuya stares at his now blood covered glove, forcing himself to breathe and concentrate .
“Damn it, get a fucking grip.” He grumbles to himself, pushing himself up to sit instead of laying on the concrete. Had Corruption somehow been stopped by the government or some Agency brat? No. No, this felt familiar. Chuuya had an odd sense of deja vu, like he should know exactly what happened. He almost felt like Dazai had used No Longer Human on him, however..
His thoughts are interrupted by a sharp exhale from above him. How he hadn’t noticed another body next to him is something Chuuya will blame on the shock of waking up.
Chuuya snapped his head up to stare at whoever was in front of him, and has to hold back his own gasp of shock. In front of him, wearing weird clothing, less bandages than usual and an uncanny expression of grief, surprise and disbelief, was Dazai. No. No.
“No.” Chuuya hisses to the Dazai-looking stranger.
“No. Why are you..? You aren’t Dazai. Stop wearing his fucking face, I’ll kill you”
The ginger lifts himself to stand (Carefully ignoring how yes, the height difference between him and this stranger was the exact same as the distance between Chuuya and Dazai) and grasps a handful of the stranger’s shirt, lifting him and shoving him against what Chuuya now recognised as the alleyway wall.
“Who the hell are you, and why do you look like him, hah?” He spits out, baring his teeth. The brunette (softer than it looks, brown that matches perfectly with the hazel of Dazai’s eyes when he looks at Chuuya, full of-) softens his expression, somehow, in a disgusting display of something like relief.
“Chuuya.” He breathes out, voice full of respite and glee and that is Dazai. It doesn’t just look like Dazai, that is Dazai. Chuuya can feel his breath catch in his throat; the bastard isn’t dead after all. If Chuuya was a weaker man, he would probably let out a sob. As he is, he punches the taller across the cheek and sends him sprawling to the ground.
“You fucking bastard! How could you??” Chuuya yells, his clenched fists shaking.
Dazai pushes himself onto his elbows, broken glass and stones digging into his covered skin. Dazai didn’t know what was happening, or why, but Chuuya was back. Chuuya was alive, he was bleeding and weak from corruption but he was alive. Maybe Dazai had imagined Chuuya’s death the whole time? Hah.. Maybe Ranpo was right and he did need to go on leave for a while. Or did he imagine that too? Hell, he doesn’t know anymore. Chuuya is fine, and that’s all that matters. The shorter man was wearing different clothes than usual, the red of his shirt clashing beautifully with his eyes and complimenting his hair perfectly. He looked… harsher than Dazai remembered. More brash, but maybe Dazai was remembering him softer than he had been. Chuuya looked at Dazai like he was expecting Dazai to vanish at any point, which. He supposed he had to be looking at the shorter the same way. Hell, Dazai still isn’t certain this isn’t a drunken hallucination or dream: something he’s made up to deal with the guilt of leaving Chuuya to die alone on that field. It didn’t really matter, Dazai decided. It was nice to see Chuuya again, either way. He blinks out of his thoughts to see Chuuya leaning against the wall, staring at the brunette with grief in his eyes.
“Are you really here, or am I hallucinating you again Boss? I.. I could grab you, I punched you and you reacted, does that make you real? Does that make you alive, shitty mackerel?" Chuuya speaks with hesitation, sounding as though he’s expecting denial. It didn’t suit him, Dazai decided. He nods his head, ignoring the pain it sends shooting down his spine. Maybe Chuuya punched him harder than he thought, but Dazai couldn’t find it in himself to blame Chuuya. Not when he just got him back. Chuuya sucks in a breath, kneeling down and offering his non bloodied hand to Dazai.
Dazai grips it, noticing the difference in glove texture. It rubbed against his dirtied bandages differently than he’s used to. That’s.. Interesting. Chuuya was always particular about his gloves. These ones are softer on his bandages. He narrows his eyes. Something to think about when they’re not in a dirty alleyway, covered in grime. Dazai pulls himself up, preparing to pull himself up using solely his strength. Lucky for him, the ginger seems to have gained an amazing amount of compassion for Dazai since they last saw each other, meaning that Chuuya instead grips Dazai’s wrist, pulling him upright with little to no effort. He doesn’t let go once he’s upright.
“Chuuya.” Dazai smiles softly, an odd look on the usually eccentric face. He sighs quietly, rubbing the back of Chuuya’s hand with his free one. Chuuya squeezes harder, looking up into Dazai’s eyes.
“You should go home, Chuuya. I need to get back to the dorms.”
“No.”
“Chuuya.”
Chuuya falters.
“You’ll be okay? I can protect you, Boss? I can come with you?”
Dazai shakes his head.
“You’ll be deemed a traitor if you come with me, Chuuya. Go back to your apartment, that’s an order.” He commands, pulling the hand that was still clinging to him desperately away and allowing Chuuya to drop it back by his side.
“..Yes, boss.” Chuuya watches as Dazai shoots him a grin, before walking out of the alley to return back to the dorms. Chuuya clenches his fists. This is real. This is real. Dazai is alive, they’re both real, right? They’re both real.
Dazai turns his head to stare at chuuya out of the corner of his eye, smirking as the doubt present in Chuuya’s mind spreads onto his perfect features. Dazai hadn’t missed the vocabulary this chuuya was using to describe him. After all, why else would Chuuya be calling him “boss” all of a sudden? It may have been missed by poor, grieving, nieve Chuuya, but Dazai had enough sense about him to realize the inconsistencies between this Chuuya and the one he knew (The one he left for dead). This clearly wasn’t his Chuuya, however… Chuuya needs a Dazai to stay true to himself, no? What kind of partner would he be if he didn’t give into Chuuya’s delusions every now and again?