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Today was good. No last minute missions. No absurd amount of paperwork. It was good.
Keyword; was.
It was good
Until he got home and that ugly-ass fish-for-brains was sitting on his couch like he owned it.
Like he had the right to. Like nothing had ever happened. Like he didn't leave him snoozing in the dirt after corruption.
Just the thought of that night, the fight with Lovecraft, sent shivers down his spine.
The moment he walked in he could feel it, he could fucking feel the disturbance in the air with the way it shifted.
When he made contact with the living room he just stopped. He didn't explode–not yet at least, didn't throw something, he just paused as if he were taking a moment of silence to assess the situation and how to react.
“Oh, Chuuya~! This is the first time I've ever heard you stop barking!”
“Why are you here.”
That. The flat tone made Dazai shift around where he was sitting. Trying to figure out the uncomfortable feeling of that.
‘That’, being how Chuuya didn't even start yelling in their usual bickering. ‘That’, being how he just delivered the most unexpected thing with a monotone voice.
It wasn't right. Something–no, everything, wasn't right. Had he just now realized it?
His couch was now on the other side of the wall. Completely new, too. His TV was gone. Replaced by empty space. A void of memories in the universe they had spent three years creating.
That wasn't even all. Though he hadn't gone any deeper in the apartment he was almost hoping that it was the same.
“Hah. The agency had a mission involving a smuggling ring and gifted child trafficking. Your apartment just looked cozy and warm.”
A master at deflecting really. Apparently screwing up because his stupid brain didn't want to say that. He wanted to push over and comfort Chuuya. To assure him he wasn't going to leave. To stay as long as Chuuya would have him.
He was going to do it right.
He was going to try again. As long as his fat mouth didn't say something else.
“Well, you saw wrong.” Chuuya muttered.
Wait. What?
“Wait, Chuuya, let me explain–”
“Get. Out.” His voice was cold. Harsh. He didn't want to deal with Dazai anymore. He made it clear.
Dazai knew chuuya was at the end of his rope. He didn't want to give up. So he fought. He tried to convince Chuuya that he didn't mean that. That his mouth let out different words from the ones in his head.
To any use? Nope.
“Please, Chuuya just let me explain–”
The door opened and he got shoved out. Lastly, it slammed in his face.
He dropped his head to the door with a thud.
“Fuck.” But this time Dazai didn't sound mocking. Hell, he couldn't convince anyone with the way he looked either.
As they say, all that glitters is gold, and this time, he was too slow to cherish it.