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Chuuya never thought that the day would come when one of his acquaintances would get married. It was hard to imagine, because everyone he knew either lead a life too dangerous to bear with, were too eccentric to find a suitable partner, were too free-willed to want to settle down, or a combination of those.
Yet there he was, wearing a suit he never thought he’d ever wear and sitting at a table in Kunikida Doppo’s wedding banquet.
Truth be told, Chuuya wasn’t sure why he was invited. Sure, the Port Mafia and the Agency were no longer at odds with each other, but they weren’t exactly getting along either. Chuuya didn’t dislike Kunikida, he actually kind of respected the guy for not losing his mind with Dazai as his partner, but they’d barely ever had a civil conversation so they were certainly not close enough for Chuuya to be invited to Kunikida’s wedding.
Chuuya didn’t really have to respond to the invitation, nor did he have to attend the banquet, but not showing his face when Kunikida had gone through the trouble of inviting him seemed rude (Not that Chuuya knew about the norm for this sort of thing, because this was the first wedding banquet he’d ever been invited to) so he went. Even if it was a trap laid by an enemy, Chuuya was confident that he could get out of it easily.
But he’d forgotten one thing: Kunikida was Dazai’s current partner, so of course the insufferable social misfit would be there.
For some reason, Chuuya only realized this after sitting at a table and having said social misfit take the seat next to him.
“Nice to see you here, Chuuya.” Dazai smiled. For once, he wasn’t wearing the ridiculous coat that made him look like a vagabond. The white three-piece suit he was wearing, added to the smile on his face, gave him a certain aura that bordered on charming. In all honesty, he looked pretty good that evening. Not that Chuuya was going to say this out loud.
Chuuya glared. “Why are you here?”
Dazai raised one brow, visibly amused. “My partner is getting married. Why wouldn’t I be here?”
Chuuya averted his eyes with a click of his tongue. He’d felt a stab of something when Dazai said my partner, but he refused to acknowledge it.
(No, it wasn’t betrayal, go to hell.)
“Go sit somewhere else, tacky bastard.”
“Nah, don’t feel like moving.”
“Fine, I’ll move.” Chuuya stood, stalked off halfway across the room, and sat at another table. This was futile, of course, because Dazai took the seat next to him again immediately, as if it was a natural thing to do.
“I see you still have no taste in hats, though it’s nice to see that you at least have the decency to not wear black to a wedding. Burgundy compliments your hair really well, by the way. Where’d you get the suit?” Dazai spoke really casually, as if they weren’t constantly at each other’s throats.
Chuuya groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why did you move here?”
Dazai shrugged. “It was cold at that table.”
“I don’t remember that ever bothering you before.”
“Time passes. People change.”
Those words gave Chuuya another stab, which he still refused to acknowledge. So what if Dazai was no longer the person he knew? Everything they’d ever had was already in the past. That thought worsened Chuuya’s already sour mood. He stood, but didn’t even make it one step away before Dazai grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t move around the tables, Chuuya. You’ll give the organizers a headache.”
“Then stop following me around.”
“We haven’t seen each other in ages. Do you really need to be so hostile?”
Chuuya glared at the uncharacteristically genuine look on Dazai’s face. And then he retook his seat, because the organizers already have enough on their plates. It certainly wasn’t because of the strange look on Dazai’s face, which was replaced by a small smile when Chuuya sat.
Silently, Chuuya wondered if Dazai smiled like that more frequently now, because back in their days as Double Black, the brunette rarely smiled like that. Chuuya didn’t know much about his partner even then, but he knew that Dazai’s small smiles were the most genuine ones.
For a moment, silence. It was very uncharacteristic of them. As usual, Dazai was the one to start a conversation. “You’re different today.”
Chuuya glanced at him. Those words could mean anything, from the way he was dressed to the way he was acting. “Be specific.”
A waitress came over to give them each a glass of water and ask what they wanted to drink. Chuuya asked for wine while Dazai asked for sake. They waited for her to leave before continuing their conversation.
“I don’t know,” Dazai said, eyes following the departing waitress, “You don’t react explosively to me.”
Chuuya sipped his water as he contemplated Dazai’s words. It was true, he didn’t feel particularly inclined to bash Dazai’s head in that evening. Don’t get him wrong, he still disliked the bandaged freak, he just felt… different. Putting those into words would be a pain, so Chuuya settled with, “I still have the decency to not make a scene at someone’s wedding.”
“Really?” Dazai rested his chin on his palm and his elbow on the table, eyes now on Chuuya. “I don’t think that’s all. You seem kind of melancholic tonight, like something’s plaguing your mind. What’s up?”
Chuuya frowned. He didn’t get to reply immediately because Kunikida, complete in his bridegroom getup, suddenly appeared behind them, seemingly out of nowhere. The bespectacled man glanced at Chuuya. “Good evening, Nakahara-san. Thank you for attending my wedding banquet.” Without waiting for Chuuya’s reply, he turned to Dazai and barked out, “Dazai, where did you hide my notebook this time?”
Dazai smiled brightly. “Why are you so sure that I’m the one who did it? Besides, what business could you possibly have with your notebook on your wedding night?”
“I have my schedules in there, you moron! I need to –“
“You hired event organizers for a reason, Kunikida-kun. You’re supposed to put your whole attention on the bride, so stop thinking about your schedules. Now go find Haruko-san and shower her with love or some other gross thing you couples do.”
Chuuya watched, eyebrows raised, as Kunikida went red and started sputtering nonsense before stomping off. At one glance, Kunikida looked like he couldn’t be shaken by anything, but he got flustered surprisingly easily. Or maybe that’s because he was facing Dazai.
Dazai sipped his water and turned to Chuuya again. “So, what’s up?”
“It’s got nothing to do with you,” Chuuya snapped.
Of course, Dazai refused to drop the issue. And of course, he understood Chuuya well enough to figure out the problem before the redhead in question even knew there was one. “Could it be… Did Kunikida-kun’s marriage get you thinking about your future?”
Chuuya’s eyes widened. He turned away from Dazai’s scrutinizing gaze. Was that it? Had he subconsciously been pondering the future, and finding no bright point in it, turned mellow?
It then occurred to him what a lonely life he had. He didn’t have any real friends, just some upper echelons with whom he still need to uphold some formality and underlings who stutter in his presence. He didn’t even have a partner. He faced the risk of dying every day, and if he really died, people most likely wouldn’t miss him.
(Chuuya stubbornly refused to acknowledge the small part of his mind that still recognized Dazai as his only friend and partner, still hoped that maybe Dazai would miss him when he was gone, still thought that Double Black wasn’t just a forgotten past.)
A glass of wine was placed in front of him. Chuuya blinked and turned to his companion for the evening, who was sipping a cup of sake solemnly. He picked up his wine and took a sip, silently nodding in approval of its quality.
“Hey, Chuuya,” Dazai suddenly said, eyes pointed elsewhere, “Do you want to go out for a drink tomorrow?”
Chuuya stared, half-expecting Dazai to start laughing or something, but the solemn look on his face remained. He turned his eyes to Dazai’s fingers, which were nervously tapping on his cup. Confusion filled Chuuya’s mind. What was going on? Less than five minutes ago, Dazai was still his usual teasing self, but now he was suddenly quiet and nervous. Chuuya thought back to their conversation in an attempt to figure out the cause, but came up with nothing.
Oh well.
Chuuya sipped his wine as he thought about Dazai’s invitation. If he remembered correctly, his schedule for the next day was packed, but he was sure he could do something about it.
(No, it wasn’t because he wanted to go out with Dazai, go to hell.)
“We’ll see.”