Chapter Text
It starts like this: when Chuuya invites Dazai to play a video game at his place after a successful mission, Dazai replies disinterestedly, "I've already made plans with Odasaku."
Dazai has never really turned him down like this , with such bored eyes and like he would rather be anywhere else but here with Chuuya. Sure, they act like that's how they feel all the time, but it's not—it's never actually serious , because they always end up following each other back to the arcade or Chuuya's apartment.
Chuuya isn't bothered that Dazai wants to spend time with a new friend he just made. Good for the shitty mackerel, really. He hasn't had anyone other than Chuuya for a long time and spent most of his days either alone, with Chuuya, doing mafia work or training the Akutagawas. What's really getting to him is the way Dazai is turning down his invitation.
The third time it happens, Chuuya begins to feel a foreign, uncomfortable and ugly twist in his chest, but outwardly as always, he pretends to let it go easily, hands in his pockets, shrugging unfazed. Alright then.
Chuuya stops asking after that, but now every time he even hears the name Oda, he feels a sickening kind of bitterness towards it. He doesn't want to feel it. He doesn't even know why he's feeling like this, getting so jealous. It's not like his and Dazai's pockets are stitched together. Chuuya has other friends he likes to see, and so should Dazai.
It's true that he and Dazai spend the most time together, with him breaking into his apartment almost every afternoon, sometimes just to tell Chuuya something irrevelant and stupid and to whine and beg him to make him canned crab for his lunch and to make a mess in places and take a nap on his couch and play videogames and watch movies with him.
Other times, it's because he thinks he might be on the verge of doing something stupid, hurting himself, so in the days they play games and talk shit and go out for something to do, and at night he curls up in Chuuya's bed, wriggling himself under one of Chuuya's arms against his will (Chuuya will never admit just how much he doesn't mind it and is actually glad for it, because that way if Dazai makes any move to get out of bed, Chuuya will know and tighten his grip around him to keep him down).
Oda and Dazai. Chuuya has seen the two hanging out together, the way Dazai laughs with him, eyes uncharacteristically bright in a way he's barely ever seen.
When Oda is not looking at him is when Dazai shows the full extent of his admiration and fascination for him. Dazai adores the older man, in his own hidden, unobvious way, but Chuuya has been his partner for a year and he has grown to learn the nuances in his expressions, how to read every shift of it. Chuuya has observed him for a long time.
These days, it seems, Chuuya has been observing him more than ever, even from afar.
That's how he begins to notice the wide contrast between Dazai's contentment with Oda and the pure apathy when he is looking at Chuuya. He does not look at him the way he used to anymore.
A few more days of this; Chuuya feeling so unsettled by his indifference towards him that he is beginning to feel pathetic. No matter how hard he is trying to seem nonchalant to Dazai, it's clear it's slipping out. He is trying too hard to start up their bickering sessions again, thinking up something interesting that Dazai would like to do, sending him unanswered texts of invitation for dinner and buying fucking cans of crab and making new recipes that he thinks Dazai might like, only for Dazai to not show up for dinner at all.
It's like Chuuya doesn't exist to him anymore, and the only time Dazai bothers interacting with him is during Double Black missions, all business and to the point, and always with that dull, hollow face.
"Oi, shitty Dazai, what's up with you lately, huh?" Chuuya says once, during these missions; the only time Dazai is around him now.
"What's up with me?" Dazai repeats, flatly.
"You've been weird. Well, ah, weirder than you usually are."
"Mhm. Sure."
They lapse into silence.
He just doesn't even bother to retort anymore.
"Did I..." Chuuya clears his throat. "Did I do something wrong?" He folds his arms, meaning to hide his internal turmoil and to look calm, and only looking uncertain and guarded instead.
Dazai's head is craned, his gaze afar, on the lookout for enemies from their hiding spot. Seconds pass, and it's as if Chuuya hasn't spoken at all.
His fists clench. This is just getting fucking infuriating now. "Oi, bastard! You can just say it to my face if I did! But what's with this silent treatment shit you've been doing?"
"Why don't you focus on the mission," Dazai says, "instead of trying to have a heart to heart in the middle of it?"
"Why won't you even look at me?" Chuuya asks, and all his desperation comes out in those words.
Dazai is silent again, and does not spare him even a glance.
"They're coming," is the only thing he says next time he speaks, pushing up to his feet with his gun.
***
"Just tell me what I did," Chuuya says, in the car, dirty and tired, "tell me what I did, and I'll fix it. I'll apologize or whatever the hell it is that you want from—"
"How about you find something better to do than to chase so pathetically after someone who's clearly not interested in you!" Dazai snaps, with the abruptness of a rubber band snapping apart. Chuuya recoils. Dazai has never lost his temper with him like this.
Chuuya wonders about the wording of that.
Did Dazai know how Chuuya felt about him? Is that why he is—
He pushes that thought of his head. It's too much. He tells himself it's just ambiguous wording. It doesn't have to mean Dazai knows about that.
There's no doubt about it now, huh? Shitty Dazai has had his fun, and now he's bored and tired of Chuuya, so he tosses him aside like he never meant anything to him.
Like the Sheep, when they didn't find him useful anymore and lost their faith in him.
"I thought we were friends," Chuuya says, quietly; in his mind come the images of Dazai, laughing at his impressions of a rich girl with her toes inward and of all the adults in the mafia, his bright and excited grin sitting on Chuuya's bed as they came up with all their strategy code names and code language for all kinds of situations, the way he would fall asleep in Chuuya's arms with his brown eyes fixated on his face, slowly drooping shut, as if Chuuya was the last thing he wished to see, brought him any comfort.
"Friends?" Dazai says, and now he looks at him, a derisive laugh. "I guess you've always been a bit slow, so let me tell you what we really are, Chuuya. You are a stain on the blank wall that is my miserable, empty life; temporarily interesting, maybe, but ultimately a stain that eventually loses its hold. Stop being so desperate. It's just sickening to watch."
***
Chuuya fumbles with the keys of his apartment, his hands shaking with so much rage that it takes him a long time to get it right. His head is spinning and taut, his heart racing fast and hard.
That fucking bastard. He would have punched him right in the fucking face until he was flying through ten buildings if Chuuya hadn't frozen up and just stared at him like a complete idiot . Why wasn't he able to say something? Why wasn't he able to kick him in his stupid, ugly face instead of not even being able to get his voice to work?
Chuuya finally gets the key in, twists it and shoves the door open with a bang, storming inside. His hair is a tousled mess and his face is sweaty as he is breathing heavy and hard. His hands fall onto the kitchen counter, clenching his fingers tight around the edge as he leans into it to ground himself.
Fine then. Fine. What does he care if that stupid bastard wants to fuck off out of his life? Dazai is a heartless, empty, non-human piece of shit and Chuuya is better off without him in it. All he has ever fucking done is make it worse anyway. All he has ever done is piss him the fuck off and make a mess out of his things and—
And—
Chuuya squeezes his eyes shut, clenches the small gasp behind his teeth.
He doesn't want to cry. Shit. Not over that bastard of all things.
The second gasp tears out of him right through his teeth anyway. He is hunched over the counter, his knees weakening, and he is trying to stop but he can't. Somehow he can't. His heart is shriveled up, small and painful and tight, and the emptiness of his apartment is so vast, the silence louder than ever. No stupid, crooning, playful voices as he plops onto the couch, calling him chibi. No sound of a shower turning on, and a bony, bandaged body showing up in the doorway, clad in Chuuya's biggest shirts, bought oversized mostly for him.
And there, the fucking cans of crab set out in a line on the counter. Chuuya is so sick of eating that shit, but he does anyway just because it's the only thing Dazai likes to eat.
Dazai has always come with him here after a successful mission.
And now he doesn't.
Chuuya knows what it feels like to be alone but this is — this is a whole other kind of loneliness; the kind that comes harder than ever once he's had a taste of whatever he has had with Dazai these last two years.
It hurts .
Oh God, it hurts.
***
After that day, Chuuya stops trying so hard and keeps the distance Dazai so wants from him. He does it even when his chest is caving in all the time, and he feels hollow and heavy. Sometimes he catches sight of Dazai, walking alongside Oda, looking like whatever is the closest thing to happiness to him until he disappears. He breaks his own heart this way, sick with jealousy he does not want to feel.
The thing is that he has tried to find out everything he can about Oda, just to understand what exactly it is that Dazai likes so much about that third-rate, and as much as Chuuya hates to find out, he is fascinating; once a deadly assassin who changed , and is now willfully, unwaveringly kind in a place as dark as the Port Mafia. He is low in the ranks just because he refuses to kill anyone despite, in Dazai's words reaching back to him through others, holding a lot of power and strength. He understands. He hates it and he understands, though he doesn't understand why he couldn't have fit into Dazai's life somehow anyway.
So Dazai has found someone he likes more and finds Chuuya paling in comparison.
Whatever, Chuuya thinks, trying to push all these irritating thoughts and feelings away. He doesn't want to feel all this, or think about it anymore. He just wants to move on now. He wants to stop his stupid fucking heart from loving a bastard like that and just — move on .
So he goes for tea with Kouyou. He trains with the Akutagawas. He goes for drinks with the Black Lizard. He has people. He can fill up all the empty space and time he has that was once taken up by that stupid asshole.
But Dazai is still saved on his phone contacts as 'Mackerel', and Chuuya hasn't touched his gaming consoles in weeks and he hasn't thrown out those cans of crab and some nights, Chuuya can't sleep because something always feels missing, an absence that is as solid as a presence all on its own. He misses having someone to hold on to as he falls asleep.
***
An organization is targeting Dazai Osamu, the only ability nullifier known to man in the entire world. But it was not only his ability they wanted, but his brilliant mind as well. It's the kind of case that Double Black should be taking care of, but Mori assigns Chuuya onto the case and orders that Dazai stay far away from it. He doesn't want Dazai going in and essentially being handed to the enemies on a silver platter.
It takes them a long time, months, to even track down the organization's base. They are smart and powerful, large in numbers and of varying abilities. Everything is planned out based on all the information they have gathered. They take a large number of men, the Black Lizard, the Akutagawas, and the best ability users they had.
Even then, it is not enough.
Everything goes wrong because there is one ability user they do not foresee, not mentioned in any of the data they have. It's their organization's secret weapon and their last resort.
It is an ability user that turns into a giant beast, an incomprehensible mixture of several animals but that was the only the closest possible description to it. No amount of bullets or abilities seem to be enough against it.
All hell is breaking loose around them. There are screams, the guns shooting relentlessly, the mafia's people dying fast with every slice in the air of the beast's claws.
"Chuuya-san! What should we do?" Tachihara yells over the noise.
Chuuya blinks hard and fast. His ears are ringing. It hasn't been that long since he became an Executive, and it's a bit terrifying, having so many people turning to him now, depending on him. He doesn't know what to do. Dazai would know. Dazai can come up with a strategy to win within minutes, if not seconds.
Dazai is not here.
Chuuya knows what he can do; brawn with not enough brains to get them out of this without resorting to the only thing he has. He scoffs self-deprecatingly.
But Dazai is not here.
He sees his men dropping like flies.
"Chuuya-san!" Akutagawa bellows, his Rashoumun slashing across the beast, barely making a dent. "Please tell us what we must do!"
Chuuya grits his teeth and fumbles his phone out.
"Tell everyone to retreat! Evacuate, now!" Chuuya yells, going to his contacts and clicking on Mackerel to call him.
No answer.
He calls him again. No answer.
He types out a text.
something has gone wrong
im gonna have to use corruption
Dazai would know the location. By the time Chuuya's gonna be done with his place, the ability users of the opposing organization, the Collectives, will have long been dead, so Dazai can come safely. The Collectives don't know, either, that the Port Mafia has a secret weapon, a last resort.
A minute passes. There is no response.
oi bastard
at least tell me if you're coming or not
Akutagawa and Tachihara get to work, spreading his order. All his subordinates begin to step back as they keep shooting and attacking at the beast to keep it at bay.
It takes Akutagawa too long to realize Chuuya has not moved, that he is the only one not retreating. He is standing outside the door.
Nearly everyone has evacuated. It is now just the beast and Chuuya.
"Chuuya-san?" Akutagawa says, confused, as Chuuya begins to slide his gloves off his fingers. His eyes blow wide. "Chuuya-san, you can't do this! Dazai-san isn't—"
"I've sent him a message. Get to him and make sure he reaches here safely. Keep the rest of the men outside the premises as precaution." Chuuya looks at him over his shoulder. "This is an order from your executive."
"Chuuya-san..." Akutagawa begins to move forward.
Chuuya glows red, and the doors shut abruptly, keeping Akutagawa out.
He checks his phone once more. There is still no response.
Maybe he hasn't seen it yet.
Maybe he's just busy or distracted (by that Sakunosuke, most likely).
Or maybe , a voice in his head says, he's already seen it, and he just doesn't care.
Chuuya grinds his teeth. The beast is roaring, flinging its claws. Debris and large parts of construction drop, and Chuuya jumps fast out of the way, skidding across the ground.
He has to wait.
Dazai always comes for him.
There is no response.
There is no time.
I should just walk out of here and let them all kill that bastard, Chuuya thinks in his anger. He keeps stalling, waiting for an answer, but they're probably cooking up something in the back right now and Chuuya needs to act before they get any openings for escape or retaliation.
"Gravity manipulator," one of the ability users call out. "We know you're still here. Do you really think you'd be enough to take all of us and this beast down? Tell your men outside to let us go and we'll call the beast away."
It has taken them months to even find them.
They will not kill Dazai, but they will take him and do God knows what with him to make use of his ability and mind.
They are powerful. They can do so much damage to the Port Mafia if Chuuya doesn't end it here.
He doesn't know how long he must have waited, dodging falling debri and large blocks of architecture, and when the beast finally sees him along with the other ability users, he has to duck out of claws and strikes of all kinds of abilities.
He can't keep waiting for a reply that might never come.
A memory comes to him; in the dark as they lay in bed, a small whisper between their faces, a secret moment, Promise Chuuya won't ever use Corruption when I'm not there?
What if you're not there and I have no choice? Chuuya asked.
Chuuya has to wait for me. I don't care what's happening. Chuuya has to wait.
Chuuya stares down at his screen, hidden again behind some debri. There is still no response. His hand tightens around it, tremulous. He had to have seen it by now. Dazai's phone is always in his pocket.
Shit. Does he really not give a damn anymore?
He remembers a small smile, eyes gentle and deep and dark. I'll always come for Chuuya.
Liar.
guess this is goodbye then, mackerel
Chuuya puts his phone back in his pocket and stands to his feet.
"O grantors of dark disgrace," Chuuya whispers, looking up at the beast. He thinks of everyone he has ever loved and cared about; the Flags, Ane-san, Q, the Akutagawas...
And him.
He closes his eyes, and he wants to laugh, and he hates himself. Of course, the last thought he will ever have is of him, smiling at him softly in a way that was once only for Chuuya.
Chuuya has to wait for me.
"You need not wake me again..."
***
Mackerel: i'm on my way. Wait for me and don't do anything until you see me there
4 missed calls
Mackerel: pick up your phone you stupid slug!!!
10 missed calls
Mackerel: Chuuya tell me you're still there. I don't know if you're punishing me because you're mad but just send me something, anything
21 missed calls
Mackerel: chibi please