Chapter Text
❀ ❀ ❀
“How many times have I told you that I don’t want you messing with my things?” Chuuya asks as soon as he steps into his designated suite, immediately noticing the presence of a trespasser inside his room.
“Mm, 749 now.”
Chuuya rolls his eyes at the answer. Trust Dazai to keep track of the weirdest damn things. “And yet you never listen.”
“I listen, Chuuya.” Dazai stops his rummaging around Chuuya’s closet, silk ties in his hand. He then crosses the room so he can sink into Chuuya’s bed, lying spread-eagled and basically taking over the bed that Chuuya’s been craving ever since the sixth hour of his twelve-hour flight. “It’s just that I disagreed with you, that’s all.”
“Disagree, my ass,” Chuuya retorts as he takes off his coat and hangs it on the coat rack by the door. The windows of his room are facing the sunset, but due to Dazai’s meddling, thick curtains are drawn over the view that should be magnificent at this time of the day.
There’s sparse lighting and Chuuya should be more surprised at this kind of invasion, but the truth is, Dazai’s always been like this: messing with his pace, steamrolling into his life, bulldozing through his decisions.
“Chuuuuuuya, you take too long.”
“Shut the hell up,” Chuuya replies without any real heat, because he’s tired and jetlagged for one. He divests himself of his clothes, but opting to keep his shirt and boxers on. He’s not in the mood to take a bath and freshen himself up, and he’s in an even fouler mood to sleep with his very persistent boss.
“I missed you so much,” Dazai whispers to his forehead as soon as he joins the other in the bed. Almost automatically, Dazai’s hands start running all over his back, caressing the jut of his hipbones, lightly touching each knob in his spine.
“I’m too tired to have sex with you right now, so get those ties away from me this very second, you jerk.”
“Ehhhhhh, but I missed you so much!”
“Shut up,” Chuuya whispers back to Dazai’s neck, and in a few seconds, he’s fast asleep.
It’s quite possibly the most peaceful sleep he’s had since his mission to France two weeks ago.
❀ ❀ ❀
...Chuuya tries to remember that gentleness, that peaceful atmosphere, but fails.
He’s been part of the Port Mafia ever since he can remember, so blood, crime and death have become so commonplace that it’s weirder if his day doesn’t cause him to encounter a gruesome crime scene or some prolonged torture session.
That said, there’s something fundamentally different if the person orchestrating the destruction spread out before his eyes is the person he’s been with ever since he can remember.
It takes him a minute to find his voice; what comes out is a hoarse one steeped in disbelief. “...What the hell happened here?”
“Ah! Chuuya!” Dazai whirls around cheerfully, his long black coat fanning around him almost like a flower bud revealing its true form beautifully. “Fancy meeting you here~”
Fancy meeting, my ass, Chuuya doesn’t say.
Instead, he clears his throat and repeats: “What the hell happened here?”
“This guy here refused to kill anyone, despite being Port Mafia~” Dazai’s conversational tone makes it sound like they’re just exchanging idle gossip about their colleagues, when it fact there are blood marks - some fresh, some blackened - all over the room, the sparse decoration livened up by the presence of the opened briefcases of the torture squad’s tools.
Chuuya squints as he attempts to recognize the battered body. The guy looks oddly familiar - maybe someone who was recruited to the Port Mafia alongside him and Dazai? But whereas Chuuya has been promoted to be an Executive and Dazai has been the Boss of the Port Mafia for the past six months or so, this guy has remained an unassuming grunt.
“So you tortured the shit out of them?”
“Not at all! I let the Torture Squad handle him first but he just pissed them off with his Ability to predict their next words.” Dazai doesn’t bother wiping his bloodied hands before he reaches out Chuuya’s face, pinching his cheeks. “So I stepped in to make sure that he learned allllllll of his mistakes thoroughly.”
“...He’s dead,” Chuuya says flatly, unimpressed with how Dazai’s now wiping off his hands on Chuuya’s coat. Dry cleaning is a bitch and the only consolation is that, as Dazai’s obvious favorite, a huge portion of the Port Mafia’s funds are set aside for his use, which includes the dry cleaning fees.
“He is!” Dazai claps his hands together, still with traces of his activities. “Isn’t that a waste???”
“You think he’s trash anyway.”
“No way! Chuuya, are you teasing me?” Dazai’s mouth is stretched into a grotesquely pure smile, happy and bright in its cruelty. “That’s disrespectful to garbage! Anyone who can’t follow simple instructions from yours truly are useless, after all~♡”
❀ ❀ ❀
“Chuuya-san, this way please.”
Chuuya isn’t cruel enough to roll his eyes blatantly or to slap away the hands of the group of his subordinates who practically fall over themselves as they erupt to a flurry of activity in order to assist him.
His luggage from his one-week mission in Italy are being pulled across the ground, attached to the tips of his coat, effortlessly dragged against the floor by his Ability. He dislikes taking off his outer coat even when inside the headquarters, because Dazai is a fucking reptile who likes to stay in places with the AC in full blast.
He just raises a hand up to stop his subordinates from embarrassing themselves further - just in time for Dazai to practically fly from the door on the other end of the long hallway decorated with paintings worth millions and billions of yen.
“I missed you, Chuuya~♥”
Chuuya’s never been a fan of public displays of affection, especially if it’s from Dazai who always starts off with shamelessness and only gets worse from there, especially since he knows that this is less due to actual affection but more on because Dazai likes this thrill of showing off what he can get away with.
Despite that, Chuuya doesn’t resist aside from putting up the token resistance of raising the gravitational pull of his surroundings so that anyone near him will not be able to approach him and kiss the ground instead. Of course, it’s a resistance that Dazai steamrolls through effortlessly, his Ability granting him a one-man pass to embrace Chuuya, his right hand immediately going for the back of his head, his left hand unashamedly groping his ass over his pants.
Without even giving Chuuya a chance to breathe, Dazai sneaks in his brand of welcoming - a deep kiss with too much tongue and teeth - uncaring that there are more than fifty subordinates forced to watch the show.
After five minutes of the intense ‘welcome back’ kiss, Dazai lets Chuuya go - though only slightly. The grip at the back of Chuuya’s head only ceases so that it can comb through Chuuya’s hair, knocking off the hat from his head. The massaging motions on Chuuya’s ass don’t stop at all, only that it also spread out to his hips and lower back and upper thighs.
“You’re a damn animal, slobbering all over me.” Chuuya should be more surprised or embarrassed with this action, but it’s been so long and he can’t quite remember the peaceful days where the two of them exchanged kisses in the covers of their tiny, one-room apartment and the shadows of the buildings after a successful mission together. Dazai’s ascension to being the Boss has changed so many things that Chuuya can’t quite keep up sometimes. “Disgusting.”
“Are you seriously comparing me to dogs, Chuuya?”
“I would, but I figured that’s unfair to the poor dogs.”
“I should discipline that cocky mouth of yours, Chuuya.”
The line causes the temperature of the cool hallway to drop even more. The subordinates still glued to the ground all shiver at their Boss’ cheerful tone - because anyone who has a brain already knows that nothing good ever arises from Dazai Osamu being happy, nice and generally in a good mood.
Each minute Dazai spends being happy is equivalent to one poor person disappearing from the face of earth, left to a fate worse than death.
The sheer fact that nobody ever knows what happens to the people ushered to Dazai Osamu’s ‘special meeting room’ after being invited with a smile is terrifying enough.
“Just fucking try, you bastard.”
Well.
Aside from Chuuya and Dazai himself, nobody’s left the ‘special meeting room’ alive, after all.
Chuuya sometimes thinks that it’d be better if he tries attempting to be nicer and more polite to Dazai, but the moment he thinks it, he grimaces as bile rises up his throat.
Fuck no.
It’s probably that.
The reason why everyone fears Chuuya too, to a certain degree.
He’s the only one who doesn’t outright sweat bullets, the only one who doesn’t disappear off the face of world, after being treated with so much suffocating kindness, after being invited inside Dazai’s office.
It’s almost a compliment.
But then Chuuya remembers that he can’t remember the less bloodthirsty Dazai from before anymore and that just brings sorrow to a small part of his heart.
❀ ❀ ❀
“What the hell are you planning now?”
Chuuya honestly has better things to do than sit on top of a bridge on a Friday evening. Sunset paints the sky a blend of purple and red-orange that makes his hair appear even redder. The moon is almost visible in the overhead sky, some of the brighter stars already peeking out to decorate the view.
He didn’t bring wine despite Dazai’s constant teasing whole day about having a romantic dinner date in the bridge. Okay, so he didn’t eat on the way here either, but that’s only because he’s not yet hungry, not because he’s sort of hoping that this is indeed a romantic dinner date.
One, Dazai has this look on his face that he’s up to no good - a look that’s semi-permanently etched to his face ever since he became the Boss, but only became worse when he managed to decrypt the communication between Guild members who were looking for some powerful book of some sort.
Two, Dazai doesn’t possess a truly romantic bone in his body. All of his romance has been transferred to his love for complicated strategies that answer any and all possible outcomes, sometimes interrupted with moments of distant, dazed looks and murmurs about suicides.
Three, Chuuya has a working system to avoid the constant barrage of disappointment. He’s learned to keep his expectations of Dazai painfully low. It’s done wonders for his blood pressure and he’s not abandoning a working system.
“Come on, Chuuya, you don’t have to be so suspicious when I invite you out on dates!”
“Uh, you’re a very suspicious bastard, so no.”
“Hey, why would you be suspicious of me?” Dazai pouts, his face a mask of childish sweetness. “I’ve always been nice to you, Chuuya!”
“How about that one time when you ‘asked me out on a date’,” Chuuya makes sure to use both of his hands to make the air quotes, since he knows that Dazai will tease him to hell and back for his words without it, “and then you ended up driving my car right up to that drinking buddy of yours and putting him in a goddamn coma?”
“That’s old news, Chuuya!”
“That was last week.”
“Like I said, old news.”
“You’re fucking unbelievable.”
“That’s my charm point!” Dazai scoots closer, so that both of them are looking at the sunset, seated on the edge of the bridge, just a few centimeters away from being blown away by the wind to have an unexpected dip in the flowing river below. “Aside from my absolutely lovely face and my gorgeous body and my very smart brain and—”
“Yeah, you’re a damn catch, whatever.”
“You agree!”
“Whatever,” Chuuya says, because Dazai is a catch, yes. A disease that one can catch and never be cured of, more like.
Dazai scoots even closer, his right arm curling over Chuuya’s shoulders. Dazai’s been impossibly cold lately, becoming more and more like the corpses of the enemies he destroys on an hourly basis; it’s only on moments like this that Chuuya gets the validation that Dazai is still human, warmth radiating from his body, despite the cool afternoon headwind.
With their height difference, it’s almost comical, but Dazai wiggles until he’s tucked his head securely against Chuuya’s neck and left shoulder.
He smells the scent of bleach, medicine and even more bleach, but even with all the disinfection, the smell of iron still reigns supreme. Dazai’s practically bathing in blood nowadays and Chuuya wishes he can do something about it, but he’s ultimately just too thankful that Dazai’s strong enough to stay alive in the dangerous games he’s playing against the world.
“I miss you, you know.”
“Hello, I’m right here.”
Chuuya snorts, but he gets it, really.
He misses Dazai too - mostly because the Dazai who flirts with him extensively and the Dazai who crushes anyone who catches his eye the wrong way are just one and the same.
He misses the Dazai who clumsily falls down stairs because he’s too caught up in thinking about strategies on how to beat Chuuya’s benchpress record. He misses the Dazai who attempts to surprise him with a breakfast in bed whenever he’s injured from using Corruption, but because he’s a damn failure, he ends up burning toast and force-feeding Chuuya with the nasty food. He misses the Dazai who’s not a bloodthirsty Boss wrapped in too much power for his own good.
He misses the Dazai who loves him with the type of love that feels warm and safe.
He misses the Dazai he loves with the type of love that doesn’t feel equal parts of happiness and pain.
“Aw, Chuuya’s ignoring me~” Dazai’s words cut through his musings mercilessly. “Maybe I should just jump off this bridge and drown my sorrows in the lovely river?”
“Don’t fucking blame this on me,” Chuuya scoffs, because he’s not an idiot. “I knew you had a plan when you went here. So I should stand guard, huh, is that it.”
“Ah, Chuuya~♪” Dazai noses along his neck, the fluffy hair tickling Chuuya’s chin. “You’re the best ♥”
“Just go before I dropkick you to the river.”
“Mmm, I will.”
And Chuuya closes his eyes as Dazai leaves him alone atop the bridge, the moon now more visible overhead.
He doesn’t want to see Dazai float over the river, he doesn’t want to see Dazai introduce himself to the lost-looking teenage Ability user by the riverbanks, he doesn’t want to see this plan of Dazai’s take shape.
He misses the days when everything was simple.
❀ ❀ ❀
Chuuya stands guard over a shop that serves delicious bowls of chazuke, attacking a mostly-abandoned building two blocks away to divert the Armed Detective Agency’s Kunikida’s attention.
Chuuya doesn’t pay too much attention to the white-haired teen’s enthusiastic gobbling of food, to the weirdly-colored eyes’ sparkling at the thought of earning money, to the oblivious Ability holder’s confusion over being handed a calling card to a legitimate security detail business that is the Port Mafia’s legal front.
He hasn’t eaten yet and he feels sick to the stomach.
Dazai’s laughter is happy and carefree and it’s all so fake that bile fills his insides.
He really misses the days when everything was simple.
❀ ❀ ❀
“I don’t need your pity, Nakahara-san.”
“Just accept the painkillers, damn rookie.” Chuuya didn’t plan on stumbling upon the tail-end of Akutagawa’s disciplining, but he’s a damn unlucky person, really. “It’s not poisoned.”
Because he’s been with Dazai for so long, he can almost 100% accurately guess Dazai’s plan for the man-tiger, but it’s still sickening to see him twist the man-tiger and the sickly-rookie so expertly in his bandaged hands.
Dazai plans to move ten steps ahead of The Guild by luring the man-tiger to the Port Mafia - not-so-accidental first meeting by the riverside, generous treats of dinner and helping the other find a cheap apartment, timely saving from an ordered attack from Akutagawa...
It’s all just a Level 1 game for Dazai and it’s horrible.
Because Akutagawa’s being punished for failing a mission that’s been doomed to fail and messed up with the person who made the order to begin with. Because the man-tiger’s being wound in a sticky spider’s web that he can’t escape from. Because Dazai’s all too happy to ruin lives.
He really wishes he can turn things back to when everything was simple.
❀ ❀ ❀
“I don’t think I can live without you, Chuuya.”
Chuuya bites his lip as he considers the honesty in the other’s fake, lying face, in the other’s fake, lying mouth, in the other’s fake, lying heart.
“...I don’t think I can live without you, too.”
They’ve been together for twenty-two years. Imagining a morning without the other’s body beside him in bed, imagining an afternoon without the other interrupting him in his mission or paperwork some way or the other, imagining a night without the other trapping him in a pile of pillows and sheets and kisses - it’s painful and beyond difficult.
“But I need to stop you.”
“You’ll regret leaving me, Chuuya.”
It’s not a threat.
Dazai doesn’t threaten anyone.
He only says the truth - facts, undisputed truths, lies that become reality eventually.
“I know.” Chuuya’s most difficult decision before this is about which brand of wine he should purchase. But the longing for the Dazai who’s not drowned in this vicious cycle for more power is stronger than any fear or heartache. “I need to try anyway.”
Dazai’s eyes are cold, shuttered. His pose is relaxed, leaning back against his executive chair, hands on his lap. But there’s an underlying note of steel in his body and words. “There’s no point, Chuuya.”
“I need to try.” Chuuya doesn’t close his eyes even as he shivers at the other’s cold look. “I need...to go.”
“...I’ll find you and hunt you down and drag you back.”
“I know.” Chuuya doesn’t have any doubts that there’s already a tracker in his person. “I know you, after all.”
“I’m going to wipe out anyone who thinks they can have you ♥”
“I know. I need to try anyway.”
“I was going to ask for a kiss goodbye,” Dazai says offhandedly, “but I figured I should just get it once you come back.”
“Cocky, aren’t you? I won’t come back - not until I can stop you.”
“Chuuya, have my strategies ever been wrong?”
Every single one of his strategies - from the angle of his smile at Chuuya to capture his heart, to the assassination plan for Mori to eliminate his rival in the Boss position, to the every bit of dust particle in this room - has never been wrong.
“There’s a first time for everything.” Chuuya believes in hard work - that’s how he rose up from being a powerless orphan, after all. “I’ll crush your plans, Dazai.”
Dazai laughs a little at that. His eyes have regained a bit of warmth as he smiles and bids him farewell: “Have a safe trip, Chuuya.”
Chuuya wishes he can say ‘I’ll be back’ with a smile on his face too.
❀ ❀ ❀
The news stations are in a frenzy the next evening.
The West is in turmoil, its top shareholders and top officials all wiped out in a raid. The Guild is all but wiped out from the map and from history.
Chuuya crosses out The Guild from his list of potential allies in his quest to combat Dazai.
❀ ❀ ❀
The news continues to be overwhelmed, the world frozen in fear, as mass exterminations happen left and right.
Chuuya’s list of potential allies grow smaller and smaller and smaller.
❀ ❀ ❀
Chuuya sets up an appointment visit to the Armed Detective Agency’s office, his last choice, but what greets him instead is a trashed office and Dazai’s smile.
❀
“As I expected, I can’t live without you.”
Unconscious and chained to the heavy oak desk in the middle of Dazai’s office, Chuuya doesn’t reply.
That’s fine.
Patience is a virtue and all that.
Dazai’s patient when it comes to Chuuya.
As long as Chuuya’s here, then everything’s going to be fine.
After all, isn’t that what love is?