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now we’re swallowing the shine of the summer
[Chuuya turned into the alley just in time to see Dazai fall over, a man with a bat standing over him. There were a few more people standing around, too - who the hell had his ex-partner pissed off now, Chuuya wondered. And how the hell had they managed to get the better of him. Dazai might be a shitty fighter, but he always had a plan.
Chuuya was already kicking one of the men into a wall when he remembered that Dazai's plan was often him.
If t was, he was going to kill him, he decided. They weren't partners anymore, after all. But it might just be a coincidence, too. This wasn't Port Mafia territory. Dazai probably hadn't known he'd be in the area. But if he'd got himself caught up in some thugs' business without a plan, then Chuuya was really going to kill him.
The last of the men went down, and Chuuya hurried over to check on Dazai. He crouched down next to him, gently patted his face, then pinched his nose for a few seconds to see if he really was passed out, or just being lazy. No reaction. He had a few scratches, some bleeding. One of the wounds looked bad, but it wasn't life threatening - it just needed to be cleaned and bandaged, or he'd almost definitely get an infection.
Alright, so. What the hell did he do?
Most people would bring him to the hospital, but Chuuya wasn't most people. He was mafia. And he knew Dazai valued his privacy, too. He could bring him to that pet agency of his, but the thought of doing that for Dazai made his skin crawl. Besides, he couldn't let word get out that he'd carried a traitor to safety. He could leave Dazai here. But then Dazai wouldn't know Chuuya had helped him, and he really wanted a chance to rub that in the asshole's face.
— He could bring him home.
It felt weird. It was something he would have done when they were partners. But it was only because he wanted to annoy him, not because he actually cared that he was hurt. Still, Chuuya hesitated a bit. He brushed Dazai's hair back, just to check his scalp for any other injuries. Yeah, he'd bring him home. He couldn't wait to see Dazai's face when he realized who had saved his sorry ass.
Carefully, Chuuya shifted Dazai around, pulling him up slightly by the arms, and then leveraged his weight onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry. Then he set off in the direction of his apartment. ]
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But why should Dazai care if he dies? And how else could he stay in touch with the dearly departed?
So he still comes here on occasion, and drinks. It's usually just one drink for the sake of it, but sometimes, like today, he gets a little more invested in his drinking. Of course he can handle his drink just fine, and Dazai, being Dazai, shows no signs of being drunk. For that matter: maybe "drunk" isn't even the right way to describe him. There's no slurring his speech; no being unsteady in his moves. The lack of control that comes with being well and truly drunk is something that Dazai has never experienced.
And yet something about Dazai is definitely different. If anything, to the very careful observer, he might seem... tired?]
That much, I know.
[And he would indeed have made a semi-nasty comment on that account, had Chuuya not beaten him to it... or even if he'd just cared enough, honestly.
It's not that he doesn't care about Chuuya, in his own way. But everything is a little too dim to make Dazai feel much of anything, right now. Still, he forces himself to display some energy, if only in his speech. That his expression doesn't quite follow his cheerful tone is something that Chuuya will just have to forgive.]
Since you finally came here, why not have something to drink? The whisky is pretty good.
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Then again, maybe he's just drunk.
Chuuya sits on the stool, and orders a glass of wine from the bartender. Whiskey will get him too drunk too fast, and he's never liked it much anyway. The wine here obviously isn't up to his standards, but he can deal with that for now. ]
Takahashi's group is returning soon. The boss wondered if you needed help.
[That's it, that's the message. Chuuya has no idea what the details of that are, but he's used to being kept in the dark. He can guess that this is some sort of favor, though. And he knows there will be more behind it than that.
He wonders if he's the offered help, since he was sent here. It doesn’t matter. He just wanted it out of the way, and he’s pretty sure Dazai will just say no. ]
How much have you even had to drink?
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Tell Mori-san thank you, but our little Detective Agency can't afford his help.
[Dazai should look into the facts, but he's just not in the mood - and, again, too suspicious, though he supposes that making Chuuya come here could have been Mori's only real intention. He sighs, taking out his phone. Drunk or not, he types at lightning speed, a long message that includes more emoji than even an elementary school girl would use. Send, done. Let Kunikida sort it out for now.]
That is a rude question, Chuuya. Do I look drunk to you?
[All evidence to the contrary, the question is half serious. If even Chuuya can tell something's off, maybe Dazai went a little too far with his drinking anyway.]
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He sips his own wine when it arrives. It’s surprisingly decent. ]
You always look drunk.
[And Chuuya’s natural state is as a mothering worrier. Not that he worries about Dazai, of course.]
You’re in a strange mood, that’s all.
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Dazai lets out a single, soft breath of a laugh. He always looks drunk, does he?]
That may be true.
[Both statements, really. If he should do something about that, he can't bring himself to care right now.
It's probably not important.]
How's the wine~?
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It’s not as bad as I expected, at least.
[It’s good, really. Has Dazai kept an actually decent bar from him for all this years? Not that he plans on starting to frequent this place either way. That would still feel weird. Besides, not many things mean much to Dazai. If this place does, he’ll let him keep it. ]
Can I ask you something?
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It's not like he would have ever kept Chuuya from this place, though. If Chuuya had never been invited here, neither had Odasaku and Ango. Things had just... happened. That, in itself, is rarer than most people will ever realize.]
You can ask, but I can't guarantee you'll like the answer.
[If he chooses to answer in the first place - but he's not opposed to the idea altogether.]
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I never like your answers.
[Which doesn't mean he isn't dreading what Dazai might say. Trying to have a serious conversation with Dazai always means he risks getting hurt. He must be a masochist, to still want to try.
But he's also wanted to ask for at least four years now, and here's his chance.
He swirls the wine in his glass for a moment, drawing out time, and then drinks about half. He needs courage. He needs to phrase this right to get the answers he needs. No, that's Dazai's style, Chuuya always hated that game.]
What was so different about them?
[Does he sound jealous? It's not just about that. He just wants to understand.]
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He taps his glass slowly, pensively.]
If I had to pinpoint it... there are two reasons. One: how special they were.
But, most of all, two: how special they weren't.
[If it sounds like his usual smoke screens and distractions, it's really not: he's dead serious. Objectively speaking, they were normal people, above average but not overly much. Just normal people doing normal things - sometimes making unusual choices, yes, but nothing world-shocking enough that it should have had such an impact.
And yet here Dazai is, still pining for those days. In a way, the time spent here was fake from the start. In several other ways, this nostalgia isn't something he needs or wants. He knows better.
But he's still here.]
In spite of that, they -...
[His voice threatens to fail him mid-sentence, and he uses the interruption to cut himself off, seriousness making way for an attempt at his usual carefree attitude that doesn't show in his expression.]
... Maybe you were right after all, Chuuya. I may have had a little too much to drink.
[With a sigh, the finger he'd tapped his glass with flicks it just hard enough to make it slide away from him an inch or so, and he gets up. He should probably go home.]
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The only way to understand Dazai, he thinks, is to convince Dazai to let you in.]
So they made you feel like you didn't have to be special around them?
[He's not sure that's right. He frowns a little, and finishes his wine. And now Dazai is already getting up.
Chuuya sighs, and stands up as well.]
If you're going home, I'm taking you.
[He doesn't trust Dazai when he's in this kind of mood. Doesn't trust him to take care of himself, at least.]
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He never did expect Chuuya to understand. Chuuya is practically the opposite of him in this way - and that is the one, petty thing that Dazai has never managed to forgive Chuuya for: being more human than him. It's not Chuuya's fault and Dazai knows it: he knows he's being petty. But it hurts to see a piece of the puzzle you know is forever missing in yourself so effortlessly highlighted in someone else.
Dazai will just pretend he didn't hear that; he doesn't want to explain. It's not Chuuya's fault. Only when they're standing does Dazai talk again.]
Oh? Are you going to tuck me in, Chuuya~?
[He... actually might not mind Chuuya coming with him. As harsh and painful as the difference between them is, Dazai is feeling pretty damn alone right now, and he's drunk enough that doing stupid things might not be without consequences.]
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[Trying to get answers out of Dazai you not ends in frustration. The asshole is too caught up in his own pessimistic world view to let anyone else catch even a glimpse. He doesn't let anyone else in, because that would mean admitting he was wrong.
Except for, apparently, those two.
Chuuya tries to push that jealousy down again. That won't get him anywhere. But the thing about Chuuya is that, while he might get along with people easily, while he might be liked by most people in his Organization, it all comes down to his role. He's the executive looking after his subordinates, or he's the loyal subordinate. He doesn't mind. He thrives on responsibilities. But he can never forget his position either.
Dazai was supposed to be his equal, once, but he'd preferred others.
Chuuya isn't one to complain, though. He's happy with what he's got, who he is. Anything that might feel like it's missing is just a sign of his own weakness, and is easily ignored. He wraps an arm around Dazai's waist, even though he won't actually need the help keeping himself upright, no matter how drunk his ex-partner is.]
I'll probably just throw you headfirst through the door and slam it shut.
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You're very generous, shutting it at all.
[He doesn't expect that Chuuya will go through with that would-be threat, but it's all the same to him, really. It's not as if he could fight Chuuya, or even force him to hold back.
If that may be another reason why he lets Chuuya tag along, a very round-about not-quite-suicide method, then it's honestly not even deliberate.
Putting an arm around Chuuya's shoulder - not that he needs the support, even now, but Chuuya has always been a convenient height for these things, and Dazai can't resist pushing things a little further now that Chuuya has initiated physical contact - he starts walking. He's fairly sure the mafia knows where to find his apartment; he's even surer that, in the unlikely event that they don't, Chuuya won't be the one to tell them.
The air outside is cold, a sharp, unpleasant contrast with the comfortable heat running through Dazai's veins. He shudders.]
Ahhh, even the night air attempts to reject me...
[He's mostly kidding. At least 90% kidding. It doesn't make that 10% any easier to handle... He pats Chuuya's shoulder.]
How lucky I am, to have such a warm walking stick~
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Loyalty can be more frustrating than anything else. He hates his ex-partner, but whatever tied them together isn't completely broken yet.
Obviously. Because here he is.
And Dazai is being a dick. Chuuya kicks his chin with his next step, to see if that'll shut him up.]
Maybe I'll lock you in a walk-in freezer.
[But if Dazai is going to be a dick, then Chuuya can keep annoying him back, in his own way. With question.]
Hey, dimwit. Why the hell did those two put up with you, anyway. One was a -- [He cuts off any insults. No matter whate else you could say about the guy, he died for the mafia in the end, and he deserved respect.] -- He didn't exactly fit in with the mafia, unlike you. And the other guy was a traitor to the mafia. [A short pause.] Just like you.
But why would they want to spend their time with the worst the underworld had to offer?
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But still there, of course. Always there.]
Maybe you should, at that! Freezing to death is supposed to be one of the most pleasant deaths one can have, you know.
[He's honestly having a good time, here. Maybe it's halfway deliberate, focusing on anything other than their previous topic of conversation; if it is, that would at least explain why Dazai's mood drops again when Chuuya resumes his questioning. It's understandable enough, though, and Dazai doesn't even blame him. For that matter, he doesn't particularly mind talking about it, either. The facts are the facts; talking about them or not won't make a difference at this point.]
They're the ones who should answer that question, not me. [Just pointing out the obvious, there.] All I can say is that I don't think it was ever about our respective positions. It was the same as a bunch of salarymen going out for drinks after work.
[... He doubts that, sometimes. Odasaku aside, he kind of suspects that it was business as usual for Ango, which is the main reason why he will never completely forgive the guy. Sullying that kind of friendship in retrospect is every bit as unforgivable as it was for Dazai to not realize what was going on sooner, and the resulting petty annoyance at being outsmarted for once.
Still, it's hard to let go of even something so petty when he considers how Odasaku might still be alive, if only things had gone a little bit differently.]
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[He says, despite clearly wanting Dazai to talk right now, considering the questions he's asking. But the insults are out of habit by this point, and almost comforting because of it.
Even if he's always hated how easily Dazai talks about his own death.]
Tch. You were their executive, you had responsibilities to them. It wasn't just salarymen going out together even if you pretended.
[Not that Dazai had ever taken his responsibilities seriously.
This is frustrating. He wants to understand, but at the same time, hearing about it is painful. He wants to push for more details, but at the same time, he just wants to call Dazai out. He rubs at the back of his neck, forces himself to focus, because he never gets anywhere with Dazai if he lets his own frustrations take over.]
I know you never wanted to be a leader.
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[Insults are just insults. They very rarely manage to get to Dazai, and something like this, from someone like Chuuya? Doesn't stand a chance of doing so, even if Dazai is drunk.]
There are no responsibilities in friends going out for drinks together. That's the whole point of having friends.
[... Not the drinks as such - though that's a definite bonus - but the lack of responsibilities and expectations. Still, it's true that Dazai never takes his responsibilities very seriously, so shedding them shouldn't make much of a difference, should it?
He's not sure he wants to think about alternative excuses, regardless.]
Of course not. I became a leader because it was more effort not to, and because it came with certain perks.
[He didn't trust a lot of Mori's promises, but even so, he wanted to beat Chuuya to executive, just because it would allow him to see what little documentation was available on Chuuya's origins. It was, therefore, a promotion based largely on childishness and spite, with a fair amount of talent - and, not unimportantly: support from the Boss - to back it up.]
You were largely the same, Chuuya.
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He goes out with his subordinates all the time. He buys them drinks, pays for dinner, makes sure they're able to relax and have a good time, especially if they've all been working hard. Even when he's with Mori and Kouyou, Chuuya likes to provide wine, serve it to them.
Though it's definitely a different dynamic.]
I wanted to be a leader. I wanted to learn how to be a better leader, how to do right by the people I'm responsible for.
[He breathes out. He thought Dazai knew this.]
I failed the Sheep. That was on me. I wanted a chance to learn from the Boss so I'd never make that mistake again.
[And yeah, he didn't want to be left behind Dazai; he wanted to see the documents on him that had survived. That pushed him to work harder, but it didn't change the fact that he'd always wanted that responsibility.]
Tch. I'm not surprised you don't get it. You've always been a dimwit.
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[Is he talking about being a dimwit? Yeah, no - there's no drunk enough to believe something like that.]
You failed at leadership. You wanted to do better.
Really, a normal person would have just given up, if they cared so much.
[It's easier not to care. For that matter: few things are as easy as giving up, if you ask Dazai. The fact that it's the one thing that Chuuya always refuses to do boggles his mind. Dazai sighs.]
I suppose you really are a masochist.
[... Believe it or not, that wasn't even intended as an insult. Dazai was just restating an opinion formed ages ago, with the total lack of filter that, even in him, requires a lot of alcohol. He really did drink too much...
Meanwhile, at least they're finally approaching his apartment. He shivers, at least partly because of the cold, and the alcohol, and maybe just plain being physically tired. He never was very good at listening to his body's demands.]
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He'll offer a bit more support as they walk up the stairs, just in case the effort makes him lose his balance.]
So maybe you're actually better at being a normal person than me.
[He says it a little too quietly, but it's still half a joke. Half mocking, really.]
Working hard doesn't make me a masochist when it actually gets me what I want, Dazai. You don't work, and you're miserable.
[Just calling him out here.]