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Something strikes him as being wrong even before he can get his door fully unlocked.
There's nothing in particular that he notes as he glances around his door and front step, door still closed, nothing that screams danger or anything at him, and yet... There's definitely something out of place. Thankfully - well, maybe - that gives Chuuya enough of a tip-off on its own; no matter how annoying it is to always have some vague sort of sense of Dazai, at times like this, it at least gives Chuuya a warning so as to prepare himself for whatever bullshit he's inevitably about to get dragged into.
Pushing open the door, indeed, reveals Dazai's shoes tucked neatly into the front foyer, and his tan coat is hanging on the coat rack just off to the other side. Which means he's not making any effort at all to conceal himself, which means... What, exactly? Does he have something to discuss? Even then, he could have just sent a text to ask if Chuuya was free to talk, like a normal person would, but of course he wouldn't do that. Their organizations may be on... Civil terms for the moment, still only having just finished dealing with Fyodor and his Rats and now aware of some annoying British group that may or may not be the next big problem to face Yokohama, but that doesn't mean Chuuya's willing to just ignore Dazai's blatant disregard for his personal space.
Taking off his own outer layers and setting everything aside neatly, Chuuya takes the time to mentally prepare himself. The fact that Dazai put his things away neatly must mean that despite his willingness to intrude on Chuuya's space, he doesn't actually want Chuuya to be completely pissed off at him, which probably means he wants to talk about something that might actually be serious. Chuuya has no idea if it'll have to do with the Order, or plotting, or something like that, but he supposes he can at least try to hear Dazai out.
"Welcome home," Dazai calls, as Chuuya gets out of the front hall, allowing Chuuya to place that Dazai's in the living room.
Chuuya doesn't say 'I'm home', because they're not partners anymore and they're certainly not on domestic, intimate terms. Instead, he leans in the doorway from the hall to the living room, raising a brow at Dazai, who's curled up on the couch reading a book. "What are you doing here?" His voice is even enough that he's impressed with himself, frankly, because seeing Dazai acting so casual and calm, not even goofing around or being a nuisance like usual... It's a bit unnerving.
Dazai looks up, and opens his mouth, finally getting that annoying look on his face that Chuuya was half-expecting, but... Nothing comes out. After a moment, Dazai just slowly closes it again, gaze drifting back to his book without giving any response.
Well. That's new.
It's not like Chuuya's never seen how empty Dazai is, sometimes, when he thinks nobody's looking, but to have him start to say something only to trail off like that, as if he hasn't thought of every possible question Chuuya could ask and prepared himself accordingly? Now that's a change.
So although it's annoying, and although Chuuya definitely knows he deserves answers, and despite the frustration he can feel welling up inside him... He merely sighs, passing through the living room to get to the kitchen. It's an open floor plan, so he can still see the back of Dazai's head, and makes sure to keep an eye on him now and then, but Dazai doesn't say anything about it, even though he can surely sense the scrutiny.
Chuuya makes enough dinner for them both, not even trying to convince himself it's just so that he'll have enough for leftovers tomorrow or something like that, allowing himself to accept that it's for Dazai's sake. He knows Dazai's eating habits are still garbage, which is a stupid, useless fact he wishes he didn't know, couldn't still see evidence of, didn't still care about even just a little bit.
He puts their bowls of soup - something light and non-greasy so that Dazai is more likely to eat some, but still containing veggies and meat as to be nutritious - down on the coffee table with more force than strictly necessary.
Dazai looks over at him, strangely devoid of masks, and Chuuya doesn't know what to do with that. Half of him wants to throw Dazai out on the streets, to curse him out for making Chuuya worry about him again and not even explaining himself, but the other half of him is insisting that he'd rather keep Dazai here in hopes that this is just some dumb prank, some new way to piss him off, that Dazai is actually fine and they can just go back to antagonizing one another like this never happened.
As always, Dazai doesn't make things easy for him, and even gives a quiet, "thank you," as he sets the book aside to pick up his spoon instead.
Chuuya sighs, resigning himself to whatever this is, and sits on the chair facing the couch, just to keep an eye on Dazai. "... Whatever."
Dinner is a quiet affair, and Dazai stops eating sooner than Chuuya would have liked; alarmingly enough, when Dazai notes the mild disapproval on Chuuya's face, he forces himself to take another few bites. Chuuya says nothing about it, finishing his own bowl and getting up to put Dazai's back in the fridge. He won’t waste food regardless of Dazai’s presence, and he doesn’t need Dazai continuing to try to force himself for whatever reason. He can feel Dazai’s eyes on him the whole time, but refuses to comment on it; if the bastard wants something, he can damn well speak up.
It takes a few minutes, Chuuya settling back into his chair uneasily, changing the channel on the TV repeatedly because nothing interesting is ever on. Dazai speaks up slowly. “I think... I was wrong.”
It’s not like Dazai is never wrong, even though he claims his predictions are always right and brags about it at times, but hearing him admit it? Chuuya’s half-tempted to get out of his seat and go take Dazai’s temperature. As it is, he can’t hide the surprise from his face, incredulous, as he oh-so-profoundly asks, “Huh?”
Dazai doesn’t make a jab at his intelligence or anything, just sighs. “... When we met again, in the basement... I said you hadn’t changed. But I was wrong.”
The reminder of that time doesn’t exactly thrill Chuuya, but he has to admit he’s kind of curious why the hell Dazai’s bringing that up now. “... What about it?” He knows he was wrong then, too, when he said the same about Dazai; yes, in a lot of ways Dazai is still the same, and Chuuya honestly doesn’t doubt Dazai could revert back to that persona in an instant if needed, but... He’s really, completely different in a lot of ways, too. It’s clearly been good for him to be away from the mafia, but that’s not even remotely a surprise.
“You’re still the same in a lot of ways,” Dazai starts out instead, but Chuuya doesn’t interrupt, letting Dazai have his little spiel, “still really loyal, still confident and strong and able to keep going even through really difficult situations... Honestly, I’m a little envious. But... you’ve also matured and settled down in some ways, I guess? It’s hard to describe... and I’m not sure all of it is good. Obviously I know I have no say or anything, and I’m glad you’re comfortable where you are, I guess sometimes I just wonder what it would have been like if you left the mafia with me, instead of you just getting more and more chained to it.”
“I’d have killed you within a few days,” Chuuya says, sincerely, because if he had to go into hiding with only Dazai for company, he surely would have ended it one way or another. “But it’s unlike you to think back on things like that. Are you actually being sentimental for once?”
Dazai’s lips quirk into what looks like an attempt at an amused smile, but it only comes out bitter. “... Being arrested and having so much of what I’d done brought back up again made it kind of impossible not to think back.”
Chuuya tilts his head to cede that point. “... Fair enough.” If he’d left the mafia... If he and Dazai somehow survived hiding with one another, what would they be like now? It’s impossible to think about it. Dazai’s comment about Chuuya being chained to the mafia isn’t wrong; he can’t even picture what a life outside of it would be like at this point, and he’s only been with them just about as long as he’d been with the Sheep, now. To think, he’s known Dazai almost eight years now, too... Sure, Dazai disappeared for four of those, but it isn’t like Chuuya stopped knowing him just because of that. “Well, you’ve changed a lot more than I have.”
Dazai blinks at him, owlish and vaguely skeptical, like he doesn’t see it himself. He probably doesn’t. For the so-called genius he supposedly is, he can be pretty fucking stupid when it comes to self-observation. “... I assure you, I haven’t changed that much.”
Chuuya waves a dismissive hand at him, settling further back into the cushions of the chair. This isn’t a conversation he assumed they’d ever have, and he’d rather avoid making it sound like he’s praising Dazai, but... Dazai’s in a weird mood, and he’s not being his usual irritating self, so. “Yeah yeah, you could still switch back to your ‘black-blooded’ mafia persona or whatever at any time, that’s not what I meant. The fact is that you don’t, anymore. That’d be a far cry from your new normal, and would only probably come up in situations where it’s necessary, like protecting you or yours. I get that you’re still awful at letting people in and all that, but you still seem healthier overall. Mentally and physically. It’s not like you’ve magically fixed all your damage, and you’re still an annoying asshole who I want to punch, but you’re very obviously better off with them than you ever were in the mafia.”
It doesn’t even hurt to say that; it hurt at first, when Chuuya noted how different Dazai treated him compared to ‘Odasaku’, and it hurt when he realized he couldn’t help Dazai, not in the long term, even though they were supposed to be partners, but it’s been years. They aren’t partners anymore, and Dazai’s doing better. Sure, they can still fall back into their bantering, and even their partner-ish ways, pretty easily, but even that is kind of different from how it used to be. Dazai’s always been childishly playful, but now it doesn’t seem to have that undercurrent of boredom... or dissociation, or whatever it was. Now when Dazai teases him, when he gets into that playful mood, he’s riling Chuuya up seemingly just because it’s fun. He might worry, sometimes, silently and subtly, but Chuuya knows that’s just because Dazai doesn’t like letting anyone in, and Chuuya’s closer to him than most people would expect from watching them interact.
That doesn’t mean much, though. Chuuya hadn’t been able to do more for Dazai than pull him out of the worst of his depressive episodes, always just a quick bandage on an open, festering wound, only ever treating the symptoms and not the cause.
Dazai’s watching him intently now, though, expression gone back to mostly blank except for the focus in his gaze. If he’s taking Chuuya’s words as praise, he doesn’t show it. “... Why didn’t you say ‘us’?”
“Hm?”
“Just now, you said, ‘you’re better off with them’ - meaning the agency - ‘than the mafia’. Why didn’t you say ‘us’ instead of ‘the mafia’?”
Chuuya shrugs. “Dunno. If you’re thinking I’m not thinking of myself as part of the mafia or something, you’re reading too much into it. Guess I didn’t want to just turn it into ‘them vs us’ like it’s some competition or something.” Even then, though, Chuuya is aware that the mafia is basically a glorified cage for him. Sure, he’s an Executive, has lots of freedoms and can get away with a lot, but he’s aware he’s a weapon as far as Mori is concerned. He’s made his peace with that a long time ago. He’s already trapped in his own body, in some ways. At least without Dazai around he doesn’t have to use Corruption anymore, at least until their organizations are on joint missions that call for it.
Dazai nods in understanding, seeming to accept that answer, then lapses into silence as he stares at what appears to be his own knees, but Chuuya knows he’s just spacing out.
Honestly, what are they doing...?
Getting up, Chuuya pads past Dazai again, returning to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of wine; just a shallow one, he knows better than to get drunk in Dazai’s presence lest he start yelling and deck Dazai in the face for always being... This way. Uncooperative, demanding, making Chuuya worry about him when he doesn’t want to.
Sitting back down in the chair, he sighs, sipping at his wine, and broaches the initial subject again. “... Really, why are you here?”
Dazai’s still quiet for a few minutes. Chuuya doesn’t give up on it, though, waits him out due to needing an answer, and eventually his patience is rewarded when Dazai sighs, giving in. “... I guess... with everything that’s been going on, lately... I just wanted to see you.”
Chuuya’s mouth tastes bitter at that; he wants to scoff, wants to laugh it off, mock him for it, because their relationship isn’t anything like that, but he doesn’t do any of those things. Maybe it’s just because Dazai seems sincere, quiet and allowing himself to be ‘empty’ in a way he doesn’t usually allow around even Chuuya. Instead, he simply accepts the words for what they are. They could still mean about a million different things, because Dazai’s reasons for wanting to see Chuuya in particular are still unclear, but if Dazai isn’t sharing voluntarily, Chuuya will leave it at that. For now, at least.
When he merely finishes off his glass of wine without further comment, Dazai lifts his gaze and blinks at Chuuya. “... You aren’t going to ask why?”
Shrugging it off, Chuuya answers, “You can tell me if you want to, but... You’re being all weird, so I’ll let you get away with being cryptic just this once.”
That earns a tiny smile from Dazai, one that appears devastatingly sincere, eyes warmer than Chuuya’s seen more than a handful of times. “... Chuuya’s more considerate now, too.”
That makes Chuuya scoff, but he can’t help be amused instead of pissed off when Dazai is smiling at him like that. “... I’ve always been considerate of everyone except you, and that’s because you usually don’t deserve my consideration.”
Dazai whines at him, just a hint of his usual childish antics shining through, and Chuuya’s suddenly confident that whatever Dazai’s going through at the moment, he’ll make it through just fine. It might take him a while, but... He’ll be alright.
Getting up again then, Chuuya sets the now-empty wine glass in the dishwasher, turns the dishwasher on to run overnight, and puts away the wine bottle he’d opened. It’s getting quite late, and he’s been run ragged recently, so he’s honestly exhausted. Normally he’d never let himself fall asleep while Dazai is sitting in his apartment, but he knows Dazai is harmless like this, so he decides to let it slide. He’s not really sure when Dazai plans on leaving - maybe Chuuya will even wake up to him gone, that wouldn’t be a surprise - but as long as he’s being subdued like this, Chuuya doesn’t feel any particular urgency to kick him out.
Stepping closer to the couch again, just to give Dazai another proper look, Chuuya speaks up, “I’m exhausted, so I’m going to bed. This goes without saying, but if you pull anything funny, I’ll skin you alive. If you want to watch TV or whatever, that’s fine, it won’t bother me. If you need anything, help yourself.”
Dazai looks over at him, expression unfocused again, but he nods. “Okay. Good night, Chuuya.” It feels more cursory than genuine, but that’s okay; the sentiment being exchanged between them at all is already weird enough. “I’ll probably be up a while longer, but I’ll try not to disturb you.”
Chuuya nods in return, then heads to the hall closet and tosses Dazai a spare blanket and pillow for when - if - he can get some rest. Dazai gives a “thank you,” sounding polite but still detached, and Chuuya continues on to his bedroom without acknowledging the thanks.
Stripping down to just his boxers and grabbing a tank top, Chuuya heads to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed. He doesn’t hear any noise from the living room, but he isn’t surprised by that. Dazai’s probably just sitting there lost in thought. Poking his head out to check once he’s done in the washroom confirms that suspicion, the blanket draped around Dazai’s shoulders as he merely seems to stare out the window.
Chuuya goes to bed with that, confident that Dazai isn’t at risk of hurting himself or anything, he’s just thinking.
... It takes about twenty minutes of trying to fall asleep before Chuuya gives up. Goddammit. He knows Dazai is fine, or will be soon enough, anyway. There’s no reason to be worried about him right now. He’s here, safe, not off trying to kill himself or anything, and he’s just thinking. He always does that. Sure, he’s being more sentimental now than usual, but that’s not such a big deal. Dazai’s weird and just does shit like this sometimes.
... But it hasn’t been with Chuuya in a long time.
Sighing, resigned, he gets up out of his nice comfy bed, and walks back out to the living room. Dazai glances over at him when he’s only a few feet away, “Oh, sorry, am I disturbing you?”
“Yes. You’re being weird and speculative and sentimental and I don’t know what you’re thinking and I’m not gonna pry but it’s annoying.” Without any further warning, he grabs Dazai - blanket and all - and picks him up, ignoring the way his weight reconfirms Chuuya’s awareness that he doesn’t eat properly.
Dazai doesn’t fight him, just gives a confused, “Chuuya?” and allows himself to be carried to the bedroom, where Chuuya dumps him unceremoniously on the bed, then throws some pyjamas at him. Dazai blinks at them for a moment, then slowly gets changed, Chuuya turning his back so Dazai can have a bit of privacy while he undresses. Once Dazai tosses his own clothes off the bed, Chuuya turns, joining him, and tugs him into laying down.
They’d shared a bed a few times on overnight missions when they were teenagers, but this time it’s different, because Chuuya immediately drags Dazai close, too, pulling Dazai head under his chin and hugging him, Dazai’s chest pressing into Chuuya’s stomach.
His hand curls in Dazai’s hair at the back of his head, stroking gently through the strands. “Whatever the fuck you’re thinking about can wait. You’re as human as anyone else, no matter what you think of yourself, and you need rest just like anyone else, too. Even that so-called genius brain of yours won’t function properly if it isn’t given a break now and then.”
Dazai doesn’t say anything immediately, but Chuuya feels him squirm around a bit; letting him go, wondering if this was a bit too much, he’s surprised when Dazai only frees one arm from the confines of the blanket he’d wrapped himself in and hugs Chuuya tentatively in return. He doesn’t say anything, but Chuuya relaxes back down anyway, returning his hand to fluffy brown locks, face nuzzling gently into Dazai’s scalp.
After a few minutes, the fingers in the back of Chuuya’s shirt clench tighter, and Chuuya feels Dazai’s mouth open slightly against his collarbone, like he wants to say something... Only to close again after a few seconds. Chuuya rubs his back. “You don’t have to tell me, it’s alright.” He doesn’t know what Dazai was even thinking of possibly saying at the moment, actually, but whatever it was doesn’t matter. If Dazai can’t bring himself to say it just yet, then that’s that.
Dazai sighs. “... I want to, though. I just...”
“Need some more time,” Chuuya finishes for him, “and that’s fine too. I’m not going anywhere.” Deciding to lighten the mood just a bit, Chuuya grins against Dazai’s scalp, “You broke into my apartment, after all.”
That makes Dazai snicker, hand relaxing its grip again, even as he nuzzles Chuuya’s throat gently. “That’s true.”
“Alright, now seriously, get some sleep and stop distracting me, I already said I’m exhausted. Whatever you may or may not wanna talk about can wait—” until morning, he catches just in time to stop himself from saying. He doesn’t want to put pressure on Dazai to talk, but more than that, he doesn’t want to make it sound like he’s expecting Dazai to stay the night. He wouldn’t mind it, for once, if Dazai did, but if he wakes up alone, he won’t really be surprised. Fingers still brushing through soft brown tresses, Chuuya murmurs instead, “... Sleep well, Dazai.”
Dazai seems aware that Chuuya had cut himself off, but says nothing about it. “You too, Chuuya.”
And despite having someone he professes to hate curled up in his arms like he needs protection, like the world is too much to bear without Chuuya guarding him, like Dazai hasn’t been able to sleep properly for days-weeks-months now, Chuuya does.