Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sitting in the rubble, propped up against a slab of uprooted concrete that once belonged to a building, his back throbbing from a stab wound and Chuuya slumped over in his lap — these were all pieces of various memories that recurred over and over again like some sort of strange dream. They always ended up here, in the rubble, the only living things in a circle of destruction, hurt but alive.

It was always Chuuya’s destruction, but Dazai always planned for it, so they were both at fault. The plan was successful, as it always was, because Dazai could trust his former partner to always carry it out. Even after all these years, Chuuya would do that because after all these years, Chuuya still trusted Dazai.

That...was a heavy weight to carry.

That was why the first time they worked together again, Dazai left Chuuya unconscious in the field where they’d defeated Lovecraft. It was why now Dazai forced himself up and maneuvered Chuuya so that he was the one propped against the slab of concrete, before leaving him there. It was so easy to leave his problems behind, normally. Yet something tugged at his heart, as if by walking away from Chuuya he was stretching some kind of invisible rope taut between them.

He ignored it and kept going. He had to find Atsushi and the others, after all. He was just doing what he should be doing.

A couple of days later Chuuya ran into him — literally — outside the Agency.

Dazai swiped Chuuya’s hat off his head before he could open his mouth. Chuuya knee’d Dazai in the stomach before Dazai could hold the hat over his head, and when Dazai doubled over Chuuya snatched his hat back.

“I should kill you for pulling that shit after Corruption again,” he said, putting the hat back on his head.

“What shit?” Dazai asked.

Chuuya narrowed his eyes. “I can kick you harder.”

“No, no, that’s fine,” Dazai straightened up painfully. “What else was I supposed to do with you, Chuuya? I had the Agency to deal with...I work with them now, if you didn’t notice.”

“Oh, I noticed.” Chuuya glared at him. “But guess who’s also forced to work with you? Me.”

“I don’t like it either,” Dazai said. “What do you want from me? To drag you back to Mafia headquarters every time it happens? I doubt it’s a good idea for me to be seen —”

“I don’t think your personal safety is why you left me there,” Chuuya said.

That was true. It annoyed Dazai that Chuuya could read him like that. “There are people who actually work with you who can help you,” he said. “I mean, didn’t someone take you back to headquarters eventually?”

“That’s not the point,” Chuuya said. “The point is, you were the one working with me. It was your plan and you should’ve treated me like you’d treat anyone at the Agency because like it or not when we’re doing that shit we are partners.”

“So now we’re still partners?” Dazai raised an eyebrow. “I recall you being the one most insistent on calling us ex-partners.”

Chuuya’s hands curled and uncurled into fists. “You could have taken me back to my apartment.”

“It was out of the way.”

“You could’ve stayed until I woke up.”

“It would’ve taken too long.”

“What’s your problem?” Chuuya snapped. “It’s not an inconvenience to see the mission through with your partner.”

Dazai let the argument of “but you’re not my partner” die on his tongue. There were other arguments too, the most pressing being how he hated seeing how pale Chuuya looked after Corruption, bleeding out from the inside. Or how inhuman Chuuya looked during it, filled with nothing but a thirst for destruction. The reason Dazai never wanted to experience those things again was…

It was something he didn’t want to touch on. Something he refused to let himself think about back then and would refuse to let himself think about now, because the one time he’d thought about it, he’d lost that person.

“It’s because I know you’ll be fine,” he said after a moment, which was true. Chuuya was always fine. As Dazai’s partner he would always be fine. That was one thing Dazai could count on.

“Glad you think so highly of me,” Chuuya said. “Look, I’m just asking for more...I want to know what your plans are instead of just being thrown into them —”

“That’s not always possible,” Dazai interrupted.

“When it’s possible,” Chuuya continued. “I want more communication. I don’t want you to just drop off the face of the earth and pretend that I don’t exist until the next time you need me.”

“Are you saying we should be friends?” Dazai asked with a laugh.

Chuuya didn’t look amused. “I’m saying we definitely aren’t strangers and we can’t get away with acting like we are.”

It was a bad habit Dazai had sometimes fallen into even when they were in the Mafia together, disappearing when there wasn’t work to be done. Compartmentalization — he was good at that, to the detriment of relationships he was afraid of having anyway for fear of losing them. He was getting better about not doing it with the Agency, but with Chuuya…

It was hard admitting he might still care about someone from the past that he was trying to get away from.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll try.”

Chuuya rolled his eyes, but he knew that was the best he’d get out of Dazai for now.

Dazai felt the need to add, “for now we aren’t enemies. I won’t treat you like one if you don’t treat me like one.”

Chuuya was surprised. Dazai was surprised at himself, but it felt like something that needed to be said and something that they would need to get over in order to work together properly. They tentatively fell back into their old familiarity when working together, but there was always the tension of being on opposite sides.

The truce that the Agency and Mafia had right now wasn’t enough to get rid of that tension, not when Dazai and Chuuya had their own issues to work through.

“Fine,” Chuuya said. His expression, for once, didn’t give anything away. “Deal.” He turned away. “I actually have shit to do, so…”

“You came all this way just for me?” Dazai gasped. “I’m honored!”

Chuuya flipped him off and kept walking.

Something in Dazai felt lighter and he wasn’t sure why. Saying something as simple as “we aren’t enemies” shouldn’t have felt so significant, especially because it wouldn’t last. He shouldn’t have felt something like hope and yet, as he watched Chuuya walk away, he did.

This was a dangerous feeling. Not being Chuuya’s enemy was a dangerous feeling. It opened up the door to so much more and Dazai didn’t know if he wanted that door opened at all.

It was something he was afraid of confronting, even though he’d never admit it. But thinking he had the luxury of confronting personal relationships at all during this conflict was laughable.

As if to prove his point, a few days later he was arrested.

Chapter Text

“I have some great news.”

New from Dostoyevsky was never good. Dazai prided himself on knowing about things before they happened and it was rare that anyone caught him by surprise. Dostoyevsky was one of the few people who could, though, so chances were that his news wasn’t good.

The last piece of news had been about Sigma, a man on the front lines of Dostoyevsky’s war that was apparently created by the Book. It opened up a new set of possibilities that Dazai still hadn’t been able to fully think through a few days later. Creating a whole person from the Book was sometimes that he would categorize as part of a worst case scenario.

Dazai would have loved to say “I don’t want to hear it” because hearing about things that just made the situation worse was never fun, but at the same time he did. He needed to hear it. Ignoring Dostoyevsky would’ve been foolish, and these mind games, as exhausting as they had been, were also fascinating. This was a scale of chess much larger than any he’d played with Mori. This was a game whose playing field and players encompassed almost everything.

“I can’t wait to hear it,” he said sarcastically.

“Oh, I’m sure.” Dostoyevsky smiled. “We’ve captured Nakahara Chuuya.”

Dazai blinked.

He hadn’t expected Chuuya’s name to come up anytime soon. He’d been waiting to utilize Chuuya until they truly needed it, but the incident with Shibusawa had forced his hand early. Dostoyevsky would’ve found out at that point just how powerful Chuuya was, but that didn’t mean he would use him.

A laugh escaped him before he could stop himself.

Dostoyevsky frowned. “What is funny about that?”

“You won’t be able to hold him for long.” That wasn’t why Dazai had laughed, but the actual reason wasn’t something he wanted anyone else to know. He’d laughed because this situation threw another wrench into whatever he and Chuuya were trying to do with each other. They’d agreed to talk to each other more, to be not-enemies. Dazai had promised not to drop off the face of the earth...only to get arrested not long after.

Chuuya couldn’t blame him for that, but Dazai was sure he’d appreciate the irony of them finally starting to do something about their strange relationship only for them to be separated. And if Dazai wanted to figure out exactly how much he cared about Chuuya, he couldn’t now. He had to pretend he didn’t care at all about Chuuya’s safety or his whereabouts, because that would give Dostoyevsky another piece of ammunition to work with.

It would have been easier if he didn’t care, but he did. It felt a bit hard to breathe because he did care. He cared without having to think about it, his body reacting to the emotion instantly, which said a lot more than any thought ever could.

He was good at hiding things, though, so he’d take what Dostoyevsky said and file it away for later. He could probably get a message across to Ango, though he wouldn’t have a plan for what to do about it right away. It wasn’t a priority no matter how much his emotions wanted to convince him otherwise.

“It’s not me holding him,” Dostoyevsky said. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the Order of the Clocktower. They’ve been supporting us in our endeavour,” his lips twitched, which made Dazai think it wasn’t a completely beneficial relationship, “and have decided that Nakahara is likely one of your biggest weapons.”

“I wonder what gave that away,” Dazai muttered. The Order were a bit of an enigma. With the Rats and the Hunting Dogs and the government all breathing down the Agency’s neck, Dazai hadn’t gotten a chance to do more research on the Order, despite knowing that they were a very powerful organization in Europe that was involved with all this. He was regretting it now. “So what, they’re going to try to use him? Or are they just trying to take him out of the picture?”

Dostoyevsky thought for a moment. Then he said, “I believe they actually are interested in the science of artificial Abilities and enhanced Abilities, and Nakahara, being a product of that sort of technology, is a wonderful case study. If they can take him apart and put him back together they will know how he was optimized in order to take on such a destructive Ability, and how to improve upon...the design.”

Dazai forced himself not to react at the way Dostoyevsky was talking about Chuuya. “The Order wants to create their own artificial Ability users,” he said. “Why not take one of the Hunting Dogs?”

“Because Nakahara is the strongest,” Dostoyevsky said, “and one of the first. One of the most successful because he serves as a frame to one of the most powerful Abilities that exists. There is room for improvement, though. I believe the Order may have access to some of his records…”

This was bad and Dazai didn’t think he could fix it. “I doubt they’ll figure anything out,” he said, “but best of luck to them.”

Dostoyevsky searched his face before sighing and leaning back. “No matter the result, it’ll be fun to see what happens.”

Dazai ignored him and got to work passing along the message to Ango. It was the only thing he could do.

*

The room Chuuya was in made his skin crawl once he actually took in his surroundings. He was strapped to a hard surface, an IV pumping some kind of liquid into his veins. The light hurt to look at and everything was a clinical sort of white or steel.

His entire body felt like lead and there was a weird feeling in his chest that made him feel sick. He couldn’t reach his Ability — it was being held down by something chemical, and was fighting against it. Ability Inhibitors.

He tried to take in anything useful about the room. The various medical stuff attached to him was beyond him right now, so he focused on the structural parts of the room. The room was fairly large and could probably fit another bed, if these people were inclined to use hospital beds. Instead it was filled with other things, other equipment, and would probably soon be filled with scientists. A door was at the far end of that space. From the way the lighting looked, he guessed there were no windows.

Perfect.

Right now there wasn’t an opening for escape. He didn’t want to waste energy on something that wouldn’t be successful. He’d have to save it.

“He’s awake,” a smooth voice said behind him.

Chuuya realized that someone else had been in this room the whole time. The door opened and three more people came in, scientists. Two of them got busy with preparing something, while the third started looking over Chuuya himself.

“At some point we may need his Ability active,” the one looking over Chuuya said. She glanced up at the person standing behind Chuuya. “That is primarily where you will come in. I don’t want you wasting anything on him beforehand.”

“Now that’s no fun,” the man behind him said. His voice sent a shiver up Chuuya’s spine.

“This isn’t about fun,” the woman said, “although I’m sure I can find something ‘fun’ for you later.”

With a scalpel, she cut through Chuuya’s shirt, exposing his chest and stomach. She made quick work of his pants as well and suddenly Chuuya felt like he was under a microscope. Her eyes were a grey color, at least in this light, and cold. In a way they reminded Chuuya of Mori.

She gestured for the others to come near and started pointing out certain areas on Chuuya’s body, which Chuuya realized were scars that were likely the sites of incisions made during the initial experiments on him. She explained that they were going to try to figure out how, exactly, Chuuya’s body had been prepared for such a powerful Ability and how it was affected now. It sounded like she’d been able to access at least some of the data on Chuuya, which was disturbing.

Chuuys didn’t like the cold feeling of her hands on his skin. He liked even less how he felt himself getting more and more lethargic, to the point where he almost didn’t care. They must have sedated him without putting him completely under. Part of him wanted this whole thing to stop, but any feeling was muted, even when she began to cut into him. He could feel it physically, but his emotions weren’t quite reacting.

He needed to be detached from his body anyway. If he was going to be here, he needed to get some information. Who was the man who was standing behind him? Who was this woman, who seemed to be in charge? Where was he? Listening to the conversation was hard because of the drugs. It was almost incomprehensible. He realized it was because they were speaking English, which Chuuya had an understanding of but which was harder to translate now that he’d been sedated.

Had they been speaking English the whole time? Probably. Chuuya had been so out of it that he hadn’t noticed, but now that it was getting harder to understand he did. The words became meaningless noise and he hoped they weren’t talking about anything important. He tried to concentrate on the woman’s face.

She looked entirely concentrated on what she was doing, but there was a hint of hunger in her eyes. She wanted to find something in Chuuya. She wanted to be able to use whatever knowledge she gained, and if she was part of one of the organizations that wanted the Book, then she would make sure that this didn’t go to waste. Given how many people wanted the Book, nothing could be wasted. This, whatever it was, involved a lot of time and resources.

Chuuya couldn’t believe he was here. His thoughts were starting to scratch at something dark and uncomfortable the longer this went on, flashes of things that could have been memories. He tried to focus on something else. Maybe someone would intervene. Did Dazai calculate this in his plans? Chuuya almost laughed thinking about Dazai being caught off-guard by this. Nothing ever seemed to catch Dazai off-guard.

Dazai...of course, once Chuuya had finally pinned Dazai down and gotten him to agree to something, everything had fallen apart. What if they never got the chance to speak again? Would Chuuya have regrets? Dazai was the only person who knew what he truly was and still saw him as human. The others — Mori, Rimbaud before he died, Verlaine, the government — couldn’t help but see him as the product of an experiment, if not the experiment itself, at least in part. Maybe that was why Chuuya had a hard time letting Dazai go.

Dazai understood him and accepted him anyway. And he knew it went the other way too. They’d seen the worst of each other and understood and didn’t shy away from it, and that was why Chuuya thought that Dazai had actually agreed to not disappearing from his life again. Chuuya wasn’t the only one who needed acceptance from someone like that. Dazai would want acceptance from someone who knew the deepest part of his personality, even if he no longer knew much else.

Dazai was the one who could nullify his Ability, Corruption and all, with a single touch and remind Chuuya that he existed outside of that. He could undo all of the government’s hard work in a second. These people had to know that. They seemed to know a lot, so they would probably know about their old partnership and about Dazai’s Ability and be able to draw their own conclusions.

He didn’t know how long he lay there. The cutting into him stopped for a bit and he drifted out of consciousness, just to wake up again with more drugs pumping into his system, different drugs that made him feel strange and out of his body. Then he passed out again and woke up to things being stuck into him, more scalpels, more blood, and sharper pain. He remembered screaming his throat raw, but all of this happened in a sort of detached way and he was never really sure if what was happening was a dream, a memory, or something real. It had to be the drugs.

The whole time he tried to hold onto any sort of thought he could. Thoughts about what the Mafia was doing now, thoughts about Dazai, thoughts about what the government would do if their experiment was copied and lost, anything to keep his mind sharp and working. It wasn’t completely successful. It didn’t always help him concentrate on the people who were doing things to him rather than what they were doing, but he hadn’t lost it completely yet.

And then, after another bit of what seemed like surgery, a hand grabbed his shoulder and shook it.

“Wake up, Chuuya.”

Chuuya opened his eyes and his breath caught when he saw the person standing above him.

“Dazai?”

Chapter Text

Dazai’s hand cupped Chuuya’s cheek and it felt so gentle that for a moment Chuuya thought it was someone else entirely.

Except why not? He and Dazai weren’t gentle with each other, but it wasn’t like they couldn’t be. Dazai had cupped his cheek last time to bring him out of Corruption. It had been a weirdly sweet and tender gesture for such a violent moment and for such a violent pair. The immediate calm and relief that washed over him when Dazai touched him was a feeling he couldn’t forget, and it was perhaps the only part of Corruption that he didn’t mind.

He couldn’t feel that now, but he knew it was because of the inhibitors running through his system. Dazai’s expression was unreadable, but Chuuya thought he saw concern.

“What’s going on?” he asked. His throat felt oddly raw and his voice came out sounding hoarse. “I thought you were in jail.”

“I got out, obviously,” Dazai said.

“No shit, but how?”

“I’ll explain later,” Dazai said. “The Agency is taking care of everything else, so we’ll just wait until we get the all clear.”

Chuuya thought about that for a moment. “Why is the Agency doing this?” Where were the Mafia? They knew he was here, so why weren’t they here. “The Mafia knows —”

“Feeling ungrateful, Chuuya?”

“No but…” But it was making him uneasy. Not that the Mafia hadn’t saved the Agency’s ass before, but they had more manpower. The Agency didn’t really have anything to spare and this was a dangerous situation, it seemed. Chuuya still hadn’t figured out much and now he felt like he’d wasted time.

“Chuuya.” Dazai cupped his cheek again, which forced Chuuya to focus on his face. “It’ll be fine. Just be happy you’re free.”

Chuuya wanted to protest but he was so tired. If he could allow himself to feel relief…

“We’ll take care of it,” Dazai said. “That’s what partners are for, right?”

That warmed Chuuya’s heart. It made him feel like Dazai hadn’t forgotten their talk. “Right.”

Dazai smiled, and then his smile turned a bit too wide, his eyes sparkling with something sadistic, and then he disappeared completely.

Chuuya cried out, pulling against his restraints. Laughter filled the room. It was coming from behind him, but no matter how Chuuya turned his head, the other man was in his blind spot.

“I’ve been told not to have fun,” the man said, “but surely playing with your mind doesn’t count, right? That was a delicious reaction.”

Chuuya felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“I thought that the Mafia and the Agency might foolishly still be working together but to see how personal it still is for a former partner to one of the Agency members was quite the revelation,” the man continued.

The door to the room opened and the woman from before came in, flanked by other scientists.

“Now the real fun begins,” the man murmured.

The woman gave him a look but then held up a syringe. “Do it now, before I do this.”

“What is that?” Chuuya rasped.

The woman’s lips curled into a smile. “An antidote to the Ability inhibitors.”

Chuuya’s eyes widened. If she injected him with that, it was over for them. There had to be more to it, though. These people weren’t stupid, no matter how much Chuuya wanted them to be.

“Ready?” The woman glanced up at the man.

“As you wish, Agatha.”

A name, and not only that, a familiar one. If the woman was angry that her name had been said out loud, she didn’t show it. She unhooked Chuuya’s IV from its bag so that she could inject the antidote.

Chuuya felt two things at once — a rush of his Ability coming back to him and his body freezing up at the same time. He was filled with a sharp sense of unease. He wanted to use his Ability. He really, really wanted to, but for some reason he couldn’t. It was there, nothing was holding it back, but he couldn’t use it.

The woman — Agatha — put something in his hand. It felt like a rubber ball. “Make him make that float. I want to make sure this works.”

Chuuya’s eyes widened as he felt the sudden urge to make the ball float, even though he didn’t really want to do anything Agatha wanted from him. The ball floated in front of his eyes as the result of his own Ability like it was mocking him. He couldn’t use his Ability for anything else.

“Drop it,” Agatha said.

The ball dropped.

Chuuya felt sick.

“I suppose we can make this work,” Agatha said. She took out another syringe. “His body should be able to withstand this, and perhaps being able to channel great strength in a more controlled way is the key. If this imitates something even remotely close to his uncontrolled state, then we might be onto something.”

Chuuya wanted to kill her. He wanted to kill her and the man that was working with her and every single one of those scientists, but he couldn’t even move.

Agatha injected the liquid and almost immediately Chuuya felt like his entire body was on fire.

He felt so much. It was like Corruption but different. He was still himself, but there was so much power surging under his skin he felt electrified. Part of him wanted to destroy, just to expel some of that power and to get carried away with it so that it wasn’t just sitting there, burning him from the inside out. Part of him just wanted it to go away. And part of him wanted to destroy this place for the more specific reason of wanting to escape.

Agatha was saying something. Chuuya was suddenly able to break his bindings into pieces. He stood up and turned to face the other two scientists.

“Destroy them,” Agatha said.

Chuuya was on them in seconds, using his Ability to rip them apart. He became drenched in their blood, their screams echoing around in his head. Even though he wanted to kill the scientists, he hadn’t actually made the decision. His body was moving without his input.

If he’d been able to control himself, right now would have been the perfect chance to escape. He could have used this raw power to destroy the whole building without ever activating Corruption.

Instead, he fell to the ground.

Agatha walked over and knelt beside him, another syringe at the ready. “How interesting. Your body is holding up better this way...there are some red markings on your arms, but you aren’t fully tapping into your powers. Some of them are just being forced out by the enhancers.”

Chuuya’s eyes widened at hearing that. Even a hint of Corruption coming out right now was terrifying. So little stood between him and losing control and he couldn’t fight it if it happened. His entire body felt like led. He couldn’t move at all. He lay on his side, where he’d fallen, glaring at her, trying not to let fear tear him apart.

“We may try this again,” Agatha said. “It’s good to know this method is viable.” She took his arm and Chuuya felt the prick of the needle.

The sensation of the inhibitors being given after the enhancers drove him into shock. His entire body shook uncontrollably, his head spun, everything hurt. His stomach heaved and he noted with distant satisfaction that he’d gotten sick on Agatha’s shoes.

Then hands were lifting him up and back onto the bed, strapping him down. He tried to struggle and for a moment managed to move his arm. He made to grab Agatha, but a second later his arm halted and he couldn’t. He felt locked inside himself.

Agatha reappeared over his bed, looking down at him. “You should consider yourself a mere vessel at this point,” she said. “As long as you are here and alive, you won’t be able to control your body. For the sake of our experiments, we can’t allow that. I’m sure you can understand.”

Chuuya wanted to curse her out but he couldn’t even talk. Terror clawed at his throat. What did she mean by that? He knew it was true — he felt it right now, but what did it mean?

A hand cupped his cheek in a parody of gentleness. “My Ability,” the man from before said, his voice soft in Chuuya’s ear, “is complete mind control. I can control what you see, what you hear, and what you can do. I can make you do anything, or nothing at all. And right now, I want you to sleep.”

And sleep, Chuuya did.

When he woke up more things were being stuck in him. They were taking stock of how his body had reacted to that last experiment, he figured. He was sedated, but if he wasn’t he was sure he wouldn’t be able to move anyway. Even now his body wouldn’t listen to his mind. He wasn’t sure how much he could trust of his surroundings or even of his own thoughts. The control over his body earlier had been complete. The illusion of Dazai had been so real.

The only thing he could do was retreat into his own mind until he felt like he could take control again. Keeping himself completely aware through this whole thing would drive him into hysteria.

He cleared his mind, and tried not to think at all.

*

Dostoyevsky didn’t have any updates on Chuuya and Dazai didn’t ask, because he didn’t care. He couldn’t care in anyone else’s eyes and he felt like if he didn’t care for his own sake, things would be a lot easier.

Sometimes he imagined Chuuya breaking into the jail and rescuing him. It was a silly fantasy and he wasn’t sure why he had it, but it snuck up on him. He wanted Chuuya to insult him for being stupid enough to get arrested, to complain about rescuing him with barely-covered-up concern, to take him back to his apartment grudgingly because he wouldn’t want Dazai to be alone…

Anyone from the Agency would also do these things, but Dazai missed Chuuya and he hated himself for it.

Not that he needed to wonder when he was getting out. A rescue was in his plans — unfortunately for his plan to work, Dostoyevsky also had to stand a chance at getting out. He waited, biding his time, preparing himself for what would come, because once his enemy wasn’t in sight he’d have a harder time predicting and preparing for the enemy’s moves. Being in a room with anyone, even someone as hard to read as Dostoyevsky, was always more revealing than not being able to interact with them at all. Even if it was only a little bit of information, Dazai still got information from Dostoyevsky this way.

Outside of prison he would have more control, though, so it was a fine trade to make. Right now he just had to make sure that Dostoyevsky didn’t get much out of him.

Dazai felt coldness seeping into his very bones every time Dostoyevsky talked about the Agency and what they were up to, and he had to act like they were simply chess pieces that he would use and discard as needed. The two of them were similar and in the wrong circumstances might have even been the same, but Dazai still had light in him. Dazai actively wanted to be a good person, but Dostoyevsky was making that difficult by using the things that made Dazai a good person against him.

He wished he could truly numb himself like he used to do. Now, no matter how hard he tried, he still felt pangs of concern for people he cared about when they were mentioned. He still wanted to know if they were safe, if his plans were working in a way that kept them as safe as he could keep them. He needed to know where they all were and how they were doing, not just because their health and success benefited his plan but also because he wanted them to be okay for their sake. He didn’t want to lose them, and that he even allowed himself to acknowledge that he didn’t want to lose them was a huge change.

The numbness was easier, in some ways, even if the numbness felt like his insides had been scraped out to make him not a person anymore, but rather a husk living as an imitation of a human body. This caring made him feel alive in a way that hurt, and he had never been sure that was something he could handle.

Chapter Text

Dazai hated being in the same room as Mori.

He hated facing the man who had taken advantage of his intelligence and his want to die and had twisted it all into something he could use for the Mafia. He hated this man who had tried to get rid of the last of his humanity, who had tried to take everything good from him, who had killed his best friend.

He hated knowing that Mori played an integral part in Yokohama’s continued existence and that, right now, Mori was standing between him and another person he cared about.

The Port Mafia had been protecting the Agency in exchange for having one of the Agency members doing Mafia work, but now that the Agency didn’t need the Mafia’s protection anymore, they wanted their person back. Dazai didn’t really need to be here, but he wanted to be, because he knew Mori’s arguments and logic better than anyone.

Tanizaki had ultimately been the one taken. One thing that Mori could hold against them was that his first options were unavailable to him. They were all aware that Mori would have preferred Yosano to be the one exchanged in this deal, and as a second choice Ranpo for his intelligence. But Yosano had refused, those with her had stood by her, and Ranpo had gone missing long before any of this. So Tanizaki took her place.

Tanizaki was useful. His illusion Ability had fooled some of the best in the Mafia and he was the one in the Agency who had gotten closest to killing Mori. His anger could be brutal, and cruel if utilized in just the right away. Dazai was sure Mori already knew by now how best to bring out the worst qualities in Tanizaki.

So far, “officially” Tanizaki had only done some infiltration work. It seemed like there was more to it, but their agreement didn’t put limits on what the Agency member who was exchanged could or could not do. Whatever he had been doing was useful, though. Mori probably would have given them a hard time no matter what, but if Tanizaki was actually an asset to the Mafia than Mori would put up a fight to make sure he stayed.

And, predictably, he was appealing to Tanizaki himself to do it, because if Tanizaki ultimately decided to stay with the Mafia how could the Agency argue?

He was getting into how Naomi would be safer with the Mafia when Fukuzawa interrupted.

“You cannot promise the safety of his sister, just like we at the Agency cannot,” he said. “It is, of course, Tanizaki-kun’s decision, but I would prefer if you don’t make nonsense promises that you won’t keep. To think that you care about the safety of anyone in your organization is laughable.”

Mori’s eyes glinted and his lips curved into a smile. “The Port Mafia cannot run on a skeleton crew. Our reasons may differ, but I am willing to provide safety for the sake of the Mafia’s future.”

“For the sake of manipulation,” Fukuzawa said. “If allowing Tanizaki-kun to return because our agreement has ended is not a good enough reason, then perhaps we can arrange for a new agreement.”

Mori raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I hear that one of your Mafia Executives has been captured by the Order of the Clocktower,” Fukuzawa said. “We could provide assistance in getting him back if Tanizaki-kun is released from his service to the Mafia.”

“The Mafia is more than capable of rescuing its own,” Mori said, “and while your concern is...touching...we are the ones who planned the capture.”

Dazai had to restrain himself from reacting visibly. His hands curled into fists under the table. What?

“Is that so,” Fukuzawa said.

“The best way to gather information on an unknown organization is from within,” Mori said. “The Order’s work is obscured by the chaos of the Rats, but they pull many strings, and are very good at keeping their cards close to their chest. European Ability organizations tend to be extremely powerful, so I feel that this is a worthwhile endeavour.”

“Are you telling me,” Dazai said, “that you allowed one of your most powerful assets to walk straight into enemy hands without a backup plan?”

“Do you have a problem, Dazai-kun?” Mori asked, turning his gaze on Dazai. “Perhaps if Chuuya-kun had a partner, the plan would be less of a risk.”

Dazai narrowed his eyes. “I do have a problem. Right now the Agency and Mafia are in a truce, which means that someone as powerful as Chuuya falling into the wrong hands is also my problem.”

“You leave the Mafia and still act like you can involve yourself in Mafia business,” Mori said. “And yet you won’t entertain the idea of coming back, despite how much you owe to your time in the Mafia.”

“Owe?” Dazai repeated, his voice dangerously cold.

“You learned so much about how to use your intelligence to its greatest potential,” Mori said. “You learned how to strategize. You are using these gifts now. Where do you think you got them?”

“At the cost of my humanity,” Dazai said. “I had those gifts before I met you, and I wish someone else had taught me how to use them.”

“You lacked humanity to begin with,” Mori said.

Dazai hated that those words hurt still, even though he knew how manipulative Mori was, he knew how words were Mori’s greatest weapon. He was aware now, when he hadn’t been completely aware at fourteen, when Mori’s words had trapped him into thinking the Mafia was the best choice. And yet, the words still hit home.

“I would rather you not project your own issues onto my subordinate,” Fukuzawa cut in. “Now can we get back to the issue at hand?”

“Ah, right,” Mori said. “I suppose I can return him to the Agency. You have such little manpower as it is.”

Dazai hated the way Mori dragged things out, managed to get under the skin of everyone else in the process, only to agree to the simplest solution.

He checked out of the rest of the meeting, thinking about Mori’s words. He owed the Mafia nothing. The Mafia had given him pain. There were two people in it who had given him something more: Odasaku and Chuuya.

If Dazai owed anyone anything (anyone who was still alive, anyway), it was Chuuya. Chuuya, for saving his life back when they first joined, for showing him what it meant for someone to truly strive to live and be human. Chuuya had shown him what it was to feel, and for a time Dazai thought that maybe he could experience the world like that.

He’d never talked about it with Chuuya after they joined the Mafia. Neither of them really mentioned how they’d been together for a significant turning point in each other’s lives, but that knowledge was always just under the surface. Chuuya himself was impossible to forget about. He came up in Dazai’s thoughts more often than he should have, and ever since they reunited that first time, he was almost constantly there.

And now he might not get to talk to him about it anyway.

He didn’t think Chuuya would die. Chuuya was clever and resourceful in his own way, and even if he couldn’t get himself out of this situation, Mori wouldn’t want to give up someone as powerful as Chuuya so easily. Dazai was banking on that because he didn’t want to consider the possibility that Chuuya might not come back.

The other problem was himself. This gave him an out, a distraction from his deal with Chuuya. It was a reason to distance himself, to not communicate. He could make all the excuses he wanted to himself and he knew it would be wrong, but it was so so tempting to just let their relationship falter again, and to become nothing but work partners.

Not only did he owe it to Chuuya to not do that. He owed it to himself, too, because no matter what his darker thoughts told him, he deserved to be happy. He deserved to have close relationships.

They both deserved that, but it would only happen if they both decided to try.

Chapter Text

Looking back on things, it was ironic where they’d ended up now. Dazai had been expected to be the next Port Mafia boss, with Chuuya as his right hand man. But now Chuuya was next in line, and Dazai was a regular member of a small detective agency.

Dazai pulled the strings of a lot of people, made strategies that affected everybody, but he wasn’t going to be the leader of anything anytime soon. The kind of pressure caused by being the architect of these plans was enough. Once those plans were finished, once they (hopefully) worked, he would be glad to not have to continue leading anything or anyone.

They’d both been ambitious for different reasons. Chuuya held himself to the highest standard. He wanted to give everything he could to the Port Mafia, and being able to gain access to his records as a Mafia Executive was an added incentive. Dazai liked the advantage and influence the position would give him, even though by that point he already had a lot of influence in the Mafia. The Executive position extended that influence to outside the Mafia as well, and people began to know his name. He became the Demon Prodigy. He and Chuuya became Soukoku.

Though his reputation lingered, Dazai was less and less recognized by the city as a whole, and there was a nice sort of freedom in that. The less people recognized him, the more he could reinvent himself. Or rather, he could become the person he might have been if he had just been shown kindness.

The Mafia Executive position had been stressful. Dazai and Mori were constantly in a silent battle of manipulation and control. Dazai was smart enough to be Mori’s undoing and Mori was smart enough to keep Dazai in line. The moment that unraveled cost Odasaku his life, which proved just how much control Mori had, not only over the Mafia but over Dazai’s own emotions. Mori had used Odasaku and killed him, and he knew Dazai wouldn’t be able to handle that. It was a power play wrapped up in a solution for getting rid of another Ability organization, and Dazai hated him for it.

He wouldn’t let that happen again.

But if he did get involved with Chuuya, it was entirely possible that could happen again. Mori knew that they had a connection that wasn’t broken just because they were in separate organizations. Chuuya had more power than Odasaku did, though. Chuuya was in the same position Dazai had been in before he left the Mafia. Chuuya, like Dazai, could fight back.

Chuuya probably wouldn’t leave.

And not because of Mori. Chuuya was stupidly loyal to the organization as a whole. He truly believed the Mafia was where he could thrive, that it was where he could be the most useful. Dazai thought that too, back when Mori manipulated him into joining, until he left and realized that he could save people.

Given the positions they’d ended up in, it was strange for someone like Dazai to be so concerned with someone like Chuuya. These thoughts ran around in Dazai’s head over and over as he considered the reality of their situation. The conflict had entered a lull, which would have been great if several important people weren’t missing.

Fukuzawa knew about Kunikida’s wellbeing, at least, and Dazai trusted him. They’d heard nothing about Chuuya. Dazai’s thoughts kept turning towards making a plan to find Chuuya, but he stopped those thoughts every time. It wasn’t his job. He could adjust his plans to work without Chuuya. It certainly wasn’t the Agency’s job, even though there was nothing for the Agency to do but watch and wait.

“You’ve been staring off into space with that same look for days,” a voice said. Yosano came to sit next to him. They were in one of the Agency’s (literally) underground hideouts, an abandoned church, and Dazai was sprawled out on one of the pews. “It’s hard to just wait, isn’t it?”

“That’s my planning face, sensei,” Dazai said. He looked her over. She looked more tired than he’d ever seen her. “I wish my plans didn’t involve you dealing with Mori again.” What Mori had done to Yosano back then...he’d essentially broken her. She’d been younger than Dazai or Chuuya when he met her, thrust straight into the full horrors of war.

Yosano waved a hand. “I appreciate your concern. Apparently we’re all stuck dealing with him and the rest of the Mafia for the foreseeable future.”

“Terrible,” Dazai agreed.

She eyed him closely. “You did seem really concerned about your old partner the other day.”

Dazai laughed. “Concerned? I don’t know what you’re talking about, sensei. I just don’t want to change my plans. It’s inconvenient.”

“I see.” Yosano’s lips twitched. “I suppose there’s no use thinking about it if the Mafia planned it all along.”

“Exactly,” Dazai said. “It’s not my concern.”

“Not at all.”

It was unsettling that Yosano could tell what he was feeling. He knew she knew his thoughts were fixated on Chuuya. She may not have known why, but she was smart. She had good instincts. She could probably guess and it would be something Dazai would be in denial about, but technically she would be right.

For now Yosano seemed to be in a kind mood, or maybe she was just tired, because she didn’t try to guess at all.

“You wouldn’t consider going back, would you?” she asked instead. The question sounded casual, but there was a tenseness to her expression and a tightness to her voice that gave it away as something more.

“Why would I do that?” Dazai asked. “I hate Mori.”

“Putting aside the fact that you could kill him and become the boss yourself,” Yosano said. “Which I’m sure is tempting.”

“That wouldn’t be very Agency of me, sensei,” Dazai pointed out.

Yosano scoffed. “Agency rules don’t apply with him. But Tanizaki told me about your meeting. And about your partner.”

“I have a great partner now,” Dazai said. “Kunikida-kun is a wonderful partner.” He wanted to know Kunikida was safe as well. He cared about Kunikida’s wellbeing. He didn’t want to be a bad partner to Kunikida just because Chuuya existed, and he wondered if it was actually possible to have both partnerships at the same time.

“I don’t want you to go back,” Yosano said.

“You just want to make sure you know where I stand,” Dazai said. “Knowing is better than not knowing in any situation with Mori.”

“I also care about you,” Yosano said. “I wanted to know where your head was at because you still seem troubled.”

“Why would I be troubled?”

“I’m sure I could take a guess and you’d deny everything.”

She wasn’t wrong. He didn’t want to go into everything that was on his mind.

After this conflict, what would happen to his partnership with Chuuya? Would they even be able to work together anymore, or would Dazai have to join the Mafia for that to happen? Chuuya did draw him back towards the Mafia. Not in a way that would make Dazai join, but in a way that reminded him of everything in it, that brought him closer to the Mafia’s radar, and that might eventually make him invested in Mafia matters again. He didn’t want that. If he was resolved in one thing, it was that he’d never rejoin the Mafia.

He genuinely wasn’t sure if he could handle having Chuuya in his life while staying with the Agency, and he hated that the idea of not being able to made him feel something close to panic. He could see his relationship with Chuuya slipping through his fingers until there was nothing left to hold onto. He hated how upset that made him feel. He hated how the solution seemed to stop trying to hold on so that it would hurt less when Chuuya slipped away.

Where was his ability to shut down his emotions in regards to other people now?

“You know, the Agency operates in a grey-area, despite us being on the side of good,” Yosano said. “Most of us have that sort of background, so I don’t think anyone would begrudge you for living your life in a grey area, as long as you didn’t hurt the people who care about you.”

Could he be a good man living like that? He couldn’t even begin to answer that question.

“You,” Yosano added after Dazai didn’t talk for a few moments, “look like you need a distraction. We should go for a —”

Dazai’s phone buzzed, startling them both.

It was a message from Chuuya, of all people. And it just said two words:

“I’m back.”

Chapter Text

Chuuya refused to set foot in a government building and Ango refused to set foot in any place owned by the Mafia, so they ended up meeting in another Agency hide-out, this one an abandoned house on the outskirts of the city.

There was a small table in the kitchen that was perfect for their needs. Well, not perfect. It felt far too small, and Chuuya and Ango would be far too close. This was a table made for people who actually liked each other and this...was not that kind of situation.

There weren’t many other choices, though. The tiny couch would have been just as awkward, so they crammed themselves around the table, Chuuya leaning as far back in his chair as possible with his arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed at Ango. Ango was sitting ramrod straight in his own chair and Dazai, whose life goal was to inconvenience Ango at every opportunity, leaned forward with his head writing on his hands, taking up a majority of the table space.

“I assume you’ve already given Mori all of the relevant information,” Ango said.

“Of course,” Chuuya said. “I’m sure you’re dying to know.”

The bitterness dripping off those words was enough to make Dazai wince. They all knew no one was here to ask about Chuuya’s well-being, and telling the government anything to do with himself had to be a hard pill to swallow for Chuuya.

“Knowing would be helpful,” Ango said dryly.

“Boss Mori sent me to get captured by the Order,” Chuuya said. “He wanted me to gain information.”

“A stupid plan,” Dazai muttered.

“One stupid enough that you probably would’ve come up with it yourself,” Chuuya snapped.

Dazai blinked. Chuuya looked surprised at himself too, and a moment later he said, “Sorry. Tired.”

“Tired” seemed like an understatement. Chuuya looked exhausted. He looked sick. Dazai felt a strange sensation every time he looked too hard at him, like he was taking a sudden fall.

This wasn’t a meeting about Chuuya’s well-being.

“Anyway, the plan was a success,” Chuuya said with a sigh. “The leader of the Order herself decided she wanted to...meet me.”

“Agatha Christie,” Dazai said. That was an interesting choice on her part. “Why would she do that?”

“She seemed to have a plan in mind,” Chuuya said. “She wanted to study how my Ability works and how the government managed to get something like Arahabaki into me in the first place.”

“They do know Arahabaki isn’t actually a god, right?” Ango asked.

“Yup,” Chuuya said. His gaze drifted a bit to the left of Ango’s head so that he was staring at the opposite wall. “But it’s still an extremely strong Ability. How do you prepare someone to contain something like that?” There was a moment of silence in which it almost seemed like he expected an answer, and then he added, “that’s what she wanted to know.”

“I see,” Ango said. “How did she attempt to figure that out?”

“She has Ability enhancers,” Chuuya said. “I don’t know if you guys have them — they’re not on any of our markets as far as I know.”

Ango didn’t answer. He looked deep in thought.

“An enhancer used on you could be disastrous,” Dazai said, “even without Corruption. It’s a huge gamble considering you’re...you.”

Chuuya’s lips twitched, amusement flitting across his face for a brief moment before disappearing again. “They had a plan for that,” he said, his voice flat. “There’s an Ability user — I didn’t get his name, but he’s European, probably British — whose Ability is mind control.”

There was a moment of silence. And then…

“Like Q?” Dazai asked. He felt sick, not because he’d ever experienced the effects of Q’s mind control (he hadn’t) but because he knew those who had.

“Not like Q,” Chuuya said. “Worse. It’s...complete mind control. He can make you do whatever he wants you to do. See whatever he wants you to see. Hear whatever he wants you to hear.”

Dazai felt like his heart was in a vice and each word of Chuuya’s made it squeeze tighter. Why was it doing that? Why?

He didn’t want to admit why and he needed this to stop. This wasn’t a meeting about Chuuya’s well-being.

Chuuya must have...

“He’s still alive?” Ango cut in.

“Unfortunately,” Chuuya said. “I wasn’t able to kill anyone significant on my way out.” More bitterness, though it was hard to tell if it was directed at Ango or himself. “Sorry.”

Dazai was reeling for more than one reason. Still alive? And they didn’t have a name to go off. Which meant…

“Did you see what he looked like?” Dazai asked.

“No,” Chuuya said. “And even if I did, he could make me see whatever he wanted, so it isn’t like I’d actually know how he really looked.”

Silence fell over the three of them. That was a good point. The only one in the room who would be guaranteed to see what this guy truly looked like was Dazai.

“Is that all?” Chuuya asked, breaking the silence.

“Busy schedule?” Dazai asked. Chuuya glared at him.

“If that is all of the information you have to give,” Ango said.

“It is,” Chuuya said.

Ango nodded. “Nakahara-san, I —”

“Leave.” Chuuya’s voice was cold, a stark contrast to Ango’s voice, which had sounded concerned. That was probably why Chuuya had interrupted him, but it was still a surprise to hear.

Dazai had done the same thing to Ango every time they talked, but for vastly different reasons. It got under his skin that Ango, who was on the wrong side of things, still seemed concerned about people he shouldn’t have been concerned about. Dazai couldn’t understand that…

Except, he realized to his horror, he could. He barely noticed Ango give Chuuya a slight nod and leave the room, but suddenly it was the two of them alone and his own thoughts about Chuuya’s condition couldn’t be ignored. They were trying to force him into asking Chuuya how he was, into reaching out, literally, to offer Chuuya some kind of support. To let Chuuya know that he cared.

And Chuuya could reject him just as coldly as he rejected Ango. Dazai didn’t think he would, though. The worst case scenario would come after he was more attached, when he couldn’t picture his life without Chuuya. He thought about Odasaku, could still practically feel Odasaku’s blood on his hands, and while he’d been able to move forward after that, it still hurt. He didn’t want to go through that again. He’d never wanted to go through that in the first place.

“You in there?” Chuuya’s voice broke into his thoughts.

Dazai blinked. Chuuya was standing in front of him and Ango was long gone. “Oh? I barely noticed you. You’re so short.” The attempt at teasing was half-hearted. “I thought you were busy.”

Chuuya frowned. “Listen, Dazai…”

Dazai suddenly felt like the room was suffocating. This was the first time they’d seen each other since that conversation they’d had. Now Chuuya was hurting, and the weight of his emotions felt crushing. Not because helping him would be difficult, but because helping him meant that he cared and that he would care more and more as he became actively invested in Chuuya’s healing. And he knew it wouldn’t go one way — Chuuya would become invested in Dazai’s healing as well.

But Dazai didn’t think he could heal from pain that was bound to happen again if he let himself have this.

No, he couldn’t heal if he was throwing himself straight into another situation where he could get hurt or lose someone. Something about that reasoning seemed wrong, but he told himself it was right.

“This is gonna sound really stupid.” Chuuya was still talking. “I just...can you...I don’t know...touch me, somewhere?”

Dazai’s first thought was to run his hand through Chuuya’s hair. It was something he’d been tempted to do a lot, but right now touching Chuuya was the opposite of what he needed to do. Still, his hand reached out automatically and he wrapped his fingers around Chuuya’s wrist.

Chuuya seemed to relax. He looked around the room and then looked at Dazai. “Thanks,” he said.

Dazai’s heart was racing. He needed to stop this before it went too far. “Chuuya,” he said, “you’re not my partner anymore.” The words sounded distant, like he wasn’t the one saying them.

Chuuya stared at him, expression going from relieved to something else. Dazai couldn’t read it, but he saw the way Chuuya’s body tensed again before he pulled his arm out of Dazai’s grip. Dazai realized that for some reason he hadn’t let go first.

“Are you serious?” There was a dangerous edge to Chuuya’s voice.

“I am serious,” Dazai said, and still it felt like someone else was speaking, like the words were coming out despite him not wanting to say them, even though he should have wanted to. “It’s the truth. My plans only require us to work together as a necessity, but outside of that it isn’t beneficial to consider ourselves partners.”

“Beneficial my ass,” Chuuya snapped. “What happened to our talk?”

“I said I’d try,” Dazai said, “and I did try. And I’ve decided this is what’s best. Neither of us should be dwelling on the past.”

“This isn’t about the past.” Chuuya’s eyes narrowed as he looked straight into Dazai’s and then, unexpectedly, he laughed.

Something about that laugh was worse than if Chuuya had yelled.

“I know what this is about,” Chuuya said. “You coward.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dazai said.

“Right.” Chuuya started to turn away, but then seemed to think better of it. “You know, you always told me I was stupid for caring because it would hurt. And it did hurt.”

Dazai wanted him to stop talking, but he couldn’t. Despite feeling detached from himself, Chuuya’s words were driving themselves into his heart as if Chuuya was actually using a knife to carve into his skin. He could feel everything.

“Being your partner hurt,” Chuuya said. “But at the same time, if I hadn’t met you…” He took a deep breath and it seemed like it was a struggle for him to keep looking Dazai in the eye, but he didn’t look away. “I don’t regret being your partner or knowing you, no matter how much of a shit person you can be.”

Dazai had nothing to say to that. His heart was beating too hard, and yet somehow the only thing he heard was Chuuya’s voice.

Chuuya finally turned away. “This isn’t over. Get back to me when you get your head out of your ass.”

Then he was gone.

Dazai wished he could have found the words to explain why he was afraid. Even if Chuuya knew, he wished he could make Chuuya really understand what it was that was stopping him, so that Chuuya wouldn’t think he was a coward, so that he wouldn’t think it was personal to him. He wished he wasn’t so afraid of pain and loss and rejection. He wished he wasn’t afraid of happiness, because he knew that the happier he was the more likely it was that he would be hurt. Happiness wasn’t numbness and the contrast between happiness and negative emotions was huge, and feeling that much was overwhelming.

Dazai rarely felt like he wanted to explain himself to people, but for some reason he couldn’t get rid of his regret for not explaining himself to Chuuya.

He started walking, making his way back to the current Agency hideout without much thought to his surroundings. He got himself inside, still feeling like he was back at the meeting spot, with Chuuya telling him that he didn’t regret being his partner and not understanding why.

He couldn’t begin to get thoughts of Chuuya out of his head, even though he’d effectively cut ties with Chuuya back there so that he could live with one less person that would cause pain somehow.

He realized that it was too late — he already couldn’t picture his life without Chuuya there somehow. He’d always just assumed Chuuya would be there, even when he left the Mafia. Chuuya had a steadiness about him, a certainty that made it very difficult to disregard him as a person. It felt more right to have him around than to not.

And even though Dazai had cut ties, Chuuya hadn’t. He’d walked away, but he’d given Dazai another chance. It probably wasn’t because he was so forgiving, but rather because he didn’t want to lose the one person who understood him. It was funny how they both had that fear, and one of them tried to pull the other close, while the other tried to push him away.

This isn’t over.

Dazai knew he was right. It wasn’t over. He couldn’t stop thinking about Chuuya and he knew what would happen even though he didn’t know how or when.

Dazai hated being lonely, and he craved understanding. Deep inside himself, he wanted to be loved, even if he didn’t want to admit it because he thought it would never happen. He didn’t reject people completely and even at his worst, there was still something human in him. Odasaku had seen it. Chuuya might have denied seeing it, but he did. That’s why he never let Dazai go.

What Dazai felt for Chuuya was terrifying, but he knew that if he didn’t let himself feel it, he would regret it for the rest of his life. He knew that if he wanted things to move forward he would have to be the one to take action. Chuuya wasn’t going to make the first move this time.

Dazai didn’t know how long it would take for the fear to subside enough that he could convince himself to take action, or if he would just convince himself that it wasn’t worth it and decide that the regret was better than the alternative. He was caught between his instinct to run and a want to actually try something with Chuuya and he couldn’t choose. He wished someone would take it out of his hands.

But it was his decision and no one else’s.

He just needed to be able to live with the aftermath.

Chapter Text

There were days where, if Chuuya was distracted enough, the worst thoughts and memories were almost easy to ignore. Today was not one of those days.

Today Chuuya could barely stand to be in his own skin. It was in times like these that Chuuya wished he could drink or drug himself into a stupor, forget who he was for a while, but he couldn’t afford that. Not when there was so much work to be done.

Except today there wasn’t work to be done. Today wasn’t busy, but there was always the chance it could turn busy very quickly. Things always seemed to change quickly and Chuuya didn’t want to be incapacitated when something came up. That was one reason.

There was another reason that made his skin crawl. It didn’t used to be a problem, but now...

Before, Chuuya was afraid of losing control because of Corruption. It made certain situations hard to deal with, but it was mostly a self-contained thing. It never affected more ordinary loss of control situations, like drinking, and he could almost enjoy the feeling.

Not now. Now when he thought about drinking he felt like being sick. Even sleeping was difficult, because anything could happen while he was asleep. So he tried not to sleep, and when he did end up falling asleep anyway he would have nightmares. On the rare occasions he didn’t have nightmares he would wake up and immediately feel anxiety before becoming aware of his surroundings, and even then the anxiety was hard to shake.

Today Chuuya woke up shaking from a nightmare, feeling the cold sharpness of a scalpel on his skin. He went through his morning routine in the sort of exhausted and not-quite-there daze that seemed more common than not lately, and despite the exhaustion he was still on edge.

Coffee probably wasn’t the best thing to have when anxious, but Chuuya had been drinking it in excess since he’d gotten back. It would help him not sleep, and he also liked it. He was trying to take pleasure from what he could because he needed to be able to function. If he focused on some of the good things, then maybe he could ignore everything else.

That didn’t really work but it gave him things to hold on to. In the absence of being able to enjoy wine he could enjoy his coffee. He was glad that the Mafia weren’t the ones in hiding, because he could also enjoy the comfort of his own apartment.

He began to come out of his daze. Now he had to think of what to do. Normally he’d go out and try to find some task to complete even if it wasn’t busy, but he didn’t want to see people. His desire to be around people had diminished ever since he got back and he wasn’t sure why. It was so strange that he forced himself to be around them even when he wasn’t meant to be. Today, though, he didn’t feel like he could do it.

The apartment felt suffocating. He knew if he stayed and couldn’t find something to do, he’d get tired and fall asleep. So he decided to go for a walk.

Then he realized he couldn’t, or rather, he shouldn’t. Not with the way things were right now. He couldn’t go out, he couldn’t drink, he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t escape. He felt stuck, and the realization made his breath catch in his throat. He couldn’t do a thing, he couldn’t even talk to anyone because who would understand? Who would want to deal with his bullshit anyway?

The mug in his hands cracked and split. Lukewarm coffee spilled over Chuuya’s fingers and he watched it spread across the counter and drip onto the floor. His thoughts came to a halt. Then red appeared among the coffee, droplets splashing on top of the brown liquid like some kind of weird modern art painting, followed by a sharp pain.

Chuuya turned his hands up. There was a deep cut on his right palm, more cuts on his left, and some porcelain had embedded itself in his fingers. He could just as easily embed the shards in his wrists — he shook off the thought, wondering why he’d had it in the first place.

He had to clean up. For a moment he was unsure where to start. He realized he should probably start with his hands, because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to do anything.

Once he was in the bathroom he turned on the sink and began picking out any shards that had stuck in his skin. Then he cleaned the wounds as best he could, wrapping the deeper ones. His hands shook at the smell of disinfectant and the sharp pain — like a wound sliced by a scalpel.

His stomach heaved and he retched into the sink. Now the rest of his coffee was gone too, he thought. What a waste.

Shakily, he washed out his mouth and finished bandaging his injuries as fast as he could before heading back into the kitchen to clean the rest of the mess.

He finished cleaning the spill and the rest of the destroyed mug faster than anticipated, and before he could reason to himself that it was a bad idea he’d grabbed his coat and hat and was out the door.

Being outside was dangerous, but apparently so was being inside. He didn’t feel safe either way but at least outside he had more breathing room.

He was hyper aware as he stepped out onto the street and started walking. One hand curled around his knife and his Ability buzzed under his skin. He hated that his Ability made him feel a bit uneasy too.

Without putting any thought into it, Chuuya ended up walking towards the water. He didn’t like being in water, but looking at it was nice. Yokohama has a beautiful waterfront with lovely views of both the sea and the city. It was a calming, open place to be.

Or it was, until he heard someone fall into step close behind him.

He whirled around, grabbing the person by the arm and knocking their legs out from under them. A hand grabbed his wrist and abruptly, Chuuya felt his Ability disappear.

That didn’t stop him from following through and pinning Dazai to the ground, knife pressed against his throat.

Dazai looked up at him, quickly masking his surprise. “Someone’s on edge.”

“Why the fuck do you think?” Chuuya didn’t like how the anger of his words was underscored by something else that made his voice nearly break.

Dazai must have noticed because he noticed everything. “I don’t know, Chuuya. Why?”

“Fuck you.” It was so tempting to hurt Dazai right now. They weren’t partners anymore. They could even be considered enemies. Everyone felt like an enemy right now.

Then Dazai said, “what happened to your hands?”

“Nothing,” Chuuya said. His hands stung from where he was pinning down Dazai and where he gripped the knife. “What the hell are you doing out?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Dazai said. “I got bored of hiding and needed fresh air. You look worse than the last time I saw you.”

Chuuya’s hands throbbed.

“Did you get your head out of your ass yet?” He countered.

“I don’t know,” Dazai said. His face was blank. “Are you planning on getting off me anytime soon?”

Chuuya stayed there for a moment longer before pushing away and standing. “Then I don’t have anything to say to you.” He felt the loss of Dazai’s Ability and was instantly angry at himself for finding it comforting at all.

“And if I have something to say to you?” Dazai asked, getting to his feet.

Chuuya had been about to walk away, but at Dazai’s words he turned around. “Then say it.”

Dazai opened his mouth and then closed it. He looked, for once in his life, uncertain, like he didn’t know what to do. Like he hadn’t actually planned this.

Chuuya waited for a moment, because despite his anger he knew that anything that made Dazai hesitate to talk when he usually wouldn’t shut up was something significant.

Finally, Dazai said, “you don’t understand me. You don’t really understand why I am the way I am or why I do the things I do and I don’t know if I can deal with that. If you just dismiss it as me being a coward...you’d think, as partners…” He let the sentence hang there.

Chuuya’s anger slammed into him all over again. “Understand?” He repeated. “You don’t want to try anything because I don’t understand you? No one did!” And that was part of the problem, that was something he felt guilty for.

He wondered if the Agency understood.

“Odasaku understood me,” Dazai said. “He didn’t think I was a coward.”

Chuuya stared at him. “Because you let him! You were more honest with him than you ever were with me, which is fine, but that doesn’t mean shit when we’re not talking about him in the first place.”

“You must think the worst of me,” Dazai said. “Most people do.”

“You act like you want me to,” Chuuya said.

Dazai hesitated again. Chuuya knew Dazai’s defense mechanism was to push people away, but right now he was so tired he might let that happen if Dazai kept it up.

“If I thought the worst of you I wouldn’t give you the time of day,” Chuuya added. “I wouldn’t have told you to come back. But that can’t last forever, not if you keep doing this shit. If you want me to understand then make me.”

“Fine.” Dazai sighed. “I...we should go somewhere else.”

“My apartment,” Chuuya said without thinking. But it was really the only place to go. Dazai wasn’t using his apartment at the moment because the Agency was in hiding.

He looked Chuuya up and down. “You scare me,” he said, sounding hollow. Chuuya was about to ask what that meant when he added, “lead the way.”

So Chuuya did.

In some ways, Dazai scared him too.

*

Dazai was torn between wanting to try with Chuuya and wanting to run, and it showed. He could tell Chuuya was confused, and it was a miracle he’d agreed to go to Chuuya’s apartment of all places, but if he was going to do this he couldn’t do it out in the open and he certainly couldn’t do it within reach of the Agency members. So here he was.

He felt feverish, though he knew he wasn’t sick. He was forcing himself to confront something that he avoided for so long because it was like sticking his hand into a fire.

His emotions could burn him alive when he stopped to think about his loneliness and loss, the way his childhood was taken away from him, the way he avoided relationships to avoid more pain.

Well, now he was thinking about it… Saying it out loud to someone else was worse, though.

It didn’t take them too long to reach Chuuya’s apartment. Dazai thought it would be like stepping back in time, but it wasn’t. Chuuya may have been the same in a lot of ways, but he’d also changed in others. The stuff he kept around the apartment was (barely) more tasteful, and it wasn’t as messy as when they were teenagers.

They both slipped off their shoes at the door and Chuuya gestured to the couch while he headed towards the kitchen. Dazai sat down, not sure what to do with himself.

“Tea?” Chuuya asked. “Water? Coffee?”

“Tea,” Dazai said.

Chuuya nodded and began making the tea.

As he did, Dazai thought about how weird it was to be completely in someone else’s space. He didn’t spend a lot of time here as a teenager, though to be fair neither did Chuuya. They were both extremely busy, constantly working, and back then Dazai hadn’t really intended on staying and looking around. He hadn’t intended on noticing anything, but now he couldn’t help but observe.

Chuuya was the sort of person who would have a lot of pictures of the people he cared about, but there were none. He somehow managed to fill the space with things that made the apartment seem warm anyway. There were little plants on the shelves, which were filled with books and notebooks. Dazai wondered how many of those books Chuuya had read. The furniture was inviting. There was a pillow next to Dazai that was very tempting to lean against.

Chuuya returned with two cups of tea. He handed one to Dazai, who accepted it with a quiet “thank you” and sat down with his own.

For a few moments they were quiet. Dazai sipped on his tea, which was alright, while Chuuya stared at the floor like he wanted to say something but it just wouldn’t come out.

Finally, he looked at Dazai.

Dazai felt put on the spot, even without Chuuya saying anything. He knew Chuuya wanted him to talk, to make him understand. What could he say? It would be making himself completely vulnerable to Chuuya.

But no matter how long he put it off, he’d made up his mind the moment he stepped into the apartment. It was a difficult choice to carry through, but there was no turning back. He needed to do this.

“I don’t want to be left behind.”

Chuuya’s eyes widened.

“I don’t want to be hurt,” Dazai continued. “My whole life...most people have only wanted to use me, or they’ve hated me, and it hurt to try to get close to them, to get their approval or…” Or their love. “I stopped, because it hurt. If you don’t let yourself get close to people then you can’t be left behind. If you don’t let yourself care then you can’t be upset when no one cares about you. If you use other people you won’t be used.”

Chuuya nodded, taking that in.

“Back then, you didn’t understand,” Dazai said. His eyes burned. He hated that feeling. “Not about that. I didn’t want you to get close. I got close to Odasaku and Ango and, well, you know what happened.” He gave Chuuya a bitter smile. “I’m getting close to the Agency too. It’s so hard...I’m still not very close to any of them on a one-on-one level. I don’t want them to find out that they actually hate who I am or...to get close to them only to have them taken away.” Dazai looked down at his hands.

“I guess I didn’t understand you,” Chuuya said after a moment, causing Dazai to raise his head again. “I understand, but I didn’t try to understand you.”

Dazai stared at him.

“I should’ve helped you back then because you were never okay, but I was a shit partner for that, wasn’t I?” Chuuya sighed. “I just thought if I acted like I hated you and like nothing was wrong then it wouldn’t hurt if you succeeded in dying.”

Dazai suddenly laughed. It was a relief to let out whatever had been building inside him this way.

“What’s funny?” Chuuya asked, frowning.

“Chuuya...your thought process is almost as stupid as mine.” He laughed again, but there were tears in his eyes and he rubbed at them, trying to make them go away.

“”Dazai…”

“I don’t know, Chuuya.” Dazai hated how lost he sounded. He hated how lost he felt. The worst part was that he couldn’t promise Chuuya anything after all that, because saying it out loud didn’t make it go away. But hopefully Chuuya understood.

“You don’t have to,” Chuuya said.”I’ll...try to be more understanding, as long as you’re honest with me.”

Dazai nodded.

“We can go slow,” Chuuya added. “We don’t have to be anything at the end of all this, but at least we’ll have tried, you know?”

“Yeah.” Dazai wanted to try. He wanted to be able to move forward. He needed to not feel alone and he wanted to be able to help himself with that. He wiped at his eyes again and looked at Chuuya, who never wanted to be lonely and always tried to seek people out but somehow ended up lonely anyway.

Chuuya met his eyes, but Dazai was drawn to Chuuya’s hands, which were bandaged. He’d noticed that earlier, and Chuuya had avoided the question. His hands hadn’t been like that when they’d met with Ango. “What happened to your hands?”

Chuuya visibly tensed, and he set the teacup on the table in front of him. “Something stupid.”

“Like?”

“I broke a coffee cup,” Chuuya said, “and got cut.”

There seemed to be more to it than that. Dazai felt uneasy about it. Just like he’d felt uneasy about Chuuya’s appearance during their meeting with Ango, he felt the same now, because Chuuya didn’t look any better.

Chuuya had been mind-controlled and experimented on, made to doubt his reality, and those things must have touched on his past in a horrible way. Even someone without Chuuya’s past would have a hard time dealing with it. It dawned on Dazai that Chuuya hadn’t talked to anyone about it, because he never did. Like Dazai, he didn’t feel like he could.

“Can I see?” Dazai asked.

Chuuya hesitated. “I already cleaned them.”

“You should probably change the bandages though,” Dazai said. “You were using your hands before.”

Chuuya sighed. “Fine. Follow me.” He got up and gestured for Dazai to follow him to the bathroom.

It was surreal being led even deeper into Chuuya’s apartment when he hadn’t anticipated going inside at all at the start of the day. He didn’t know what would have kickstarted him into doing something about Chuuya, and he didn’t want to think too hard about it. He was lucky he’d run into Chuuya even if it was painful.

Chuuya turned on the bathroom light and stepped inside. Everything Dazai would need was already resting on the edge of the sink. He picked up the bandages just as Chuuya began unwrapping his hands.

Dazai caught sight of the bloodstains on the bandages as Chuuya tossed them into the garbage can. At least they hadn’t bled through the top layers of bandage, but Dazai still didn’t like seeing the blood there.

Chuuya held out his hands for Dazai to examine, turning his head to the side and deliberately not looking at his hands. “Don’t take long.”

Dazai frowned as he took Chuuya’s hands in his. The wounds made it look like the cup had shattered in Chuuya’s hands. One of his palms had a deep gash in it. The other was cut up pretty badly. Chuuya’s fingers had suffered some cuts too, though not as severe.

The wounds looked irritated now. Dazai wondered if they should have been stitched. Both he and Chuuya knew how to do it, but it was kind of hard to stitch a wound on your hand when you needed your hands to stitch the wound in the first place. Chuuya probably didn’t want Dazai to stitch him up, though. The wounds would probably hurt more and take a while to heal if they weren’t stitched up, but they would heal.

Dazai began cleaning the wounds. Chuuya was very, very quiet. The only sound in the bathroom was his measured breathing. It was hard to know what he was thinking and Dazai didn’t bother trying to figure it out for now. He focused on the task and re-bandaged Chuuya’s hands once he was done.

Chuuya’s breathing was less measured now and as soon as Dazai let go of his hands he turned away.

“Chuuya?”

Chuuya took a deep breath and turned back around. “Are you leaving now?”

Dazai actually didn’t know. He hadn’t thought past bandaging Chuuya’s hands. “Do you want me to?”

“No.”

The quickness and honesty of the answer threw Dazai off-guard. He supposed it made sense. It had been hard enough to get Dazai to come here and talk to him in the first place. There was more to it, though.

“Being alone,” Chuuya said, “right now at least...is not a good idea.” It sounded like it pained him to admit it. He was asking for help, Dazai realized, with the wariness of someone who expected to not get help at all.

Dazai had wondered how Chuuya was coping and now he had the answer: he wasn’t.

Still, hearing Chuuya of all people say something like that twisted Dazai’s heart with the same kind of fear that had prevented him from getting close to people in the first place. He didn’t know if he could handle it. He didn’t know if he was the right person.

He thought of all the times Chuuya had been exposed to his suicidal tendencies. He barely did anything to hide them back then, didn’t really care who found him after an attempt, didn’t think people were actually worried about his self-destruction, but he knew that was wrong. He knew Chuuya did worry, and he channeled that worry into anger because they both wanted nothing to be wrong.

“If I could drink this problem away, I would,” Chuuya said. “Or sleep it away. Or...I don’t know. There’s no escaping it. I don’t even know if this would help, honestly, I just…”

Dazai wished Chuuya would look at him. It was weird that he wasn’t. It was weird that his voice sounded empty rather than emotional.

The emotions were there. Dazai knew more than anyone what it was like to suppress everything because he was afraid of what would happen if he didn’t.

“You’re not okay and you need someone,” Dazai said. “And you’d prefer it if it was someone who understood.”

“You always fucking know.” Chuuya’s voice cracked. “Even when I don’t say it...how annoying.”

“Annoying is my brand,” Dazai said with a smile. Then more seriously, “I can try to be that person today. And...for more than today.”

Chuuya took a shaky breath. “We both have some trying to do,” he said, running a hand through his hair. It caught on the bandages but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah.” Dazai picked at his own bandages. “If we’re trying, can we try somewhere more comfortable than the bathroom?” He gave Chuuya a small smirk, and Chuuya responded with a quiet laugh.

In that moment Dazai thought he might be the right person after all.