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Encounter No.1: No!
Jouno sighed as he set down his glass of whiskey. He despised frequenting bars. The music was too loud, the alcohol affected his senses, and the drunks got on his last nerve.
He despised this bar in particular, which was exactly why he had come here tonight. No one would ever expect him to be here.
Just a few days ago, Fukuchi had been stabbed by Teruko. And ever since that day, they had been drowning in paperwork, calls and meetings. There were so many loose ends to tie up, so many explanations to give, so many people who just didn’t know when to shut up.
And, quite frankly, Jouno was done with it already. He didn’t want to listen to even one more politician complain about the current situation. He was fed up. More than just fed up. Fed up to the point where he simply didn’t care anymore.
“Hey, Mr. Policeman,” someone greeted him in a cheerful voice, sitting down on at the bar right next to him. Ugh. “Didn’t take you for someone to drink in a shabby place like this.”
“Watch your mouth,” the bartender grumbled. “You still haven’t paid off your tab from last month. You better hope the boss doesn’t find out where you live.”
“Ah, so forward,” quipped Dazai. “Buy me a drink first.”
“How about you actually pay for your drinks for once?” the bartender retorted, already placing a glass down in front of Dazai. “There you go, the usual.”
“You know me too well,” Dazai replied before turning back to Jouno. Damn. He had hoped the man had forgotten about him. “So, how come you’re here?”
“I was hoping to get away from people,” Jouno smiled venomously. “And that includes you.”
“What, me too?” Dazai asked, placing a hand on his heart as though he had been deeply offended. “But Mr. Policeman, I am but a lonely bachelor looking for company!”
“Then look for it elsewhere,” Jouno answered, his smile icy.
“You’re not going to arrest me again?” Dazai teased. “I was looking forward to it.”
“You didn’t even know I was going to be here tonight,” Jouno returned.
With just one swift motion, he could’ve taken an ice cube out of his glass and thrown it at the nuisance of a man. The more he thought about it, the more tempting it sounded. If only the Hunting Dog’s public image hadn’t suffered so much already.
“Ah, you got me there, Mr. Policeman,” Dazai chuckled, taking a sip from his glass.
“Will you stop it with the ‘Mr. Policeman’ already?” Jouno answered with an irritated smile.
“With displeasure,” Dazai countered. “I guess you’re not the gregarious type.”
“Oh, you guess?” Jouno repeated. “Really? You guess? Can you even imagine the pressure we’ve been under these past few days? We’re given hell because we had no idea what Fukuchi was up to. And do you really think anyone of us actually wants to deal with that right now? I was impaled multiple times and turned into a vampire, in case you already forgot. Can I have a fucking break for a moment?”
“So…no handcuffs?” Dazai asked.
Jouno slammed his glass down on the bar. “Another, please.”
“Yours isn’t even empty yet,” Dazai pointed out with a smirk.
Jouno faced him with a dark smile and picked his glass up again, holding it at an angle where the last bit of whiskey just barely didn’t spill onto Dazai’s pants. “One more word out of your mouth and it will be.”
Dazai simply took the glass out of his hand and emptied it in one go. “Why waste some perfectly good alcohol?”
He was infuriating. Jouno would’ve liked to catapult him right back to Meursault. But he really wasn’t in the mood for even more paperwork tonight.
Instead, he reached for the new glass of whiskey the bartender had set down in front of him and poured it out over Dazai as he stood up. “It’s not wasted if it makes your life even a little bit harder. Have a good night.”
With a cold smile he turned to leave. Someone shouted something after him, but he didn’t pay it any mind. Next time, Jouno swore to himself, next time he was going to arrest Dazai.
Encounter No.2: No.
“Hey, Mr. Policeman!” Dazai exclaimed.
Jouno had to hold back an annoyed groan. He knew it had been a bad idea to come back. Of course, Dazai just had to be here again.
“Hey, Mr. Fugitive,” he returned, his voice dangerously polite. “Why don’t you just turn around and walk around the block for two hours until I’m gone?”
“But where would be the fun in that?” Dazai grinned. “Let’s get to know each other so I can develop Stockholm syndrome once you arrest me again.”
“That’s not even remotely how that works,” Jouno answered.
“Then tell me how it does work,” Dazai chuckled. “Don’t you think it would be fu-…”
“No.”
“Don’t you think it-…”
“No.”
“Don’t you-…”
“No,” Jouno repeated himself for the third time, his patience wearing thinner than clingfilm. “Will you leave me alone already?”
“Oh, so you didn’t come back to arrest me?” Dazai asked.
“NO.” Fuck. “Yes, I did.”
Dazai held out his arms to him. “Do it, Mr. Policeman.”
“The only thing I’ll do tonight is make your body disappear deep, deep down in the ground,” Jouno smiled sinisterly.
“Awesome, that has been my life goal for quite a while now,” Dazai retorted. “Or should I call it my death goal? What do you think?”
“I think you should really shut up,” Jouno asserted. “And by that, I mean you should keep quiet until I forget you. Don’t talk, don’t swallow, don’t breathe. Just cease to exist, actually, that would be great.”
“Keep talking dirty to me, Mr. Policeman,” Dazai mocked.
“What?” Jouno coughed, having made the mistake of taking a sip of whiskey.
“What?” Dazai echoed innocently.
“I’m leaving,” Jouno huffed.
“So soon?” Dazai asked, sounding genuinely disappointed. “Why?”
“That can’t be a serious question,” Jouno returned, annoyed. “Because you’re a terrible drinking partner, obviously.”
“Ah, I can’t argue with that,” Dazai chuckled. “You’re even worse, you always leave before I can get even slightly tipsy.”
“Do I seem like I’d want to deal with that?” Jouno countered, his smile strained.
“Don’t you think it would be amusing to witness it at least once?” Dazai rejoined.
“No,” Jouno said decisively, standing up. “I couldn’t imagine a more horrible ending to my evening even if I tried.”
“Well then, if it can’t be helped,” Dazai answered. “Bye, Mr. Policeman! See you tomorrow! Don’t forget about the handcuffs this time!”
“Learn to keep your voice down or I’ll bring more than just the handcuffs,” Jouno threatened with a smile.
“Oh, kinky,” Dazai remarked. Not a second later, he landed on his butt, as Jouno had kicked the barstool out from under him. “Ouch.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Fugitive,” Jouno waved smugly before turning to leave.
Encounter No.3: No?
Jouno had promised himself not to return. At least not alone. Maybe with Teruko, or perhaps even with Tetchou. Just not alone.
Yet here he was, in the same bar, on the same barstool, with the same annoying man next to him. Where in life had he taken a wrong turn again? It had been when he had joined the Hunting Dogs, hadn’t it? Yes, that had to be it.
“…and then Kunikida told me I couldn’t call in sick because ‘the vibe was off’ for the third time this week,” Dazai complained. “And now I’m here, drinking to forget, but I always remember.”
“Remind me why I care again?” Jouno commented with an indifferent smile.
“Because you’re my friend and helper, Mr. Policeman,” Dazai grinned.
“Remove the ‘r’ and you might be correct,” Jouno returned.
“From which word?” Dazai sneered. “By the way, are they decorating my cell at Meursault for Christmas or why can’t I just go there already? I’m behind on my rent, a safe roof over my head would be quite nice.”
“Your cell is ready for you whenever I arrest you,” Jouno smiled.
“Then why don’t you?” Dazai asked.
Yeah, why didn’t he? Certainly not because Dazai was such an agreeable person to talk to. Honestly, he was nothing but a pain in the ass.
“I don’t feel like it,” Jouno declared. “Not tonight.”
“You didn’t feel like it the last two nights, either,” Dazai pointed out. “Have you decided to take a liking to my company after all, Mr. Policeman?”
“I’d rather stab my own foot than admit that even if it were the case,” Jouno smiled dryly.
“Ah, still so cold,” Dazai sighed, swirling the liquid in his glass. “I suppose it’s no use asking for your number then.”
“What?”
“What?”
“Why are you acting surprised?! You were the one trying to make a move!” Jouno frowned.
“I guess I was,” Dazai smirked. “So, how about it? Can I have your number?”
“No,” Jouno replied, unimpressed. Then, he added: “You can have my business card.”
“What?” Dazai asked again.
“There’s my number on it,” Jouno explained, defeated. He slammed the card down on the bar. “Don’t call me.”
“Can I text you?” Dazai answered.
“No.”
“What about an email?”
“Still no.”
“Then I’ll just send you a fax.”
“I’ll shred it with pleasure.”
“I’m afraid it can’t be helped, then,” Dazai sighed. “How would you feel if I climbed through your window?”
“Are you being serious right now?” Jouno asked, the corners of his mouth already hurting from his strained smile.
“Well, how else am I supposed to get into your bedroom?” Dazai returned with a smirk.
“Please just die,” Jouno smiled. He didn’t like the fact that he could feel the tips of his ears heat up a little.
“Gladly,” Dazai replied happily. “I’ve got something to do before that, though.”
“And what would that something be?” Jouno asked.
Silence.
“What would that something be, Dazai?” he repeated himself, this time emphasising every single word.
“Another round, please!”