Chuuya probably would have fallen asleep right then and there if he hadn't sensed Dazai settle down in the grass beside him.
"So~" Dazai said, clearly having no intention of giving his ex-partner even a moment of peace, "How did your date go?"
"I got shot in the leg. How do you think my date went?"
"Was the food good at least?"
"Never got to try it."
"Well that sucks."
He heard Dazai sigh wistfully, "Speaking of food, I'm starving right now. I really should've gotten something from the Chuestival."
"The...what?"
"The Chuestival. You know, it's like combining the word 'festival' and your na-"
Chuuya pinched the bridge of his nose, "I swear to god Dazai, don't you dare finish that sentence. I'm this close to ripping apart every last one of those booths and smashing them into the ground."
Dazai appeared to consider this for a moment. Then, without an ounce of shame, he reached over and took Chuuya's gloved hand in his own.
"There," he said triumphantly, "now you can't."
Chuuya's eyes snapped open, feeling a familiar flutter in his chest. He wasn't even using his ability but he could still identify the cool touch of nullification.
Dazai wasn't...Dazai wasn't doing this on purpose was he?
There was no way the detective really thought Chuuya would destroy the festival. But there was also no way that Dazai would- ugh. Why did his thoughts keep on circulating back to this?
If anything, the idiot was probably just trying to get a rise out of him, so he could laugh when Chuuya angrily snatched his hand back.
But Chuuya didn't angrily snatch his hand back. And for the life of him, he couldn't understand why.
It wasn't like he appreciated the way Dazai, restless as always, was toying with the fabric of his gloves. Or the way the pad of his thumb had absentmindedly begun to trace the inside of his palm.
As a matter of fact he hated it. Of course he hated it, what other feeling could describe a sensation so strong? But hatred was supposed to make him flinch away in disgust. Not stay frozen there like he was someone Dazai actually liked.
Did he...did he want Dazai to like him?
The thought caught his off guard. But still...he couldn't help but wonder. What would it be like? To be someone Dazai didn't so clearly despise? To be someone he valued? Someone he wanted to actually be around?
It would be giving up any semblance of quiet in your life, that was for sure. That mackerel never did know when to shut up. But other than that...maybe it wouldn't be too bad.
Maybe it would actually be kind of nice.
It occurred to Chuuya, not for the first time, that he was most definitely not the first person to have these thoughts. Osamu Dazai was as much of an enigma as he was man. A genius with an idiotic streak. A cold devil in one breath and a carefree prankster in the other. It was only natural to want him on your side. The who damn city probably thought they needed Dazai. The whole damn city probably did need Dazai.
And for some reason, that bothered Chuuya immensely.
The detective cleared this throat.
"Um...Chuuya."
"Yeah?"
"Can I ask a serious question?"
"That'd be a first for you but go ahead."
Dazai hesitated, gathering himself.
"Is this flirtatious?"
Chuuya, for a horrible moment, was convinced of the existence of mind readers and nearly sprung upright, "The hell are you-?"
"Sorry, sorry. Too random. See, Fitzgerald was saying something about how I- well how I might come off as..." Dazai hesitated, clearly unsure how to articulate his words. Being serious wasn't his strong suit. He sighed, "Is this bothersome? Am I bothering you?"
"Dazai," Chuuya said matter-of-factly, "You're always bothering me."
"...right."
He began to withdraw his hand.
Chuuya grabbed it. "Hey -- still might try to demolish the entire population of Yokohama over here, remember?"
Dazai paused. His fingers twined back with Chuuya's, wrists pressing together and a cheerful lilt creeping back into his voice "Of course, of course. What type of detective would I be if I let that happen?"
Chuuya muttered something under his breath about his ex-partner being a waste of oxygen and looked back up at the sky.
No. He was not going to spend any more time thinking about what their relationship was Right now, the mackerel was beside him, in one piece and as snarky as ever.
This was enough.
"How about you?" Chuuya asked, "what went down with Fitzgerald?"
"Congratulations on your new job."
"Dazai."
"Kidding, kidding! I left things ambiguous and hooked our lovely subordinates up with some explosives. They should have escaped by now."
Chuuya turned to him. As expected, the detective looked smug. How was it that he was able to come up with such extravagant schemes on the spot like that and execute them with such perfect and calculated ease all the time? Was he even human?
His attention slid to the side, "Something wrong?"
"No," Chuuya said.
Dazai smiled wanly, "Then why are you looking at me like that."
"You really are something else, aren't you?"
Dazai's eyes rounded slightly, then he cleared his throat and quickly looked back up. A firework burst overhead, dusting his ears an adorable scarlet. Strange, considering that the sparks Chuuya caught sight of were green and not red.
Bzzt!
Frowning, Chuuya dug through his pockets and withdrew his phone. He sighed, "Mori says he heard what happened wants to know if I want you added to the mafia's hitlist."
"Lets take a selfie and send it to him."
"That's a horrible idea."
"Come on~ what's the worst that can happen?"
Some pretty bad stuff, actually. But there was something about the needling of his tone that Chuuya couldn't help but give in to.
"Okay, alright. This one time."
He leaned over, their shoulders brushing. Dazai smiled broadly like the idiot he was and Chuuya took the photo.
Before he could even look at it however, Dazai grabbed the phone, "I'm sending this to myself first."
"Oi, the last thing I need from you is blackmail," Chuuya complained, trying and ultimately failing to snatch it back.
"It's not, I won't!" the detective insisted, holding the device out of reach, "I just think your smile is beautiful Chuu-ya-kun~"
Chuuya rolled onto his side and kneed him in the gut.
"Hey I thought you were supposed to be injured!" Dazai whined, Chuuya heard the shutter of the camera go off again.
"Come on Dazai, if I don't respond, Mori'll probably track me down himself."
"Aw, just one more! I barely have any pictures of you."
"Oh shut up, there's probably a good reason for that."
Dazai either didn't hear Chuuya's or didn't care because he was now contentedly scrolling through Chuuya's messages.
"Hm, you know what?" the detective said, "On second thought, maybe lets not send these to Mori. He might think I've kidnapped you again. How annoying -- what a despicable man."
"Hey," Chuuya said automatically, "don't insult the Boss."
"I thought you were the Boss now."
"You know what I mean. He's just acting all weird now because of the ability."
"Mori has always been weird."
"That's not true." Chuuya, a loyal Port Mafia member through and through, said stubbornly, "He's a good leader. He's smart and powerful and he knows everything about his subordinates. He's great, way better than that president of yours."
They had become hopelessly tangled during the scuffle for Chuuya's phone, so it was hard to miss the way Dazai cringed at those words.
He lowered the cell and raised an eyebrow. "Chuuya," he said very seriously, "he's a murderer, backstabber, and a literal pedophile. It's a wonder that I didn't leave the Port Mafia behind sooner than -"
Both of them froze. Dazai's eyes widened it muted horror at the realization of the territory he had just strayed into.
A chilly feeling slowly spread through Chuuya. Old, disgusting, and familiar.
"U-um" Dazai glanced up and pointed, "Hey look! Some of the fireworks are Chuuya-shaped now."
His tone was bright and playful, almost as if he had not said anything at all. A valiant effort to change the subject. They held a strong dislike for each other, yes. But there were some lines that were not supposed to be crossed.
And when they were, they weren't supposed to be brought up ever again.
When the silence became unbearable, Chuuya said very quietly:
"Hey, dumbass. Why do you keep on acting like I care?"
Dazai didn't respond.
"I don't. I don't give a fuck, so you don't need to tip-toe around me. I'm not mad. "
"Of course."
Somehow, Dazai's simple agreeance made him feel worse. It felt evasive, it felt wrong. No, Dazai wasn't allowed to have the last say, the words were coming out before he fully thought them through.
"I'm not! It just -- you were an executive, a genius. You know everything about the Port Mafia. All our crimes, our weaknesses. You think I don't realize you can wipe us all out with a single word if you really wanted to?"
"...this is hardly the time to-"
"Well It's horrible -- unable to sleep at night because the devil your grew up with now works for the other side. I can't use Corruption for anything anymore. And - and I was your partner dammit! We were unstoppable and you just -- without even a word. And I-Whatever. I don't care. You can do whatever you want, I don't - I mean we don't need you."
He was all too aware of how his voice had gone hoarse.
"I'm glad you left."
Silence.
"Chuuya," Dazai said faintly, "We don't...have to have this conversation."
No, he didn't get it. That was the terrible thing. After all of that and Chuuya wasn't mad.
"That's not what I'm trying to say at all, you-"
You...
You changed.
But how did he explain it? How could tell him how back then, Dazai had still been Dazai, with those sharp, cunning eyes and satirical humor.
But he had always seemed so...so tired. A certain darkness hung over him, the one that loosened his finger around the trigger every time he killed without remorse. The one that made it seem that when he spoke of taking his own life, he hadn't been a joking at all.
He was dying. And Chuuya hadn't known what to do, how to save him. Dreading the day that he would look into his partner's eyes only to see his soul devoured, something cruel and empty left there instead.
But that never happened, that never happened because something had chased that darkness away, something brought him back to life.
"You're happier there." Chuuya finished, "You're happier there, aren't you?"
Dazai tilted his head. Whatever he had been expecting Chuuya to say, that had clearly not been it, "What?"
"At the agency, on 'the side that saves people' or whatever. You're happier there. With them. Am I right?"
Another silence.
"....yes" Dazai breathed. Slowly, reluctantly, as if he were unsure if admitting to it was the right thing to do, "I am."
Chuuya, realizing what he was indirectly saying, repeated quietly, "Then I'm glad you left."
They stared at each other for what felt like forever.
Dazai's eyes shone. Chuuya did not know it was a trick of the onslaught of lights, or if his ex-partner really was tearing up.
An arm draped over him, and before he knew it the bandaged man had buried his face in the crook of his neck, eyelashes fluttering against skin and fingers tightening around his shoulder.
"Chuuya," Dazai said, the name stuck in his throat, the way words often did when someone was trying to stop themself from crying. His voice trembled, "Thank you."
Chuuya exhaled, surprised at the sudden sincerity . He raised his own hand and then, after the briefest of hesitations, ran it through Dazai's hair. It was just as soft as he had always imagined it to be.
"Shitty Dazai," he muttered, staring up at the sky, "What are you thanking me for?"
"Understanding."
"I'm kinda offended you didn't think I would. I mean, if I'm being completely honest, it still hurts. God, it hurts a lot actually. But...it's okay."
We're okay.
He couldn't quite get the last part out, as he too found his words getting choked up. Did Dazai think he was stupid? That he didn't know about Mimic or Oda or any of it? Of course he understood...
God, this sentimental stuff seemed to be contagious...
Chuuya thought, rolling his head back.
Dazai had been right. The new fireworks did kind of look like him. But now -- with the suicidal maniac in his arms -- for the first time since this craziness began, he found that he didn't mind at all