[Chuuya immediately takes the chance to float up and grab his hat, tucking it securely back onto his head once he has, grinning in victory. But once that is finally taken care of...
Damn it, Dazai's sulking is almost worse than him being a pain in the ass. His grin falls as Chuuya takes a seat once more, slumping in place and letting out an exhausted sigh.
Damn it.
Just once. Just this once, he's going to humor the man. He's already regretting it, but this is his life.]
Dazai, I'm fucking wiped. If you want company you've got to ask, because I'm not sure when I last fucking slept before arriving here, on top of everything else.
[All this fighting only made his exhaustion worse, and he's fairly certain he has a sleep debt the size of a small country at this point.]
(once chuuya leaves his wrist alone, he immediately sits up to access the damage. it's not broken, that's for sure, but it isn't broken, at least. dazai's eyes roll as chuuya jumps, the gravity his slave and once he's back, dazai stands, hands patting imaginary dust (or real, let him dream) from his prison outfit.)
I don't want anything anymore. You should sleep.
(there's a walk where he leaves the money on the table, his hand showing chuuya's pack of cigarettes he sneaked out of his pocket in their fights. a stick between his lips, chuuya should follow, probably.)
[Chuuya scowls up at Dazai, and when he walks away Chuuya does the only thing he can: He follows, pausing only to mumble a 'sorry about the ruckus' to the poor bartender. Damn Dazai and his long ass legs--]
Don't give me that shit, Dazai. Do give me one of those, though.
[Grabbing hands towards his cigs follow. He's not going to fight Dazai for the pack, but he wants at least one okay.]
(the smoke leaves his lungs in little chuckles, but he allows chuuya do retrieve them. he has no intention of keeping the pack on him, anyway, once he sits on a patch of grass, long limbs stretching.)
[He takes the pack back, tucking it away in his pocket after snagging a stick and lighting up. A deep inhale follows, the soothing burn filling his lungs before he lets out a smoke-filled sigh.]
I'm way more grown than you. 181cm is nice, isn't it? Ah, I've grown so much.
(look at how long his legs are, he's stretching, leaving the cigarette between his lips and trying to reach his feet. he... doesn't, cracking his back instead.)
Empathy, Chuuya!!! Do you know how tiny Meursault cells are?! Fyodor and I were packed like sardines in glass boxes! I haven't had this much room to walk in almost a year! Empathy, empathy!!!
(and he has been... overdoing it. walking as much as he can, as a way to stretch, to come back to having some sort of freedom in his life.)
You do know that kind of thing isn't shit you can't just horse around with, right?
[His voice is deadpan, but there is a hint of concern. If Dazai is being honest here, then... well.
Maybe he'd been a bit too rough earlier. In Chuuya's defense however, he was tired, in that bone deep sort of exhaustion that went beyond the physical. In a strange mutual way of offering an olive branch, a little bit of honesty is freed in the night air.]
Feel like garbage, honestly. Can't remember how long I was... like that. Don't know if the vampires even sleep. [It was a bit like corruption. Trapped in his body, all instinct and urges.] ...The mafia got invaded by them, Dazai.
[That he isn't elaborating is probably telling enough. He doesn't know the numbers, only that it was bad.]
(it's honesty, isn't it? so he's running a hand across his face, his mind already racing - there are too many possibilities. perhaps they really never left home. perhaps only their spirit is here. perhaps, perhaps--)
Atsushi and Akutagawa were supposed to be the new Double Black. We're not going to be around forever, don't give me that tone.
You don't have to tell me that, bastard. If I live to 30 I'll be fucking delighted.
[Which... is certainly morbid, with how casually he says it. But while Chuuya certainly doesn't plan to die tomorrow, he's well aware there's a high chance he'll die young, living the life he does.
He's had a will written since he was of age to even write one.] But a new 'double black'? They're their own people, Dazai!
[He scrubs his face, sighing. He nudges Dazai with the wine bottle, a silent offer.] That's the crux, isn't it? We can't do shit about anything until we go home.
(it's the same for dazai, after all. it's less about the life he lives, although it is full of peril in its own right - they both know if dazai finally kicks it, it will be by his own hand. he tries, and he doesn't try, and he wants to try, and he doesn't-- each day is better, each day is worse, and he takes the wine bottle to chug a large gulp.
they were both used.)
... If we're not there. I need to figure out how this works. I thought it was something akin to the Book, but... I can't accept that it is the Book. I... Can't have that.
[They were both used, it's true. Some might say they were too young to have been involved in that world from the start, but neither of them had ever known anything else.
The irony was that while Dazai had accepted being used from the start only to eventually leave, Chuuya had been the opposite: He'd joined for the sake of the Sheep, and the information he needed, but now? The Mafia was his life, his home.]
Explain to me something. What the fuck is going on with this book? I read the reports from the guild incident and shit, but you seem like you know way more than that.
... Yeah. It creates whatever you write in it becomes so, Chuuyaa. There are some rules to it, but most importantly, it creates a Multiverse. Infinite number of worlds, infinite paths.
... There is one I can't afford to lose.
(man, two gulps. he'll give that bottle back, but he needs so much more than this. it won't even get him buzzed as he needs.)
[That... is a lot to take in when he's got alcohol in his system and sleep deprived, and yet somehow it also makes it easier to process. A multiverse? Really?
...But it leaves another huge question.]
Okaaaay... but that begs a question: how do you even know that particular world exists?
[He takes the bottle when it's offered back, taking a large swig of his own. Yeah. They both need more alcohol for this.]
[The words are choked out, cigarette long snuffed out and forgotten. The new 'Mori'...] Please tell me you aren't my boss in that world, ugh.
[In truth, the idea of Dazai taking of Mori's mantle is both fitting and unsettling in a way Chuuya can't articulate-- so the usual method of dealing with it is ill-mannered snark.] Okay so you can communicate with that Dazai. And... Oda's alive there.
I am. You super love me. We're married. I'm cheating on you.
(partly bullshit. chuuya is even more protective, but the rest, he's just pulling his leg. the cigarette is over, but he'll reach for chuuya's pack again. his hand moves to grab chuuya's cigarette from his mouth, only for the flame, before he put it back between the other's lips.
ah. yeah. he did kiss them today. woah.)
... He is. I loved him, you know. He deserves to live.
Now I know you're spouting bullshit. The idea of you getting married in the first place is laughable, and I'm smarter than that.
[He's pretty sure Dazai would break out in hives trying to say wedding vows, actually.
He lets Dazai snag his cigarette, huffing slightly in annoyance but accepting. This is Dazai trying to deal with something heavy, he knows-- little annoyances, little pokes and prods. The feel of Dazai's fingers lingers on his lips, and Chuuya tries to pretend he doesn't notice it, stubbing out the cigarette on his boot.
And what he says next explains why, really.
I loved him. Such a heavy statement, from this man. It explained so much in so few words.
He'd always wondered why Dazai had left. What, exactly, had made the man fine with any atrocity committed in the Mafia's name run and join the lawful side of things.
In spite of himself a harsh, bitter laugh escapes Chuuya.]
So that's it, huh? That's what broke the demon prodigy.
Hey, mean! You don't I couldn't marry if I wanted to?!
(no, he surely would break out in hives. for sure. the idea of openly saying something like this for all to see? specially towards chuuya? no need. he can be as bitchy and as awful as dazai is, but chuuya can see past it, either way. what would that look like, just the two sending psychic messages on the altar? laughable.)
Break is a little much, don't you think? There's only space for one drama-inclined person in this partnership, Chuuya.
I think you're allergic to emotional honesty and commitment, and I'm sure there's a few dozen women who can back me up on that. [Deadpan, but there's no edge to it.
Because frankly? Before this conversation, hearing Dazai openly admit to loving anyone sounded just as impossible. And yet here they are.]
Funny, I always thought the drama-inclined one was you.
[Dazai was always looking for things to make life interesting, after all.]
But there's a certain level of irony in this, you know.
[Dazai, who had sacrificed Chuuya's friends without a second thought for the sake of the mafia, but was crushed by the death of one man. Enough that he wanted to preserve an entire world for him to live.]
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Damn it, Dazai's sulking is almost worse than him being a pain in the ass. His grin falls as Chuuya takes a seat once more, slumping in place and letting out an exhausted sigh.
Damn it.
Just once. Just this once, he's going to humor the man. He's already regretting it, but this is his life.]
Dazai, I'm fucking wiped. If you want company you've got to ask, because I'm not sure when I last fucking slept before arriving here, on top of everything else.
[All this fighting only made his exhaustion worse, and he's fairly certain he has a sleep debt the size of a small country at this point.]
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I don't want anything anymore. You should sleep.
(there's a walk where he leaves the money on the table, his hand showing chuuya's pack of cigarettes he sneaked out of his pocket in their fights. a stick between his lips, chuuya should follow, probably.)
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Don't give me that shit, Dazai. Do give me one of those, though.
[Grabbing hands towards his cigs follow. He's not going to fight Dazai for the pack, but he wants at least one okay.]
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(the smoke leaves his lungs in little chuckles, but he allows chuuya do retrieve them. he has no intention of keeping the pack on him, anyway, once he sits on a patch of grass, long limbs stretching.)
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[He takes the pack back, tucking it away in his pocket after snagging a stick and lighting up. A deep inhale follows, the soothing burn filling his lungs before he lets out a smoke-filled sigh.]
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(look at how long his legs are, he's stretching, leaving the cigarette between his lips and trying to reach his feet. he... doesn't, cracking his back instead.)
... Ouch.
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[Ugh. Chuuya makes a face, but it's quickly replaced with some wry amusement at the way Dazai's back cracks.]
Oh, my bad. You're an old man now, I guess.
[It's said with a snicker as he raises the wine bottle to his lips.]
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(and he has been... overdoing it. walking as much as he can, as a way to stretch, to come back to having some sort of freedom in his life.)
... How are you, anyway. I guess.
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[His voice is deadpan, but there is a hint of concern. If Dazai is being honest here, then... well.
Maybe he'd been a bit too rough earlier. In Chuuya's defense however, he was tired, in that bone deep sort of exhaustion that went beyond the physical. In a strange mutual way of offering an olive branch, a little bit of honesty is freed in the night air.]
Feel like garbage, honestly. Can't remember how long I was... like that. Don't know if the vampires even sleep. [It was a bit like corruption. Trapped in his body, all instinct and urges.] ...The mafia got invaded by them, Dazai.
[That he isn't elaborating is probably telling enough. He doesn't know the numbers, only that it was bad.]
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(listen, the boredom was his to yell about, so he will.
he asked, so he wanted to know. quietly, he listens, gaze focused on the smoke that is released from his lungs.
he doesn't know, either.)
... Akutagawa?
(because if chuuya was a vampire and akutagawa too, well, we're all fucked.)
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[He lets out a sigh.]
My memories are fuzzy, but it seems likely to me. Last I heard he was MIA, presumed killed in action.
[He watches the smoke dissipate into the night air.] Helping your weretiger, just so you know.
[There's a hint of bitterness to his tone.]
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(it's honesty, isn't it? so he's running a hand across his face, his mind already racing - there are too many possibilities. perhaps they really never left home. perhaps only their spirit is here. perhaps, perhaps--)
Atsushi and Akutagawa were supposed to be the new Double Black. We're not going to be around forever, don't give me that tone.
(perhaps--)
... I need to get home.
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[Which... is certainly morbid, with how casually he says it. But while Chuuya certainly doesn't plan to die tomorrow, he's well aware there's a high chance he'll die young, living the life he does.
He's had a will written since he was of age to even write one.] But a new 'double black'? They're their own people, Dazai!
[He scrubs his face, sighing. He nudges Dazai with the wine bottle, a silent offer.] That's the crux, isn't it? We can't do shit about anything until we go home.
[It was torture.]
cw suicidal feelings
(it's the same for dazai, after all. it's less about the life he lives, although it is full of peril in its own right - they both know if dazai finally kicks it, it will be by his own hand. he tries, and he doesn't try, and he wants to try, and he doesn't-- each day is better, each day is worse, and he takes the wine bottle to chug a large gulp.
they were both used.)
... If we're not there. I need to figure out how this works. I thought it was something akin to the Book, but... I can't accept that it is the Book. I... Can't have that.
CW, also: children and Crime
[They were both used, it's true. Some might say they were too young to have been involved in that world from the start, but neither of them had ever known anything else.
The irony was that while Dazai had accepted being used from the start only to eventually leave, Chuuya had been the opposite: He'd joined for the sake of the Sheep, and the information he needed, but now? The Mafia was his life, his home.]
Explain to me something. What the fuck is going on with this book? I read the reports from the guild incident and shit, but you seem like you know way more than that.
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... There is one I can't afford to lose.
(man, two gulps. he'll give that bottle back, but he needs so much more than this. it won't even get him buzzed as he needs.)
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...But it leaves another huge question.]
Okaaaay... but that begs a question: how do you even know that particular world exists?
[He takes the bottle when it's offered back, taking a large swig of his own. Yeah. They both need more alcohol for this.]
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(surely chuuya has heard about him - about dazai, and about his death. how dazai left after that, a point to consider.)
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[Said slowly, as if Chuuya is trying to process this.] So you're somehow communicating with ...your other selves. There's a fucking Dazai hivemind?
[That sounds absolutely horrifying, what the fuck. Not enough Alcohol in the entire town to get them through this--]
...Oda Sakunosuke. Your drinking buddy.
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(BECAUSE THAT MAKES HIM EVEN BETTER, RIGHT?)
... Yes. Him.
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[The words are choked out, cigarette long snuffed out and forgotten. The new 'Mori'...] Please tell me you aren't my boss in that world, ugh.
[In truth, the idea of Dazai taking of Mori's mantle is both fitting and unsettling in a way Chuuya can't articulate-- so the usual method of dealing with it is ill-mannered snark.] Okay so you can communicate with that Dazai. And... Oda's alive there.
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(partly bullshit. chuuya is even more protective, but the rest, he's just pulling his leg. the cigarette is over, but he'll reach for chuuya's pack again. his hand moves to grab chuuya's cigarette from his mouth, only for the flame, before he put it back between the other's lips.
ah. yeah. he did kiss them today. woah.)
... He is. I loved him, you know. He deserves to live.
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[He's pretty sure Dazai would break out in hives trying to say wedding vows, actually.
He lets Dazai snag his cigarette, huffing slightly in annoyance but accepting. This is Dazai trying to deal with something heavy, he knows-- little annoyances, little pokes and prods. The feel of Dazai's fingers lingers on his lips, and Chuuya tries to pretend he doesn't notice it, stubbing out the cigarette on his boot.
And what he says next explains why, really.
I loved him. Such a heavy statement, from this man. It explained so much in so few words.
He'd always wondered why Dazai had left. What, exactly, had made the man fine with any atrocity committed in the Mafia's name run and join the lawful side of things.
In spite of himself a harsh, bitter laugh escapes Chuuya.]
So that's it, huh? That's what broke the demon prodigy.
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(no, he surely would break out in hives. for sure. the idea of openly saying something like this for all to see? specially towards chuuya? no need. he can be as bitchy and as awful as dazai is, but chuuya can see past it, either way. what would that look like, just the two sending psychic messages on the altar? laughable.)
Break is a little much, don't you think? There's only space for one drama-inclined person in this partnership, Chuuya.
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Because frankly? Before this conversation, hearing Dazai openly admit to loving anyone sounded just as impossible. And yet here they are.]
Funny, I always thought the drama-inclined one was you.
[Dazai was always looking for things to make life interesting, after all.]
But there's a certain level of irony in this, you know.
[Dazai, who had sacrificed Chuuya's friends without a second thought for the sake of the mafia, but was crushed by the death of one man. Enough that he wanted to preserve an entire world for him to live.]
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