[There are flashes of buildings, of the cobbled streets as he jumps over an ice patch, of people as Chuuya dodges around them. He’s trying not to project anything, but he doesn’t have a grip on this yet, and as soon as his focus is on anything else, images and thoughts start to slip through. ]
Shit, it’s cold. Even colder today.
[Wait. He shouldn’t send that thought at Dazai. There’s a flash of annoyance, and then silence as he listens to his ex-partner’s rambles.
A coffee shop appears briefly, together with some longing. It would be warm. But he has to finish his run.]
[He keeps sending just that thought in the hopes of drowning Dazai out, thinking it louder and louder and louder.
And then, just to see if he can, he sends he image of a fist flying straight at Dazai’s head. He actually punches the air at the same time, to help himself focus on the thought, and nearly scares the shit out of a man who’s walking a little too close. Oh well. Not his problem.]
[Finally, he has to slow down a little. Running and trying to figure out telepathy at the same time ha demanding too much focus when the ground is slippery. ]
Why would I want you to have a phone? You just hang up on me.
[Unfortunately for Chuuya, Dazai's mind is a rather busy place. He looks up from the table and grins at himself the mirror.]
Ohh so it worked! [A flash of smugness from Dazai's end, cut short with annoyance at the reminder that his internal monologue is actually audible, and -]
When the IMAGE returns, it's just Dazai against a dark background, with flashes of ambient noise every now and then. His smile held a hint of irritation.
In the off chance anyone broke in and headed to the kitchen without Dazai hearing them, they'd find him lying on the floor next to an upended chair, eyes closed.]
There has to be a better way of doing this. [Distantly,] That ice looks rather slippery.
[The image cuts abruptly to one of Dazai, wide-eyed and pale, lying in the snow, neck twisted at an odd angle, a pool of blood spreading from the back of his head. It's an obvious exaggeration -]
[Chuuya’s reaction to that image is instant: panic and worry and urgency. He speeds up at once, turning to run straight back to their house, as fast as he can. ]
Where are you?
[Wasn’t he home just a moment ago? Chuuya is pretty sure Dazai was back home a moment ago. But it doesn’t matter if the image is real or not, he has to hurry back just in case.
The panic is almost overwhelming, and he’s making no effort to keep Dazai from feeling it too. ]
[That, at least, remains an unchanging fact, a safe insult to throw at him even if still has no idea what just happened. Especially since he has no idea what just happened.
Couldn’t Dazai just answer a single question for once.]
It would serve you right if you did fall and break your neck.
[Dazai gave a mirthless chuckle and moved the mirror out of his face to reveal the ceiling and the amulet-powered fixture hanging from it.
The image was too sharp, a tell of hyper-awareness tailored specifically to dull the buzz of thoughts, unexamined emotion, and observation underneath.]
I'd pick a better view for it.
For an unoccupied empty house, they made sure that even the ceiling was clean. How thorough of them.
[The anger is replacing the worry now. He still hasn't returning to his run, though, he's still leaning against the wall, recovering from the shock. At least Dazai can't see the way he's rubbing a hand across his face.]
You deserve a trash heap, not a clean house. I'm heading back.
[It takes about twenty minutes for Chuuya to make it back. His anger had meant he wanted to stay away, just to spite him (as if that would spite him), but his worry had won out in the end. It didn't matter that Dazai had told him he was fine; he had to see it, in person.
He'd ran back to the coffee shop he'd seen earlier, and picked up a bag of pastries and two large coffees. None of which is for Dazai, obviously. Chuuya walks in, walks around until he spots him, walks straight past him, and leaves everything on the kitchen counter. He picks up his own coffee (they're both for him, obviously), and starts sipping it, a bit desperately.
It had really been cold out, and he hadn't been able to get warm again after he'd stopped, hadn't been able to focus on running. He's shivering now, standing straight but looking as if he'd rather curl into a ball to conserve heat.
And he's not saying a word. He might give something away.]
[The floor was comfortable, and twenty minutes were more than enough for Dazai to arrange his thoughts. Chuuya, he knew, would have questions.
He kept his eyes to the ceiling as Chuuya stalked into the kitchen. Even from the periphery, it was obvious to Dazai that the other was trying to act normal.]
Might as well sit down, slug.
[The coffee smelled good, and that bag looked liked it held more than what Chuuya would get just for himself.
[Chuuya looks down at him there on the floor, and then, with some relief, allows himself to sink down on the floor, grabbing the bag of pastries on the way. It thumps down on the floor next to him.
He pulls his legs up, curling his body around the coffee cup, which he holds with both hands.]
Have you really been on the floor the whole time?
[Really, Dazai? That's not making him worry less.]
[He's not exactly sure what he felt, just that it's impossible to shake now that he has. And he's still not sure why Dazai sent him that image, even if he does know he didn't do it on purpose.
He lets Dazai grab a pastry if he wants. He'll just steal the bag back in a moment.]
Part of that deal we made is that I don't let you die.
[Before Dazai could bite into the fruit-filled croissant he picked out, Chuuya mentioned the deal.
The deal was an ever convenient excuse. At the moment, it was an inconvenient device that allowed Chuuya a chance to pull out more answers.
Dazai supposed he might as well put off polishing the pastry. Chuuya talking about feeling that image put him off his appetite, though he wouldn't admit that.
No way to avoid explaining this, was there, when telepathy was going to be a major means of communication.]
That's right. However, it doesn't cover imagined scenarios. [Dazai hid his lips behind the croissant.] Not that it happens often, nor is it something to be concerned with.
[Chuuya looks at him, and understanding feels a lot like his earlier panic. It's not like it matters to him anymore if Dazai decides to go jump off a bridge. They're not partners anymore, he doesn't care what happens to Dazai. They're enemies. There's the deal, but--
Yeah, exactly. There's still the deal.]
It does include saving you from your own idiocy. [Technically, no, it doesn't.] Even if I have to drag you back over a railing by your hair.
[He thumps his head back against the cupboards, closing his eyes. His coffee has gone sudden cold, and he's shivering hard.]
Quite a jump, from slipping on ice to falling off somewhere. [His smile was mirthless as he slipped off his coat and threw it at Chuuya's face.] Not the way you planned on getting rid of me, is it.
How miserable you look. Regretting the deal already?
[Normally Chuuya's reflexes would have him catch that coat easily. But right now he's too distracted, not to mention his eyes were closed. He takes it straight in the face, and immediately turns his face towards Dazai again so he can glare at him. He reaches up to make sure his hair is okay.
But then he pulls it over himself a little gratefully.]
Yet you insisted. [Dazai's tone was mocking.] I wonder why.
[He knew the exact reason why Chuuya pushed through with the deal, just as he already anticipated this minor detour wouldn't be enough to distract that incoming line of questions.
The hatrack wasn't that incompetent, sinking his teeth and digging his heels on the ground as he did for matters he decided needed urgent attention.]
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[3/3]
Chuuya this suuuuuucks bug someone to invent phones already so I don't need to keep doing this.
[1/?]
Shit, it’s cold. Even colder today.
[Wait. He shouldn’t send that thought at Dazai. There’s a flash of annoyance, and then silence as he listens to his ex-partner’s rambles.
A coffee shop appears briefly, together with some longing. It would be warm. But he has to finish his run.]
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Shut up, Dazai. [And then:] Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
[He keeps sending just that thought in the hopes of drowning Dazai out, thinking it louder and louder and louder.
And then, just to see if he can, he sends he image of a fist flying straight at Dazai’s head. He actually punches the air at the same time, to help himself focus on the thought, and nearly scares the shit out of a man who’s walking a little too close. Oh well. Not his problem.]
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Why would I want you to have a phone? You just hang up on me.
[4/4]
Maybe then I’d finally get some peace.
[Because it’s not like he wants to talk, or anything.]
[1/?]
Ohh so it worked! [A flash of smugness from Dazai's end, cut short with annoyance at the reminder that his internal monologue is actually audible, and -]
[2/?]
When the IMAGE returns, it's just Dazai against a dark background, with flashes of ambient noise every now and then. His smile held a hint of irritation.
In the off chance anyone broke in and headed to the kitchen without Dazai hearing them, they'd find him lying on the floor next to an upended chair, eyes closed.]
There has to be a better way of doing this. [Distantly,] That ice looks rather slippery.
[The image cuts abruptly to one of Dazai, wide-eyed and pale, lying in the snow, neck twisted at an odd angle, a pool of blood spreading from the back of his head. It's an obvious exaggeration -]
[3/3]
Then he was back to VOICE.
Dazai sounded normal.]
Who says the phone was for you?
[1/2]
Where are you?
[Wasn’t he home just a moment ago? Chuuya is pretty sure Dazai was back home a moment ago. But it doesn’t matter if the image is real or not, he has to hurry back just in case.
The panic is almost overwhelming, and he’s making no effort to keep Dazai from feeling it too. ]
[2/2]
He stops abruptly, and then has to go lean against a nearby wal as he calms his breathing. His heart is beating at a million miles per minute.]
What the hell was that?!
[He’s trying to project anger, but the feeling that comes across is still almost pure concern.]
What are you doing? Where are you?
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[IMAGE. Dazai was still lying on the kitchen floor, holding up the mirror to his face as he mouthed his message. His expression was closed off.]
Continue your run. It wasn't real.
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[That, at least, remains an unchanging fact, a safe insult to throw at him even if still has no idea what just happened. Especially since he has no idea what just happened.
Couldn’t Dazai just answer a single question for once.]
It would serve you right if you did fall and break your neck.
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The image was too sharp, a tell of hyper-awareness tailored specifically to dull the buzz of thoughts, unexamined emotion, and observation underneath.]
I'd pick a better view for it.
For an unoccupied empty house, they made sure that even the ceiling was clean. How thorough of them.
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[The anger is replacing the worry now. He still hasn't returning to his run, though, he's still leaning against the wall, recovering from the shock. At least Dazai can't see the way he's rubbing a hand across his face.]
You deserve a trash heap, not a clean house. I'm heading back.
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The ceiling fixture.]
Suit yourself. [An impression of a shrug. The image's focus shifts as Dazai waggles his finger in front of his face.] You'll not find much to do here.
[He cuts the connection before identifying the heavy curl in his chest and sets it aside.]
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He'd ran back to the coffee shop he'd seen earlier, and picked up a bag of pastries and two large coffees. None of which is for Dazai, obviously. Chuuya walks in, walks around until he spots him, walks straight past him, and leaves everything on the kitchen counter. He picks up his own coffee (they're both for him, obviously), and starts sipping it, a bit desperately.
It had really been cold out, and he hadn't been able to get warm again after he'd stopped, hadn't been able to focus on running. He's shivering now, standing straight but looking as if he'd rather curl into a ball to conserve heat.
And he's not saying a word. He might give something away.]
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He kept his eyes to the ceiling as Chuuya stalked into the kitchen. Even from the periphery, it was obvious to Dazai that the other was trying to act normal.]
Might as well sit down, slug.
[The coffee smelled good, and that bag looked liked it held more than what Chuuya would get just for himself.
Really now.]
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He pulls his legs up, curling his body around the coffee cup, which he holds with both hands.]
Have you really been on the floor the whole time?
[Really, Dazai? That's not making him worry less.]
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[His tone was light. And useless, with the face Chuuya was making.
Dazai sat up and picked up the bag Chuuya brought to examine the contents.]
Told you it wasn't real.
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[He's not exactly sure what he felt, just that it's impossible to shake now that he has. And he's still not sure why Dazai sent him that image, even if he does know he didn't do it on purpose.
He lets Dazai grab a pastry if he wants. He'll just steal the bag back in a moment.]
Part of that deal we made is that I don't let you die.
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The deal was an ever convenient excuse. At the moment, it was an inconvenient device that allowed Chuuya a chance to pull out more answers.
Dazai supposed he might as well put off polishing the pastry. Chuuya talking about feeling that image put him off his appetite, though he wouldn't admit that.
No way to avoid explaining this, was there, when telepathy was going to be a major means of communication.]
That's right. However, it doesn't cover imagined scenarios. [Dazai hid his lips behind the croissant.] Not that it happens often, nor is it something to be concerned with.
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Yeah, exactly. There's still the deal.]
It does include saving you from your own idiocy. [Technically, no, it doesn't.] Even if I have to drag you back over a railing by your hair.
[He thumps his head back against the cupboards, closing his eyes. His coffee has gone sudden cold, and he's shivering hard.]
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Quite a jump, from slipping on ice to falling off somewhere. [His smile was mirthless as he slipped off his coat and threw it at Chuuya's face.] Not the way you planned on getting rid of me, is it.
How miserable you look. Regretting the deal already?
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But then he pulls it over himself a little gratefully.]
I regretted the deal before I even made it.
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[He knew the exact reason why Chuuya pushed through with the deal, just as he already anticipated this minor detour wouldn't be enough to distract that incoming line of questions.
The hatrack wasn't that incompetent, sinking his teeth and digging his heels on the ground as he did for matters he decided needed urgent attention.]
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