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now we’re swallowing the shine of the summer
[Chuuya turned into the alley just in time to see Dazai fall over, a man with a bat standing over him. There were a few more people standing around, too - who the hell had his ex-partner pissed off now, Chuuya wondered. And how the hell had they managed to get the better of him. Dazai might be a shitty fighter, but he always had a plan.
Chuuya was already kicking one of the men into a wall when he remembered that Dazai's plan was often him.
If t was, he was going to kill him, he decided. They weren't partners anymore, after all. But it might just be a coincidence, too. This wasn't Port Mafia territory. Dazai probably hadn't known he'd be in the area. But if he'd got himself caught up in some thugs' business without a plan, then Chuuya was really going to kill him.
The last of the men went down, and Chuuya hurried over to check on Dazai. He crouched down next to him, gently patted his face, then pinched his nose for a few seconds to see if he really was passed out, or just being lazy. No reaction. He had a few scratches, some bleeding. One of the wounds looked bad, but it wasn't life threatening - it just needed to be cleaned and bandaged, or he'd almost definitely get an infection.
Alright, so. What the hell did he do?
Most people would bring him to the hospital, but Chuuya wasn't most people. He was mafia. And he knew Dazai valued his privacy, too. He could bring him to that pet agency of his, but the thought of doing that for Dazai made his skin crawl. Besides, he couldn't let word get out that he'd carried a traitor to safety. He could leave Dazai here. But then Dazai wouldn't know Chuuya had helped him, and he really wanted a chance to rub that in the asshole's face.
— He could bring him home.
It felt weird. It was something he would have done when they were partners. But it was only because he wanted to annoy him, not because he actually cared that he was hurt. Still, Chuuya hesitated a bit. He brushed Dazai's hair back, just to check his scalp for any other injuries. Yeah, he'd bring him home. He couldn't wait to see Dazai's face when he realized who had saved his sorry ass.
Carefully, Chuuya shifted Dazai around, pulling him up slightly by the arms, and then leveraged his weight onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry. Then he set off in the direction of his apartment. ]
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[Is he talking about being a dimwit? Yeah, no - there's no drunk enough to believe something like that.]
You failed at leadership. You wanted to do better.
Really, a normal person would have just given up, if they cared so much.
[It's easier not to care. For that matter: few things are as easy as giving up, if you ask Dazai. The fact that it's the one thing that Chuuya always refuses to do boggles his mind. Dazai sighs.]
I suppose you really are a masochist.
[... Believe it or not, that wasn't even intended as an insult. Dazai was just restating an opinion formed ages ago, with the total lack of filter that, even in him, requires a lot of alcohol. He really did drink too much...
Meanwhile, at least they're finally approaching his apartment. He shivers, at least partly because of the cold, and the alcohol, and maybe just plain being physically tired. He never was very good at listening to his body's demands.]
no subject
He'll offer a bit more support as they walk up the stairs, just in case the effort makes him lose his balance.]
So maybe you're actually better at being a normal person than me.
[He says it a little too quietly, but it's still half a joke. Half mocking, really.]
Working hard doesn't make me a masochist when it actually gets me what I want, Dazai. You don't work, and you're miserable.
[Just calling him out here.]