indensity | ic contact & overflow for prismatica

[Chuuya lifts his own glass, takes a small sip. He won't finish it. At some point, Dazai will realize he's been cut off, will realize who cut him off, and will steal Chuuya's drink to get back at him. If he doesn't have a drink to steal, he'll find a way to change the bartender's mind instead.

His drink is a necessary sacrifice, and at least it still limits Dazai's access to alcohol after this.]

They die, right? [Said bluntly, the way someone too used to death might say it - but it's still not in any way something he takes lightly.] That's what happens if you waste your Chroma too quickly, too, so unless they can find another outside source, there's no way for them to survive here.

Is someone failing to produce Chroma?

It's a possibility. I can't say it's the reason for sure, but I can't think of any other reason they would tell me he 'couldn't be located' and 'was probably returned back to his home world.'

[This drink vanishes just as quickly as the last, the ice rattling in the glass as Dazai sets it back down, a little harder than he should. Maybe a little harder than he'd intended. It's fine. It's all fine.

Enough. Focus. There's a reason he'd called Chuuya here, and Dazai shoves his hair back from his face, strands parting around the canine ears atop his head. He doesn't look at Chuuya, just eyes his empty glass like he's looking for more.]

You and I both know this place isn't what it looks like. I've been keeping my eyes and ears open, looking for more information, but I'm only one person. And if there's any way I can find out what happened--find a way to bring him back, or figure out an answer--

[There's a tension to his voice, a throbbing tautness that belies everything behind it as he slants a look at Chuuya, finally.]

Oda's dead, back home. If they 'sent him back,' they sent him back to his grave. I know you hate me, but you've always looked out for your subordinates. Help me figure this out. Find who or what's behind it all. He deserves that.

[If they had to disturb his rest, it better have been for a good reason--only no reason is going to be good enough. And if it turns out that there's something more to it, that they can bring him back for good...doesn't he owe it to Oda to try? To give him a choice, at least. Like he'd had the first time. He doesn't know if Chuuya will say yes, even for that, not after the last conversation they'd had, but he couldn't not try.]

[Chuuya lets Dazai finish, since he’s finally explaining what he asked Chuuya here for. He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t comment, even though there’s a lot he could say. Dazai really seems like he.... cares. About that guy. Whatever, it doesn’t matter.

He takes a slightly larger swallow from his own drink. ]

Why the hell are you justifying anything? You know I’ll do it.

[Dazai said it, didn’t he? Chuuya takes care of his subordinates. And besides, working together on this benefits all of them.]

There’s more than one reason why I decided to maintain the truce.

[Does Dazai really think Chuuya can’t plan ahead like that, doesn’t realize the benefit of having numbers on their side? Even working together, they’re outnumbered by a lot. They have no influence, nothing to build on in this place.

He takes another sip.]

Why the hell are you acting like this?

[Of course he cares. Of course he does. He'd be the same if Chuuya was gone, suddenly. Or, not the same, exactly, but...something similar. Something. He'd feel uncomfortable in his own skin, knowing he was gone, and that they wouldn't...

...it's stupid. He's being stupid, and it's that damn moon pushing him like this. Making everything feel raw, like he needs to shed his skin, like he needs to fight something, push himself against something, throw himself at a problem or a person and feel it under his teeth.

He shakes his head, the tips of his ears swiveling, lowering a touch.]

Why did you decide to maintain the truce?

[A question for a question. Maybe because he can't answer the one Chuuya's asked.]

[Chuuya tried to push it from his mind. Dazai found someone to care about. If he wasn’t a traitor, he’d be happy for him, but as it is, a burning sensation is filling his chest, burying deeper into his gut. He keeps drinking. So much for using his drink to appease Dazai.

Not like he deserves it, anyway. ]

We have a common goal.

[Getting back to Yokohama, he means. And surviving. Figuring out the truth of this place.

And one undeniable truth is that in spite of everything, he trusts Dazai. He trusts him in a way he’s never trusted anyone else, let alone anyone here. He knows he can rely on Akutagawa, but —

But the point is, he knows what he can expect from Dazai. And what he can never expect, but that’s not actually important, and it’s better to just drown that thought out by having another sip of his drink.]

I don’t like it, but we need allies in this place.

[There's so much he cares about. It seems that once you start, you can't stop, even if you want to. Part of him really wants to; wants to be able to shove all of this back in a box, to separate it from himself, to be numb once again.

But you can't ever go back, can you? That goes for everything. You can't ever go back. No matter how much you might want to. No matter how much you realize too late you might have had.

Chuuya's answer is enough, and not, at the same time. Dazai pushes on, asking the question he doesn't want an answer to. Pushing on, picking at a scab that's still fresh.]

You aren't worried I'm going to betray that trust? Abandon you again?

[That word. That word Chuuya had used, that he'd never even thought to use before. The word he hasn't been able to stop thinking about for weeks now.]

[Chuuya actually flinches when Dazai uses that word. He'd regretted it the moment he said it, and he's spent the last few weeks trying to push it to the back of his mind, counting on it never being brought up again. He's avoided Dazai, and Atsushi, and he'd hoped enough time had passed by now that they could just go back to normal. What counted as normal for them.

He grips his drink tighter. That burning feeling is only getting stronger, spreading throughout his body, eating him up. He's spent for years teaching himself to ignore it.]

I know you will.

[He says it like an attack, because if Dazai is going to bring that up, then Chuuya is going on the offensive. This feels like a trap.]

But I'll make sure you regret it when you do.

[Can't they just go back to where they were? He downs his drink, signals for another, and wonders if he'll have to cancel any intention of working together.

The bartender ignores him.]

[That flinch causes a flare of something within him, satisfaction mingled with a deep ache, the flaring warmth of pain. Familiar. He knows this ache. Just because he'd left the mafia four years ago doesn't mean he'd left everything he was behind.

And of course Chuuya follows up just like he always had. Dazai hurts him, so he readies himself to hurt back, and Dazai will take that hurt and internalize it, push Chuuya to hurt him more. More and more and more, until they're both raw and aching, bleeding from a thousand invisible wounds.

It's familiar. It should be comfortable. And yet.]

I already regret it.

[The words are purposely vague. He knows how Chuuya will take it and doesn't bother trying to dissuade him. But there's something about his delivery that's hollow. Something about the words that's just tired and genuine, instead of the flippant comeback he'd meant it as. It's rough and raw and he doesn't want it to be.

Dazai finishes his drink, lifts a hand to flag down the bartender again. His hand is ignored. He'll let it go once. Just once. And if he doesn't get another soon, well. They'll have a bigger problem on their hands.]

[Chuuya shouldn’t have told that bartender to ignore them. He’d only meant for him to ignore Dazai, not him, and he really needs another drink right now. He needs a whole bottle. He needs to be incapable of coherent thought, because every thought he has just hurts.

But the bartender recognizes trouble when he sees it, and it doesn’t look like he has any intention of serving them. Chuuya considers jumping the bar and grabbing a bottle himself. ]

You regret what?

[For once he’s not misunderstanding. He doesn’t understand at all. Dazai’s tone is throwing him off too much, this is entirely off script, and it just feels wrong. It’s a new kind of pain, and he wants the old one back.

He stands up, grabs Dazai’s arm to drag him along.]

We’re leaving.

[He isn't sure how to answer Chuuya's question, exactly. There are too many murky feelings attached to it, too many things he doesn't want to examine.

He doesn't regret leaving the mafia.

He regrets...some other things. Leaving the way he did, maybe. That word still echoes in his head and in his chest, and he hates the way the sharp edges of it stick in his throat.

He's saved from having to answer that question by Chuuya grabbing his arm, and almost reflexively Dazai stands up, tugging back just hard enough to make Chuuya pause.]

Why? You don't have to be around me any more than you have to be.

[Why would Chuuya want to go anywhere with him? Especially after that.]

[Chuuya wasn't expecting Dazai to resist. He isn't sure why he wasn't expecting it, because when does he ever do what Chuuya wants, but it still surprises him now. He tugs again, looking annoying.]

Come on. Don't be difficult, asshole.

[They won't get any alcohol here, so there's no point in staying. But with the mood Dazai in, Chuuya knows better than to leave him unsupervised, too. That's a separate matter from how angry Chuuya is - it's just something he's always done. Besides, if they go somewhere else, then Chuuya can actually punch him in the face.

There are a lot of reasons for leaving.]

When am I ever not?

[A legitimate question. Dazai casts another look down at the bartender, now studiously ignoring the both of them, and then back at Chuuya. There's no point in staying, even if he wants to. He won't be getting any more service here.

Huffing a breath that isn't quite a sigh, he stands, but he isn't going to let Chuuya drag him out. He'll walk at his own pace, a sulk on his face that...seems to be lacking something.

Once outside, he shakes his head, shoving his hair back behind one ear before he looks at Chuuya again.]

Fine. We're out. Where are we going?

I don't know.

[He hadn't thought that far. He's not really thinking at all. He just had to get out of there, because everything had felt wrong, and they weren't going to get anything to drink. The air outside isn't helping, exactly, but it's at least something different.

He doesn't let go of Dazai's arm, and he just keeps going.]

You didn't answer my question.

[He does his best to drag Dazai along, even if Dazai is doing his best to keep up to prevent just that. It's not because he wants to force Dazai to follow, but because it's easier not to look at him that way, half a step ahead of him.

He tightens his grip, though, just in case.]

[It's hard to keep ahead of Dazai when he's got the longer stride and can easily keep up, but honestly he's not particularly keen on being able to look at Chuuya, either, which means he doesn't really keep pace, fighting just a little with Chuuya's grip. Not enough to pull away, just enough to make him work for it, grab harder.]

No, I didn't.

[He's not sure how to answer it. He doesn't know how to say anything.]

Why do you care?

If you regret our alliance already, just say so. I'll leave you and your little friends alone.

[Now he knows where he's doing - away from people. There's an alley, and he drags Dazai there, ignoring the way he's resisting. He doesn't think he can take other people looking at him right now.

He can't let go of this topic, but this should only be between them. It's four years overdue.]

It's a big city. Say the word, and you won't see me again.

Say it, Dazai.

[The alley is fine with Dazai. Anything to get them out of sight, to deal with...whatever this is. The feeling brewing in him, the way nothing inside fits quite right--he knows logically some part of it is the Sanguis moon affecting his emotions, his self-control, but no small part of it is just--this.

Chuuya drags him into that alley, and then it's Dazai's turn to drag back once they're far enough inside, using some of the strength given to him by the moon to pull Chuuya around to face him, his eyes glinting gold in the moonlight.]

I won't.

[He doesn't want to.]

[The eyes throw him off for a second, more than the sudden strength, which hasn't really registered yet. Dazai's eyes are dark, unreadable, another wall shutting out the world... not golden like this. At least the intensity in the same, and that makes this feel a little bit more normal, allows him to pretend that this isn't --

That it's not wrong.

He still doesn't want to look at him, so he glances over his shoulder, like he's checking to make sure there's no one else there.]

Yeah, that's not your style. You just disappear.

[Although as long as Dazai has attached himself to those other people, he can't do that, not completely. Unless he's planning to abandon them, too.

Except apparently Dazai fucking cares about them.]

I should end this before you get a chance to.

[Of course. Of course that's what he does. He just disappears. Because that's better, cleaner. So why does it not feel clean? Why does it feel so damn messy?

He's not going to think of Oda, the way he feels those raw wounds inside, the way he was there and then gone. He doesn't want to think of Chuuya feeling that same way when he'd--]

You didn't care about me disappearing. You were just angry I left the mafia.

[Because that was how it was supposed to be. But there still seems to be a question buried inside the words.]

It's the same thing.

[Leaving the mafia, leaving him, either way Dazai was gone, and yeah, Chuuya wasn't supposed to care. Dazai was a traitor; they'd deal with him and move on.

And Chuuya had kept doing his job for those four years, just without a partner.

He stares at the ground now, trying to hold back his anger before he punches Dazai in the face. But anger is easier than everything else that he's feeling. It's the only thing he has to protect him.]

You're the one who doesn't care, asshole.

It isn't.

[It's Dazai's turn to be angry, to be frustrated with all of this, as he pushes Chuuya towards the nearest wall, Sanguis offering a burst of strength. How dare he act like he had a personal stake in all of this? He'd always hated Dazai, always hated being partnered with him, never let Dazai think otherwise. And now, here he is, acting like this. Like it mattered.]

You don't know anything.

[Of course he cared. He didn't really know how to say it, but of course he cared. Without having Dazai on hand, Mori couldn't use Chuuya to his full extent, and Dazai couldn't leave knowing that Chuuya would willingly die for Mori at any time--and take hundreds of people with him. He did the best he could, not knowing what the hell he was doing.]

And don't act like you cared, either. Didn't you say the day I left was the happiest day of your life?

Edited 2019-07-18 15:01 (UTC)

[Chuuya tries to resist as he's pushed back, surprised and annoyed when he realizes how strong Dazai is. That doesn't feel right, either, another loss of familiarity, another slap in the face.]

Yeah. I never knew you at all, did I?

[He spits it out, now staring at Dazai's shoulder. His back is against the wall, and he wants to turn this into a fight. He should punch him in the stomach instead, sweep his leg. It would be so much easier than this. He swallows back the way even his voice comes out pained, tries to twist it back into anger instead.

He's still gripping Dazai's arm.]

Isn't that what you wanted to hear? [Isn't that what they were both supposed to say?] You blew up my car.

[It would be easier if it were a fight. He's hoping so hard that Chuuya will push him back, will kick him or punch him or...anything, really, but he's not. He's not even looking at Dazai, which just makes it worse.

Dazai's got his free hand on Chuuya's shoulder, and his fingers tighten a fraction. He's looking, even if Chuuya isn't, because Chuuya isn't sounding right and all of this feels wrong.]

Of course it's not!

[It isn't what he wants to hear at all, obviously. Isn't it obvious? He doesn't know anymore.]

Something like that wouldn't kill you, either. It's got nothing to do with it.

Then why did you do it?

[Dazai doesn't really think Chuuya will let that go, does he? Blowing up his car is a pretty clear statement. They're enemies now.]

What the hell are you trying to say, Dazai? What kind of game is this?

You were supposed to watch your back, obviously!

[Because Dazai wouldn't be around to watch it for him. Because his back had always been his weak spot, letting people get in under his guard. People he trusted. Because...

Dazai shakes his head, reaches up with his other hand abruptly, running fingers through his hair as if to push the thought away.]

Why do you suddenly care why I did anything?? You never cared before. You only cared if I made you look bad.

All you cared about was making me look bad. Making me look like an idiot. [Of course he cared about that, was he supposed to just let that go?] You just wanted to prove you were better.

[Thinking about that makes it a little bit easier to grasp that anger again. That's what their partnership had been. Dazai insulting him, Dazai making a fool out of him. If they'd sometimes played video games, collapsed together after missions... If they'd worked together so smoothly there was barely any need to talk, that didn't matter. It didn't.

Dazai hated him.]

All I wanted was a chance to prove myself, asshole.

[He shoves him. Hard. He's glaring at him now.]

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