indensity | ic contact & overflow for prismatica

[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.]

It wasn't about making you look like an idiot, and you really are an idiot if you think that.

[It was about making Chuuya pay attention. To the world around him, to people--but also to Dazai. He'd never been able to help that. At a time when he was so numb, Chuuya had made him feel alive. It wasn't always a good feeling. Often, it hurt. But he had felt, and then there had been those brief moments where it was almost peaceful: Chuuya on his back, breath warm against his cheek as he carried him home after a mission, Chuuya trash talking him in front of the Street Fighter machine, completely unafraid. Chuuya's hands, trembling faintly as they bandaged a new wound, yelling at Dazai for taking stupid and unnecessary risks.

But that hadn't meant anything to Chuuya, of course.

Chuuya shoves him, and Dazai might take half a step back, but he's crowding back into Chuuya's personal space before he has a chance to do anything else, anger in his own expression and a hot glint in his eyes as he answers, his tail lashing.]

Of course that's all you wanted. All you ever cared about was looking good in front of Mori. It's the only reason you never let me die.

[The only reason he wouldn't give Dazai what he wanted. That's right, it wasn't because he cared. It was because Mori would have been mad. That's all. He should remember that.]

[Chuuya looks like he wants to pull back when Dazai immediately pushes close again, but he's already completely backed up against the wall, and besides, he doesn't want to give Dazai the satisfaction is seeing him run.]

Calling me an idiot again...

[He shoves Dazai another time, just as hard.]

You're probably right, though. I really thought I knew you back then, so I guess I am an idiot.

[He thought that Dazai was his partner. He thought that Dazai had his back. He'd thought a lot of things, up until Dazai suddenly disappeared, proving every single theory wrong. And nothing had ever made him feel like an idiot as much as that had.

He's breathing too shallowly, too caught up in the argument, and feeling overwhelmed by everything he's tried to ignore for so long. He has to get out of this argument. He has to get away, so he can force it back under control, bury it under work and wine and exercise. He didn't drink nearly enough before dragging Dazai out of there. He really should have stolen that bottle.

He shakes his head.]

But hey, at least I was right about one thing.

[Might as well brag about it. He'd been right in thinking Dazai was capable of caring. So many people had tried to say otherwise, and he'd never believed them. Now he had proof. Now he knew for sure. Dazai was capable of caring, it just had to be other people.]

You never even tried to know me. From the very beginning, you thought you knew everything that you needed to.

[The words aren't fair. They're right, but they're not fair, and there's no reason for him to sound as bitter and hurt by them as he does, especially since it went both ways, didn't it? He's looking at Chuuya now, and Chuuya is genuinely upset, and he wouldn't be so upset if there wasn't something Dazai had missed--

But he can't be fair, and he can't be logical. He's never been fair or logical about Chuuya.

Mori-san would be disappointed, he thinks, and resists the urge to laugh. Hysteria solves nothing.

Instead, he shakes his head, not letting Chuuya push him back, visibly forcing his feelings down and back, or at least making a valiant attempt.]

What? What were you right about?

[Something petty, he's sure. Something to hurt, something to establish that he's always been the better mafioso, that Mori has finally recognized his greatness. Something that has nothing at all to do with this stubborn ache he's feeling in his chest that he's got no words for at all.]

[Chuuya should just punch Dazai. Pull out his knife, maybe. Shoving him isn't working, and the only way the two of them have ever dealt with each other is through escalation. The only way out is through, and that means violence. It's always meant violence. That, and words aimed to hurt.

So he's never tried to know Dazai?

Dazai blames him, then. For their failed partnership, for not being good enough. For not being who Dazai needed. He found that in that friend of his instead, and in his annoying little Agency, and his new protege. He replaced all of them, because they hadn't tried hard enough for him. As if he'd ever tried for them.]

What the hell kind of partner do you think I am? Of course I tried to know you. You didn't want me to know you.

[Dazai had too many secrets. Dazai never shared. He told, at best, half the story, and rarely even that much. Chuuya had wanted to know.

And more than anything, he needs to prove Dazai wrong, because he refuses to be held responsible for their partnership not working out.]

I always knew you were capable of caring.

[There. He throws it at him. Chuuya knew, even when everyone told him otherwise. He's not just making that claim now, he'd really believed it back then, up until Dazai left. He'd actually believed in him.]

I just --

[Didn't think that meant he'd leave.]

Didn't think that meant you'd turn traitor.

[Chuuya's not wrong. Not entirely. It was never easy to share anything of who he was, what he felt. No one had ever understood, and he'd learned the futility of trying to make them long, long before he'd even met Chuuya. Maybe he wouldn't have shared much, but...]

I always answered your questions. Is it my fault you only heard what you wanted to?

[Maybe not always with all the answers, or all the right words, but he had. He'd tried. But Chuuya had belonged to Kouyou, and he'd always been with Mori--which had always been the point, hadn't it? Mori had teased so much about Chuuya and Dazai being friends, but how often had they been left unsupervised? How often when they weren't working? And what kind of things had been said after...?

One thing Chuuya is wrong about, though. He'd never replaced them. Gin was Gin, Akutagawa was Akutagawa, Chuuya was Chuuya. He might have thought once upon a time that people were all the same, that people didn't matter, but he'd been learning better, even then. Mori had thought that he was teaching Dazai how to pay attention to people's skills, to people's weaknesses, so that he could better use them, but he'd taken away a very different lesson in the end, hadn't he?

Maybe it would have been different without Odasaku and Ango. Maybe he would have learned the right lessons. Maybe he would have never discovered that he did care. But it wasn't just them, was it? Even before Oda, there was...]

Chuuya--

[The blow hits like he wants it to. But--it doesn't make him angrier, no matter how much strong the urgings from Sanguis are. I just, he says, and for the first time Dazai looks away.]

Of course I--

[Of course I care, he doesn't finish, like it's obvious, like it should be. I'm still human, he doesn't say, because sometimes he's not sure. Instead, he shakes his head and takes a step back, and it's like all the heat's drained away.]

I never betrayed anyone. No matter what he told you. But believe what you want.

Edited 2019-07-26 19:47 (UTC)

[So he didn't listen, is that it? Maybe that's true. Maybe he could have paid more attention. But then, did Dazai ever pay attention to him?

It doesn't matter, at this point. It's too late. Maybe if he'd listened more to Dazai, their partnership would have worked out, but there's no point in even thinking about that now. The only thing worth thinking about is how to improve for the future, and how to best benefit the mafia. Nothing else matters. Should matter.

So why does he want to continue this argument just to make Dazai stay?

Dazai pulls back, and Chuuya slumps forward, staring at the ground, his shoulders hunched. He's still got his back against the wall. He could punch Dazai. Trip him up. Tackle him and plant his knee in his stomach. They'd end up wrestling on the ground, which would be easier, because they don't need words for that. And if they're fighting, Dazai isn't leaving.]

He didn't.

[A small shrug. His face is shielded by his hat now.]

I tried to figure it out, but I guess I wasn't paying enough attention.

[He'll take the blame, if that makes it easier. It's an excuse to improve, and he's never allowed himself to stagnate. Not that he'll ever have another partner. He doesn't need one. Needing one wasn't ever the point.]

[He's not leaving, anyway. He's taken a step back, and his hands are in his pockets, curled fists, and he's not looking at Chuuya, but he's not leaving. How can he, after what Chuuya had said the last time? The words he'd used? If anyone is going to walk away first, it's going to be Chuuya.]

He didn't say anything?

[Unusual, for Mori. Then again, maybe not. He was always so very good at saying things without saying them at all, at making people arrive at the correct conclusions with barely a relevant word. He had a gift. Dazai can respect it, even if he hates the man.

But he didn't say anything, and Chuuya...]

...Why did you think I left?

[The answer shouldn't matter. None of this should. And yet.]

[Chuuya doesn't think he can leave. Not when the conversation feels so final, like tying up loose ends. Except he feels like he's unraveling instead.]

You never--

[Cared when people died before. Dazai laughed at death, loved it, dismissed it when Chuuya cared too much. They'd fought over that too many times. And suddenly, Dazai had cared, because it was him. The words catch in his throat, because he can't muster up the anger for that kind of attack, not right now.

But he wants to make it an attack, and he wants to call Dazai a hypocrite.]

Does it matter what I thought?

[Dazai finally found someone he cared about, and he lost them, and he couldn't take it, so he ran. That's not what Mori wanted him to think. But Chuuya had never agreed with Mori about Dazai.]

[He's not the only one. This may have started as something angry, just another fight, but somehow they both seem to have lost the thread of it, wandered someplace murky and dangerous, a place they've been avoiding for years. He doesn't want to be here, doesn't want to be having this conversation--he would rather be fighting, or fucking, anything that doesn't involve these feelings.

It isn't that Dazai had started caring when Oda died. He'd just...realized, in that moment, exactly where he was, what he was, and what he'd become if things stayed as they were.

He wishes he didn't care. He wants to not care, and he should tell Chuuya that what he thinks or thought doesn't matter, except--]

It does.

[It does, and he wants to know, even as he knows he's not going to like the answer. He's never been able to not know.]

[He's not convinced that it matters. He does know that Dazai wants to know, because he always had to have all the answers. Chuuya hesitates, reaches up to rub at the back of his neck as he tries to get the words out right.]

You finally -- You cared. About someone. And you freaked out.

[He shrugs lightly. He still wants to make it an attack. He still wants to go back to fighting. But something is holding him back, so he simply scuffs a foot against the ground instead.]

Your reason to live was never going to be the mafia, was it?

[By mafia he means anything in the mafia. There was that friend of his, but once he was gone, there was nothing. No one there who was worth anything.]

[He's not sure what sort of answer he's expecting, but it's not--it isn't that. He hadn't thought Chuuya would recognize any part of what happened. Of course he'd known that Dazai spent all that time with Oda and Ango. It wasn't that it was common knowledge, exactly, but then Dazai and Chuuya had always had a strange sort of permanent awareness of each other, hadn't they? He hadn't always sought out Chuuya's company--in fairness, neither had Chuuya--but they'd always known where to find each other.

But to put it like that--you finally cared, and you freaked out--combined with his earlier words, I always knew you could care...it leaves some very uncomfortable gaps even as it fills in others.

But that isn't the thing that hits home the most. It's the rest of what Chuuya says, and it's the way Chuuya says it. Quietly. There's no anger in the words, no knives, but it cuts deeper than the rest somehow all the same.

Dazai's quiet for a long moment. There's no more anger in him. It's all gone, all drained out through the wounds this conversation has left, like a body emptied of blood. His own voice is equally quiet when he answers.]

I'm still looking for that reason. But--I'm living.

[Living. Not just waiting to die. Not living to die. Just...living. And it's hard as hell, but he'd made a promise. And if he'd stayed, he wouldn't. Mori would have seen to that, in one way or another.

That should be the end of it. But he can't quite help the rest, either.]

If I had--

[Some small, small part of him wants to ask if Chuuya would have...but no, that's stupid, isn't it? And he knows that he really doesn't actually want that answer. He might not be able to handle that answer. So instead--]

If I had stayed, I wouldn't be.

Okay.

[He's living. That's good. That's all anyone can ask of him. Chuuya's voice has gone even quieter, because it hurts, every word out of Dazai's mouth hurts. He doesn't get it, because no one else has ever been able to hurt him like this, and Dazai does it so effortlessly.

He wants to say that he'd tried to help. That he'd wanted Dazai to stay alive, that's why he'd been so angry, but what's the point. Dazai hadn't noticed then - maybe Chuuya hadn't tried hard enough, hadn't paid enough attention, hadn't been the right person - and it won't help now to have Chuuya point out his own failures, have him humiliate himself. It's not worth it.]

Okay.

[He doesn't know what else to say. Dazai left. They're enemies now. That's how it has to be. There's no changing it, no fixing this, nothing that Dazai wants to fix. He made the right choice for himself, after all.

He's living. That's good.]

If I learn anything about your friend, I'll let you know.

[He pushes out from the wall, turns down the alley, and starts walking without ever lifting his head. He doesn't want Dazai seeing his face.]

[Okay, Chuuya says, and it sounds anything but. Okay, he says, and it sounds like goodbye. It sounds like wind rushing through the empty hollow he can feel in the pit of his stomach, it tastes like salt and regret, sits so heavy on his tongue that it feels like lead.

It's not okay. Nothing is okay. None of this is okay, and he doesn't know where it had all gone wrong.

Maybe it's been going wrong for years.

Maybe it's always been wrong.

Maybe he's been wrong.

Chuuya walks away, and Dazai makes no move to stop him, even as it feels like there's something else being taken from him in the process, something he's missed without even realizing. All he can do is watch Chuuya's back, his shoulders, as he moves down the alley. But before he vanishes, Dazai does manage one last thing.]

Chuuya--

[There's something odd about the sound of his voice. Regret, maybe? Sorrow? Guilt? Something weird. Something that doesn't belong there.]

Don't disappear. I know I don't have the right to ask you, but--don't, anyway.

[It's selfish. He has no right to ask, and Chuuya has no control over it, anyway, ultimately. He doesn't even know if he wants an answer. But he asks anyway.]

ic contact & overflow for prismatica

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject