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prismatica
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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.]