indensity | ic contact & overflow for prismatica

I know. He's gone.

[Dazai doesn't need the confirmation, but he'll give it anyway. Chuuya has already double checked. Akutagawa hasn't replied, isn't in his apartment, is gone. Back in Yokohama, in theory, but neither of them trust that explanation, do they?

He needs answers, but he'd already been looking for them, and he's had absolutely no luck. He's back to feeling useless again now, so he takes the new glass of wine gratefully, and drinks without even pausing to check if the wine is acceptable. It doesn't matter. He can taste the alcohol, and that's all that he cares about.

He's on his own now. He has no one on his side here.]

If he really is back in Yokohama, that's better for him. If I find out anything, I'll let you know.

[He can feel just a slight buzz, but it's not enough. He signals for a glass of whiskey for himself next.]

Was that it?

[He's not careful at all about his tone. He sounds bitter.]

[Gone. Gone where? Dazai knows exactly how easy it can be to make a person disappear. After all, hadn't Ango made him disappear? And in a place like this, unfamiliar, full of unknown factors and powers...he doesn't like to think of Oda, of Akutagawa, of anyone he might know being locked away somewhere in a lab, experimented upon, tested, vivisected to see how they produced Chroma, but it's a valid possibility. Not one they can pursue this early, but a possibility. Or maybe they are back home, or wherever they were pulled from. Maybe they were just clones formed from brain scans. With the technology in this place, anything is possible.

Not enough data. That's what it boils down to. Not enough data, and in the meantime...in the meantime, here they are.]

I'll do the same. I have a contact working with the Lunar Scientia. It's a long shot, but worth investigating.

[It's tempting to say that's it. Tempting to let that be it. Chuuya's bitterness is palpable, and Dazai signals for another drink for himself, too. Prolonging the inevitable, or searching for the right words, maybe.

He used to know how to press Chuuya's buttons. How to distract him, help pull him out of his own head. But now...]

If you want it to be.

[His voice is less careful this time, a little lost. He could leave, if he wants. If that's all. If he really hates Dazai so much. But before he really thinks too hard about it, he says the rest, too.]

...I saw you the other day. Below the temple.

[It's tempting to say that yeah, he wants that to be it. It's tempting to get up and walk out, leave Dazai to his drink. It's not Chuuya's responsibility to make sure Dazai doesn't do anything stupid, not anymore, he has no obligation to stay. He doesn't have to listen to him if he doesn't want to. And it would be so satisfying to be the one turning his back on Dazai for a change.

Except Dazai wouldn't actually care, would he, so it wouldn't make any difference.

And if he does care -- he doesn't, he can't, Chuuya knows that -- then Chuuya wants to stay.]

Yeah? They barely put up a fight.

[As if that's why he was there. Just to fight. That's what he'd told Atsushi, too.]

I need to find stronger opponents.

[He wouldn't blame Chuuya if he just walked out. It would be fair. Fitting, maybe. After all, hasn't he made it clear that he doesn't want anything to do with Dazai? The way that last conversation ended, he'd been sure...

But Chuuya's still here. Chuuya isn't just walking out and leaving. And maybe the words aren't that important, maybe it's just the usual post-fight bragging, but even that's something of a relief, isn't it? A familiar feeling, something to grasp in this sea of uncertainty.]

Some things stay the same no matter what, don't they?

[The words are soft, maybe meant to be inside his head. Who can tell?]

[Chuuya doesn't answer right away, just starts in on his whiskey. It's starting to really hit, he's starting to feel the world go fuzzy, uncomfortably so. Maybe he's drinking too quickly, but he doesn't care, and he doesn't slow down. He frowns.]

Nothing's the same.

[It's a new world, a new place. Chuuya is on his own. Dazai is acting weird. Nothing here feels familiar.]

Except you're still getting yourself into trouble. Getting caught.

[That's nothing new, either. How many times has Chuuya saved him? Why does he still bother to?]

[Ah. That's right. Nothing's the same. Nothing can be, can it? Because he'd abandoned Chuuya and Chuuya had told him he was an enemy and he'd never let him get close and...and nothing was ever going to feel right again, was it?

He shouldn't forget that. The swallow he takes of his whiskey is deeper than he means it to be, and that's the only reason his voice is a little rougher when he answers, still not looking anywhere else but that glass.]

And you're still there in the middle of that trouble.

[Saving me, he doesn't say. Because obviously Chuuya wasn't there for him. He just wanted the fight. Right?]

Where else am I supposed to be?

[He's not the one who changed. And besides, he's got nothing better to do here. He has no responsibilities at all. Especially now, when it's just him, no one else left from his side. At least Dazai has a few other people from the Agency here.

His whiskey glass is almost empty already, and he's always been a lightweight.]

I guess you didn't change completely, at least.

I wonder.

[Where else? He could be so many places. Could be so many things. Who are they here? There's no Port Mafia, there's no Mori, and regardless of the fact that Yosano and Atsushi are both here, there's no Agency, either. Fukuzawa makes the agency what it is. Dazai...he's nothing. He's just...

...he's well on his way to drunk, is what he is, and he thinks maybe he wants to get there faster.]

Is that right? What hasn't changed? Besides me always getting into trouble, and you always getting me out--

[...Maybe he's closer to drunk already than he thought.]

[Chuuya frowns at his glass.]

I didn't get you out.

[He'd made sure to leave before that. He'd stayed close by, sure, he'd been ready to step in if the rescue had gone bad at the end, but there were a lot of people coming to save those who had been kidnapped by the cultists. They'd all had it under control.

And his point was, he didn't want the credit.]

You shouldn't count on an enemy.

[Chuuya will always come to rescue him, if Dazaineeds him to. He hates that about himself.]

Mm.

[The noise he makes is non-committal. Maybe he hadn't been the one to open the cage door, but Chuuya had been there, and Dazai had seen him. Even if he'd left, he wouldn't have if it wasn't a sure thing, and is it wrong that that still settled something inside him, still satisfied a need, even after everything that's happened? Maybe it is, but that doesn't change it.]

Is that really what you want to be?

[More questions he shouldn't ask, because he doesn't really want to know the answers, but here they are anyway.]

[His frown just deepens. He finishes off his glass, signalling for another right away. This is a bad idea, and he knows it.]

That was your call.

[Dazai is the one who left. Dazai is the one who joined the enemy. He keeps trying to put that on Chuuya, and it's annoying, it pisses him off. None of this was Chuuya's choice.

It's just what it is.]

I'm not leaving the mafia, and you're not coming back.

[This is all going wrong again, isn't it? It was a terrible idea. He should have just let Chuuya go. He should let him go now. He should just agree and leave it there, establish this boundary above all others and let it go.

But since when has he ever done what he should? And when has he ever been able to let anything at all about Chuuya go?

This bartender, at least, seems perfectly content to let them drink themselves stupid, as long as they don't start getting loud, or making a fuss. Another round for both of them, and Dazai focuses in on the warm, foggy feeling slowly building inside him, ignoring that aching, empty pit at the bottom of his stomach.]

Actually, it was Mori's.

[There's no end to the bitterness in that name, a cutting sharpness to the sound of his voice. Something deeply personal, and just as quickly shoved away with another drink, Dazai shrugging his shoulders.]

You would never have come with me, and if I'd stayed I'd be dead.

[So where does that leave them? He doesn't know.]

[Chuuya is starting to slump over the counter a little. He’s drunk, and he’s in a shit mood, and holding himself up is exhausting. And it’s easier not to actually look at Dazai this way.

As always, Dazai is full of bullshit.]

Mori wants you back. He doesn’t want you dead.

[He might be slurring his words a little, but he only sounds all the more confident in his own words. Mori wants Dazai at his side. Mori invited him back, has a spot for him should he choose to return. He offered Dazai that invitation in front of several people, so there’s not really any denying it.

Not that he thinks Dazai is lying, either, but as usual there’s more to the story than what he’s bothering to tell Chuuya.]

Cut the crap. Either tell me what happened, or shut up. Why did you leave?

You're not stupid. You know better.

[Mori might want Dazai back, but if he can't get him back, or he realizes that Dazai isn't the useful tool he'd always thought he was, then there's only one option left. Dazai is too dangerous to leave out there, too dangerous to not be under his control or dead. But Mori plays the long game, and there's a reason Dazai has always played along. Even now. Even after everything.

He knows what Mori could do. And if Mori realizes that he really cares, now...

He's not going to think about it. At least, that's what he tells himself, right up until Chuuya asks that question. And now...]

...Come home with me.

[He's drunk, too, has to be to be making that offer, even if it sounds more like a demand, but he doesn't want to talk about this in public. He doesn't want to talk about it, period, but Chuuya's asked, and Dazai is going to give him an answer. Or try.]

I've got a bottle at my apartment. We can drink more, there. Just come on.

[Chuuya actually looks at Dazai at those words. You're not stupid. Those are some of the last words he ever would have expected to hear from him, and for a moment he just stares, eyes slightly wide. Then he realizes what he's doing, and he turns away again.

Of course he knows it's more complicated than that, though. But he's sick of not knowing the details. It's not supposed to matter, but it does. He can't let go, and he's tried, for over four years now. If it's more complicated, then he wants to understand.

He's not an idiot, and he doesn't have to be kept in the dark.]

Okay.

[Just like that. He says it like it was a given, because it was. Dazai won't leave him alone, and Chuuya has --

He hasn't missed that.

He stands up, unsteadily, holds onto the counter. He forces gravity to obey him.]

Can you even walk, asshole?

[They're true, anyway. Chuuya might not be the same kind of smart he is, the same kind of smart Mori is looking for, but he's not stupid by any means, and there's no reason for Chuuya to be confused about him saying so. Except there is, isn't there? They've never exactly complimented each other. It's always been insults and undercutting. He can feel Chuuya looking at him, hear the shift in clothing as he turns, and turns again, and--

--agrees.

Good, he didn't want this to be a fight, too. There's always a fight, and sometimes it's a comfortable fight, one that feels familiar and safe, but so often lately it's been the other kind that gets under his skin, makes him restless, makes him hurt in ways he doesn't like. So it's good that this isn't a fight.

It is, however, a challenge.]

What are you going to do if I can't, carry me?

[The banter is familiar, and he watches as Chuuya stands none too steadily, watches as he uses that tiny amount of his ability to keep the forces of gravity from tugging him to the ground. The face Dazai makes is probably more than a little familiar, too, as he stands up himself. There's no wobbling involved, but he is much, much more precise with where he puts his feet, and definitely plants both hands on the counter for longer than he should need to.]

As if you could, without Gravity to help you.

[One hand lifts, waves in an almost elegant motion, if overdramatic.]

After you.

I'd dump you in an alley.

[It's more than familiar. The banter feels so much better, so much less complicated. This is how they've always talked to each other. Chuuya starts walking for the exit, very carefully.]

I don't need my Ability to walk.

[He might, actually. He's definitely been drinking too fast, but he didn't think he'd be leaving for a while. And if he's got gravity on his side, why not take advantage of it, especially if that means he gets to laugh as Dazai stumbles.

Especially if that's a distraction from how heavy this still feels.

He's just sick of how much it hurts.]

Really, and after I offered to share my alcohol with you, so rude~

[This. This is what he's missed, and maybe it's stupid but if it is it's stupidly reassuring. The banter, the bickering, and the knowledge that it isn't meant, or if it is it still won't stop Chuuya from helping him.

Or it used to not. Past tense. He isn't sure if it's present, doesn't want to find out for sure or he might 'accidentally' trip and fall into Chuuya, make him carry him just for the contact, just to feel him warm and solid--

He's definitely had too much to drink. Especially if he's thinking like that. Dazai doesn't stumble inside the bar, but he sways, and the empty feeling inside him weighs him down horribly. He wishes he had Chuuya's ability to carry it, pretends he doesn't feel it.]

If that's the case, then you don't mind if I lean on you, do you?

[That's it. Stick to the familiar banter, the safe spaces, let it carry them. That's a good plan.]

[They've both had too much to drink. Chuuya has to stop for a second because the world is spinning, but then he gets the door open, and at least the fresh air outside helps. A little.]

So you're admitting you can't walk?

[And he still wants to drink more. He wonders if the bartender would have let him take a glass with him, although he's not going back to ask. It's too far. And getting to Dazai's apartment feels urgent.

At least it shouldn't be too far. Closer than his own, or he might have suggested they go there instead.]

If you fall, I'm leaving you behind.

[Why didn't he buy a bottle and take it with him.]

I'm walking now, aren't I?

[He is, really. He's walking a little too close, in fact, close enough that as Chuuya stops in front of the door Dazai has to lift a hand to keep from running into him, long fingers braced on the doorframe over Chuuya's shoulder. The air will help. It has to. At least then Chuuya's scent won't be in his nostrils then, there will be less of that urge to bury his fingers in that red hair and...

...and it does help. A little. Fresh night air, and he breathes deep as he follows Chuuya out. It isn't far to his apartment; for all that he doesn't spend much time there, it really is conveniently placed. It feels like a safe space. Neutral ground, as much as anything could be.

With fresh air and Chuuya's words comes a fresh wave of something desolate and out of place, and Dazai's quiet for a long moment before he answers, maybe a little more seriously than he should despite the light and airy tone he affects.]

Would you really?

Barely.

[He says, even though Dazai is behind him, and he can't see how he's actually walking. He does notice the hand above his shoulder, though, and gives it a distrustful look. Dazai is going to lean on him, isn't he?

But then he doesn't, and instead he asks that. Chuuya shoves his hands in his pockets.]

Should I pick you up?

[Dazai has been gone for four years. It's not like Chuuya couldn't have needed him in that time, but apparently he's the one supposed to come running when Dazai needs him. Which is -- That's not what that question was about.

He doesn't want to talk about this, not when he'd been managing to push away his feelings again. He ducks his head, leaving him hidden by his hat.]

Let's just get to your apartment.

Mm.

[Right. His apartment. Dazai doesn't respond to the question, aside from a noncommittal noise. The silence is heavy, awkward, wants to be filled in a way it hasn't ever felt before. At least, to him. More than once, he questions this choice. But what other choice was there?

Thankfully, it's only a few more blocks to his apartment. Hopefully not long enough for Chuuya to fully change his mind. Just long enough to let that silence stretch, and he only breaks it when they're inside his apartment, shedding his coat, glad for the lack of Sanguis tail and ears for once. A low ebb in the moon, maybe. He still feels that push to claim, to fight, to win, but that he can handle at least.]

Glasses are over the sink.

[He'd promised Chuuya more drinks, hadn't he? Even if he thinks he's had enough. Or maybe not anywhere near. Hard to be sure which. In the meantime, he fetches a bottle from another cabinet, moves to sit in the living room. It's the only place with seats at all.

It's also got a very distinct reddish stain on the white carpet. Blood is tricky to get out of deep pile.]

[Chuuya goes to get the glasses, because even if drinking is a bad idea, he still needs the distraction. And this is going to be a lot easier if he's drunk. Maybe he'll pass out, and he won't have to do this.

Except that he does want answers. It's been four years, and he's wondered, tried his best to figure it out with what little clues there were. It's gnawed at him. And now Dazai might actually answer, so he can't exactly waste this chance, either. He walks over with the glasses, handing one over and holding the other out for Dazai to pour.

He notices the blood stain. His free hand goes up to touch the scar on his throat, but he forces himself to look away.]

So, talk. Tell me what happened.

[If they're doing this, he's not going to waste any time.]

[Right. Answers. He can only put the words off for so long, but he'll take what he can get, right now. Long enough to pour two glasses. Long enough to set the bottle down on the little side table, long enough to take a sip, to wish the liquor could burn more than it does.

Where does he start? I made a promise. But no, he thinks of just what Chuuya had said to him the last time--I always knew you could care, I just--and he might not know the rest of that sentence but he knows that isn't where to start. Not if he still wants Chuuya to be his ally, and definitely not if he wants...whatever it is that feels like it's been missing for years and he didn't know it.

He could make this easy. Mori miscalculated. He thought I was like him. Turns out I am, but not in the ways he wanted. But that's not the whole of it, either, is it?

The beginning, maybe. But even that...

He's overcomplicating. Time to stop.]

I finally realized that everyone was expendable to him, except for me.

[It's not an answer. Not the whole answer. He's still figuring that out, four years later, and he's never tried talking about it, not really. Not in the way that he and Chuuya seem to need, infuriatingly slow and clumsy the way nothing else is with them.]

Do you know how we met?

[Chuuya doesn't sip his own drink. Not yet. He sits on the couch, half watching Dazai, face still slightly downturned because he's still feeling too much. But he's listening. He promised he would do that much.

He immediately wants to argue, but he holds himself back. He'll save it for when Dazai's done.]

You know I don't.

[No one really does. He swirls the drink in his glass. He remembers asking Dazai once, but he didn't get an answer, just a joke. And he'd dropped it because he figured it was none of his business.]

I don't think anyone except the two of you know.

ic contact & overflow for prismatica

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