Chapter Text
Both of Chuuya’s hands are covered in blood as they clutch his nose, so Dazai opens the door to the passenger seat for him.
They sit in silence.
It’s obvious that Chuuya is trying to calm himself down with little success, judging by his soft wheezes and sniffles.
Dazai observes him, and he notes that his arms are scattered with tiny cuts. His nose may be broken, and those cuts may need stitches, but Dazai is hesitant to take Chuuya to the hospital anyway.
If they asked how Chuuya got those injuries, what would he tell them? If they asked if Chuuya needs help, would he take it? Would he even let any doctors or nurses near him, or would he pretend everything’s fine as he’s done for so long?
Chuuya’s voice stops his line of thought before he can figure out an answer.
“...Sorry.”
Chuuya woke up when his phone began to vibrate from beneath his pillow.
With a groan, he stretched his arms over his head until his back cracked. Then, he stood up and began to get ready. It didn’t take long; he was careful to place his clothes for the day on top of his dresser every night so he wouldn’t be making too much noise in the morning.
When he stepped out of the bedroom he saw Shirase was still passed out on the living room couch, and the light from the TV reflected on the beer cans scattered around him.
Careful not to make any noise, Chuuya grabbed his backpack and his shoes and left the apartment.
His day at work went like any others: he arrived at the café with fifteen minutes to spare, Hirotsu –the manager– insisted he helped himself to some coffee and a pastry before they opened the store, and Chuuya stepped behind the counter with breadcrumbs stuck to the corners of his mouth at seven a.m. sharp.
The newest barista –Higuchi–, Hirotsu and him welcomed the morning rush as soon as the doors opened.
Since the first customer walked in, Chuuya’s consciousness moved to the backseat and he started moving around in auto-pilot; five years doing the same job will give you that superpower.
He rang up orders and dealt with food, but in his mind, he was imagining what his life would’ve been like if he’d gone to college, much like the guy he was heating up a croissant for.
Maybe the two of them would’ve been classmates, and they’d be competing to get the higher grades on campus, and they’d grow up to be competitors in their field.
Maybe Chuuya would’ve been a bad student –more likely, considering school stopped being his main concern since he was seven– and the croissant guy would’ve been his tutor. Then, the guy would be the boss that massively underpays and overworks him.
Maybe he would’ve been an average nineteen-year-old student with an average college life and average expectations.
Even the most underwhelming alternatives made Chuuya’s stomach turn into knots.
Lost in his fantasies, hours went by quickly, and before Chuuya knew it, Tachihara was walking through the door.
“Hey, Chuuya! Higuchi-kun.”
As happy as he was to see Tachihara, Chuuya was still confused by his early appearance. The afternoon shift started at three, and it was barely noon.
“Tachihara has to leave early today, so we made some adjustments to his schedule for the day;” Hirotsu explained when Chuuya looked at him; “does that work for you?”
Technically, Chuuya had been a shift supervisor for two years by that point, but he rarely had to do much supervising, since he almost always was on shift with Hirotsu and there was a different supervisor in the afternoon shift.
He liked the job; he felt useful.
“Yeah, that’s fine. Since it’s slow now, Higuchi and I can continue with her training while Tachihara takes over the register.”
“Sounds good,” Hirotsu agreed. “I’ll be going over inventory in the meantime. Call if you need anything.”
With that, Hirotsu excused himself to the storage room and Tachihara started counting the coins and bills in the till.
Chuuya turned to Higuchi. “So, yesterday we went over the steps to make hot drinks, now I-“
“Yo, Higuchi-kun! Have I told you about the time Chuuya got second degree burns from the steam wand?”
Higuchi’s face twisted in horror. “What?!”
Chuuya sighed as Tachihara went on to tell the very embarrassing story.
As annoying as the interruption was, it at least pulled Chuuya out of his mind, which he had trouble doing on his own. He enjoyed indulging in his imagination, yes, but he liked talking to his coworkers too.
Conversations like this made him feel a little bit more normal. A little bit more real.
The place that ‘The Setting Sun’ took wasn’t huge, but it had enough space for a bar, a modest stage, a few tables and the dance floor any respectable music bar needed.
The acoustics situation was a little trickier. Dazai wanted to be able to see the sky –that was, pretty much, the only reason why he was interested in a rooftop location–, but he also wanted the live music to sound good, so the space was renovated to have a roof made of thick, soundproof glass.
It cost a pretty penny, along with many other renovations that had to take place for the bar to exist, but Mori —his sponsor and step-father— had more than enough money to spare, so it was no big deal.
The night had taken nearly a year of hard work to come to fruition, but Dazai still had trouble feeling excited about it.
“What are these guys called again?” he asked, glancing away from the sky to stare at his reluctant business partner instead.
Kouyou rolled her eyes, annoyed beyond reason. She had a short fuse on a regular day, but it became pretty much non-existent when Dazai was around. That was his charm.
“‘Hunting Dogs’. Yes, I know,” she said, before Dazai could give his two cents. “Not the greatest name, but their music is good.”
“Fukuzawa used to be in a band with their drummer,” Ranpo commented from the counter, where he was eating snacks and getting in the way of everyone who was actually working. “They can’t be too bad.”
“Well, I’m sorry if I want to make sure that the band that’s playing in the grand opening of my bar doesn’t ruin my life.”
“Stop being a crybaby, would you? You’re twenty-three, not five;” Yosano said, unimpressed. Kouyou mouthed ‘grand’ with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “It will be fine. And even if it isn’t, it’s not the end of the world. You’ll figure something out.”
In the distance, the unmistakable sound of glass shattering, followed by a loud ‘sorry!’, adds to Dazai’s despair.
“My dreams are dead.”
“I did my part, so I’m leaving,” Kouyou announced, seemingly done with the theatrics. “And don’t forget that even if your dreams do die tonight, you still owe me my commision.”
“Vulture!”
“Tell Kyoka to call me when she’s done.”
Kyoka. A sweet kid that did nothing to deserve having someone as soulless and ghoulish as Kouyou as her mother. Then again, she’d broken many glasses since Dazai agreed to hire her as part of his deal with said ghoul, so maybe they do deserve each other.
“Here.”
Dazai startled when a shot was pushed into his hand, and he glared at Yosano.
“How is this supposed to prevent my incoming doom?”
“It will help you relax, which you desperately need. You’re welcome.”
“I can’t relax!” Dazai protested. He still downed the shot, which turned out to be tequila, and ignored Yosano’s triumphant smirk. “Tonight could change my life for better or for worse, and it seems to be leaning toward the latter!”
“What even made you think that running a bar, a business, would be a good idea?” Ranpo asked. “Didn’t you fail like a whole semester of classes in business school?”
“I did, but not because I didn’t understand things, I just didn’t show up to- Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”
Yosano served him another shot. “Answer the question.”
“I don’t know,” Dazai huffed. He sat on one of the bar stools. “I just didn’t know what else to do. I would’ve died of boredom in an office job, so I figured the opposite of that would be fun.”
“When people want to have fun they usually go to a pre-existing club; they don’t make their own.”
“I’m picky.”
“You should’ve gone to therapy instead of whatever this is.”
“ This , my friend, is the future of live music!” Dazai cheered with his arms up in the air. He frowned and glanced around like the air itself offended him. “Was that an echo? We have to fix that echo. Where’s Kunikida-kun?” He drank the shot on the bar and stood from the stool. “Kunikida-kun!”
Yosano and Ranpo exchanged a glance as they tried not to laugh.
A little after three, Hirotsu walked in from the storage room, and his eyebrow reached his hairline when he saw Chuuya behind the register and Tachihara sipping on a coffee, while Atsushi –the afternoon supervisor– was nowhere to be seen.
“He’s on his break,” Chuuya explained.
“How long has he been on his break?”
“Uhhh…”
“You, get back to work,” Hirotsu told Tachihara, then the accusatory finger turned to Chuuya; “and you, leave. Your shift ended ten minutes ago. I’ll take over the register.”
“I can wait until Atsushi arrives; I don’t mind.”
Hirotsu shook his head and gently pushed him away from the counter. “Leave. Don’t spread yourself too thin for lazy people.”
“You’re going to my show tonight, right?” Tachihara asked Chuuya as he put his apron on way slower than necessary and pointedly ignored Hirotsu’s not-so-subtle dig at him.
“Dunno if I’ve got time to see you humiliate yourself,” Chuuya replied. He paused and gave one last glance to the register before he nodded to himself and finally left the counter.
Hirotsu always told him he didn’t have to pay for the food he had for breakfast before his shift, but he always did anyway.
Spending money on food nearly every single day wasn’t the best financial move, but Shirase was a light sleeper, and Chuuya couldn’t risk waking him up at five in the morning by making breakfast, so it had to do.
“You’re an asshole,” Tachihara said. “I’ll text you the address! See you there!”
Shirase worked as a waiter from noon to nine, so Chuuya didn’t know for sure if he was going to Tachihara’s show by the time he texted him asking if he would make it.
He didn’t typically go out much, but he thought he’d like to go. It seemed like the kind of thing people his age did, according to movies and shows he’d watched, and he wanted to know what the fuss was about. Besides, he was curious about whether or not Tachihara sucked.
But Shirase had the final word, so he tried not to get his hopes too high as he went over his usual afternoon routine. Lunch, shower, a nap. Then, he thought about how to bring up the subject as he made dinner.
A night in would’ve been fine too, he thought, even if it was what they always did.
They didn’t often go to clubs —or at all—, but they used to go out a little more, back before all of their friends moved away from Yokohama.
When they were children, they’d walk around the city after school and did everything they could with the very few coins in their pockets. Arcades, parks, museums, festivals.
Shirase never liked that, though; it was always Chuuya who encouraged him and their little friend group to explore the world around them. Then, as their friends left one by one, and he wasn’t so curious about what the city had to offer anymore.
Yuan, their closest friend, moved to Kyoto the second they graduated high school, and that was the nail on the coffin of Chuuya’s enthusiasm.
Things had been rough since then for the two of them, the loss of all their friends and their abrupt independence when they were forced to leave the orphanage threw them off balance, but at least they still had each other.
“I’m home,” Shirase announced as he kicked his shoes off in the entryway, just a few minutes before ten. The show started at eleven, according to Tachihara.
Chuuya greeted him from the couch, and Shirase kissed his cheek when he sat next to him. He dropped a black plastic bag on the coffee table; Chuuya didn’t need to take a peek to know what was inside.
“Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” Shirase groaned. He threw his head back to rest on the couch as Chuuya went to the kitchen to reheat the food. “I had to deal with the biggest jackasses today. A huge party of picky assholes…”
Shirase opened his first beer when Chuuya brought their plates to the living room.
They ate together as Shirase told his nightmare-ish stories of the day and Chuuya listened and made a comment here and there. They didn’t see each other a lot most days, since their schedules were pretty much opposites, so he treasured their moments together.
He knew the same was true for Shirase, which is why he kept postponing the subject of the show throughout their dinner and up until they were washing plates together. By then, it was almost eleven.
“Hey, uh, you remember Tachihara?” Shirase frowned. “From the café?”
“What about him?”
“He’s in a band, and they’re playing a show tonight,” Chuuya told him. Shirase stared at him blankly. “He asked if I would go.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I haven’t told him anything yet.” As expected, Shirase didn’t seem to love the idea. “Do you want to go together? It will be like a date ni-”
“No, I’m not going.” With that, Shirase turned to the living room and flopped down on the couch. “You can go if you want, just be here before midnight.”
Part of Chuuya felt disappointed at the rejection, but he was still looking forward to a night out. He would’ve liked going with Shirase, but the idea of trying something new on his own didn’t seem too bad. Besides, chances were other coworkers would be there too, so he wouldn’t be entirely alone.
“Okay. Thanks.”
Dazai stared at the modest crowd from the bar. The band –the goddamn ‘Hunting Dogs’ – would be going on stage any minute now, and he was…
He didn’t really know.
Maybe the right term would’ve been ‘terrified’, but that wasn’t something that the owner of a successful business should be feeling on their opening night, probably. And it’s not like things were going badly; at the very least, people seemed to be enjoying themselves.
He’d even heard the band already, as he was present during their rehearsal, and he knew they were good, and yet, it didn’t help soothe his nerves. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Yosano was chatting with Ranpo from behind the bar as the two of them made drinks. Tanizaki and Naomi were walking around, delivering beers and snacks. Kunikida was somewhere near the stage, working his magic. The Akutagawas were downstairs, guarding the entrance.
Dazai hadn’t heard from them all night, which either meant they were killed and Odasaku was right when he told him that hiring two lanky young adults as security was a bad idea, or everything was going smoothly.
The lights went off, save from a couple of spotlights, the moon and the stars. The small space was drowned in the crowd’s cheers and whistles.
A hand squeezed his shoulder, and he looked behind himself to find Odasaku and Ango smiling at him. They were buzzing with excitement, even though this moment wasn’t theirs. Dazai hated that he couldn’t conjure the feeling for himself.
He still faked a smile for his friends.
The bar was barely ten minutes away from their apartment, much to Chuuya’s relief. He didn’t know what to expect from the night, and if the crowd was small enough, he would’ve been embarrassed to show up when the show had already started.
But as Chuuya stepped out of the cab he took to get there, his relief died down. The place in front of him didn’t seem to even be open , and the same could be said for the rest of the businesses around. What’s more, the street was completely silent and dark.
Shit, did he have the wrong address?
Just as he was about to call the taxi back, he heard someone say his name.
“Oh, hi,” he said when he spotted a familiar face leaning on a closed door a few meters away. “Akutagawa, right?”
He was a regular at the café. He usually stopped by in the afternoons to visit his boyfriend, Atsushi, but Chuuya still saw him in the mornings once in a while. They weren’t exactly friends, but they knew each other.
And a friendly face under such unfamiliar circumstances was a much appreciated comfort.
“Are you here to see Tachihara’s band?” Akutagawa asked.
“Yeah,” Chuuya nodded. “Do I have the right place? This doesn’t seem-”
“It’s on the third floor,” said a person Chuuya hadn’t seen, just a few steps away from Akutagawa. They opened the door where he’d been leaning on before. “You’re just in time; I think they’re about to start.”
Chuuya walked up to the door and glanced inside. The stairs were narrow and dark, but they didn’t look unreliable, which was a relief. “Great. Thanks.”
With that, he made his way up the flight of stairs. It was dark enough already, but when Akutagawa closed the door to the street, it grew into a black pit. Chuuya stopped and glanced up.
He could hear cheers and murmurs, and in the distance, he could see the hint of a red light. That was his destination, he assumed, so he kept going.
He reached the end of the stairs, where a door waited for him. The light from the other side was escaping from the borders around it.
Chuuya opened the door just as the music started.
He didn’t hear it, but Dazai still turned his head to the door at the end of the bar right when it opened.
All air vanished from his lungs when he saw the newcomer.
Long red hair that fell over his left shoulder, tight jeans, deep red shirt, a choker –that might as well have been a collar–, and a goddamn leather corset. Dazai swore he went weak at the knees when he noticed just how tiny the guy’s waist was.
The band was playing now, but he couldn’t have cared less about it right then.
For the first time in the whole day, for the first time he could remember in a very long time, he was excited .
Odasaku and Ango were watching the show, so they barely glanced at Dazai as he walked away from the bar.
He saw Tanizaki making his way towards the newest visitor and signaled for him to stop. The poor guy seemed confused, but he didn’t fight it and simply moved on to a different target.
Dazai fixed his hair and his shirt and got closer to the most gorgeous redhead he’d ever seen.
Luckily, he was far back enough that screaming too loud wasn’t necessary to have a conversation while the show was still ongoing.
“Hey, can I get you anything?”
The guy glanced away from the stage to look up at Dazai. He couldn’t be sure because of the lights, but his eyes –which were framed by eyeliner– appeared to be the prettiest possible shade of blue. He wondered if the exact shade was closer to the sky in the afternoon or at night.
Another realization he had right then was that the guy was a whole head shorter than him, which was odd, because he’d seemed larger than life when Dazai saw him from afar.
“You work here?”
He knew some people loved humility, while others loved a show off. Dazai decided his strategy should be closer to his true self if he wanted his future husband to fall in love with him.
“I’m the owner, actually,” he replied. Then, he offered his hand. “Dazai Osamu, at your service. And you are?”
The angel’s face was tainted with skepticism, which he understood.
All the employees were wearing aprons and tags with their names, while Dazai was dressed as any other customer. Maybe he’d been hoping to get laid to either celebrate his success or soften the blow of his failure, and a uniform would’ve gotten in the way.
In the end, the love of his life seemingly decided that Dazai seemed sincere enough and finally shook his hand.
His skin was soft and warm, and the voltage of his touch was high enough to shock Dazai back to life.
“I’m Chuuya.”
Chuuya, Chuuya, Chuuya…
It was a nice name to say over and over again for the rest of his life, Dazai decided.
“Well, Chuuya, what can I get for you?” He asked, making sure to savor every single letter of the name. “Your first drink is on the house.”
Chuuya bit his lip –much to Dazai’s enamourment– and glanced around to check out what others were drinking. It was hard to see in the strobe lights, and most people had plain bottles of beer in their hands anyway, so he ended up shrugging.
“Dunno. Do you have a menu or something?”
“Sorry, but no.” They did, but that would’ve been no fun for Dazai. “I can give you suggestions. What do you usually like to drink?”
“I don’t usually drink,” Chuuya replied. He seemed embarrassed, but Dazai couldn’t understand why. “I like… cocktails, I guess. Or wine.”
“Wine?”
“Too fancy?”
“It’s just not a common request at these gigs,” Dazai explained, although he did, in fact, think it was too fancy of a drink for a regular Friday night. “So, either a cocktail or wine.” He waited for a nod of confirmation. “I’ll see what I can do for you, Chuuya. Be right back!”
Stepping away from Chuuya was, unfortunately, a necessary evil in order to get him a drink worthy of his pretty lips, so Dazai went back to the bar.
Immediately, Oda asked: “You know that guy?”
“I do now,” he replied as he leaned on the counter and glanced at the bottles behind Yosano. He waved until she went to him with a sigh. “Is there any wine around here?”
Ango seemed outraged at the question. “Shouldn’t you know?”
“No, we have no wine,” Yosano replied. Dazai deflated. “Who even asks for wine in a place like this?”
“The love of my life does!” Dazai whined with his hands in his face. “I’m ruined!”
Yosano arched an eyebrow at Oda, who promptly pointed at Chuuya. She stared at him for a moment, no-doubt deciding if he was hot enough or not, and, after what felt like an eternity, conceded.
“I can make a grape-flavored drink for your bougie crush if you shut up for a minute.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Akiko.”
In the meantime, Dazai stretched over the counter and helped himself to some neat whisky in Oda’s empty glass. Yosano only pinched him once before she was shoving a drink in his hand.
“Here.”
He stared down at the contents of the copper mug handed to him. Apart from the mint garnishing the drink, he had no clues about its content.
“What’s this?”
“Does it matter?”
“I want to impress him!”
“Grape Moscow Mule,” Yosano provided. “Get away from my bar.”
“You’ll be my maid of honor!” After such an announcement, he took his and Chuuya’s drinks and went back to said redhead, who was happily nodding along to the music. “A Grape Moscow Mule for Chuuya. We didn’t have wine, sorry.”
“Thank you. How much-?”
“Ah-ah. On the house, remember?”
“Were you serious?”
“Dead.” With that confirmation, Chuuya finally took a sip of his drink. Dazai mentally pat himself on the back for a job well done when he went for a second, longer sip right away. “Can I get you anything else? We have cherries, do you want cherries? Peanuts?”
“I’m fine.”
“Do you want to sit?”
Chuuya shook his head. “Thanks, though.”
Whatever song the band was playing then came to an end, and Chuuya clapped awkwardly for a moment before Dazai held his drink for him so he could clap and cheer to his heart’s content without struggle.
Only then, when Chuuya reached for his drink again and saw the reflection of the moon in a piece of ice did he finally realize the view he had of the night sky.
Dazai got a front row view of the awe in Chuuya’s face when he stared up at the sky as the next song began, and those eyes drank up the stars and the moon like it was the first time they ever got to witness such wonders.
“This place is pretty cool,” Chuuya muttered, still staring up.
“Why, thank you, Chuuya!” Dazai replied, barely resisting the urge to do a little victory dance. “It’s our opening night, so we’re happy to hear customer opinions.”
Chuuya looked at him with a smirk, taking the bait. “The owner is annoying. And the place is pretty hard to find.”
“Mean,” Dazai pouted. “And that is intentional, mon petite Chuuya;” he ignored the scowl that comment got him; “we don’t want this place crowded by curious wanderers while the ones actually interested in the music are left out.”
Chuuya stared at him for a moment, as if trying to figure out what his thoughts on the subject were. “Pretentious, but I guess that makes sense.”
“Speaking of, how did Chuuya end up in a place like this?” Dazai asked. He’d make sure that whoever was behind their fated encounter had an invite to their wedding. “He’s too fancy. He should be at the opera.”
Chuuya laughed. Music to Dazai’s ears. “My friend’s in the band, asshole.”
“Oh, who are they?”
“The bassist, Tachihara. We work together.”
Dazai didn’t care for Tachihara, but he did care for Chuuya –very much so–, so he searched through his memories in case his job had been mentioned at any point in the very few and brief conversations they’ve had since Kouyou introduced them.
“A café, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m glad you could make it.”
“Me too. I can’t remember when the last time I went out was.”
“You don’t like going out?”
That wouldn’t have been a dealbreaker for Dazai, but maybe it would’ve been for Chuuya.
It’s not like Dazai was a party animal, but he preferred keeping himself busy, and since only the company of other people did the trick for him, that resulted in his being out and about more often than he was at home. And if Chuuya had a problem with that…
Well, Dazai would’ve made concessions, but it would’ve been quite the change from his current lifestyle.
“I don’t mind it,” Chuuya explained, “but my boyfriend prefers staying in, and I don’t like going out on my own, so…”
The music didn’t stop, but it may as well have. It felt like the entire world came to a halt, like there was a record scratch and Dazai’s heart that had just started beating again flatlined for the last time.
Of course the closest thing to an angel Dazai had ever encountered was in a relationship. He could never have something as precious and perfect as Chuuya, what was he thinking? In what universe did he ever get what he wanted, if it couldn’t be bought by money?
Despite his ongoing internal crisis, Dazai took in the new information gracefully. “Well, you’re always welcome here. You won’t be on your own.”
Chuuya looked him dead in the eye, then, and Dazai felt awkwardly exposed, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.
Then, Chuuya gave him the sweetest smile. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
The band announced a short break, then, and Dazai realized, with only a bit of bitterness, that their conversation would sooner or later be interrupted by Chuuya’s friend.
Sure enough, after only a minute, here was Tachihara.
“Chuuya!” He hugged his friend close with a huge smile on his face. “I’m glad you came! What do you think so far?” he asked, once he stepped away. “Pretty good, uh?”
Dazai searched for the rest of the band, and he found them buying themselves some beers at the bar. Well, it seemed like the old man was buying while the rest sucked up his generosity with little remorse. He decided he liked them.
Jury was still out on their bassist.
“My second-hand embarrassment isn’t too bad,” Chuuya replied, though the poorly suppressed smile on his face gave his true feelings away.
Tachihara threw his head back as he barked out a laugh. “Thanks, buddy. Oh, Dazai-san.” He retrieved his hand as it was reaching to ruffle Chuuya’s hair. “You two know each other?”
“Yup!”
“No. He’s been pestering me since I walked in,” Chuuya clarified.
Tachihara frowned.
“What can I say? I care about customer experience,” Dazai excused, before the guy could say something that would make his very innocent actions seem suspicious.
“Dude, I thought you were lying when you said you’d come,” Tachihara said, focusing back on Chuuya. “You never go anywhere! And don’t even say you’re busy, I know you just go home and wait for the mister all afternoon.”
Chuuya briefly glanced at Dazai and downed the rest of his drink until the ice clinked against his teeth. “Maybe I just hate you.”
“Nah, you love me!”
Near the bar, the vocalist –a short girl with long, cherry red hair– called: “Tachihara!”
“Oops, gotta go.” With that, he hugged Chuuya again. “Thanks for coming, man!”
Tachihara walked away –well, ran , as the rest of the band were already getting ready on stage–, and then it was just Dazai and Chuuya. The air had turned awkward.
“Can I get you another drink?” Dazai offered.
As if he’d forgotten he’d finished it, Chuuya glanced at his empty cup. “I don’t-” He froze. Then, with his free hand, he took his phone out of his pocket and stared at the screen. “Shit. Sorry, I have to go.”
Dazai took the empty cup from him. Something about the sudden change in Chuuya’s mood seemed off to him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah, just- I work early mornings, you know?”
Chuuya went up to the bar, and Dazai followed him, confused. He set the empty cup on the counter, along with his forgotten drink, and Chuuya took the opportunity to place some money on the tip jar.
Dazai couldn’t see the exact amount, but something told him it was more than enough to cover his drink.
“Let me call you a cab,” he offered.
“You don’t have to.”
“I insist.” Chuuya seemed ready to refuse, but the screen of his phone lit up with a call –Dazai couldn’t see the contact name–, and he finally nodded. “Come on.”
He guided Chuuya out the bar and down the stairs, and once they were outside, he called a taxi. Beside him, Chuuya kept checking his phone.
“So… did you enjoy yourself?”
It seemed like he did, for a while, but the way he abruptly called it a night threw Dazai off balance. He hoped it wasn’t something in the drink, or worse, something he said or did.
Shit, maybe he’d been too forward? He was used to flirting shamelessly with whoever caught his interest, and he did try to tone it down when he found out Chuuya was in a relationship, but maybe it was still too much.
He never meant to make Chuuya uncomfortable.
“It was fun,” Chuuya replied. He seemed sincere enough, luckily. Dazai still felt uneasy. “I wish I could’ve stayed longer.”
“Me too,” Dazai said. As if mocking him with their uncharacteristic efficiency, a taxi pulled up the street right then. He wished they could’ve kept talking for ages, but he still opened the backseat door for Chuuya. “Well, you know where to find me if you want to have fun some other time.”
Chuuya smiled at him, then exchanged brief goodbyes with the Akutagawa’s. Dazai told himself he’d ask how they knew each other later.
Their shoulders brushed when Chuuya walked past him to get in the car.
“Goodnight.”
Dazai felt like screaming, but he still managed a civil response. “Sweet dreams, Chuuya~”
Then, he closed the door, and the taxi drove his soul away.
He waited until the car turned a corner to slam his head against the nearest wall.
“Dazai-san?!”
“I need to jump off a cliff.”