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Another bottle was thrown at the wall, the contents of the bottle eventually dripping onto the floor.
Glass shards had dug themselves into the wall. It was a pitiful sight, one he believed he would never see from his own hand a few months ago.
Yet here he is.
Dirty plates piled up on the kitchen side, overflowing trash, glass shards from broken wine bottles scattered over the floor and a box shoved in the corner of the room containing items that didn't belong to him.
A box he swore to burn so long ago and every night since.
Yet it was still here, unmoving as if it were mocking him for not having the guts to do what he swears he will do every night.
Just thinking of burning the box brought tears to Chuuyas eyes yet looking it brought just as many tears.
There was no winning wether Dazai was here or not.
Chuuya couldn't even open the bathroom cabinet stocked with first aid supplies that were there for Dazai. For Dazai after a mission. For Dazai when Dazai arrived at his doorstep in the early hours of the morning.
They were always there for Dazai.
Constantly stocked.
And it will probably stay that way till Chuuya dies. Despite the hatred he held for Dazai and the suffering the man had caused him, he will always hold out hope for Dazais return.
It's what Dazai did for Chuuya when he was lost for days in the aftermath of corruption.
It's what Dazai did when Chuuya couldn't even hold himself up anymore after the death of his friends.
Why shouldn't he do the same?
Chuuya curled up on his couch, placing another glass of wine down on the coffee table infront of him in the early hours of the morning.
The curtains were drawn and there was no lights besides whatever light the moon provided managed to break through.
He dragged his hands through his hair, now greasy from the lack of care he had been giving it.
It always felt nicer when Dazai brushed him hand through his hair.
His eyes landed on a picture lying next to the TV, a piece of cloth covering the image yet the words etched into the bottom of the frame with a knife were still visible.
Our first date
It read.
Chuuya knew the picture underneath the cloth, a picture of both him and Dazai outside the arcade in Suribachi city, arms around each others shoulders.
A cloudy sky behind them.
Dazais joyful laugh as the shutter snapped.
His own glare towards Dazai.
The broken machine from inside the arcade that could just barely be seen behind them through the store window.
The poor man they managed to pay to snap as many photos of them as they could do they could 'Catch their good side'.
He remembered it all.
He even remembered them both printing the same, identical photos and framing them.
He even remember etching Our first date in his scrawly hand writing into Dazais frame and Dazai doing the same to his.
Did Dazai still have the frame?
Or when he blew up his car and left without a trace symbolise he wanted nothing to do with him anymore?
Chuuya wouldn't blame him.
He couldn't.
Dazai truly wanted something for himself and who was Chuuya to hold him back?
Chuuya will do anything to make sure Dazai keeps his freedom.
Even if one day Dazai returns.
Chuuya won't let him.
He doesn't deserve that.
And Chuuya doesn't think he could handle it.