Chapter Text
Chuuya yawns to himself, walking down the mostly empty corridors of the Port Mafia’s building. He’s exhausted, having decided to stay late so he could get ahead on some paperwork before his (well fucking deserved) week off.
It was so quiet for four years , but of course as soon as Dazai popped back up everything went to shit. The waste of bandages was like an omen from the first day they fucking met.
Sometimes Chuuya wonders if the universe makes sure he and Dazai, Soukoku , are in each others lives at specific times purely so they can save the fucking day.
He’s tired.
And lowkey grateful Dazai is now training Atsushi and Akutagawa to suffer with them.
“Have a good evening, sir.” A man calls out as Chuuya exits the elevator on the first floor, effectively snapping him out of his thoughts.
“Yeah, you…” A familiar face down the hall captures Chuuya’s attention, “Too…” He mutters, before very calmly walking away from the no name grunt and then darting down the hall to the intruder. “What the actual-? No. Now’s not the time.” Chuuya shoves his hat onto their head, tilting it to obscure their face. “Don’t speak a fucking word until we are at my place.”
There’s a smirk peaking out from under his hat, and Chuuya ignores the implications, praying that this idiot listens.
Luckily they are already close to the exit, so it’s fairly easy to leave the building and get to his motorcycle. He shoves a helmet on the hatted head, holding it in place to keep their face hidden. Neither say anything before Chuuya hops on the bike and drives them to his apartment.
“I can’t believe you put such a disgusting thing on me.” An unnaturally young Dazai groans, removing the hat from his head as if it burns. “I almost took the helmet off and let it fly away on your bike,” He adds as he plops himself on Chuuya’s couch like he owns the place. “You should be grateful.”
“For what? You being smart enough to know you shouldn’t be here?” Chuuya scoffs, picking the hat up off the floor to hang with their coats, his eyes lingering on Dazai’s old black one a little longer than he’s proud of. It’s ashes now, burned by an eighteen year old with vengeance on his mind, yet here it is. On his coat rack. Like it used to be .
He swallows the lump forming in his throat and looks over to the living room from where he’s standing, seeing the teenage Dazai meeting his curious gaze. The two remain silent for a moment, the reality of the situation truly sinking in. Then, in tandem, they both finally ask.
“How old are you?”
Silence again, this time it’s out of pure pettiness on both ends, neither wanting to relent to the other in an oh-so-familiar battle of pride. Finally, accepting his role as the mature adult in the room, Chuuya decides he’ll forfeit.
This time.
“I’m twenty-two,” He answers, looking away from the teen as he grabs two cups of water and walks into the living room, setting them on the coffee table now between them, “Now you.”
Dazai smirks, clearly relishing in his victory as Chuuya contemplates chucking him out the window, “I’m seventeen.” He laughs at the look of disgust that quickly falls on Chuuya’s face.
Seventeen. This fucker was insufferable at seventeen.
Then again, he was equally as insufferable at all other ages. So really no version of him would have been good.
Maybe an infant Dazai, who couldn’t speak. Something told him even as an infant that asshole would manage to learn the word dog for Chuuya purely because fucking with him is so deeply engrained in his soul .
“So you got hit by an ability? How the fuck did that happen?”
“It’s because of you. ” He grumbles, looking away in clear annoyance.
Showing off his red ears.
“Ah, so you were worried about me? You don’t usually,” Chuuya frowns, “I must have been beat pretty bad. Although I don’t remember anything like that when we were seventeen.”
“With the injuries you sustained, you probably had a concussion.” Dazai says, almost quietly, like he’s still worried.
“Well, whatever happened I’m here now so it clearly works out.”
The teen silently scrutinizes him for a moment, like maybe he isn’t his Chuuya, before smirking again. “Obviously he’ll be fine. My dog has to be able to handle at least that much.”
Chuuya can feel his left eye twitch, but decides to drop it for now, “Anyways, if it’s an ability we can probably just wait it out. After all, the current Dazai…is…” His skin begins to crawl when he realizes what he must do next, “I need to check on Dazai.”
Dazai claps from the couch, “There it is! Look how smart you’ve gotten! So much brain activity for a slug!”
He eyes his phone wearily, pointedly drowning out whatever stupid bullshit the seventeen year old Dazai is still prattling on about. They still have each others numbers, sure, and they’ve even talked on the phone a few times when the ADA and Port Mafia decided they needed Soukoku to go deal with various random psychopaths hell bent on leveling Yokohama for one reason or another. Still, the idea of a private conversation outside of all of that felt gross.
“Ooooiiiiiii, Chibiiiii, hurry up and call already!”
Chuuya takes a deep breath and clicks on the Mackerel’s number, readying himself for the absolute bullshit that will be two Dazais.
“So dogs can use phones now, huh? How impressive! Of course with me as your master this should be mere child’s play.”
The asshole is still here.
“Fucking dumbass.” Chuuya lets out a sigh of relief.
Not that he was worried. He just didn’t wanna have to deal with any ramifications of Dazai having not existed past 17.
“I'm quite busy, slug, so if you’re calling to request my help with some new job, please lose my number right now!” Dazai says, his sickeningly sweet tone just further pissing Chuuya off.
“That’s not it, you lazy piece of shit.”
“Then what have I done to deserve the horrible punishment of receiving a phone call from you?”
“Stop fucking around. I can’t tell you over the phone, just get over to my apartment.”
There’s a painfully long moment of silence on the other end.
“Are you in danger?” Dazai asks, voice suddenly lower.
“What? No. Even if I was, I wouldn’t call you.”
Tension fills the silence this time, although Chuuya isn’t entirely sure from what.
“Ohhhh, I see now~! You’re planning a coup to take over the Port Mafia yourself and want my help~! So brave!”
Chuuya uses all his self control to keep from crushing his phone, “I am obviously not doing that you stupid fucking-!”
“Then I don’t understand,” Dazai audibly pouts, “Why would you want me to come to your apartment if it’s not life or death? Unless…” He gasps, “Chuuya! You’re so bold !”
Chuuya clenches his jaw. Keep calm, keep calm, keep calm.
He likes this cellphone.
“To think you’d call me over at the start of your long vacation to confess your undying love for me! Are you planning to use the next week to thoroughly have your way with me? So lewd!”
Chuuya manages to actually spits blood (from accidentally biting the inside of his cheek a little too hard to keep from screaming), the teenager in front of him looking disgustingly impressed, “How the fuck do you know my-? No, forget that. I am not confessing my undying love for you , you piece of shit! The situation isn’t life or death for me, but it is for you, so stop fucking around and get your ass over here!”
“Oh,” Dazai’s immediately sounds bored, “No thanks, I’ll pass.”
Of course that wouldn’t fucking work.
“Dazai,” Chuuya’s voice is now trembling with rage as he tries not to yell and bother his neighbors, “If you do not get over here in the next thirty minutes I am going to find you myself and drag your ass over here!”
Dazai gasps, “Breaking into my apartment and whisking me away in the middle of the night? Whatever will my neighbors think?”
Maybe he should just let Dazai vanish. Would it really be the end of the world?
…
Sadly too many situations from the past year suddenly come to mind and Chuuya must admit that, yeah, it actually just might. If not the world, at least Yokohama.
“Thirty minutes, Dazai.” He warns, “Don’t try to give me any stupid excuses, either. I know you aren’t doing shit and I know you remember where it is since you keep breaking in when I’m not home .” Theres a laugh on the other end of the phone and Chuuya quickly hangs up before staring daggers at the seventeen year old version of the bane of his existence.
“Don’t give me that look,” The teen raises his hands in mock surrender, not even trying to hide the amusement on his face, “ I’m not the one who pissed you off.”
“You will be. ”
“Hmmm,” Seventeen year old Dazai shrugs and leans back on the couch, “I guess that’s true.”
Chuuya suddenly feels the exhaustion he left his office with and plops down on the other end of the couch, ignoring the way pointedly ignoring Dazai blatantly watching his every move.
Why, even on his breaks, does he never get a break?
The answer is ironically always this bastard.
“So, am I on a job? Why am I not here?” The young Dazai asks and Chuuya straightens up in his seat, the color leaving his face.
Fuck.
“Why… would you be here?” Chuuya attempts to counter, like he doesn’t already know .
“We basically live together at seventeen and have for, like, two years. So why wouldn’t I? What changes?”
There’s so much weight to that question that the teen couldn’t possibly understand. Everything changes.
Everything and all on Dazai’s word. Or action, really. It’s not like they discussed him leaving the mafia and avoiding Chuuya for four fucking years.
“We grew the fuck up,” Chuuya spits out more bitterly than he had meant to, ignoring the familiar hollowness forming in his stomach at the memories, “With how we constantly fight, it’s not like we were ever gonna actually live together.”
He would have, though.
There was a time he truly wanted to, and even now there’s a part of him that still does.
The teen seems to deflate a little in his seat and mumbles under his breath, “Why not…?”
It surprises Chuuya a little. Six months into knowing each other they had a…. strange relationship going on. They weren’t a couple or anything, although they were technically ‘exclusive’, no words of affection or anything were shared but they would kiss, which grew into making out and then lead to sex at a certain point.
He chalked it up to hormonal teens giving into urges, especially for Dazai.
If that hadn’t been the case, the asshole wouldn’t have been able to abandon him for four years so easily.
“I can’t tell you what happens in the future, you know. So quit asking shit.” Chuuya groans, and it’s true, so luckily the teen relents.
Still, he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him a little happy to see that at least when he was seventeen he held some value in whatever they had going on.
They fall into an uncomfortable silence and Chuuya is actually relieved to see the present day Dazai suddenly waltz through the door, bobby pin in hand.
“You could have knocked like a normal person!” Chuuya fumes, but his complaints fall of deaf ears as Dazai stands in the entryway, the smirk he entered the apartment having quickly dropped as soon as he saw his younger self, something unreadable taking its place.
“I see.” Dazai mutters, more to himself than anything, and quickly crosses the apartment to touch his younger self and nullify any ability.
None of them are surprised when it doesn’t work.