Baby executive

Chapter 25

Chuuya felt emotions, and when he did he felt them hard. One of the many things that annoyed him yet satisfied the doubt that lingered in the back of his mind because emotions were such a human thing.

Though at the moment, there were far too many feelings to count.

Dazai had left him- actually left him- and he knew for sure because now he was four years into the future with no knowledge of anything except for what he had been told and the constant headache hammering against his skull.

What he had been told was not a lot. Ane-San had been awfully closed-lipped for the past week and Chuuya wanted answers.

He would be sure to pester her more for them later, maybe when he was less hungover because at the moment the whole world was spinning when he tried to crawl out of bed. Because his feelings had been at an all-time high last night thinking about the messed-up situation and that idiot Dazai and the only way it seemed to soothe that was alcohol.

Many people in the Port Mafia had their own coping methods, and Chuuya hadn't truly fallen down the rabbit hole of his own until Dazai left. He had promised himself it would be a one-time thing because he just wanted the voices in his head to leave him alone- and that when Dazai returned everything would go back to normal and he would leave the wine cabinet alone.

Though none of that happened and despite Ane-San's constant (worried) nagging of him to stop the habit before it could turn into an addiction, he just needed a break.

Preferably a year-long one.

Away from everything.

On a secluded tropical island.

Chuuya slipped out of bed and used it to steady him as his socked feet came in contact with the cool floor. He had been taken to a new apartment penthouse because apparently, something had happened to his last one. And really, he could appreciate this one, it was large and fit his taste, but it felt empty. Impersonal.

"Ugh, stupid idiot," he grumbled to himself as he stumbled to the medicine cabinet. He just needed this ordeal to be over with already so he would stop having conflicting feelings and go back to cursing out Dazai for leaving him.

Of course, his sober thoughts brought him back to the very topic he had been trying so hard to avoid.

Dazai.

Chuuya was pissed at him and incredibly so. Anytime he even thought about the bandaged bastard he saw red and earned a few new holes in his wall to cover up with fancy paintings. As if the boiling rage wasn't enough, he was confused and... slightly resigned.

Because four years into the future, and Chuuya didn't even recognize him. He had ditched the Mafia attire for warmer colors. He had his whole face on display. His eyes were no longer ones of a dead fish (hence the nickname mackerel.) He looked... Healthier.

He got out and Chuuya couldn't be mad at the fact forever.

Opening the cap to the bottle and throwing his head back to take three of the pills, Chuuya sighed and set his heavy head down on the cool countertops. It was obsidian in color just as his last ones were, but there were no pictures or trinkets, things that gave humanity to a house.

Chuuya wanted to throw up.

Over the past week he hadn't done much, he was antsy and needed to get out and do something. Chuuya was surprised with himself for how patient he had been but this morning was it for him.

He wasn't one to sit around and wait for an opportunity to arise. If he was going to look for information then he would need to do it himself. Because no one was telling him anything, only telling him to call when he was ready to rejoin missions.