𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗞𝗢𝗞𝗨 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗧𝗦

Regret

Chuuya paces around his room, shuddering at the weird feeling in his gut. Something's wrong. Something is very wrong. He  crosses his arms, then he pulls at his hair, the feeling is overwhelming, anxiety-inducing — He had what Kouyou would call 'a sixth sense'— Able to feel if something bad were to happen.

This is the strongest feeling he's had the past four years.

He pulls out his phone and checks out the news, there's nothing major like an earthquake, or a tsunami coming— Or anything as equally bad as that on the latest posts.

Maybe it's a false alarm?

No.

His gut was never wrong, after all.

He checks his messages, maybe Mori has finally gave him the suicide mission where he would die in the heat of battle, using Corruption?

Corruption...

"It's fucking Dazai." He goes and calls Dazai's number and he doesn't pick up. He tries again, again and again. "Fuck. Fuck, shit, shit—" He shuts his phone off and runs outside to where his vehicles are. All of his cars are set on fire, and only his motorcycle remains. Albatross's motorcycle.

But then, the fucking wheels were deflated.

"Fuck!" He runs down the street, heading to the Detective Agency. Nobody was outside since it was two in the morning. He sprints down even faster, finally deciding to use his ability to boost him. He makes it to the building after a good fve minutes, practically kicking in the door.

"Yo, Agency Fuckwads! The fuck is Dazai at?" Everyone turns to look at him, while Dazai's parter is already pulling out a gun and his notebook. "Why are you here, Executive Nakahara? We do not have any missions that are relevant to the Port Mafia. And why do you need Dazai?"

"I have a bad feeling concerning that asshat."Kunikida just continues on with his paperwork.

"..." Chuuya turns to face the other way and his eyes land on the detective. "You, where the fuck is Dazai?"

"How should I know?" He munches on candies from his desk and spins his chair around, stopping at the right time to face away from Chuuya. "Aren't you supposed to be the smartest— greatest fucking detective in the world or some shit? How the hell do you not know where that idiot is?!"

"He can hide his tracks when he wants to, can't be found when he doesn't want to be."

"Do any of you even know where he is?!"

The doctor just shrugs, the boy who Akutagawa has been obsessed with just scratches the back of his head. "Does Dazai have a dorm? A house? Where the fuck is it?" Ranpo points outside to a building near the agency, he grits his teeth.

"You all are fucking useless, God." He slams the door closed, under all the anger he's feeling, he feels worry. Endless possibilities pop up in his head, each one worse than the other. "Don't be stupid, Chuuya. Don't be fucking stupid, that bastard is alive. He's alive." His voice breaks, the thought of Dazai fucking dying—

He doesn't bother knocking on doors, he just breaks them in.

Not one the rooms have Dazai in them.

He's going to fucking scream.

All of his cars on fire, his motorcycle broken, it all reminds him of when Dazai left. "No, no, no, no—" He sprints down to the nearest river, every single bridge but he just isn't there.

Dazai can't leave.

He can't let him leave again.

He's finally reached the light, he can't have him fucking fuck off to God knows where.

He floats up to the highest building of Yokohoma, his eyes widening when he sees a tall figure