Love & War (Soukoku and Fyoya)

Which Chuuya Meets Fyodor

(I've been grounded for like a month but luckily I was able to finish this chapter b4 I had to give up my devices 😋)

Chuuya wakes up the following morning and the memories fall onto his heart. Why did he react like that? He could have just told Dazai he loved him too. Chuuya was one who said "screw the bet"- he had nothing on the line by saying it.

Chuuya had messages from Akutagawa, Kouyou, and Tachihara waiting for him. When Chuuya slept until the afternoon, what did he expect?

Mori had given Chuuya a few days off for recovery. Originally, Chuuya had not planned on using them. However, he changed his mind last night. Chuuya waited for some message from Dazai, but got none. It was startling. Surely, Dazai would contact him soon? Even with his outburst, Chuuya thought he still deserved that much.

Chuuya decided that he would not dwell on it. He would go get drunk and release the tension. Chuuya could get his mind off the situation, even if he kept replaying those few moments in his head.

Chuuya messaged Tachihara- aside from Dazai, Tachihara had always been the most preferable drinking partner. Tachihara almost immediately replied, agreeing that drinks would be fun.

Two hours later, Tachihara and Chuuya met up at Bar Lupin. Tachihara knew this bar, and that Chuuya always chose this bar whenever he was thinking about Dazai- however, Tachihara said nothing.

"I am glad you reached out," Tachihara said. "Everyone was becoming worried."

"Do not worry about me," Chuuya chided. "I am fine!"

"Well, you invited me drinking," Tachihara reminded him. "At three in the afternoon."

Chuuya felt ashamed. He is so obvious that it feels embarrassing.

"I know," Chuuya replied. "I am sorry."

"No, I am always up for getting drunk," Tachihara said. "But using drinking as an escape route is kind of lame."

"Okay, Tachihara," Chuuya snapped. "Then what should do I? What can I say? How can is stop feeling this way?"

"What way?"

Just then, Chuuya remembered that Tachihara did not know about any of this. Nobody in the Port Mafia had any clue- well, expect for maybe Kouyou. Not even she knew the full details. Chuuya spilled everything, burying his face in palms.

Tachihara simply massaged his back like Kouyou would have. It felt tense and awkward.

"Well," Tachihara said, "you cannot erase the past." He paused before continuing. "However, you can move forward. Find someone else. Perhaps you can even begin here."

It was a reasonable suggestion. So why did it feel like betrayal?

"I am slowly going insane," Chuuya muttered into his hands, resulting in a chuckle from Tachihara.

Everyone in the Port Mafia had been flabbergasted by the partnership Chuuya and Dazai had once built. Dazai rarely associated with anyone, but he liked Chuuya. People would go insane spending merely five minutes with Dazai, and yet Chuuya did it almost everyday and still had (most of) his sanity in tact. Dazai knew his shit could drive some insane, so he was equally thrilled when Chuuya kept coming back for more. Chuuya was Dazai's renewed hope that something better was coming. Many thought that Chuuya's extraordinary qualities and traits had some correlation with his connection with Arahabaki; for Dazai, it was just Chuuya. Chuuya felt like he was transparent as glass whenever their eyes met, like Dazai could see into his soul. It was honestly terrifying.

Chuuya left the bar, sober; it was an extremely disappointing sight. Tachihara had left and gone home, leaving Chuuya with his thoughts. Chuuya wished that forgetting and forgiving was as simple as Tachihara made it sound.

Suddenly, Chuuya walked directly into someone.

"I am sorry," Chuuya muttered, bowing his head.

"It is okay, I am partly at fault," the man replied.

The man had an European accent- Russian. It was soothing and clear as bells. It was calming and even- Chuuya quickly decided that he liked it. The man was attractive, with thick dark hair that framed his face neatly. Could this be the rebound Tachihara had suggested? Chuuya inhaled and beamed.

"My name is Chuuya Nakahara," Chuuya said. "Pleasure meeting you. What is your name?"

"I am Fyodor Dostoyevsky," Fyodor said. "The pleasure is all mine."

Fyodor seemed nice. Chuuya smiled. Fyodor chatted with Chuuya. Of course, this was apart of the great scheme Fyodor had. This was his way of feeling the waters before diving in. Chuuya seemed kind, the opposite of Dazai- could this truly be Chuuya Nakahara? The vessel of Arahabaki, Dazai'a former partner, the heartless Port Mafia executive?

Fyodor knew it was Chuuya, but it felt like an entirely different person. Some sense of embarrassment made Chuuya extend an invitation- he did feel horrible about the whole situation.

"As an apology," Chuuya continued. "Do you wanna get coffee sometime? My treat?"

Fyodor smiled. "Sure! Sounds enjoyable."

Chuuya and him exchanged numbers, and Fyodor stared at his phone. With something so simple, Fyodor could completely dismantle Chuuya's life.

Chuuya smiled, and warmth filled Fyodor. He ignored it. "It was nice meeting you, Chuuya."

Truth rang in the words as they left Fyodor's mouth. Fyodor did wanna see Chuuya again, because he seemed nice enough- and easily susceptible to manipulation.

Two days later, they met at the same bookshop Dazai and Chuuya had visited. Immediately, Fyodor noticed that Chuuya was much lovelier up close; Fyodor could see why Dazai had fallen for him. Fyodor and Chuuya spent hours chatting about various topics, and Chuuya paid for their drinks. Fyodor was dumbfounded. He noticed the way Chuuya's head fell back when he laughed, letting the joy fill him, the beauty in those few moments.

Chuuya was perfect: clever, witty, funny, caring- everything people like Dazai and Fyodor needed in their lives. The thought was startlingly. The Demon Fyodor did not think such things. They chatted idly about their love of books and poetry, their common interest. Chuuya's passion felt overwhelming, like a waterfall over rocks. Fyodor let the Chuuya's passion consume him, feeding into it like he had been starved of it for many years. It was utter bliss.

Fyodor told Chuuya about Russia, his family, and his life (he purposely left out the Decay of Angels). Chuuya listened, appearing interested. Everybody only saw Fyodor one of three things: an enemy, an obstacle, or an opportunity. Chuuya was the exception, treating Fyodor like he was worth hearing beyond his strategies and plans, not terrified of him or acting as if every movement Fyodor made set off an alarm. Chuuya cared.

"Do you miss them?" Chuuya asked, sipping idly at his coffee. "Your family, Russia?"

"Yes," Fyodor admitted, the words falling from his lips because he even thought them. "I do miss them."

"What do you miss about them?" Chuuya pressed, and Fyodor looked up. Their eyes met.

"The sense of home."

Or lack thereof. Right now, Chuuya had shown more care for Fyodor and his thoughts and feelings than anyone else ever has- including Fyodor's family. Fyodor was taught that family meant someone cared about you, that you had people who would hear you shout into the void, people who would pull you from the abyss. He never had that.

"Was your family a loving one?" Chuuya continued, that inexplicable interest growing.

Fyodor was baffled and paused before answering, "No," he whispered, looking down into his cup of tea, "no, they were not."

(1172 Words)