Dazai Angst Oneshots

Does the wind whisper about me still?

The bar was objectively empty, a quiet buzz of the few conversations around the rather small space and the smell of a slow, Thursday afternoon filling the air. It was quiet. Peaceful. And it was also a bit lonely to sit on a stool by the counter, as far from the door as possible, sipping on a glass of an overpriced, yet rather delightful wine. That's alright, Chuuya was alone most often than not either way. He was better off on his own, or so he liked to think. Chin propped up on one hand, eyes half closed, he idly spun the delicate, polished glass in his hand, watching the velvety red liquid swirl around with disinterest.

Just as he put the glass to his lips, wanting to take yet another sip, someone sat right next to him. He ignored whoever decided to bother him, shrugging it off, thinking someone just decided to be a menace and take the nearest seat, despite all of the other ones being free. He turned his face towards the opposite wall and finally took a sip of his drink, swirling the liquid around in his mouth and enjoying the tangy taste on his tongue, before swallowing-

"Won't you be a good dog and greet your master?"

He nearly choked on that fuckass wine.

What the hell?!

His head all but swinged around to gape at the fish-faced asshole sitting right-fucking-next to him. The bastard just showed him that usual, ugly, lazy smile of his.

"What the shit? What the hell are you doing here?!" He nearly yelled as he finally got his ability to speak back. And that fuckface had the audacity to chuckle.

Dazai grinned cheekily, "As a good owner I must check on my doggie to make sure he's all well!" He said, sounding all proud of himself.

Chuuya scoffed as he returned his attention to the glass in front of him, half empty now.

"'M not your dog, bastard..." he muttered, glaring at the glass as if it was the one that just called him a dog twice in a row.

He decided to ignore the way dread crept up his spine from a sheer thought of looking into Dazai's eyes.
Yet he was curious all the same.
Would he find the same emptiness in those two pitch dark eyes he has grown used to as a teen? Or would he find a sparkle of hope, a sparkle of happiness he deep down knew the other deserved?
Either option would piss him off. Dazai in general pisses him off. For example, right now he's pissing him off by waving that mummy ass hand in front of his face, making him look like a brainless fucking idiot.

...Oh.

"Chuuuuyaa... Anyone home??" The brunet asked exasperated, frowning.

What was he even supposed to say? Oh yes I just zoned out thinking about how seeing a newfound glint of happiness in your eyes would make me glad but at the same time how seeing none at all would make me feel reassured? Yeah, as if. "Fuck off."

That seemed to pry the fish away from him as he smiled contently and leaned back in his seat, waving for the bartender. He ordered a glass of pure whiskey with ice, his usual easiness blooming. Chuuya envied it in a way.
...He wasn't going to unpack that right now, not after a tiring day of work.

They sat in silence after that. It wasn't uncomfortable, just contemplative. both of them somewhat drowning in their respective thoughts. Both of their respective thoughts swirling around the other.

"Do you miss me sometimes?" Dazai's voice cut through the silence as he placed his glass down, and suddenly everything around them quieted down, drifted further away.
The question hung heavy between them.

Chuuya swallowed, hard, as a bitter smile graced his lips. The silence seemed to stretch out as the other waited for his answer. He let it go on for a little bit more, tracing the edge of his wine glass with the tip of his index finger.

"Sometimes." He said with a shrug, as if he wasn't getting torn apart from the inside.
But that's how it always was with Dazai. The guy tore little pieces of him off and off as if he was a dirty, crumpled piece of paper, until the only thing left of him were the shreds on the floor, and then somehow glued him back together, the thorns and wrinkles a little more visible than the last time. Over and over again.
He mentally shook his head and took a sip of his wine, focusing on the slight burn in his throat. Maybe it was the alcohol in his blood, or maybe he really just wanted a moment of honesty with the man he once trusted the most in the entire universe. He still did.
"I got used to it, you know," His voice shook slightly as he placed the glass down, "That you're no longer my partner."

Dazai stared straight ahead, refusing to look at Chuuya as he listened. He already knew what kind of expression he'd find on the other's face either way, he was familiar with practically all of him.
The detective hesitated as he weighed his options. He always carefully crafted every single move he made; there was no place for vulnerability. Yet at the same time, his partner was always an open book and Dazai decided that maybe it would be alright to be honest with him sometime too. He poked the ice in his glass around as he spoke, "Do you blame me for leaving like that?"

Chuuya felt like an ice bucket just got dumped onto his head.

Did he blame Dazai?

Yeah. No, not really. Maybe.
Rationally, he couldn't. It wasn't his fault anyways. Chuuya would want out if he was in Dazai's shoes too. He also knew that any type of interactions after his defection could potentially lead to Boss suspecting him to be a traitor, so Dazai couldn't really find a way to tell him that he's even leaving.

On the other side though, his heart was screaming at him that he could've at least told him. Could've reached out sooner. Could've at least proposed the idea of leaving together. Could've fucking told him.
Dazai was the one who destroyed his life to bring him into the mafia, then destroyed him yet again by leaving with no explanation. Not a single trace where he went.

Still, he wasn't foolish, so he let the corners of his mouth drift upwards, though not without a bitter aftertaste.
"Blame you? The only person I could blame is Boss, for not giving me another partner. That workload gets on my ass sometimes." He said with a grin, or maybe even a small chuckle, looking anywhere but the pretty brunet next to him. Or, well, by anywhere he meant keeping his gaze straight fucking ahead as if his life depended on it. Maybe it did feel like it did.

Dazai didn't laugh with him. It almost felt like he was feeling some guilt and remorse, but Chuuya knew better than to fool himself with a sparkle of hope. Dazai was cold. Always calculating, always making plans. Not a single step of his wasn't thought through. Not a single breath he took wasn't calculated with precision. His brain never took a break, no matter where he was. There is no place for guilt in such a brain.

Still, as he watched him swallow thickly around the lump in his throat, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there is. Maybe there is no place for guilt in Dazai, but maybe it's different for Osamu.
He watched as Osamu downed his whiskey in one go, putting the glass back on the counter with a little bit too much force, then stood up.

The sparkle of hope he promised he wouldn't fool himself with quickly went out as he watched him walk away, bandaged hands deep in the pockets of his beige coat.

And there he was, pieces of his soul scattered across the floor once again. That's alright though, Dazai would once again glue him back together the next time they got sent on a mission together. They'd act like nothing happened, like there's nothing between them, like there never was anything between them. They'll go back to throwing endless insults at each other, to pointless fights over shoes and bandages. And then Dazai will leave again.

They'll forget eventually.

word count: 1382

A/N

hi...heh... hey guys...

im considering going ao3 only what do we think
EDIT: i forgot to add that this is based on a convo that i had w my mom, some of the dialogues are 1:1 what we both said but translated into english, sorry if its occ but tbh this whole book is occ so...