Chapter Text
Chuuya Nakahara let out a long, exasperated sigh.
For how long did that candy-sucker brat, Ranpo, want him to stay helplessly chained up here in this stuffy mafia basement?
The air was damp, stuffy, but also familiar. It smelled of nicotine and ash, as expected. To be fair, he was sure his room smelled the exact same.
It was already embarrassing enough to let himself be captured by that petite little girl. Kyouka, was it? Probably way too young to be involved with something corrupt like the mafia, but who was he to talk?
A quiet scoff escaped his lips. Funny, here he was, back to the cold home – if he could even call it that – he had lived in for years.
He could easily break out of these light chains with or without his ability; however, he had bills to pay and tea to drink. He supposed one thing he might’ve missed was the generous pay you get for being an executive.
His stomach grumbled, synchronizing with the sound of imaginary seconds ticking by. Actually, being a bratty candy-sucker sounded so much better than being locked up here right now.
Does here mean seeing familiar faces? Suddenly, anything but being bound up with the cold iron chains sounded better. Yes, even when the agency decided to put Root Beer in his tea. That— was something he preferred not to experience again.
Light footsteps echoed through the hollow room, seemingly cautious to disturb the captured Chuuya Nakahara.
He wasn’t that intimidating, was he?
The shadow drew a figure of posture and stillness. That rings a bell; although, he would’ve much rather faced someone whom he didn’t spend years training. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t feel guilty for abruptly leaving the mafia, but that can be a problem for later.
“Chuuya–san.” The young man halted with his shuffles, stopping at a respectable distance.
Chuuya didn’t bother raising his head up until then. How long has it been? Four years? Four years.
A grimace bloomed subtly across Chuuya’s face seeing the familiar face. A sudden, dashing shadow-like substance adorned by its red highlights snapped towards him, clamping with impact around his neck. The chains rattled, but Chuuya could tell, despite his murderous gaze, Akutagawa had no intention of spilling any of his guts.
Even though Chuuya didn’t flinch, he could tell it was precise. It was fast. It seemed like Akutagawa had been learning well since the last time he saw him.
“Akutagawa.” He nodded with strain in acknowledgement at the kid, his eyes looking anywhere except for the subtly longing boy standing diligently before him.
It was awkward considering the fact that they haven’t seen each other in years. The chains rattled slightly as he tried shifting ever so slightly, but the grip Akutagawa had on him was more aggressive than Chuuya remembered.
“You…” Akutagawa gritted his teeth, increasing the pressure around Chuuya’s neck (probably leaving a mark by now), “left...” His eyes flicked to Chuuya’s face, observing any reaction that he may have received.
“You know– I hoped something you fixed would’ve been that petulant mumbling you have,” Chuuya responded smoothly. Not even realizing the nearly imperceptible disappointment that blossomed across the boy’s face. “You’re right, I did, didn’t I?”
Akutagawa finally loosened the material around the ginger's neck when vibrations rang loudly in the humid and empty basement. The sound of a phone flipping open was soon followed by the glow of light reflecting off the boy’s face as he answered the incoming call.
“Understood. I’ll be there shortly,” Akutagawa grumbled curtly, elegantly shutting his phone off with a snap. Before leaving, he took one final look at the chained-up Chuuya, and then he disappeared just as quickly as he had arrived.
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It didn’t even take an hour (or at least what he predicted to be approximately 40 minutes) for his long-awaited dread to make its entrance.
That cocky grin and those calculating eyes.
He hated them.
He hated how they seemed to live rent-free in his eyes and mind. More than he’d ever admit. Just like parasites buzzing and crawling in and out. In out, then in and out again.
They reminded him of everything he tried so hard to leave behind him, but then again, was it really parasites? What if they were moths, blindly attracted to the light?
Well, he did what he did, so it’s purely up to himself to deal with the consequences. He’d get over it someday.
Chuuya didn’t look up immediately. He didn’t need to. Even the air around him seemed to chant his name under a hushed voice.
“Geez. What a wonderful sight this is~ If it isn’t my one and only partner!” Dazai teased, playfully tugging at Chuuya’s chains. His mocking voice toying with Chuuya’s nerves. It was as if he never left.
Chubby’s eye twitched. This was the sole reason he didn’t want to do this mission. He would rather die. That sounded much like Dazai’s insistent suicidal ideation.
“Oi– Back off, bastard. It’s ex-partner to you. God,” he groaned, “who could be a more insufferable, piece of shit human than you?”
“Hmm…” Dazai put his finger to his chin, pretending to be in deep thought. “You’d be the perfect contestant.”
An awkward silence fell over the both of them. They both had so much to say, but too much ego to be the first.
Instead, a long stare fell between the two of them. One that seemed to say so much more than their words could ever. Dazai tapped his foot to a rhythm none of them could hear.
It sounded like the beating of his heart.
No.
His heart? He doesn’t have a–
What was he doing?
He was over everything in the past. He promised himself he’d stop thinking like that.
He snapped back to reality, noticing the frail silence between them still wasn’t lifted. The only other thing he hated more than that freak was awkward silences. He didn’t want to admit it, but he would prefer their chaotic banter over crickets.
“Is this your crafty invention?” Chuuya eyed the chains, grumbling, “Nothing beats some ability canceling chains than the actual ability canceler himself.”
“Oh, please, no need to flatter me. I’m sure you could break out of those chains with or without your ability.” Dazai responded shortly after, spinning the keys around on his finger.
As if on cue, Chuuya smashed into the pillar behind him with his elbow, causing it to crumble, and so when the foundation for the chains was broken to bits, Chuuya could finally lower his arms from that dreadful position.
"Do you mind?" Chuuya said, irritation clear as day in his voice, holding up the dangling chains. However, Dazai just looked around, pretending to be completely clueless of what Chuuya was requesting.
Chuuya's patience was running out quickly. Why did Ranpo even think he was fit for this horrid job? He was supposed to find out about the bounty on that tiger boy. He didn't think it'd turn into this, "The keys."
"Oh! These?" Dazai cowered, but Chuuya knew damn well how much he was snickering on the inside, "Well... you know. I might get in trouble if I hand it to you, don't you think 'Chuuya-kun'?"
Chuuya froze, caught off guard. He never wanted to hear his name in that horrible tone again. A wave of pure disgust passed through his body. It was a sticky, corroding honey he could never wash off his skin because even now, he’ll never be able to repay him.
Chuuya gritted his teeth, the action loud enough for even Dazai to pick it up. “You’re fucking horrible.”
Dazai didn’t even flinch when Chuuya stepped closer.
Chuuya’s hand twitched. There was something about his annoying face that just seemed to draw him in every time. A rope he felt like he needed to grab – even if it led nowhere.
In a flash, Chuuya already had Dazai pinned to the ground, landing with a grunt. Even then, all Dazai did was poke fun at him with his petty voice. That fucking petty voice of his.“Oh my Chuuya, you never change, do you? You’re still as violent as ever.”
Chuuya didn’t even need to say it. Dazai was already holding his hands up in an infuriatingly mocking surrender, dangling the keys from his fingers tauntingly.
“Just give me the fucking keys,” he said, snatching it away from his grasp angrily.
He gave his wrists a couple of rubs, twists, and spins. He spun around, staring straight into Dazai’s eyes instead of turning away.
They’ve been partners, rivals, friends, colleagues, maybe even family. Dazai was right; maybe he hadn’t changed, but he knew for sure he did.
No. It wasn’t the extra inches that bastard grew over the four years, or the fact that his eyes stared at him differently.
Why couldn’t he figure it out? Since when was there ever anything he couldn’t unscramble about Dazai?
“Mori wanted me to ask you if you wanted to come back to the Mafia–”
“No. Tell him I said no.” Chuuya replied before Dazai could even take a breath.
Dazai let out a long, comical sigh. “You know, you could make my job a lot easier since I’m supposed to convince you with my ‘best efforts,’ quoted Mori.”
Chuuya kicked at a tiny pebble, causing it to crumble and turn into even tinier pebbles in its path. “What, you’re Mori’s dog now or something? Since when did you lick at his shoes?” He scoffed, voice laced with bitterness.
“Did a bug eat away at your memory or something? You think Mori would leave an empty right-hand man spot?” Dazai bit back at Chuuya jokingly.
‘What– you mean that you’re..?” Chuuya felt genuinely shocked. He thought that Mori would simply leave that spot open forever. Not that Chuuya wanted to go back, but simply that Mori was delusional enough in hopes of Chuuya returning, like a stray dog finding its way back to its owner.
He couldn’t help the bubble of guilt that grew in his stomach for Dazai; however, it burst just as quickly as Dazai could go without trying to frustrate Chuuya.
“Nope! Thanks for your concern,” he said, winking, “but you could say I’m more of his left-hand man. He complains to me daily how much he wishes you would come back, keeps telling me how violent and cold you were back then, not to mention what a nice rabid dog he had.” Dazai paused for a couple of moments, letting out one of those smirks Chuuya hated with all his heart, “Are you really going to stay on top of me like this? I don't mind, but… someone might get the wrong idea.”
A sharp kick made contact square at his stomach as Chuuya quickly stood up again, sending Dazai flying against the wall. A splatter of crimson blood coughed up from Dazai’s lips while he rolled over, continuing to cough.
Debris crumbled down from the area Dazai collided with. That kick wasn’t exactly meant to be friendly.
And there was Chuuya, just innocently dusting off his hands in the corner of Dazai’s vision, “And now you have an excuse for Mori. I don’t want to hear anything more from that annoying mouth of yours. My final answer will be and always be no. Tell Mori-san to fuck off.”