smallchildyue - Tumblr blog

smallchildyue · 2 years ago

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Happy birthday to that one bandaged mackerel.

No fanart for him since, like last year, I wrote a thing. Technically a direct follow-up to the first piece, but now with more angst. This is chapter 1 out of 4 (5 with the planned epilogue). Enjoy !

Still available on Ao3 and Wattpad for the fr translation.

Chūya had been staring at his glass for about fifteen minutes now. Or, rather, that’s what anyone would have guessed, but his blurry gaze didn’t entirely discern his surroundings and had instead gotten lost on an imaginary point. Somewhere far away, probably. Trying to focus on his drink, he took a moment to remember how many of those he’d already had. He started counting- one, two… Damn, what came after that ? For hell’s sake, he was totally hammered, and it was only… Huh, what time was it ? He glanced at the clock on the wall left to him, but the hands wouldn’t stay still for some reason. He let his head fall into the crook of his arm, sprawling on the wooden counter while his fingers flicked the glass in a chime that echoed in his ears.

He felt the barman’s unimpressed gaze on him. Whatever, the man must have been used to it by now. After a bit, some noise in the back caught both of their attention. He straightened up on his stool as the server lifted his eyes towards the door at the other side of the room.

- Welcome, the barman said, to a new customer probably.

His attention went back to his drink. He made the wine twirl, just enough to appreciate the nice, deep red trace that flowed on the glass, and took a sip. Now that, that was the real life. Nothing better than fragrant alcohol after a long day of work.

Day… Hum.

His memory suddenly clouded with reminders of today’s date and it brutally sobered him up. The glass in his hand almost shattered, but miraculously only got a single crack near its top. Instead, he gritted his teeth. This bar was one of the few that still accepted him, he couldn’t get kicked out of it as well. All thanks to that bastard, really. Of course it was because of him, it was always because of him. No matter what he did, no matter where he went, it was like his shadow always stood nearby, mocking him all the time. Always, always, always.

He took a sharp inhale, hoping the breath would somehow stop the rage that progressed in his veins like liquid fire, but the air around him felt hot, and sticky, and heavy. He knew about heavy, gravity being his thing and all, but this… He hated it. So instead, he tried to swallow the fury along his last gulps of wine. He forced himself to focus on the fruity notes and the cooling feel it left in his throat, and not on how much he wanted to wreck the place, to burn everything to the ground and let it all disappear into ashes and oblivion as chaos engulfed the world.

But no, he would explode later, in the privacy of his room. So he pushed it all away, just like he slid his glass towards the barman to get another drink. While it happened, he knew he had to steer those thoughts away or he’d seriously go insane at this rate ; he occupied his mind by glancing at the people behind him.

The bar was almost empty, and oddly quiet. Well, not that oddly. The Lupin wasn’t that famous outside of the Port Mafia, and after the fair amount of fights he’d gotten in while drunk, his fellows had learnt to avoid it when Chūya went there. A few people sat at the back tables, most of them as alone as himself, and someone else shared the counter with him, although at the opposite end of it. Chūya side-eyed him - his judgment wasn’t yet clouded enough that he’d blatantly stare at a stranger. It was a man, clad in black shirt and suit pants, and although he couldn’t really tell since he was sitting, seemingly tall and focused on the phone in his hand. He had a whiskey glass in front of him - oh . Blood pumped in his ears, deafening in the bar’s silence. He raised his eyes, stopping on auburn hair, almost as red as his own. He blinked.

The man’s hair wasn’t auburn, but a simple, dimmer brown. Light had pulled tricks on him, he guessed. Of course. A quiet thud next to him caught his attention. The bartender had refilled his drink, and he took the glass, twirling it between his fingers for a bit before taking a sip.

The doorbell rang. Hours passed, people left, people came, and he stayed here, drinking.

(And if one of those people happened to be his ex-partner, well… He’d pretend he hadn’t noticed him, nor the way he observed him while leaning back on the wall as Chūya couldn’t help but mumbling a certain song ; nor the way his face had hardened after it ; nor the way he had left without looking back.

He ordered another drink, a stronger one, and he kept drinking.)

It had been a few hours since Osamu had gone to the Lupin for the first time this evening. It must have been quite late in the night, by now, and the streets were even emptier than before, the few people that still roamed around swaying or collapsed against the walls in all their drunken glory. In the background, the sounds of the city still pierced the silence, however. He could hear car honking somewhere quite far away, as well as the faint clamor of the more active blocks of Yokohama, where night clubs and popular attractions were. Despite the late hour, the air still felt warm, almost too hot under his coat and bandages. Well, it was already summer, after all… Many people’s favorite season, something he had never tried to understand.

Finally, he arrived at his destination. As always, and as he’d done a few hours prior, he avoided the hanging chimes on the doorway, and its pleasant noise reminiscing of too many things. The old bartender greeted him once more, with the same one word. He stopped next to the entrance, checking the counter. Chūya was still in the same spot, laying down on the wooden surface in a position, which, frankly, defied all physics. How he hadn’t fallen off the stool yet was a mystery, one that never failed to make him scoff in amusement. There was no glass in front of him anymore, his last drink of the night probably picked up by the bartender a while ago. That was his cue, the sign that his slug had now properly passed out.

He came closer, checking around the lethargic silhouette for belongings. His jacket had fallen on the tiles just like his upside-down hat ; a cigarette pack, that he recognized as his favorite brand, rested next to Chūya’s metallic lighter and ginger hair. He gathered everything, securing the lighter in the jacket’s pocket where Chūya’s mobile phone and keys already were, but keeping the cigarettes for himself.

The payment has been received, thank you for using our services~, Osamu mentally sing-sung (the payment being Chibikko’s annoyance, he had never really smoked).

- It has been quite some time, the bartender stated, surprising him.

- Is that so ? he answered with a half-smile, nonetheless.

He couldn’t tell, since he could barely be bothered to keep track of time, but guessed it made sense. The Lupin wasn’t one of Chūya’s preferred pubs, so he rarely had to come to this place. They stayed silent after this, their short conversation already over - the simple fact there’d been one unexpected. They didn’t usually chat when he came by to pick up his slug. After short explanations the first time it had happened, they had fallen into a routine of unasked and unanswered questions. He didn’t need to tell the barman to put tonight’s expenses on Chūya’s tab for him to take care of in the future, as he already knew, so Osamu solely hauled up the short man on his back, struggling just as much as usual, before leaving.

Despite his small frame, Chūya was surprisingly heavy. Well, maybe it was himself who didn’t weigh much, and physical strength wasn’t his main asset. No matter which one it was, the fact remained that carrying him was a pain. His hair was long enough to fall on Osamu’s neck, right above his bandages where it could tickle, and that was without even mentioning the breath he had after a night spent gulping down alcohol. How could someone with such a low tolerance even drink so much ? And now he started to slide down his back, geez. He sighed in annoyance, and lightly shook his head before adjusting his former partner’s position.

Chūya felt the light before seeing it, inducing an immediate headache. He tried to open an eye, but his eyelids felt cemented together by their dryness. Finally, he managed to squeeze them open a bit. Everything was blurry, however, and his field of vision was almost entirely obstructed by some light brown thing his head was resting upon. Fabric ? The light went away so he couldn’t really see, but it felt like fabric, where his cheek rubbed against it. He fought the sluggishness away to make sense of it. He was moving rhythmically, resting against something that pressed against his thighs and the front of his body. It was an oddly familiar, yet long gone feeling.

It feels like… Like being carried, he realized amidst the haze of his mind.

The light came back, and he opened his eyes slightly more while trying to raise his head a little and utterly failing. He grasped sight of something almost black - hair, his fuzzy brain hazarded after some delay - clashing against the light fabric and pale skin. It became dark one more time. But more than anything, it was the smell that rang a bell. He couldn’t have described it in any way, yet he intuitively connected it to someone in particular.

- …a… zai… ? he mumbled, his throat full of needles as he forced out a sound.

Nothing answered him, the only sounds around him being the steady steps underneath and undetermined background noises. Soon enough, those, combined with his body’s light swaying and the warmth of the atmosphere, overcame his confusion and aches all across his limbs and slowly lulled him back to slumber.

The next time Chūya woke up, no pesky light whatsoever came to bother him. Something he was thankful for, really, since his head already hurt enough without it - the customary, yet painful throb of a hangover. He groaned a handful of swears that no one of appropriate manners would recommend to let out in public. Still cursing, he rubbed his eyes and finally conjured the strength to open them. After some time to adjust to the room’s dim lighting, he recognized his bedroom. He was in his bed, tucked under a blanket that felt way too warm and that he quickly kicked away, towards the end of his bed. It landed on top of something dark - ah, his coat, laid neatly on the footboard, and his hat resting on top of it.

He dragged himself towards the window, drawing the curtain to peek outside. Pitch black, it must still have been night. In a moment of startled realization, he checked around him for his phone. He found it in his jacket’s pocket, thankfully, and a glance at his screen confirmed to him that it was close to three in the morning. He had a couple of unanswered texts and a single phone call, but those would wait until actual morning. Sighing, he went back on his bed in hopes of finishing his night.

To no avail, since about an hour later, he still laid on his back, very much awake. No matter what, he couldn’t stop thinking about the previous evening. He didn’t know when and how he’d gotten back home, but well, not the first time this had happened to him so he had brushed it off at first. Somehow, he always found his way back home when he passed out in a bar. However, he had this weird feeling, almost a reminiscence, of this bastard mackerel in a human disguise called Dazai carrying him in the street. Obviously, there was no way this had happened. Even after he’d let go of his pride and asked him to do that after their fight against those two Guild guys, he had left him to snore in the dirt, so to imagine he’d do it spontaneously… Yeah, right. That was just a non-issue. What wasn’t, though, was the dawning realization that he’d imagined, or dreamt of it, or however else this scene had appeared in his mind.

Shit, that’s not good, he grumbled.

He still had one hour and a half until his routine alarm, but didn’t hope to fall asleep by then, so he instead got up. His legs felt a little steadier now, and he desperately craved some cold water to ease his sore throat. Maybe even some fresh air, he thought as he gulped down the water like he hadn’t drank in a week, and maybe going out for a while would allow him to set his mind straight, so after putting his glass in the sink, he grabbed his coat, keys, and left his flat in search of some nice spot in the city. His first thought had been to perch up on top of some building, but he knew better than to use his ability while drunk or hangover -last time had ended up with him plummeting in a fountain, and he wasn’t about to repeat the experience - so he walked towards the docks of Yokohama instead.

Above him, the sky slowly lightened up as the sun rose above the ocean. He spent some time looking at it while the city started to wake up, more engines rumbling in the background and the very first shops starting to open. The fresh air had worked as intended, and he felt a bit less nauseous now, so he quickly jumped above a railing and sat down on a flat rock right next to the water. Fishing up his lighter from his pocket, he patted it for a cigarette, but frowned when he didn’t feel the smooth plastic wrap. He was sure he still had some, though, had he lost them during the night ?

- Damn it. Guess I gotta buy a new pack, he scowled while kicking an innocent pebble into the ocean.

He mechanically played with his lighter for a moment, igniting the flame a couple of times before pocketing it and disgruntledly leaving in hopes of finding an open tobacco store. It wasn’t even five a.m. yet, but well, who knew. Maybe if he was lucky, it wouldn’t take him too long.

So, just like that, his day went by. He had miraculously sobered up enough to avoid both Ane-san’s berating and the Boss’ half-amused, half-sinister gaze by the time of the underbosses meeting. He reported on the last mission, received a new one, and as the morning ended, was eventually dismissed from his duties. Ane-san and him walked down the hallway in silence, as his early morning concerns had fought their way back into his mind once the meeting had ended and nothing occupied him anymore. As such, it took him more time than he’d liked to notice the older woman was staring at him.

- Huh ? Is there something wrong ? he asked, trying as hard as he could not to let his irritation stain the tone with which he spoke to her.

- I’m the one who should be asking that.

She raised an inquisitive eyebrow as he stayed quiet, his face intuitively hardening.

- I’m fine, I guess.

- So are you going to pretend you didn’t excessively drink yesterday, once again ?

- Wh- Urgh, goddamnit, I thought you didn’t notice.

- You weren’t as subtle as you hoped. Now, will you tell me what’s happening ? Surely it isn’t your drinking alone that puts you in such a state…

- Everytime I forget how sharp you are, I end up regretting it, he groaned, and Ane-san chuckled quietly, her hand covering her mouth. It was easy to forget that this woman led their torture squad. It’s just… I had a weird dream that keeps popping up in my head. It’s annoying the hell outta me but, it’s fine, really.

- Well, if it’s only that… Although, I’m curious to know what kind of dream would take so much of your thoughts, she hummed.

He froze, stopping right in his tracks as the pesky visions became more vivid and clear in his mind. Oh, hell no. No way he was telling her about that, not in a million years. The mere thought of his older sister knowing about this embarrassing dream of his sufficed to make him crave punching the nearest window into oblivion. Hell, he’d even destroy every single window in this damn corridor if the boss hadn’t warned him that after it happened twice already, he better not be caught doing it again.

- Chūya-kun, would you please mind your steps ? Ane-san demanded.

Her words brought his attention back, and he gave her a questioning look before noticing she was looking behind them, where they’d just walked. In multiple places, the tiled floor had cracked, forming circular small craters in a line that went for a few meters - definitely his fault, and he mentally cursed himself. That was twenty percent of this month’s pay melting away. Kōyō sighed, softly shaking her head in that “not mad, just disappointed” way of hers. Thankfully, he had gotten used to it and learnt how to dismiss its effects since he’d been a teenager. He shrugged, stating that the building had already seen worse than that, and a smirk tugged his lips when he noticed Ane-san trying to bite back her own amusement.

- Ah… You are incorrigible, aren’t you ? She stayed silent for a moment before speaking up again. I hope you know at least that you can tell me anything, if you ever want to.

- I know - and I’m thankful for it, Chūya kept unvoiced - but that…

He tilted his head to scratch the underside of his hair in a tense gesture. His hat almost fell down in the process, but he kept it on with his ability. His hands were once again twitching with the urge to wreak havoc on something, preferably a certain bandaged, beige-clad jerk.

- Is it about Dazai-kun ?

The question, which sounded awfully like a statement, made him choke on his own saliva.

- What ?! No, why would it be ?! he sputtered.

But she stared at him, in a way that made a chill run all across his spine. He clenched and unclenched his teeth a few times, trying to stop himself from spilling his guts right there and then. Ah. He was screwed.

- After I blacked out yesterday, I got home, you know ? And, I sorta had this hallucination, or something like that, I dunno, that he’d been there at the time, and that’s fucking stupid , obviously ! By then, he had started yelling without noticing. Obviously, because how in every goddamn hell would it have happened ?! And yet !

And yet here he was, the words overflowing like water from a broken dam, tumbling one after another without interruption and leaving him breathless. His hands, his legs, his entire body shaking in barely restrained hatred. It was excruciating, the way his chest squeezed under the weight of his fury, and the air inside his lungs boiled just like his blood.

An acute prickling in his palms made him snap out of it. He hadn’t felt it, but his fists clenched so hard that without his gloves, it might have drawn blood where his nails pressed. Chūya looked next to him, apprehensive of Ane-san’s reaction yet desperate to check it, but she now walked a good four meters behind him. As to which one of them had changed their pace, that remained a mystery. He stopped so that she’d catch up to him, watching her impassively walk with her eyes closed and head slightly lowered. Her face didn’t give anything away, but Chūya didn’t miss how her shoulders had tensed. When she opened her eyes, her gaze fell onto the walls, avoiding him.

- I see, she finally stated. An unfortunate dream, indeed. Well, if you’d excuse me, I have another meeting to attend with my subordinates.

Wait, that’s it ? That’s all she has to say about that ?

Kōyō stepped past him without another word. He whirled around to stare at his elder in shock. Almost outrage, really. After letting the cat out of the bag, he deserved better than that ! But she just kept walking away, her pace even and graceful as ever while he could only stand in place, dumbfounded.

Hah ?! What the actual hell ?!

It took all of his self control to resist demolishing the entire floor. He glanced at the elevator. Too far away. He opened the window with as little force as he could - maybe it had still cracked, maybe not. In any case, he would deny any kind of implication - and hopped above the frame. He needed to get out, and get a cigarette, and he needed it right fucking now.