Chapter Text
Dazai had never been through a breakup.
During an after-work dinner with all the adult members of the Agency, the topic came up, and that statement came out of his mouth.
“You don't know how lucky you are,” Fukuzawa had said, and continued chatting.
Dazai was simply a serial flirter, seducing people with his personal charm until the idea of ending their lives together arose and they either flipped him off, or he decided he just wasn't that into the person and disappeared from their lives, whichever happened first.
But in order to have a breakup, there first needs to be a relationship, and Dazai had never had one of those. The closest thing would be what he had with Chuuya at some point.
He'd developed a crush on Chuuya from the day they first met, and disguised it with jokes and insults because that was the best he knew at his young and inexperienced age. He got excited every time Chuuya responded in the same way because he believed that was what flirting was all about, and he wasn't entirely wrong. For his part, the other boy just mirrored him, not knowing how to react to the boy he liked.
But one day, in the middle of a heated argument, they kissed.
Things changed from that moment on. They kissed again every chance they got, whenever they were alone, with no one watching. They kissed, and kissed, and kissed; in cleaning closets, behind curtains in the hallways of headquarters, in their hiding place during a mission...
Until one day, their make-out session in Dazai's office got more heated than usual. Their breathing became more labored as if they'd just run, and their hands began trying to get under each other's clothes. Then Chuuya pulled him away for a moment to say:
“I’m trans.”
So Dazai kissed him again.
As if that mattered. As if it made the slightest difference to how head over heels Dazai was for him.
They were together for about a year and a half. They were very much in love, but no one ever popped the question, so it was basically a relationship without the title.
Without a title, how could Dazai have had a breakup, right?
What he did have was heartbreak.
Oda's death in his arms was so devastating that it took a part of his own life away. Loss, that was something Dazai never wanted to experience again. But at least it gave him the strength to leave a place that was poisoning his soul, like the Port Mafia.
Even if his relationship with Chuuya had been official, there still wouldn't have been a breakup, because he simply left without saying anything. A car bomb as a farewell did all the work, and he disappeared.
“You don't know how lucky you are.” Fukuzawa's words echoed in his ears even after the subject had changed, his mind continuing to replay that breakup that wasn't.
Suddenly, he found himself wondering what had become of Chuuya, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy as he wondered who was having his kisses now.
*
The reunion went exactly as he had hoped. It turns out their dynamic remained the same, according to the test of fighting in the dungeon as soon as they met. He felt like a teenager again, with that strange way of flirting they had, and even though they were clearly no longer the same people, it seemed like they could find a way to rediscover each other.
What better way than a few weeks later, when the president asked him to arrange a meeting with the Port Mafia?
When he began negotiations with Hirotsu, his plan was simple: he would go with the Agency president, as long as the Port Mafia boss brought Chuuya.
However, he didn't succeed; the immediate rejection was given, with the excuse that Chuuya wasn't even in the country. In the end, the agreement was: The Black Lizard would go with Mori, and Dazai and Kunikida (and Tanizaki in the hidden) with Fukuzawa.
But Dazai wasn't happy with that outcome, and he was known for his strong intuition. The next day, as soon as the Agency was informed of the day's mission, he texted a number he never deleted, just in case.
[YOU]
Hey kiddo, it's me, your favorite absent father figure.
It didn't take long for Gin to respond.
[KILLER QUEEN]
Sup?
[YOU]
Are you ready for the meeting today?
[KILLER QUEEN]
I guess
[YOU]
Hey it's true Chuuya is abroad or does he just not wanna come?
[KILLER QUEEN]
He is away
[KILLER QUEEN]
Comes back tonight I think
[KILLER QUEEN]
But he won't see u anyway
[YOU]
Why?
[KILLER QUEEN]
He's still upset
[KILLER QUEEN]
Thought u were dead
[YOU]
…
[YOU]
What
[KILLER QUEEN]
Yeah we all did actually
[KILLER QUEEN]
Til my brother saw you that day 2yrs ago or smth
[KILLER QUEEN]
But Chuuya-san's still mad u let him think so
[YOU]
That little shit
[YOU]
It's not my fault he made himself believe that
[KILLER QUEEN]
Whatever
[KILLER QUEEN]
He kinda hates you for it so don't insist
And that was it. He threw the phone into the drawer without closing the app. Ranpo looked at him from his desk, noticing how Dazai, arms crossed, was constantly moving his leg to try to hide his annoyance while plotting another plan, one that would lead him to another meeting with Chuuya.
And like the perfect pieces of a puzzle, everything fell into place. All he had to do was do his own work and get Q back from where The Guild had them, and if Chuuya did indeed return that night, trust that he still knew the way his former boss's mind worked.
**
And it worked.
Teaming with Chuuya again had been the most refreshing thing to happen to him in years. The way they understood each other on the battlefield was still unparalleled, with a look, a word, a gesture. He never got to that level with anyone else, in any way, personal or professional.
But above all, seeing again the fabulous destructive bomb that was Chuuya, the hurricane he transformed into when fighting, made him realize that it wasn't just a whim to confirm whether they still functioned as partners—that was more than confirmed. It was more than just the fact that four years later, Dazai still hadn't gotten over him. He was still head over heels for him.
But Chuuya was still reluctant, and he couldn't blame him now that he knew the mafioso had thought Dazai was dead. Honestly, he was upset to know Chuuya had believed such a thing, but it made more sense than ever that he hadn’t been found in so long. He wondered if there had been some fake grave to mourn over, or if every year while he mourned Oda's death, his former partner mourned Dazai's.
There were so many unanswered questions, and he wanted to know them all. He wanted to know if appearing back as a ghost was enough to pick up what had once been left unfinished, if Chuuya was willing to try again.
So as soon as they finished the whole Moby Dick thing, he prepared a surprise.
He used the credit card he'd later worry about how to pay for, and spent it at a convenience store. He bought the finest wine he could find, cold cuts and cheese, chocolates, strawberries, grapes, and a pretty basket to put it all in. He'd visit Chuuya.
But what would a surprise be without that factor?
Fortunately, he knew him well enough to know his schedule, including his favorite time to shower, and he knew that no other time made Chuuya happier than bath time. Even better, he also knew the exact spot from which the light from his bathroom window could be seen from a nearby building.
He had an ally for that mission: Atsushi. He showed him exactly where to position himself and which light must be turned on to give him the signal while he waited outside the elevator in the penthouse.
His nerves were eating him alive, though he wouldn't admit it. What if Chuuya didn't receive him? Maybe he was trusting his past too much. What if there wasn't much left to salvage from it? What if Chuuya wouldn't welcome him back, not even with all the charcuterie boards and bottles of wine in the world?
What was he going to do then? Keep pretending until he convinced the redhead of the absolute truth: that the two of them were soulmates, meant to be, and that's why they had to get back together?
Atsushi's signal arrived.
[KITTY BOY]
It's on.
There was no turning back; all he had to do was trust himself and that the charm that once captivated Chuuya would work again in his adult life.
The executive's luxurious security system was nothing to him; he knew him too well to know its numerical password, and he had too much experience in the criminal world to circumvent the biometrics.
Finally, the oldest trick in his repertoire: picking the lock with a pin. Like taking candy from a child.
The penthouse door opened, welcoming Dazai into a place he knew like the back of his hand.
Almost no changes had been made since the last time he'd been there, and he hoped he’d have time in the future to identify all the different details from four years ago. For starters, he had to convince Chuuya to try again; this time, he wasn't gonna leave. He headed to the kitchen and left the basket on the table, but something was bothering him. He hadn't spent that much time opening the door, and Chuuya loved long baths. Why wasn't the water running in the bathroom anymore?
Instead, what he heard were small footsteps coming from the guest room.
He turned defensively, thinking for a moment that maybe Chuuya had a guest, but his heart skipped a beat as he lowered his gaze to focus on the person standing there.
In the hallway between the rooms, there was a little girl, about three years old. She was wearing two-piece pajamas in shades of white and lilac, with small pink slippers. She looked at him with more curiosity than fear, her little thumb in her mouth as a means of protection.
But looking at her for more than a second was unsettling. Her hair was shoulder-length, dark and wavy, messy. Her mouth was small behind the small barrier of her thumb, and her eyes were large, brown, slightly drooping and framed by two straight eyebrows.
Dazai thought she was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen; his heart screamed so.
“Hi,” he greeted, his voice slightly cracking.
The girl just blinked, still staring at him.
“What's your name?” he insisted, not daring to move for fear of scaring her.
At that moment, the bathroom door opened, and Chuuya emerged in a bathrobe with water dripping from his hair.
“I knew it! I knew I heard you!” he called in Dazai's direction.
The girl didn't even flinch, unable to tear her curious gaze away from the intruder. Dazai didn't reply either, just staring at Chuuya with a multitude of questions in his head.
“Come here, honey,” said the redhead, scooping the girl up in his arms and carrying her to what Dazai had previously known as the guest room. “Play with Mr. Ood for a moment, okay? I'll be right back.”
Chuuya left the room, closing the door behind him, and walked toward Dazai with angry eyes, grabbing him by the collar.
“Get out of here.”
“Chuuya…”
“Now!”
“Chuuya—”
Dazai spoke in a whisper as the mafioso pushed him back to the door of the apartment. He finally grabbed Chuuya’s wrist to force him to look into his eyes.
“She’s mine, right?”
The question seemed to further ignite Chuuya’s anger, but there was no denying it; the girl was almost like putting Dazai in front of a mirror.
He finally got the detective out of the apartment, but he blocked the door with his shoe before Chuuya could slam it in his face.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me I have a daughter?”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me you were alive and well?!”
“I had the right to know!” Dazai replied, trying to open the door again.
“No!” the other yelled, pushing his hand away. “You couldn't say a word about your whereabouts. I have no reason to pay you any differently. You'd better not go near her again. She's never needed you in her life, and she doesn't need you now. If you think you feel the slightest affection or respect for her, stay away for her own good.”
And he slammed the door shut, leaving Dazai with a thousand questions in his throat and several new sensations in his chest, between the warmth he felt after looking into those little brown eyes for the first time, the paralyzing fear when he put the pieces of what was happening together, and the pressure left in him by Chuuya's last words.
Maybe that was another kind of heartbreak.
But he knew he wasn't going to sit idly by, not now that he knew Chuuya had hidden the existence of that girl from him, whose name he didn't yet know, but who must undoubtedly be the most beautiful sound in creation.