Acting out with You -- A snippet
Only a ringing phone took him out of this state of complete zone-out, instantaneously, even, upon recognizing the ringtone and placing it to be Mori’s. He snaps back to reality, pulls it out, looks Chūya up and down, then his eyes land on their intertwined hands, shakes his head and answers, “Yes, Sir?”
Chūya wasn’t as familiar with the ringtone but with Dazai’s blank faced expression and that cold tone of voice he fell into whenever he was talking with their boss.
Mori on the other side of the phone sounded tired, it was pretty early after all, “Dazai, glad I could catch you. I’m sending Hirotsu over right now.” He informs him.
Dazai raises his eyebrows, “That’s not all, is it?”
“You’re right.” Mori confirms, Dazai could hear his maniacal smile.
Shuddering and frowning, he dares to ask, “Speak.” The past months taught Dazai confidence. He remembers all the threats, all the things he possibly has on the line to lose, and understands that, that was life. Everything is always on the line. Everything always is threatened to leave, and eventually it does. Who are we humans to think something will stay in existence just because we want it to, will stay in posession, because once it was bought ot obtained? How stupid and childish is that to think?
Mori, amused, licks his teeth, “I read through your request again. Sounds not really busy at all. Is it?”
Dazai stumbles, losing his footing. If Chūya wasn’t holding him still, wasn’t pulling him like a dog on a leash over the pavement, he’d have fallen flat on the face to the ground and have broken his nose. “If you deem it not busy, it must not be.” Dazai catches his tone at least.
Sure, he knew that it was useless to hold value to anything but putting Odasaku deliberately in danger because of that mindset was just reckless.
“No reason to worry.” Mori reads him still like a book, “I just wanted to suggest to step up your media presence during this time, then?”
“As in?” Dazai sceptically asks.
Mori takes in a deep breath and then one out, “Elise currently likes to watch something called Vlogs. Do something like that. Maybe a few stories as well? Promote both of your movies, will you? There are potential Oscars to win. You remember the drill of those times, don’t you?”
Dazai is quite frankly too familiar with them. Even when he never himself won an Oscar for his performance, his show won a few prices anyway at the end an start of every year they aired. As a kid, and without advanced technology, he didn’t have much to do back then, but nowadays, he co-manages a lot of campaigns and knows exactly what has to be done to get the right attention from the right people and how to rig to win, if utmost necessary. Mori likes the old-fashioned way anyway.
“Mn. I do. I’ll brief the others then.” Dazai swallows.
Mori hums in agreement, “Safe flight.” He says then, it sounded nearly like a threat in his voice. And then he hangs up on Dazai.
Dazai puts his phone back in his pants, pulls his hand out of Chūya’s and watches him take up pace, which forces him to catch up to him right away, “Slug, you’ve changed.” Dazai complaints breathlessly.
Chūya shrugs, “Do try to keep up, we’ll be late.”
Dazai sighs, “Mori said, he just sent Hirotsu on his way. We’ll be fine.”
“That was all? What do you need to brief us about? Safety?” Chūya scoffs, his head turned to look at his friend walking next to him, while struggling. He can visibly see Dazai’s sudden on-set tired expression he hadn’t displayed before the call. The last time he’s seen him like that, was some time ago, he can see that white, drained of life and nearly bleeding entirely out boy in front of him and had to swallow hard to move on. Dazai stopped overworking, instead drowned himself with the movie instead, which had seemed to satisfy Mori until now, as he assumed. “You’re scaring me. What’s up?”
His face turned whiter than a sheet and Chūya was scared of what Dazai might answer now, if he was seated, he'd be gripping onto the chair in agony of waiting for what seems to be eternity, “Mori knows we’re skipping work for a vacation.”
“Wait—that’s all?” Chūya tries to not immediately laugh and only snickers behind his hand.
Dazai’s brows furrow, “All? Can you imagine?”
“What’s the harm?” Chūya punches him against the shoulder light-heartedly. “Why’re you white still?”
“About to throw up from so much running, if I’m totally honest.” Dazai admits and Chūya’s smile turns wider as he laughs at him and finally slows down a bit. Just when Dazai opened his mouth to thank him, though, he ran away from Dazai, heading for their apartments.
Dazai didn’t even attempt to run after him.
He neither attempted to explain to Chūya about the promotional media presence he is expected to do. He’ll tell him later, once he’s restricted to a seat belt and won’t be able to rip off his head. That will surely be a fun conversation to have. Ha.
Y'all, my rip feels worse than ever and I MIGHT die but not before I finish this story ... It'd be too emberrassing, honestly. Well, school's horrible too and I've barely got any time to do anything other than homework or studying while home but who cares.
(this is a cry for help, someone please rescue me ahahaha/j)
I've been living off of Monsters, coffees and a myriad of painkillers and it works so far, it'll be okay, I assume.
Planned for this chapter are about 15k words and slowly it's getting to an end with this fic... can anyone bleiev it? Because to me it feels as though I've been writing this for years now. ahahaha
well, too much yapping from my side, sorry sorry ":3
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