April nights in Yokohama are windy. Chuuya keeps the windows closed to keep them from rattling and waking him up. Unfortunately, that does not guarantee that he wonât be woken up anyway by other, much more annoying things.
âChibikko ~!â Dazai trills from the other end of the phone, and the noise feels so much like nails on chalkboard in Chuuyaâs sleep-deprived head that he almost hangs up immediately. âWhat are you up to?â
âItâs one in the fucking morning, asshole,â he grumbles. âYou better be dead or dying for it to have warranted this.â
âI wish,â Dazai mutters dryly, then giggles, âI just wanted to know what Chibi wanted for his birthday.â
There is something about his laugh, something odder than usual, that makes Chuuya frown. âWhat? Are youâŚdrunk, Dazai?â
âYes...no? I donât know, it doesnât matter,â he says quickly, then laughs again.
Chuuya lets out a sigh that morphs into a growl of frustration somewhere halfway through. âListen here, moron. Weâve got a job tomorrow first thing in the morning, and Iâm not going with you if youâre wasted.â
Itâs not that Chuuya doesnât trust him. He does (God only knows how that happened) and he knows that even a hungover Dazai is thrice as capable as anyone else sober. But he also knows that even the meagre, pathetic excuses of self-preservation instincts that have kept Dazai alive up until now get blasted to kingdom come when heâs nursing a hangover. And Chuuya doesnât have the energy to keep them both alive right now.
âThatâs not the point,â Dazai whines, âI wanted Chibiâs last gift from me to be special, but youâre being so mean, I think I changed my mind.â
His birthday isnât for another three weeks. âWhat the fuck are you going on abo â â
Chuuya blinks slowly, already feeling an ache forming in his head. âWhat?â
âLetâs run away,â Dazai repeats simply. âYou and me. We can drop everything and run away to some far off place, where nobody knows our names.â
Chuuya is silent for a while, and finds himself thinking that he really needs to know what this bastard is on, for future reference. Thereâs no way that is just alcohol talking. But Dazai suddenly sounds a lot more put-together, even if the clearer his voice gets, the blurrier his words seem to Chuuya.
âWe can give this a chance, no? Give us a chance.â
Heâs not joking. Chuuya knows Dazaiâs brand of humour, shitty as it might be, and this isnât it. Which makes it all the more confusing, because surely Dazai knows what he would say in return, right? The words âletâs run awayâ arenât nearly enough to disguise the âletâs turn traitorâ hiding just behind them.
âYou and me, huh?â Chuuya murmurs after a while, then sighs. âEven if I ignore the ten thousand glaring fallacies in this brilliant idea of yours, why do you want to go? Where would we even go?â
The words sound weird as they come out of his mouth, and Chuuya frowns distastefully. They make it sound like heâs actually considering Dazaiâs offer, and he isn't. He isnât.
Besides, there is no place we can run to where they wonât find us. But you already know that.
For a few seconds, Chuuya hears only the sound of his breathing from the other end. Then Dazai snorts. âEh, I knew Chibi wouldnât understand. Youâre too much of a coward.â he drawls and Chuuya can feel his head getting hotter.Â
âThen why the fuck did you call me?â He gripes. âAre you stuck somewhere and need me to pick you up? Is that it?â
âAnd make you miss out on your beauty sleep? I wouldnât dare,â Dazai replies dryly. âGoodnight, Chibikko.â
He hangs up before Chuuya can speak, and Chuuya isnât sure what the words that just died in his throat even were. He stares at his phone for a long while.
This wasnât the weirdest conversation he had ever had with Dazai, but for some reason, it was the most unnerving one. Enough so that Chuuya only sleeps in uneasy fits for the rest of the night.
By the time he finally gives up and gets out of bed, the eastern sky has begun to lighten. He blindly stumbles into the kitchen for some coffee, tired eyes burning with every blink, and he curses Dazai under his breath with every step he takes. I bet the asshole did this on purpose.
It takes his bleary eyes a moment to focus on the piece of paper thatâs stabbed onto his refrigerator door. With his own favorite knife, no less. He frowns, for what feels like the hundredth time since last night, and squints at the writing.
An early birthday present for Chibi. Hope you like fireworks.
Outside, a timer finally comes down to zero. With an ear-shattering noise, his sleek, imported car goes up in flames.