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English
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Published:
2017-01-19
Completed:
2017-01-19
Words:
2,756
Chapters:
2/2
Comments:
41
Kudos:
595
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118
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4,647

This is Gospel

Summary:

Two steps forward, one step back.

(Or; In which Chuuya Nakahara finally gains the advantage)

Notes:

At least one other person has used this song already, and I would be sorry but I'm not.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Osamu Dazai does exceptionally well with one particular type of person, a very limited subset of humans with exactly two qualifiers.

One, they must accept being treated like shit.

This is a personal and fixable failing, but not one Dazai seems at all interested in correcting. To reduce public sentiment to a sentence, he is self-obsessed, inconsiderate, unempathetic, and smug. To reduce it to a single phrase, he is a chronic douchebag. Therefore, for someone to spend any significant amount of time around him, they need to accept pointed insults on all subjects, particularly the sensitive ones, frequent last-minute cancellations of plans, particularly the important ones, and a general lack of acknowledgment that the world revolves around anyone besides himself.

Two, they must be exceptionally difficult to kill.

Because while everything mentioned under point one can be responded to in any manner, ranging from indifference to returned flares of insults, there is one burning fear left in the black hole that has certainly by now replaced Osamu Dazai’s heart, and that is the fear of being left completely alone.

It is this sudden realization that smacks Chuuya Nakahara in the back of the head in the middle of the third unnecessary phone call of the morning, and it helps lead him into another; that he is in the exceptionally unique position of being needed by Dazai more than Dazai is needed by him.

Because it’s been months, but Dazai still calls each morning, baiting him into a pointless argument that Chuuya originally suspected was for the purpose of exacerbating his heartbreak, but has now continued long past the night where he stitched himself back together and now is mostly annoying because it denies him a full night’s sleep. And he considers, not for the first time, that he could probably change his number and move across town and be done with this forever, but he’s finally able to put a label on the feeling that uprooting his life wouldn’t be good enough; because Dazai’s not actually calling to make Chuuya’s life harder.

He’s calling to remind Chuuya that he exists.

Dazai left the Port Mafia for Odasaku, the previous winner of the “best intersection between qualifiers one and two” award and current deceased person, and that conviction is evidently stronger than his inexplicable need to make everyone hate him as much as possible. But as Chuuya sips at his espresso and waits for the inevitable barrage of obnoxious messages that come as soon as Dazai gets off of work and just before Chuuya’s own work starts, he considers for the first time that, save the weretiger, who is near-immortal but too emotionally fragile to be treated truly horribly, perhaps the Armed Detective Agency is considerably more killable than previously thought.

Ougai calls the idea “Interesting”, in the way he has that means “Prove it”, and while Chuuya would usually default to Ougai’s assessment of Dazai’s motivations on account of them being disturbingly similar as people, the feeling doesn’t go away.

So he finally does what he should’ve done the day the calls started.

He changes his phone number.

It takes Dazai one week to find the new one. “Trying to get away from me, hmm? Did I strike a nerve?”

Chuuya doesn’t remember what the last call was even about, but outrage is easy to fake, and Dazai buys it. More importantly than that, Dazai buys it two more times. The turnaround gets faster, and Chuuya rises to the occasion a little less each time, until on the fifth phone number he picks up on the first ring and doesn’t even let Dazai start.

“Why do you keep calling me?”

Dazai is, for once, caught off guard.

Chuuya picks up his spoon and removes the teabag from the mug on his bedside table. “I very clearly don’t want to talk to you.”

“Really~?” There’s a small breath of anxiety under the singsong tease, and Chuuya smiles and takes a quiet sip of his tea. “Because if you did I think you’d do a better job of hiding-”

“No, I don’t think I would.” Chuuya interrupts. “I’m under no obligation to act the way you want so you can justify stalking me. And besides, traitors don’t usually make daily wakeup calls to the betrayed, so I repeat my question. Why do you keep calling me?”

“Well, I just can’t start my day without annoying you~”

Chuuya snorts into his tea, and Dazai suddenly quiets, like he realizes he’s said too much. It’s everything Chuuya has to keep the urge to laugh out his voice, but he can’t help sounding amused. “Feeling nostalgic, traitor?”

“Hardly.” Dazai’s voice is suddenly stone-cold, and Chuuya gains a fleeting understanding of why Dazai finds so much joy in being an asshole. That was satisfying. “And you’re the one who keeps picking up, so I suggest you stop projecting.”

Chuuya takes a loud sip of his tea, smirks, and hangs up.

Chapter 2

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The calls stop. It’s one of the rare victories Chuuya’s had over Dazai, the first since he left, and the sudden abandonment gives him plenty of time to savor it. It’s also the first time that he’s been right and Ougai has been dead wrong, which he does not get to savor publicly, but enjoys nonetheless. Not to mention, the world is always brighter on a full night of sleep, and now the only interruptions he gets are problems with the day shifts, which are considerably easier to handle.

Every day he wakes up to silence is a little reminder; you did it. You beat Osamu Dazai at his own game.

So when a ship arrives from overseas carrying a cluster of ability users and a world of problems, Chuuya simply doubles down on what he knows he can do. He taunts, and baits, and plays every role Ougai gives him with panache. Tainted Sorrow has never been weak, and it’s not about to start, so he continues on with the status quo, following the plan to pit the detectives against the guild and then clean up the broken pieces, until Q goes missing and suddenly everything goes to shit.

His phone starts ringing once the madness kicks in, but Chuuya doesn’t have the time to answer, between subduing as many as he can and gritting his teeth through killing the rest. The city is burning; there’s nothing he can do besides protect his own and count on the providence of a smaller, more mobile detective agency to quench it at the source.

And they manage it, somewhere between late and far too late, but Chuuya still doesn’t check his messages because there are bodies to be counted and families to be notified and funerals to fund, not to mention the dramatic physical losses to be assessed. And every body bag burns to look at, but he has to keep going because it could’ve been worse.

Dazai;
Did it hit you?
1 day ago

Chuuya Nakahara;
No.
2 minutes ago

The message ticks over to “Seen” an hour later, but Dazai doesn’t respond. Chuuya’s not even sure what he was trying to accomplish; if it had hit him he’d be in Corruption, and if he’d been in Corruption lord knows he wouldn’t have been texting. In fact he, and several hundred other people, would most certainly be dead.

He sighs, and turns back to the checklist of the deceased. It’s not worth thinking about.

It doesn’t become worth thinking about until Ougai calls him scarcely more than two days later, tells him he’ll be “needed”, and to report to a certain set of coordinates near a particular shed at a particular hour. ‘Needed’ is a delightful word, and an even better feeling, and the fact that the situation is already a shitshow by the time Chuuya arrives compounds the endorphin high started when Dazai’s face flashes a half-second of absolute dread.

Guns are useless toys. Tentacles aren’t much stronger. Plants are problematic, but less so when you’ve recently taught yourself to fly. And of course he and Dazai bicker like old friends and ex-partners, and Chuuya rises to the occasion of saving his life (because it would be just like Dazai to honorably off himself rather than let Chuuya be right about anything), but none of the jabs truly hit home and he feels as light as his feet on the ground.

The first question he has to ask himself in the evening is this; Am I willing to bet Q’s life on my assessment of Dazai?

It’s a simple question. Even if he’s wrong he has far, far less to lose.

Having Q dumped into his arms is the first jab that lands, because Dazai knows all too well how seriously Chuuya takes the lives of the people under him. It feels like rising acid at the back of his throat, but he shoves it back down, because orders are orders, and Ougai forgives his grudges more often than not, but now is not the time to sabotage one’s own resources.

It would be simple if that was the end of it, but unfortunately it isn’t.

Lovecraft being sincerely a monster and not an ability is a fact that both explains everything and is exceptionally confusing, but a pure fight is directly in Chuuya’s wheelhouse, so he can’t find much room to complain. And the fight settles into the debate as old as abilities themselves; when pure destructive force meets a healing factor, who wins?

Lovecraft seems happy to trade away tentacle after tentacle, and Chuuya is more than happy to slowly close the gap, and it looks like Lovecraft is in for two neck breaks in one evening until he decides it’s time to turn into a flesh tower of unspeakable horror. And in that instant, it becomes painfully obvious why this rescue needed to take place at this particular hour on this particular day, because this particular hour on this particular day is the one time Dazai is guaranteed to be here, and he is, unfortunately, not just a convenient nullifier for plants.

Question two of the evening. Am I willing to bet my own life on my assessment of Dazai?

It should be simple. Chuuya should be confident in the lack of calls, the avoidance of contact, and especially the gentle check-in two days ago that he suddenly realizes was actually a roundabout way of asking “Are you still alive”. Even the hours up until this point have done a fantastic job of demonstrating that Dazai, despite being a tactical genius, still needs a sword to hold and none are as well-balanced or suited to him as Chuuya.

But there is always that shred of doubt, the tiny seed in the back of his mind that perhaps he hasn’t won, and in fact the game has continued without his knowledge. That Dazai has been waiting for this precise moment, the moment where Chuuya has to trust him again, to finally reveal that he’s been feigning this impression the entire time.

“It’s your choice.”

Chuuya exhales through his teeth. “It never ends up being a choice when you say that.”

Corruption feels like a particularly deadly mix of psychosis and cocaine. Chuuya’s pupils dilate to moons and then shrink away to nothing, and he all but loses the ability to see, hear, or feel anything beyond the thrumming pulse of power. The air feels like a thousand tattoo guns pricking him just barely off-sync, and something rushes out of him that nobody understands. He is as dense as a neutron star, which is good, because otherwise the black holes would rip his hands away.

The best part about a tower is that it doesn’t move, and the best part about a tower of flesh is that Corruption slices through it like butter. Lovecraft’s blood is green and slimy, and evaporates into steam as soon as it touches Chuuya’s skin. Chuuya’s own blood feels like warm syrup, and tastes like live copper wire.

And he’s not completely sure what happens in the meantime, words are exchanged somewhere below him, there’s a sound, a bright burst of light, and he’s not so far gone he can’t see an opportunity so he throws a supernova directly into the core. And in that fragment of an instant it’s over, the tower is gone and steaming green blood is raining from above, and Chuuya touches down and picks which tree has offended him the most today and starts with that.

While he’s not able to perceive it, this is the moment of truth. Corruption is lovely, but it’s been a while, and death is impatient. The forest will die for it, but Dazai could run off with Q and Chuuya would die without noticing.

But instead there’s a quick snatch of his wrist, an old, well-known sentence, and Chuuya’s heart stops dead in its tracks. It always takes a terrifying few seconds to get started again, and Dazai laughs at his bugged-out face, like he always has.

“And here I thought I was suicidal, imagine, you trusting me-”

Chuuya’s pulse and thoughts reboot, and Dazai’s quip is interrupted by a face-first fall into hysterical laughter.

Steinbeck runs off, because his weapon is dead and he’s not stupid, and Chuuya grabs onto the lapels of Dazai’s jacket to keep himself even mostly upright. He feels like a used-up cleaning rag and his laughter won’t stop to let him breathe. He falls very quickly into a gasping choking noise to try to keep up his oxygen, and words are falling out of his mouth as soon as he has the breath to say them.

“Stupid Dazai.” He looks up, and he’s pretty sure Dazai’s looking back down at him, but his eyes are blurred over with exhaustion, blood, and tears and he can’t keep track of the expression at all. “You stupid, stupid bastard, you saved me, you’re so stupid I can’t believe you.”

Dazai tries to back up and drop him, but Chuuya matches him step by staggering step. And a branch or a gravity-created rut in the ground or something finally catches Dazai’s heel and trips him up, just barely, and Chuuya shifts his grip from Dazai’s jacket to his hair and flings himself forward, catching Dazai by the lips and keeping him there for a beautiful minute before he breaks away and yanks Dazai’s face down to his level.

“You need me, don’t you?” The laughter is back, constricting the back of his throat. “You left me alone and shattered my heart into a thousand tiny pieces but I fixed myself and you still can’t let me go.” He spits right on Dazai’s cheek, and the blood looks nothing short of lovely rolling down his face. “And you hate it, don’t you? You want to hate me like I hate you but you can’t, because you left for Odasaku but that doesn’t change that he’s fucking dead and now I’m the only person left in this city that gets you. And it took you leaving for me to even fucking notice.” Chuuya falls forward and kisses him again, because it feels right, finally, it feels like he understands. “And let me guess.”

Chuuya’s vision has finally cleared, and Dazai looks like he’s another few syllables away from murder. And Chuuya would go down, when he’s like this, because he can usually beat Dazai with two fingers and a shin but right now he’s losing against the mesmerizing draw of the dirt. But he keeps going anyway, because endorphins and adrenaline make him a little bit insane, and he’s finally, finally right. “I guess that when I did that your heart still fluttered like it was the first fucking time.”

Dazai finally succeeds at dropping him, and Chuuya hits the ground hard. The smack to his ribcage starts him laughing again, and he doesn’t even notice when Dazai walks away. The fit lasts until the laughs turn into dry heaves, and he passes out the second his adrenaline leaves him.

Dazai doesn’t contact him again until it’s all over, but when he does it’s with a call at a decent, afternoon hour.

He doesn’t bother saying hello.

“You will meet me at the corner of 49th and Sunway at nine pm.”

Chuuya smiles, and sips his tea. “Or?”

Dazai makes a barely-audible growl. “I will kill one of your subordinates for every minute you are late.”

Chuuya takes a long draw of his tea, and sighs when the warmth hits his ribcage. “That’s better.”

Notes:

Hit me up on twitter @Asher_Blackwood

A friend of mine drew art for this fic! I'm super honored and you should follow them on twitter. https:// /_lenjamin/status/851970240149901313

Notes:

2023 Update: Hello everyone! I am currently in the progress of selling a lot of Chuuya merch. It would mean a lot to me if you took a look and gave these items a loving home. If you’re interested the link to the thread is here.