[ That doesn't come as a surprise. Chuuya asked because he already knew the answer, after all. He might be slow enough to miss when Dazai was intentionally captured, but then, in his heart he knew that he wouldn't be executed. He wouldn't be able to stand it. However much of a traitor he was, however much bad blood their was, however much he hates him and wants him to die -
He wouldn't be able to accept anyone else killing him. He couldn't allow it. In that, Mori and Chuuya are the same and altogether different.
But Chuuya knows Dazai in a way that the Agency can't, because they were just fifteen when they met. Because three years is a long, long time at that tender age. Because they could be close solely due to not acknowledging anything that made them such. ]
Tch... Dumbass. I already knew that.
[ There's a deep frown. He did, and he didn't. It was that sort of instinctive knowledge. It feels slimy when said. It's like a shadowy, fungal, consuming blob now that it's been said - something creeping and crawling, faceless, showing teeth, that might consume both of them. That could cover the pair of them, choke them, rot them out.
It's a bit much, for a pair of people who have always kept such a polite distance, silently agreed to not press on one another. The words leave a vile and bitter taste on his tongue, like the aftertaste of some poison. ]
Dazai, you absolute moron... [ He says that again for good measure, because he hears that soft click, it's there, it's there, and he doesn't want to say this, and this is all so infuriating, and where the Hell is everyone else now - ] What the Hell is wrong with you? You're supposed to be the best strategist, the smartest of everyone... [ And those words are practically spit, as emotional as ever, ]<./small> So how the Hell haven't you figured out that everyone's like that?
Everyone has things that they can't forget - people that they can't forget. Dazai has just one, but Chuuya has so many. He has so many, and he hates Dazai all that much more for it, because it certainly must be easier to remember one person than many - he's forgetting. He's forgetting voices, he's forgetting gestures, and worst of all he's forgetting faces. He's forgetting the smiles and tears, he's forgetting so much.
He lifts his hand, but it stops at rubbing the back of his neck.
He can't forget it. He can't remember an umbrella hanging over him. He can't forget how cold it was. How lonely it was. How it got at once colder and warmer it was when released from the torrent of rain.
Chuuya can't forget that look though. He can't forget those words.
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He wouldn't be able to accept anyone else killing him. He couldn't allow it. In that, Mori and Chuuya are the same and altogether different.
But Chuuya knows Dazai in a way that the Agency can't, because they were just fifteen when they met. Because three years is a long, long time at that tender age. Because they could be close solely due to not acknowledging anything that made them such. ]
Tch... Dumbass. I already knew that.
[ There's a deep frown. He did, and he didn't. It was that sort of instinctive knowledge. It feels slimy when said. It's like a shadowy, fungal, consuming blob now that it's been said - something creeping and crawling, faceless, showing teeth, that might consume both of them. That could cover the pair of them, choke them, rot them out.
It's a bit much, for a pair of people who have always kept such a polite distance, silently agreed to not press on one another. The words leave a vile and bitter taste on his tongue, like the aftertaste of some poison. ]
Dazai, you absolute moron... [ He says that again for good measure, because he hears that soft click, it's there, it's there, and he doesn't want to say this, and this is all so infuriating, and where the Hell is everyone else now - ] What the Hell is wrong with you? You're supposed to be the best strategist, the smartest of everyone... [ And those words are practically spit, as emotional as ever, ]<./small> So how the Hell haven't you figured out that everyone's like that?
Everyone has things that they can't forget - people that they can't forget. Dazai has just one, but Chuuya has so many. He has so many, and he hates Dazai all that much more for it, because it certainly must be easier to remember one person than many - he's forgetting. He's forgetting voices, he's forgetting gestures, and worst of all he's forgetting faces. He's forgetting the smiles and tears, he's forgetting so much.
He lifts his hand, but it stops at rubbing the back of his neck.
He can't forget it. He can't remember an umbrella hanging over him. He can't forget how cold it was. How lonely it was. How it got at once colder and warmer it was when released from the torrent of rain.
Chuuya can't forget that look though. He can't forget those words.
He didn't feel cold anymore. ]