What the Hell is he supposed to say to that? What honest remark is there to give to make the door creak open fully? There's precious little, and that makes his frown deepen, because Chuuya isn't one to keep secrets; if his emotions are dishonest, it's because he does process them in such a simple and straightforward way - he hates Dazai. He hates Dazai. He won't let him die. As much as he bragged in his face about seeing him executed, if it had come about he wouldn't have been able to accept it; but he doesn't think of that to say it.
But he thinks that if there were a hole at the bottom of some bucket he picked up, then he'd find a way to plug it up. There's ways how to. But no matter how he looks at it, the Agency is no more beautiful or ugly than the Port Mafia. They're precisely the same, just a different veneer and different colors, and it's almost insulting.
It's like saying the moon and the stars that shine brightly in the sky so pale in comparison to the sun.
He's not Mori. He's not Dazai. He's not that anemic bastard the two of them were scheming against. Chuuya is just a person, so he can't understand the planning and scheming, but he does take a few moments to muddle over it all. ]
Yeah, well. I celebrated when I found out you left. I popped open my finest bottle of wine and threw a goddamn party for knowing you were gone. My life has been a Hell of a lot better since you left. Until we all had to, no one gave a shit where you've been.
[ Chuuya breathes in softly, lifting one hand to rub the back of his neck, not quite finished, but unsure of what it is that he wants to say next.
But finally, without acknowledging what he'd said, but not quite ignoring it either - ]
If you were still with the Port Mafia, the Guild wouldn't have stood a chance. It has nothing to do with loving Yokohama or whatever.
[ Though Mori does, because he protects stability, but that's not all it is. That's not all it is, and this isn't anything he wants to say, because it's between them and not Dazai - now an outsider, but whatever. ]
The Boss kept your seat open. The Boss still wants you back.
[ And that's frustrating, so endlessly frustrating, and he hates it, and he wants him to forget it, but - ]
He still thinks we work well together, and he thought that you needed bailing out. Great to hear knowing how unpleasant and ugly we are for you.
[ He scoffs. And as for Chuuya.... ]
Whatever. If it's that important to you, then you should at least find a way to patch up the damn hole in your bucket instead of saying that you can just paint it. I dunno your friend, but I doubt he wanted you to stop there. I wouldn't. I'd punch you if you seriously thought that was the best you could do.
no subject
What the Hell is he supposed to say to that? What honest remark is there to give to make the door creak open fully? There's precious little, and that makes his frown deepen, because Chuuya isn't one to keep secrets; if his emotions are dishonest, it's because he does process them in such a simple and straightforward way - he hates Dazai. He hates Dazai. He won't let him die. As much as he bragged in his face about seeing him executed, if it had come about he wouldn't have been able to accept it; but he doesn't think of that to say it.
But he thinks that if there were a hole at the bottom of some bucket he picked up, then he'd find a way to plug it up. There's ways how to. But no matter how he looks at it, the Agency is no more beautiful or ugly than the Port Mafia. They're precisely the same, just a different veneer and different colors, and it's almost insulting.
It's like saying the moon and the stars that shine brightly in the sky so pale in comparison to the sun.
He's not Mori. He's not Dazai. He's not that anemic bastard the two of them were scheming against. Chuuya is just a person, so he can't understand the planning and scheming, but he does take a few moments to muddle over it all. ]
Yeah, well. I celebrated when I found out you left. I popped open my finest bottle of wine and threw a goddamn party for knowing you were gone. My life has been a Hell of a lot better since you left. Until we all had to, no one gave a shit where you've been.
[ Chuuya breathes in softly, lifting one hand to rub the back of his neck, not quite finished, but unsure of what it is that he wants to say next.
But finally, without acknowledging what he'd said, but not quite ignoring it either - ]
If you were still with the Port Mafia, the Guild wouldn't have stood a chance. It has nothing to do with loving Yokohama or whatever.
[ Though Mori does, because he protects stability, but that's not all it is. That's not all it is, and this isn't anything he wants to say, because it's between them and not Dazai - now an outsider, but whatever. ]
The Boss kept your seat open. The Boss still wants you back.
[ And that's frustrating, so endlessly frustrating, and he hates it, and he wants him to forget it, but - ]
He still thinks we work well together, and he thought that you needed bailing out. Great to hear knowing how unpleasant and ugly we are for you.
[ He scoffs. And as for Chuuya.... ]
Whatever. If it's that important to you, then you should at least find a way to patch up the damn hole in your bucket instead of saying that you can just paint it. I dunno your friend, but I doubt he wanted you to stop there. I wouldn't. I'd punch you if you seriously thought that was the best you could do.
[ . . . ]
Sounds to me like wanted you to live.