it was becoming an unconscious instinct for chuuya to pick up his phone after several glasses of wine. his fingers moved by themselves, tapping through the apps until he found dazai’s contact. he clicked call, ignoring how his head throbbed as he slumped down on the couch. it rang four times before dazai answered, and with the sudden lack of the ringtone, silence nestled in.
“slug?” came a soft, tentative voice from the phone. it was unlike dazai’s usual tone, devoid of any teasing and triumphant grins. to be reached out by chuuya had always egged onto dazai’s ego, and he wouldn’t miss a chance to brag about how his dutiful dog finally admitted that he needed him. but this time, he seemed almost worried. then again, he should be. why hadn’t chuuya deleted his contact? even with every reason he’d given him to.
chuuya blinked wearily, then opted to close his eyes. he struggled with himself for a moment before speaking. “where are you?”
“we shouldn’t call,” dazai said, instead of answering the question. he was stern, now. but the firmness in his voice was gentle. as if he was coaxing a child into sleeping, trying to show them that it would help. “are you drunk?”
chuuya mumbled something of assent, then promptly changed his mind and shook his head. he realized, a moment later, that dazai couldn’t see him. “no. not drunk. i‘m dizzy, though. where are you?” he repeated. he demanded, more like. he grumbled at the phone when no answer came.
“go to sleep, chuuya,” dazai finally said, sounding defeated. but he made an effort to twist his voice into a mildly chiding one. “you’ll get scolded if you come into work drunk.”
“scolded,” chuuya echoed, vaguely amused. “i’ve handled worse. where are you?”
dazai sighed, evidently growing tired of chuuya’s persistence. “learn to give up one day,” he huffed. he seemed to be trying to be quiet. deliberately whispering. as if speaking louder would break whatever spell had chuuya calling him. “i can’t tell you where i am.”
“why? are you lost?”
“no.” dazai’s exasperation was clear. but he continued. “but you’ll try to find me. and we can’t have that, can we?”
“why?” chuuya sat up, head throbbing at the movement. he stared at his phone, then turned it on speaker. he was tired of holding it up. with his hands free, his phone sitting on the couch, chuuya grabbed the bottle of wine, frowning at how light it was. he pressed it to his lips, tipping it up and hissing, “shit…” when nothing came from it. he tried again, but it was fruitless. nothing would come of trying again on something so obviously futile.
as he sulked over the empty bottle, dazai spoke, his voice loud through the phone with the sound turned up high. “even i thought you were a bit smarter than that, chibikko,” he was saying. “we both know you’d regret it tomorrow morning. go drink some water.”
after a moment’s consideration, chuuya heeded dazai’s order and stumbled over to the sink. he leaned down, opening his mouth and drinking straight from the tap. he stood up, swallowed, then went back to the couch to sit beside dazai—or, well, his phone which held dazai.
he seemed mildly sobered up now, but only enough to stop pushing dazai for his location. instead, he took the phone into his hands, fingering the volume buttons before turning the sound down a notch. “why’d you leave?” he asked, staring at the screen. several times, his eyes glazed over the name before he registered the simple, lowercased ‘mackerel.’ he smiled subconsciously at it, nearly missing dazai’s response.
“go to sleep, chuuya.” it was a demand, firm and without room for argument. unfortunately, chuuya was known for his resolute refusal to comply to dazai most of the time. this was one of such times.
“i‘m not tired,” chuuya said flatly. he paused. “when are you coming back?”
dazai hesitated. he let out a breath, the sound close to the microphone. “chibi,” he tried. he was exhausted from this conversation alone. chuuya was much too stubborn. “i’m not going to. you know that.”
yes, chuuya knew that. but he didn’t want to.
“i want you to,” he mumbled. he was truly an idiot. vulnerability had no right in a member of the port mafia.
“chuu-“
“never mind.” the water was beginning to do its job, albeit slowly. chuuya blinked, rubbing his eyes. “i’ll sleep. good night, mackerel.”
he hesitated only a moment, finger hovering over the red button before he clicked it. dazai managed a ‘good bo-,’ cutting off as the call ended.
chuuya stared at the screen, gazing at the word ‘mackerel’ for a full minute, suddenly hating himself for allowing the contact to reside in his recent calls. he bit his lip, blinking and turning his phone off. he tossed it somewhere on the sofa, curling into a ball and closing his eyes. fuck this. he silently promised himself to delete dazai’s number tomorrow. as if he hadn’t memorized it ages ago. as if he’d actually go through with his promise. as if he wouldn’t repeat the process all over again until dazai stopped answering the calls altogether for both their sakes.
