~Soukoku ~ Headcanons turned into Stories~ (Two Stray Dogs)

To Leave, or Not to Leave

Time skip to several months after the last chapter ended.

Dazai stares down at him as he sleeps, trying to memorize every single freckle on his face. He wants desperately to crawl back into bed with him but he can't. Chuuya's hair is spread across the pillow, his tiny nose scrunching just slightly as he dreams. It's so tempting.

I can't I can't I can't.

Dazai has imagined this moment for months, their last moment. He had contemplated whether he should leave while he was in the shower or while he was asleep or while he was at work. He had contemplated whether he'd leave a note or not. He had contemplated what Chuuya would do when he realizes, and it hadn't taken much thinking to recognize that Chuuya would come looking for him as soon as he realized his stuff was gone. This is why Dazai has a small, mostly harmless bomb in his duffle bag now. He'll place it in Chuuya's car which will slow the redhead's search down by at least a day.

It's not that he doesn't want to tell Chuuya where he's going, but if he did he might ask Dazai to stay, and Dazai would stay. Or if he didn't ask Dazai to stay, then when Mori would question him and Chuuya would have to lie. And Dazai doesn't want him to have to choose between him and Mori. That's the whole point. That's why Dazai can't bring his partner with him.

Dazai had contemplated whether he'd be able to do this at all. At first, he'd thought, yes I have to. But as the day, this day, had gotten closer and closer and he'd watched Chuuya closer and closer, trying to memorize everything, his resolve had weakened.

It had weakened the night they'd gone to see My Chemical Romance in concert and he'd had to hold Chuuya up on his shoulders so that the redhead could see.

It had weakened when Dazai had come home to find Chuuya had replaced all the dairy products in the kitchen with lactose-free options because Chuuya had noticed Dazai was allergic before Dazai even had.

It had weakened every time Dazai pushed Chuuya over a high ledge, seeing how fast he could activate Gravity (turns out really fast) and his face turned so red with anger you could barely distinguish his skin from his hair.

And it weakened every time Chuuya scrunched his nose or laughed or came home with another stupid hat or sent him an awful meme during a Port Mafia meeting and got them both in trouble for laughing.

And now, now, he's barely grasping at resolve and he thinks he might just lay back down, or throw up.

Don't throw up. Don't throw up.

He gulps. He's crying and Chuuya stirs. He knows he has to go now.

Against his heart's pleading, he takes several steps towards the bedroom door, opening it quietly. And when it's open, he just bolts. He doesn't even put on his shoes because if he pauses for even a moment he won't be able to leave.

The wind stings his damp face as he hurries for Chuuya's car. The sun hasn't even come up yet and he's thankful that no one else is on the sidewalk to see him this way.

The black Port Mafia SUV is easy to spot. They should really get some more discreet vehicles. Dazai crouches down beside it on the driver's side, digging through his duffle for the bomb.

As he's rigging it underneath the SUV, he's thinking of the stakeout mission they'd had in this car--when Chuuya had been too tired to drive home so they'd slept together in the backseat--and that was forever ago but he can still feel the memory.

And now he can barely see what he's doing through the stream flooding from his eyes and the pavement of the street is rough against his bare feet and he thinks he might throw up.