Bandages and Salt (PJO X BSD AU)

(Volume II)...Chapter nineteen

Chuuya POV

Smoke filtered through the air as the city buzzed down below, still alive so late into the night. We didn't say anything to each other as Dazai handed me the cigarette that we've been passing back and forth between the two of us. Nights like these were some of the few where we didn't speak to each other. We didn't fight, just stood here, leaning against the railing of the mafia building, each of us slightly seeming to wonder just how we got to this point.

Of course I know just how I got here. The shitty bastard next to me manipulated everyone into believing I was a traitor so they would throw me away.

What stung the most even after the time that had passed wasn't that he did that, knowing more about Dazai it was almost expected that he'd try something like that. No, what hurt the most was that it worked.

I inhaled some of the smoke slowly, trying to drive those thoughts away. I'm already here, stuck. There's no turning back and going home to the Sheep.

There's no Sheep to go home to.

Anger boiled in the pit of my stomach at the thought, at the memories always threatening to resurface no matter how many times I bury them. I always push the thoughts away, letting them build like a pile of complaints, because I know that there's nothing I can do now to change anything. The only way out of the mafia is death. I'm stuck here until then, with him.

However... contrary to what my anger tells me, the mafia has been good to me. There's always enough food in the kitchen and around the base that I can eat my fill without having to feel guilty about taking too much from the kids around me that need it. The boss gave me my own place to live after the first few months that'd I been here. Now there's always a warm house and a bed to return to. There's people here, that while care might be too strong of a word to use, look out for me. People that don't seem to only keep me around because of my ability.

Even the bandage waste...

I passed the cigarette back to the teen in question before my brain went down a dangerous path that should be avoided at all cost. I let my eyes dance over the Yokohama skyline and my mind wander instead.

Dazai and I, we come out here and smoke together, sharing a cigarette or two, never saying anything. It's a silence that starts heavy, burdened by the reasons for one of us seeking the other out and coming up here to be stuck in one another's company even though the thought of doing so on a normal day would make either of us want to throw ourselves off this very rooftop just for fun. The silence becomes lighter as the time passes. When we're both okay, one of us throws the cigarette away and walks inside, the other tailing behind. No words ever spoken.

It's on nights like these when the memories of the people that I've killed, not just in the mafia, but in the Sheep as well, keep me awake at night. Keep me from falling into another dreamless sleep. I can't go to my few friends in the mafia with these troubles. The Flags are seasoned mafia members despite their young age, they would try to help in some way, but something tells me that it would only make me feel worse.

So I go to Dazai instead.

I hunt him down, normally finding him in his office late into the night. I show him the pack of cigarettes in my hand and wait. The sixteen year old, knee deep in paperwork, will put his pen down without a word and follow me to the roof, never asking what's wrong or why.

Dazai would also seek me out on nights like these. He'll show up with cigarettes and a lighter in his fingers. We'll go to the nearest roof if we're not still at the mafia building, and stay there until the ever fading light comes back into his dark eyes. On these nights, the ones that he comes to find me, there would always be a look on his normally expressionless face. It always looked like he was one wrong word or stray thought away from going against what he said that day at the shipyard. Like he's about to give up on giving living a try.