This is an edited chapter. I've been wanting to change it since I posted it, but didn't. But now I did. Let's just say that the word "kiss" is changed to "slap".

(I don't know if everyone gets an update everytime I update this- but the pharagraps just don't want to translate when posted!)

«So, the preacher is back?» Chuuya mumbled thoughtfully while pouring their drinks, returning into the bedroom where he had propped up the pillows against the wall to help Dazai sit upright.

"Yup," Dazai stated emotionless, accepting the flask and small cup Chuya had brought him. Quickly, he shot back the liquid from the cup, before throwing it to the side and concentrated his attention directly to the bottle instead.

Chuya prompted his elbow to his knee, resting his head on a tightly gripped fist.

"Jeeze, you're so unrefined."

"Yup."

Chuya sighed heavily, feeling uneasy by the fact that his former partner wasn't poking back. But considering the circumstances... During the ten or so years since he had known Dazai, the preacher had been the one and only person he had ever seen Dazai actually fear.

And with good reason...

"He sent me a letter," Dazai stated suddenly.

Chuya's train of thought was abrupted by Dazai's confession.

"A letter?"

Dazai pointed lazily to the jacket he had thrown on the floor. "Right pocket."

Chuya grabbed the beige coat but hesitated as he held the tan trench coat in his hands.

"Was this Oda's?"

"Right pocket," Dazai said firmly. "Read it before I change my mind."

He didn't want to let it go, so he made a mental note to talk to him about it later. Reaching into the pocket of the tan coat, he picked out a rusty old key and a letter that was partially soaked. He gingerly opened the envelope, making sure that he didn't rip it.

The ink on the page inside had smeared out, but he could still make up most of it.

Dazai.
Because of you, the wrath of God is coming. Be ready for your atonement, for I am back. You will be lead to eternal punishment, your righteous eternal life in the flames of the devil's embrace. You have already been denied as His child. Your undying suffering will see no end in this life. His doom has already come upon you. It is time to let God reflect you, so you can truly see yourself once more- the way he has always done. He knows your longings. He knows your anger. He knows that you fear Him.

I set the key of David on thy shoulders. When he opens no one will shut, when he shuts, no one will open.

You know what to do.

May God forgive you

Father

(A/N: I tried my best on this letter. Much of it is passages is from the bible that I have tried to rewrite to some extent and tried to make sense towards what I wanted it to do. It was kinda hard to write, but I did my best!)

"I don't get it," Chuya mumbled and looked to Dazai.

"I guess it's not for you to understand." Dazai's emotionless attitude started.

"Then why the hell did you even call me if you don't want my help?"

Dazai looked away. He was tired, in pain and he felt dizzy.

"Because I didn't want to die on his doorstep," he explained simply, taking another sip of the sake.

For some reason, this angered Chuya greatly. Was that all it was? Really?

"You know what, fuck you Dazai. I-"

"No, fuck you Chuya! Fuck you!" Dazai raised his voice and turned back to the smaller man. "I-I... I don't have the answers, okay? I don't know why he is back, I don't know why he wanted me to come back to Shinja, and I don't know why I did! I don't know what happened when I got up there, and I don't know how I survived, and I don't know why I went back! The only fucking thing I know is that I needed you..." Dazai's voice broke. He cleared his throat. "I... I needed you in this. You're the only one I can talk to..." He lowered his head in shame. Pained, heavy breaths tore in his chest and he just wanted to hide under his blanket and never come back.

Chuya stood in the middle of the room, unmoving. This was the first time Dazai had ever raised his voice at him. He couldn't remember him raising his voice to anyone. Not him, not Mori, not Akutagawa, Oda, Ango and certainly not the preacher... He never raised his voice, ever. It was always so gentle. So untouched by anything.

And he felt so greatful to be on the recieving end of his first verbal assult from his former partner, not counting their usual bickering.

Chuya lowered himself to Dazai's futon. Dazai wouldn't look at him.

"Listen, Dazai..." Chuya lay an affectionate hand on Dazai's chin and guided his face back up to lock eyes. Dazai was crying. Actually crying.

Another first.

"Please look at me," Chuya whispered, and finally Dazai looked up.

Chuuya slapped his face, hard.

Dazai startled by the sudden action. Chuuya ruffled a hand in the unruly mess of dark brown hair.

A sharp pain struck Dazai as his friendemy accidentally leaned his weight on Dazai's broken leg.

He winched and retreated.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry Dazai!" Chuya seemed frantic. It was out of character for the small man.

Dazai forced a laugh, mostly to reassure Chuya that it was okay. Both the accidental butt-to-fracture action and the slap.

"Don't worry," Dazai sighed with a faint smile. "I just, I'm not myself right now... I'm too tired."

Chuya smiled, and sat back beside Dazai, lifting his arm over the slightly younger (by two months and he would not let Dazai forget about it) man's head. Dazai leaned on his shoulder and made an effort to relax.

They kept drinking in silence, both deep in thought. It didn't take long until Dazai passed out from the unfortunate combination of painkillers and alcohol.

Chuya was leaned back with the former mafioso dozed off with his head rested on his lap. He watched him sleeping, thinking that this would probably be the last time he would see him this relaxed until they found a way to once again get rid of that devil that usually haunted Dazai's sleep. Unless they couldn't... No, he didn't want to think about that.

It didn't take long before he fell asleep himself.

Something itched.

His nose. Chuya snorted and tried to swap at the fly disturbing his sleep.

Again.

Chuya startled and shook himself out of his haze, ready to crush that fly into oblivion only to be met by... a hand?

"Boop!"

Chuya looked down. A childish grin was looking back up at him, once again raising his finger to press his nose like you would a button.

"Boop!"

"Dazai... what are you doing?"

"I'm booping your nose."

Chuya looked at the undoubtedly entertained man-child. The undoubtedly entertained former youngest-ever executive of the port fucking mafia, and the bottle of strong painkillers that was tilted on the side of the bed.

"Boop!"

His former superior.

"Boop!"

"I'm going to kill you!"

Kunikida was a man who liked to stick to his routines. Some might call it OCD, but he himself didn't really see it that way. It was just what his ideals were. Having things in order.

Every day he would wake up at five o'clock. He would proceed to take twenty push-ups, twenty sit-ups and run for twenty minutes on the treadmill.

He would drink 1,5 dl of green tea at 170 degrees, and eat a bowl of oatmeal. 1 cup of old-fashioned rolled oats, 2 cups of milk, 1/8 teaspoon of salt, cooked for 7 minutes. This was supposed to happen between 6:00 and 6:30.

He would brush his teeth for two minutes and then floss for one hundred seconds.

If nothing (Dazai) interrupted his ritual, that would mean that he could walk across the parking lot from the dormitories and be at work by exactly 7 o'clock.

Today, that didn't happen. The long-haired man stopped in the parking lot and looked around. There was supposed to be two cars in the parking lot. There were three.

A large black landrover was parked in one of the usually vacant spots.

Kunikida took a deep breath. 'It's fine. It's probably just someone who doesn't want to pay for parking across the street.'

He kept walking.

'Which means that I, who live here, pays for this idiot's parking!'

Kunikida spun back with clenched fists and grinding teeth, ready to leave a very cross note to whoever that stupid idiot thought he... Then he noticed the crutches in the back seat.

Yes, Kunikida was a man who liked to stick to his routines. He liked his life to be planned out and predictable. That, however, didn't mean that it was difficult for him to add two and two together (he used to be a math teacher after all). He leaped up the stairs to the second-floor patio of their dorms and knocked hard on Dazai's door until the lock of the door clicked and the door slowly creaked open.

Within seconds he wrote in his notebook that he had to make Dazai oil the henches of his door.

"Where have you been you bandage wasting-" Kunikida cut himself off at the sight of the small redhead. His white shirt was crumbled and untucked, and black pants had hastily been pulled up as his belt was not buckled.

The short and the tall man looked at each other before some kind of recognition smacked Kunikida across the head.

"You're that Port Mafia ginger-kid!"

Chuya looked from his current state of hardly-awake. "I have no idea who you are."

"Where is Dazai-kun?" he asked in a raised voice, clearly showing his anger over this situation.

"Shhh," Chuya hissed annoyed and dragged the blonde inside. "He's still sleeping! I swear to God if you wake him- he's the most irritating person I've ever met when he's injur..."

"Chuyaaa..." a weak voice was heard from the bedroom. "I don't feel well."

Thank God, he seems to be feeling better, Chuya thought but cringed at the sound.

Kunikida stomped past the short redhead and into Dazai's bedroom.

"Where the hell has you been, you-" he cut himself off.

Dazai was too pale. He didn't look good at all. He really needed to go back to the hospital. Kunikida sighed in defeat. He couldn't yell at Dazai right now. The sight of his partner was just too pitiful.

"Dazai-kun," he stated in the softest voice he could muster.

"F-Fabio?"

Kunikida had to strain himself not to punch the kid. No punching. He's clearly delirious.

"Dazai, we should go back to the hospital," he smiled stiffly.

"I never really liked the Hanson brothers, you know," he mumbled, trailing off. "No offense."

Someday, he was going to kill him. He really was.

"Yeah, he's been acting like this all morning." Chuya leaned on the doorframe.

"I don't even give a shit why you're here anymore. Would you mind helping me get him to my car?" Kunikida asked.

"Absolutely."