Dazai's heart almost (much to his dismay) stopped when he saw that someone was in his usual seat. More specifically, when he saw a certain someone in his usual seat. And wait – his back was turned to him but, was he hearing … sobbing noises?
"Ah," the old lady running the place hurried over. "Sorry, but this seat is taken –"
Instinctively, out of habit mostly, the first thing he did was throw the redhead an insult whilst backing away casually. "By the 5-foot hat-stand?"
At the same time, said hat-stand had turned around, noticed his presence and quickly glanced away, letting out a colourful string of expletives.
Dazai turned around. "I'm sorry, didn't realise this was kiddy corner – will take my leave immediately."
But before he could take another step, he felt a hand grabbing the back of his coat, and shoving him hard into the wall. Already prepared for this, Dazai made sure to throw his head forward so that his skull wouldn't split against the bricks.
"Why are you here?!" A pair of flashing sapphire eyes met his gaze. For a short second, he forgot how to use his voice.
"Chuuuuya~" Dazai sang, smiling. "Am I interrupting your Happy Meal?"
The hand at his collar twisted, almost choking him. "What do you want?!"
"What's happening here?" The elderly lady tried to cut in.
"Shut up!" Chuuya snarled at her, causing her to flinch. "Stay out of this!"
"Tsk tsk! Have you lost all civility after –"
"WHAT DO YOU WANT, DAZAI?!"
Good question. Dazai thought. He felt like he had just been thrown off balance and everything was spiralling out of control. Why was this happening to him?
"Uhhh …"
Chuuya pulled back a fist, shaking. "Why aren't you answering me? Speak or I'll make sure you can never speak again!"
Dazai swallowed, his mind desperately working to ignore Chuuya's tear-tracked face. He wasn't mistaken, he was crying. Why was he crying? He forced himself to smile patronisingly.
"Chuuya, maybe your midget brain cannot comprehend this but this place is a café? And when people walk into one they usually want food –"
"GODDAMMIT DAZAI!" Chuuya released his punch into the wall, inches away from his ear. His head hung low and he was shaking slightly. "I don't know what you are scheming but I can't deal with your bullshit right now."
And with that, Chuuya ran out of the door, almost colliding with a couple who were just about to stroll in.
The elderly lady shot Dazai a look before going to help the couple. Fixing his collar and patting his clothes down, he took a seat where Chuuya had just been and imagined his silhouette dashing away in the dark.
Dazai
I propped my elbows onto the table and held my head, already feeling a headache coming. I guess it was inevitable. I hadto run into the short-stack sooner or later. I'd been coming here almost every day. And considering the proximity of this café to Chuuya's apartment, it was actually weird that we haven't run into each other before tonight.
Still, nothing could have prepared me for this. I didn't expect to walk in on him crying. And oh, he was most definitely crying. I didn't miss the quick swipe of his hand across his face when he glanced down upon seeing me, or the tear tracks on his cheeks and his trembling grip on my collar. The Chuuya I knew … the Chuuya I knew would have punched me right in the gut already, or dragged me outside to finish the brawl. He wouldn't have ended things by giving up and running away …
What was going on?
"What did you do?" the elderly lady asked, coming to my table.
"Me?" I asked disbelievingly. All I did was walk in!
The elderly lady raised an eyebrow. "People don't normally burst outright upon seeing a person."
Oh. I shrugged, staring at the almost-empty tea cup left on the table. "Maybe he's got anger issues. Don't think he's normal."
"Really?"
Resisting the urge to pick up the cup, I tore my eyes away and looked at lady. "Why was he crying?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"I'm curious," I said tonelessly.
The old lady rolled her eyes. "You mispronounced 'concerned'."
Scoffing, I quickly shot back. "Look, lady. I just want to know why I'm sitting here still alive. Under normal circumstances, he'd have tried to kill me. I'm curious – even perturbed by his behaviour tonight. Now will you tell me why he was crying?"
After a long hard stare, the elderly lady finally relented with a sigh. "I don't know how much I can tell you … but he was already crying when he entered the café."
"And … did you guys chat about anything?"
"He just asked for some tea in between sobs and I let him cry freely. I didn't try to talk to him after giving him his tea."
Still unconvinced, I pressed on. "Did he say anything while crying?"
"Only a few phrases and broken sentences," the old lady narrowed her eyes. "You're certainly interested. What's your relationship with him?"
"No comment."
She continued speaking. "Let me guess. You two were once friends and now hate each other."
Frowning, I couldn't help but ask, "where'd you get that from?"
"Hmm … how do I put it? It sounds strange but observing the both of you was like watching my husband and I fight in the past." Noticing my baffled expression, the elderly lady hastened to clarify. "I don't mean that we threatened to punch the living daylights out of each other. But I mean that you two seem very well acquainted with each other – like you know how he's going to act and vice versa … it's hard to explain."
I went back to staring at the white teacup. "Well, you're not exactly wrong but I wouldn't say we were friends."
"Is there more to that then?"
Suddenly feeling helpless, I let out a deeper sigh. "It's complicated. I don't know where to start – I guess you could call us 'partners' once but even then we didn't like each other. We were constantly at each other's throats …"
I was speaking honestly. We were always bickering. But for some reason, I also feel like I was lying. What was even more strange was – why do I care now?
I've always been a liar. To everyone around me, to myself.
I don't care for emotions, so I've always suppressed them and replaced them with counterfeit convenient feelings to deceive other people.
Now I'm wondering if in that process of deception, I've lost myself too. My true self.
And why is Chuuya making me feel this way?
Somehow, I think I know the answer but I really don't want to face it. Everything's just been sealed off for so long … I've gotten so good at squashing every tiny bit of feeling that reminded me of my own humanity.
I hear a distant bell tinkling and from the corner of my eye, I see the old lady leave to service more customers. Reaching out my right hand, I lightly touch the cold porcelain of the spotless white teacup Chuuya had just been drinking out of, moments ago.
Chuuya. I thought. Who were those tears for?
Chuuya
Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I ran back to my apartment blindly. I furiously wiped away my tears before wrapping my arms around myself. I realised I had left my hat behind in that café but I couldn't care less about it at the moment.
I could barely hold a coherent thought. It was as if I had suddenly been rendered unable to think. All I was left, was raw emotion.
I fumbled with my keys at the front door, but for some reason, I wasn't able to get it open.
"DAMMIT!" I yelled, and punched the lock. The handle of the door broke on impact but at least I was now able to get in.
I entered and slammed the door behind me. On my way to the bedroom, I kicked the coffee table over. Hearing it crash onto the floor only made me feel a tinge better.
Finally, I got to my room and threw myself down on the bed, letting out a cry of frustration.
I didn't want to think, I didn't want to think but his face, his voice, it's ringing in my head. Turning to my side, I gripped my skull in frustration.
Why had he come to the café? Why just now, of all times?
By now at least, the tears had run out. So I was shaking for another reason, I was shaking out of anger. How dare he! How dare he show his face around these parts?
Even though he didn't seem to show any malice, you can never trust Dazai Osamu.
I have never hated someone more than him in my life, but right now I can't help but hate myself equally as much, for displaying such weakness in front of him.
I hated how he could see right through me, how he could always see right through me, no matter how hard I tried to mask my emotions.
And just then, they were definitely equivalent to being on full display for him to analyse.
I've never felt so vulnerable in my life.
Seeing Dazai after such a hellish week, hurt. It really did. My chest hurts and I'm frustrated now because I let him get under my skin like this.
All those years of building up walls and channelling my annoyance into a deep-seated hatred – none of that mattered anymore. I can't do this anymore.
As the adrenaline faded and exhaustion took over, I then started to wonder how long I had been laying here in the dark. I forced myself to get up from the bed and into the bathroom. I should take a bath. Maybe a nice, warm, long bath will help. I definitely can't go back to that café for more tea anymore, anyway.
So I went and started a warm bath and then slipped into the tub. Sinking into the water, I pulled my knees up to my chest. After all that earlier crying, confusion, anger and frustration, my body felt numb …
Save for one lingering emotion – loneliness.
Dazai
"Are you ready to order now?" I hear the old lady ask, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"I don't think I'll have anything," I reply, remembering my mission. The logical part of my brain has already decided that Chuuya can wait. So I pushed all distracting thoughts out of head immediately. "Could you come with me? To that back room?" I nodded at that door behind the counter.
The elderly lady perfectly raised an eyebrow.
"I'm here to do my job," I said standing up and flashing my ID. "I'm a detective, you remember. So, I am here to investigate."
"Very well," she frowned and went to the door.
As I moved from my spot, my foot accidently stepped on something. Looking down, I saw the short-stack's hat. My thoughts became disoriented for a moment as I picked it up.
Evidently, the elderly lady noticed my frozen frame because she asked, "are you going to return that?"
"I don't think –"
"You really should," she interrupted. This time, I didn't bother to hide the annoyance that crossed my face. "It seems like both of you really need to have a talk."
I scoffed. "If we crossed paths again, we'd kill each other."
"I'll come with you," the elderly lady said without missing a beat.
I blinked at her in confusion. What did she say?
"I was thinking of giving the poor boy some chamomile tea. I have a box of teabags in the kitchen and he looked like he could use more."
My face darkened. I'm not going to let her distract me again. "Lady, I need you in the back room."
Once again, she demonstrated her perfect eyebrow raise. Her tone was cold as she said, "I'm not cooperating until you and I deliver that hat and tea, Mr Detective. You can try to coerce me and force me into that room all you want but I'm not going to answer any of your questions until we see that young man."
Ugh! So frustrating! I'm definitely demanding time off from work after this case.
"So do we have a deal?"
A/N: You'll notice that I had begun this chapter in a Third Person narrative style. Now that they've met, I want to write the scenes they have together in a more distanced perspective, instead of taking a character's POV. So you'll start to see me switching between 1st and 3rd person now! Hope I've cleared up your confusion, if any!
