the silence you left behind

Chuuya Nakahara stood still long after the battlefield had emptied.

Broken concrete lay scattered around him, the air still trembling faintly with the aftereffects of clashing abilities. Sirens wailed somewhere far away, but none of it mattered. The only thing echoing in his mind was a familiar voice—light, teasing, and unbearably distant.

I care. More than you think.

“…Liar,” Chuuya muttered.

Rain began to fall, soft at first, then heavier, soaking into his hair and darkening his coat. He didn’t move to shield himself. Gravity stirred restlessly beneath his skin, reacting to emotions he refused to acknowledge.

Dazai Osamu was gone again.

Just like before.

Chuuya clenched his fists.

Why did he always do this? Show up without warning, turn everything upside down, then disappear like he had never existed at all?

“You damn coward,” Chuuya whispered through gritted teeth.

And yet—

when Dazai had been injured, Chuuya hadn’t hesitated.

His body had moved on instinct.

That realization made his chest tighten painfully.

Flashback – Port Mafia Days

The hallway lights flickered faintly as the mission ended. Blood stained the floor, the air thick with the smell of iron.

“You’re reckless,” Dazai said lazily, leaning against the wall.

Chuuya scoffed, adjusting his gloves. “You’re one to talk.”

Dazai hummed, eyes trailing over Chuuya in quiet assessment. There was something strange in his gaze—something Chuuya hadn’t understood back then.

Before Chuuya could question it, Dazai stepped closer and brushed dirt off Chuuya’s shoulder with unexpected gentleness.

“Try not to die,” Dazai said lightly.

Chuuya froze. “Huh?”

Dazai had already turned away, hands in his pockets, smile firmly back in place.

Chuuya remembered staring after him, annoyed—and oddly unsettled.

Present

Chuuya shook his head sharply, forcing the memory away.

“Tch. Don’t get sentimental now,” he muttered.

But the memories kept coming.

Moments he had dismissed. Words he had ignored. Silences that now felt too heavy to be meaningless.

He began walking back toward Port Mafia headquarters, footsteps echoing through the rain-soaked streets. Each step felt heavier than the last.

Port Mafia Headquarters

The corridors were quiet when Chuuya entered, the familiar darkness offering no comfort tonight.

“Executive Nakahara,” a subordinate said cautiously. “Are you injured?”

“I said I’m fine,” Chuuya snapped, brushing past.

Physically, he was unharmed.

Emotionally, he felt like gravity itself was crushing him from the inside.

As he passed a certain hallway, his steps slowed.

Dazai used to wait here.

Always pretending he was bored. Always pretending he wasn’t waiting at all.

Chuuya turned away sharply.

“…Idiot,” he muttered. He wasn’t sure who he was talking about anymore.

Elsewhere – Armed Detective Agency

Dazai Osamu lay on a medical cot, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“You let yourself get hurt,” Kunikida said sharply, arms crossed. “Again.”

Dazai smiled faintly. “Did I?”

“That wasn’t a joke!”

Dazai didn’t answer. His thoughts were far away—back on the battlefield, back to the moment Chuuya had grabbed him, furious and terrified all at once.

You still care, Dazai thought quietly.

That knowledge hurt more than the wound.

If Chuuya still cared…

then leaving him behind had been the cruelest thing Dazai had ever done.

But staying would have been worse.

Dazai closed his eyes.

Hate me, he thought. That’s safer.

Another Memory – Childhood

Rain poured relentlessly over the city.

A younger Chuuya stood alone in an alley, bruised and furious, fists clenched as tears mixed with rain.

“You’re loud when you’re upset,” a voice said.

Chuuya turned sharply. “Who—?”