[The surest way to tell that something is weighing heavily on Chuuya’s mind is the lack of venom in his words, and the way he seems to be half-heartedly sipping at his current drink instead of knocking them back one after another like usual. There’s a heaviness in the air around him that has absolutely nothing to do with his ability, and his mood has gone from mildly irritated to...whatever the hell he’s feeling right now. He’s never been to think straight around Dazai, god damn it, and that certainly hasn’t changed one bit.]
None of that shit matters anymore. The Port Mafia is gone. The boss is in a coma. The ADA is no more. There’s nothing tying us to that world now.
[This is the first time that Chuuya has admitted those facts outright. Perhaps he’s been in denial that everything he’d ever worked for in his entire life is now gone, scattered among the stars like dust in the wind. His very purpose, his usefulness as a human weapon, hell, even his favorite motorcycle, are all just fucking gone, and Chuuya can’t do shit about it. He’s been wandering aimlessly ever since he came to Nysa, and despite having saved the lives of several innocents and aided refugees in need, Chuuya still doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to be doing with his life. Yes, there’s any number of jobs he could perform, but a job and a purpose are very different things.
He looks up at Dazai with weary eyes the color of a sea right before a storm, as if all the freedom he’s been granted is some kind of burden on his soul.]
Too bad I don’t know what the fuck being happy even means.
[That sounds edgy as hell, but Chuuya honestly doesn’t know what true happiness looks like. Contentment, yes, satisfaction, sure, but happiness?
Is such a thing even possible for either of them?]
Where have you even been? You keep saying all this shit about me, but god fucking forbid you talk about yourself.
[Chuuya has no idea that Odasaku lies in one of the pods, but if he did...]
Don’t sit there and say I’m out there living it up, you bastard. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows now that I’m “free”. I’m still Arahabaki, after all.
no subject
None of that shit matters anymore. The Port Mafia is gone. The boss is in a coma. The ADA is no more. There’s nothing tying us to that world now.
[This is the first time that Chuuya has admitted those facts outright. Perhaps he’s been in denial that everything he’d ever worked for in his entire life is now gone, scattered among the stars like dust in the wind. His very purpose, his usefulness as a human weapon, hell, even his favorite motorcycle, are all just fucking gone, and Chuuya can’t do shit about it. He’s been wandering aimlessly ever since he came to Nysa, and despite having saved the lives of several innocents and aided refugees in need, Chuuya still doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to be doing with his life. Yes, there’s any number of jobs he could perform, but a job and a purpose are very different things.
He looks up at Dazai with weary eyes the color of a sea right before a storm, as if all the freedom he’s been granted is some kind of burden on his soul.]
Too bad I don’t know what the fuck being happy even means.
[That sounds edgy as hell, but Chuuya honestly doesn’t know what true happiness looks like. Contentment, yes, satisfaction, sure, but happiness?
Is such a thing even possible for either of them?]
Where have you even been? You keep saying all this shit about me, but god fucking forbid you talk about yourself.
[Chuuya has no idea that Odasaku lies in one of the pods, but if he did...]
Don’t sit there and say I’m out there living it up, you bastard. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows now that I’m “free”. I’m still Arahabaki, after all.