#v. verlaine; main; tag tbd.

[strayslost]

Brother. Chuuya had called him brother. In the language that Verlaine is most intimately familiar with, he had asked him for help...

Verlaine hadn't even known that Chuuya could speak french. Had he always been able to, or had he learned in the past few years? It forces him to reflect- about how absent he's been from the boy's life for so long. That sour feeling stings like poison, and he's suddenly overcome with the unfamiliar weight of shame.

How could he ever have abandoned this child? He'd convinced himself that because Chuuya was different, he'd be fine. He hadn't understood how Chuuya had had that hope inside him - it had been such an alien concept to Verlaine that he'd assumed that Chuuya could never break like he had. Because they weren't the same... yes, he'd thought that they were fundamentally different.

Maybe they still are, on some level. Back then, Verlaine was certainly wrong to think he'd understood Chuuya. But maybe... they're more alike than he had thought.

He knows that right now, he's not being rational. Chuuya's words, his tears, his utter terror- all of them together were more than enough to shake Verlaine, and he might end up feeling differently when he calms down. But still... with kindness in his eyes, the assassin holds Chuuya close to him. He stays there for a moment, taking in the warmth of his body; the fact that he's alive... and then, with care not to wake him, he picks him up, carrying him in the gentlest way he can.

He hadn't planned to ever leave and go outside; hadn't thought about it in a very long time. But now, leaving feels natural. There's nothing strange about it, not as he carries Chuuya through the building and outside, and not as he takes him to the car that's been waiting for him... for once, Verlaine is glad that Mori went through the trouble of preparing so much for the day he would leave, despite Verlaine's insistence that the day would never come. It's a cold gratitude, because the anger he feels at that man still burns within him, but even so. It's time to bring his little brother home.

@chaosbled ( continued from here! )

[strayslost]

When Verlaine had heard about Yumeno, he had been curious. And curiosity is a luxury that he doesn't often have the chance to feel, nowadays... so is it any wonder he'd decided to seek the child out?

Perhaps they remind him of himself. A tool to be used, be it by the mafia or the government - or perhaps Verlaine feels some sort of alien sympathy for someone so young being forced into such a cruel world... yet it's not like the plight of humans has particularly moved him before, has it? In the end, he... isn't sure why he's here. It's a curiosity rooted entirely in a feeling he can't identify at all.

Now, he stands before them, wearing an expression that shows none of his thoughts at all. What a peculiar meeting, he thinks. What he wants, most of all, is to figure out what drove him to come here.

"Forgive me, but... I don't know what I should call you. Which name do you prefer? Q? Or do you go by something else?"

@theircurse ( starter! )

[strayslost]

The whole time Chuuya has been talking, Verlaine has felt frozen in place, unable to say a thing. His hand, still supporting Chuuya, tightens in its hold as an unfamiliar emotion wells up inside him. Verlaine has never much felt sorrow for another person, and he had believed it would always be that way... but right now, it's like there's a lump in his chest, and the anger he feels on behalf of his little brother is so strong that it's overpowering.

What a strange feeling... As Chuuya talks about the punishments Mori would put Dazai and himself through, he grits his teeth. The Mafia Boss clearly holds no care for Chuuya - there's not an ounce of humanity or worth to be found in him - but even so, Chuuya still wants to protect him? Verlaine can't understand it at all. The city Chuuya holds so dear... Verlaine wishes he could understand what it was like to want to protect it. To care about humans at all. He feels bitterly jealous, yet deeply sympathetic, though he's aware that right now that care that Chuuya feels is acting more like a noose around his neck than a blessing.

He doesn't know what to say. Because he can't promise Chuuya that he'll never leave. He can't see the future, and he doesn't trust himself to try. But he has to say something.

"I'm here, Chuuya. I'm not going anywhere." While it's not a promise, he finds that as he speaks, he truly means what he's saying. And in that moment, Verlaine realizes that he hadn't truly admitted to himself how much he still cares about his brother until now. Even with the differences between them, the jealousy... momentarily, Verlaine remembers Rimbaud, and for a second, his breath is taken away from him entirely.

He didn't appreciate Rimbaud while he was there, and then he was gone. But Chuuya... is still here.

"I don't understand you, you know. Why you're so loyal to Mori, and to Yokohama. But... whatever you want me to do, I'll do it. So please, at least know that I'm here with you.

He holds Chuuya tightly, and curses himself for not being able to do more.

@chaosbled ( continued from here! )

[strayslost]

"Mori-san. It's a pleasure to meet you properly." With a somewhat unpleasant smile, Verlaine introduces himself, as if the man doesn't know exactly who he is very well. After all, he's sure that no-one would forget the face of an assassin who tried to kill you, and who almost killed many, many more.

But the smile quickly drops off his face. ...He has no energy to act for any longer than he has to. Verlaine holds no grudge against Mori, though he knows that a large part of his defeat was due to him, which does sting his pride as an assassin just a little. But he's not grateful to him either. Mostly, when he looks at the man, he feels nothing at all - the same as when he looks at most things, these days.

There is one thing more inside him that brought him to see Mori today, though. And that's curiosity. It's a surprise that Mori doesn't seem to want him dead, though he has of course considered the possibility that the man has lied about that claim - but it's not too surprising, either. After all, who wouldn't want to use Verlaine's power, if they had the chance?

"I've been told that I owe you a great deal." Though it's obvious from the way he speaks that Verlaine doesn't particularly agree with that assessment. "To want to meet with a man like me... I'll admit, I do find myself curious about you."

@dottoris ( starter! )

[strayslost]

“You have to come with me, because if I just tell you, you’re not going to believe me.” Chuuya insisted as he dragged Verlaine by the arm down the corridor of the Port Mafia’s HQ. Finally, they arrived at a dimly lit room, a large fireplace crackling along the wall. Facing away from them was someone sitting on a sofa, warning themselves by the flames.

“I brought him like you asked.” The redhead called softly before stepping out of the room.

Slowly, the guest on the sofa rose from their seat, a tall figure with long raven hair. He turned slowly, & golden eyes gazed across the room into the blond’s deep blues. Finally, a small smile lifted his mouth & he brought his hand to his chest & the dead man gave a slight bow of acknowledgment.

“It’s been a long time, Paul.” Rimbaud greeted.

Verlaine stands there, wide-eyed and face pale as if he's seen a ghost - no, that's exactly what he is seeing. There's a vulnerability to his expression that no-one has ever seen before. He looks like a child.

The stifling silence that fills the room can't be described in words, and in only a few seconds, it feels to him like an eternity passes. The face of the man before him... it's been years, but he could never forget. It's unmistakably the face of Arthur Rimbaud. But... that isn't possible...

"What... kind of trick... is this?"

The words leave his mouth, but he isn't really aware of them. He knows that Chuuya would never be so cruel as to lie to him, but maybe Chuuya's been tricked, too. Yes- that's the only explanation. This can't be real. Because Rimbaud... he's gone forever. There's no god that would grant Verlaine's wish, no-one to listen to his prayers- no chance in a world this cruel that he could ever see his partner alive again.

...Right?

[strayslost]

"Gambling?"

A slightly raised eyebrow, as Verlaine attempts to figure out Mori's intentions. If he wants to participate in a game of sorts, then Verlaine may as well indulge him - perhaps it'll even be a way to stave off the boredom that's been plaguing him for so long.

"I don't spend much time on such activities myself, but that's not to say I'm unfamiliar." It's a non-committal answer, though a true one - it's not like gambling has ever held much interest to him, but a spy and an assassin must be accomplished in all kinds of things, and Verlaine is quite confident in his poker face. He sits as he is invited to do so, and the presence of Elise does not escape his attention, either.

"I hope you can forgive me if it takes some time for me to find my footing. It's been quite some time, you see."

It's difficult to say if he's being sincere in his words or not. But he meets Mori's gaze evenly, wondering if, in some ways, the game has already begun.

@dottoris ( continued from here! )

[strayslost]

"...Dazai-kun. It's been a long time."

Years may have passed, but Dazai still has the same look on his face as he did back then. Those empty-seeming eyes that meet Verlaine's gaze seem somehow endlessly dark. There's always been an aura around him, as if he's above everyone else, looking down at them from a place that no-one could hope to reach...

When he was betrayed by Dazai back then, Verlaine hadn't expected it. Yet in spite of that, in the moment when he realized what had happened... he hadn't felt surprised at all. Even now, it's only because Verlaine is so experienced himself that he can recognize just how dangerous this man truly is.

In spite of that, there's no fear in Verlaine's expression. Instead, he greets Dazai the same way one would greet a casual acquaintance, though he hadn't known that Dazai would show up at all.

"What brings you to a place like this?"

@longerhuman ( starter! )

[strayslost]

Normally, Chuuya avoided Verlaine like the plague, & due to the older’s choice to remain out of sight it wasn’t difficult for the most part. This time, however, the boy had willingly come down to where the assassin typically dwelt, locking the door behind him with shaking hands as though hiding from someone or something.

As soon as he had barricaded the door, the teenager practically sagged. He was soaked to the bone, shivering violently, & looked terrified. He sank to the floor & hid his face in his knees, an ugly, choked noise tearing from the back of his throat. “ Fuck, fuck, fuck! S-shit… ” he hiccuped, breathing harshly as fresh tears began to leak down his cheeks. He seemed to be in the throes of a rather extreme panic attack.

( from @chaosbled ! Thanks for following me back, have some instant upset little brother angst for Verlaine lol. )

"Chuuya...?"

Never before has Verlaine seen Chuuya like this. Not even after everything Verlaine had done to him, after killing his friends, his family - the time when Chuuya was tortured by that atrocious scientist N is the only time that's even come close to getting a reaction like this out of him that Verlaine can recall.

So it's only natural that he would be shocked. A long time ago, he had resolved never to meet Chuuya again. After everything he did, he was sure that there was nothing more he could bring to his brother's life but pain... and maybe there was some resentment hidden in Verlaine's heart, as well. Because the person he thought who could understand him, his only brother in the world... well, it turns out they hadn't been so similar after all.

But maybe he had been mistaken about that feeling. Because there's no resentment in Verlaine's heart now - instead, there's nothing but fear as his eyes widen, staring frozen at the trembling man before him. At the sight, his gut twists inexplicably in pain.

"Chuuya..." Verlaine approaches cautiously, kneeling down himself but hesitating to place a hand on Chuuya's shoulder, fearing he'll only make things worse. What is he supposed to say? At a time like this, for all his training... Verlaine has no idea what to do.

"It's okay- I'm here, Chuuya. It's okay. What's wrong? What happened!?"

[strayslost]

Verlaine may be a Mafia Executive, but not many people know of his position at all, let alone the fact that he's even alive.

It doesn't particularly bother him. He isn't interested in the reasoning behind it, either - if his role to play now is to train the assassins of the next generation, then that's a role he'll play without complaint. Truth be told, Verlaine sees little value in his own life, now more than ever. Yet... he can't throw away the life that Rimbaud chose to save.

Though the life he lives now can barely be called living at all. Truth be told, though, there may be one more thing that binds him to this world - another reason for living that acts as a chain, keeping him bound to the world of the living.

And that is his brother, Chuuya Nakahara. It's strange, though... that that should affect him at all. After all, while his love for his brother has not changed, he's long since accepted that there's nothing he can do for him anymore, and Chuuya is no longer a part of Verlaine's life in any significant way. He understands, now, the differences between them, and whether Verlaine is alive or dead should really make no difference to his brother at all... because of that, Chuuya's existence shouldn't really be a reason for him to continue to live.

Yet whenever he thinks about dying, two faces come to mind. The face of Rimbaud, and the face of Chuuya. ...They just won't leave him be.

Today, though, he sees one of those faces in person. A face that he hadn't expected to see for a long time, if ever again - the fact of his little brother. What a strange turn of fate that they should meet now. Without any expression on his face... Verlaine stares at him, taking in every detail of his face, before speaking - trying to ignore the way his heart beats ever so slightly faster.

"...It's been a long time, Chuuya."

@withsorrowandregret ( starter for chuuya! )

[strayslost]

Dazai's words are cruel, cutting deeper than a knife ever could. He doesn't hold them against him, though - after all, it's a fair statement, and Verlaine has considered killing himself on many an occasion before. He'd flirted with the idea all his life, but the thought of bringing an end to everything had become particularly appealing after the incident six years ago. ...Yet... here he is. If he had to put words to it... perhaps it's because it would feel blasphemous to do so. To throw away that life that Rimbaud had gone out of his way to save six years prior - the life he'd wanted him to live.

Yes, Rimbaud... he cannot betray him again. Even if such a sentiment now is far, far too late.

But at Dazai's final statement... the atmosphere surrounding the two suddenly becomes as cold as ice. It's said so nonchalantly that for a moment, Verlaine doesn't comprehend the words... but as he does, he has to resist the urge to clench his fingers tight against the fabric of his clothes.

"...Is that right? So you thought you'd tell me before you did the deed?"

His calm voice would betray nothing to most, but he's sure that Dazai must be able to sense it - the hostility behind his words. It's difficult to read Dazai, just like it was in the past. Is he lying, trying to get a reaction out of him, or...? Of course, Verlaine doesn't doubt that Dazai is a man who's cold enough to mean what he says. And that's why he can't afford to take such a threat lightly.

After a moment's silence... Verlaine finally speaks.

"I'm sure you wouldn't have come here if you weren't confident that you could keep yourself alive. You are a truly terrifying man, Dazai-kun. But even so... I'll do everything in my power to protect that boy.Of course, if you came here to tell me that, then I'm sure you must be prepared, no?"

@longerhuman ( continued from here! )

[strayslost]

"I..."

Verlaine doesn't know what to say... because Chuuya's question is one that he too desperately wants an answer to. In the past, he's asked himself the same thing many times. He'd once concluded that even if the emotions he felt seemed real, it made no difference - they were still artificial; merely created and designed by others.

But looking at Chuuya now, he can't bring himself to say the same. Unwittingly, he thinks back to what Rimbaud would have said - how he told Verlaine he was human, so many times, trying to bring peace to his hurting soul. ...But Verlaine is not Rimbaud, and he cannot lie to Chuuya, either.

"If you asked me before, I would've told you... that the emotions we felt weren't really our own. They were written by others, decided for us - artificial in every sense of the word. But now... I don't know." He shifts awkwardly where he sits, unable to meet Chuuya's eyes, as he voices a thought he hadn't even admitted to himself before.

"The things you feel... real or not, does it really make any difference?" Even as he speaks, he doesn't know if his words are kind or cruel.

"...I don't know. Honestly, I don't. But if my partner were here, he would've said they were real. I'm not sure if his words mean anything to you, though... I always felt he was a liar." Maybe Chuuya would feel the same. Verlaine grits his teeth and once more, looks away.

"I... hoped you'd never have to ask yourself these questions... I'm sorry."

~ Verlaine // @darknesstrayed ~

Chuuiya wasn’t sure how he could explain it to the blond; it wasn’t even something he really understood himself. He hated being alone, he always had. Normally it wasn’t much of an issue, but with Dazai defecting from the Mafia & what Mori had done… ❝ I… I’m not sure what I’ll do if I’m alone right now. Throwing myself off of the Port Mafia Headquarters sounds appealing right now. Try seeing if Arahabaki can survive hitting cement at 120mph from 1200ft. ❞ It was a dark joke, & not one he would normally make, but he wasn’t… feeling too much like himself at the moment.

The redhead dragged his hands down his face & took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. ❝ Sorry. I promise I’m not.. not normally this depressing. I don’t think. I’m gonna go get changed. ❞ Verlaine’s words made him flinch. The thought of burdening anyone send sharp spikes of pain through his chest. After everything, he still cares about me? ❝ Just… stay. Don’t… don’t go anywhere. I have tea if you want. O-Or coffee. You can help yourself I’ll just… I’ll be right back. ❞

With a cautious look at the former assassin, Chuuya stepped into his bedroom. He probably should shower with how cold he was, but after that tank he didn’t think he could stomach getting into any enclosed, wet spaces right now. He stumbled into his room with his hand pressed over his mouth. As soon as he was reasonably sure he could do so without breaking down again, he peeled off his wet clothes & pulled on a pair of pyjama pants & a t-shirt, tugging a hoodie on over it because he was still so cold.

Once he was done he walked back out & fell onto his couch, knees drawing up to his chest, curling into an even smaller shape than he was already. The silence hung heavy in the air. He stared at the wall for a moment before glancing towards him, wide blue eyes peeking out from under orange bangs

❝ C-Can I ask you a question? It’s okay if you don’t want to answer. The day we… met. You said… you said you loved me. Not directly. But you told me that’s why you wanted to… free me. Love. Does that mean you think we can still feel real emotions? ❞ The boy had a lot of questions for Verlaine two years ago that he’d never felt comfortable approaching him on, but since they were here… it’s not like it could make things more awkward right?

[strayslost]

It becomes immediately obvious to Verlaine that he's intruding in a place he has no right to be in. This home... is evidently somewhere deeply personal to Chuuya. While he doesn't have the time to inspect every book and corner of the rooms, it strikes him how young Chuuya is as he takes in what he sees... he's not innocent. No, he's not nearly naive enough for that. But there's a certain something... that Verlaine has never been able to have for himself...

Before Chuuya wakes up, he spots the pictures - and most of all, he recognizes the Flags. Chuuya's friends. ...The people Verlaine had killed, brutally and cruelly, tearing them away forever without feeling a shred of guilt.

At the time, he'd thought it was for Chuuya's own good, that they would turn on him eventually when he stopped being useful - and yet, what good is an excuse like that? It's what he had told himself. To him, it had been as easy a decision to make as the choice of lunch for the day. But was it really his true motivation?

In the end, what he'd known for sure was how much Chuuya cared for them. And even so, he'd...

-As Chuuya awakens, Verlaine is pulled from his thoughts, and he forces himself to relax his muscles and hands - which had at some point become clenched. Again, he'd called him brother, though this time, he feels sick as he hears it - the judging gazes of Chuuya's friends watching him from their frames. ...Either way, he knows very little about how to deal with sickness, since it's never been a problem for him, and he curses himself now for his lack of knowledge.

"...You need to rest... Chuuya." The fact sickens him, but from Chuuya's words earlier, he can deduce that this isn't the first time this has happened. What does Chuuya normally do after being subjected to such a punishment? Should he ask? ...Verlaine is supposed to be one of the world' most powerful men, but right now, he's never felt so hopeless.

            Despite being physically carried, the teenager did not stir once as he was carried out of the Port Mafia HQ & to the waiting vehicle, dead to the world on what was happening around him. It was to be expected, really, he hadn’t slept in over 24 hours thanks to his mission & then the nightmare that had greeted him when he’d returned to Yokohama. He remained quiet on the ride, head resting against the window, his breathing deep & steady. Judging by the information on his license & IDs, Chuuya had moved out of his first apartment sometime ago, his new address taking Verlaine to a rather upscale looking penthouse apartment located downtown. It was accessible through a private elevator in an underground parking garage that led right up to his floor as long as you had access. 

            Thankfully, his keycard was also in his coat pocket.

            As soon as Verlaine stepped out of the elevator into Chuuya’s apartment, the smart lights automatically switched on. The apartment was a bit lavish for an 18-year-old’s needs, but there was no doubt it had been decorated with care. It opened into a large living room area that was half floor-to-ceiling glass windows & half antique wooden bookshelves, with a cozy leather couch & fireplace tucked into the corner. Vintage tea sets lovingly set out as décor. Dozens of books lined the shelves in a variety of different subjects: Poetry & history, geology, music theory & classic literature of several languages, including Japanese, Chinese, English & French among the most prominent, novels on Russian war strategy… books on ancient Japan’s pre-Shinto religion… There was also Italian cookbooks & a few psychology books — ‘You Might Be Gay If…: The Teen Book Of Self Discover’ & ‘Overcoming Trauma: The Beginner’s Guide to PTSD’. 

            There was also a handful of trashy, pop culture series that you’d expect to find in a typical teenager’s bedroom.

            The couch looked… recently slept on, a pillow & spare blanket folded up neatly on the arm of it, & a roll of… very familiar looking white bandages. A mahogany wine cabinet stood prominently along the main wall, filled with an assortment of pricey vintage bottles. Decorating the mantle of the unlit fireplace were several silver photo frames on display. In the first frame was a rather battered copy of a photo of Chuuya, quite young looking, with a bunch of scraggly looking kids in a dimly lit, Western-style diner. There was a boxed pizza on the table that looked like barely enough to feed all of them, but it notably had candles sticking out of the dough, the pepperonis arranged to look like letters: ‘HAPPY 10TH BIRTHDAY!’  it spelled. The photo next to that one was of the Executive, Kouyou, standing behind Chuuya with her hands on his shoulders. He looked young & nervous, 15 or so, with a suit that didn’t quite look right on him & his hair pulled back into a short ponytail. He had a slightly shy smile on his face. 

            Beside that one was a photo of Dazai & Chuuya around the same time, & looking like they just returned from a mission, dirty with small injuries visible on the. They were both fast asleep, seemingly unaware their picture was being taken; Chuuya had his arm slung over Dazai’s waist with his head resting on the brunet’s shoulder. The next photo was of… the Flags. The young men & boys were all grouped together in front of their favourite place — the Old World Poolhouse — judging by their appearances it was probably taken that day, they all looked a little tipsy. Lippmann & Iceman stood on either end of the group, with Doc seated next to the hitman, gripping his IV pole & grinning despite his sickly appearance. Beside him was Albatross who had his arm around the redhead’s face & was leaning forwards making an exaggerated kissing face at Chuuya — likely to annoy him. Piano Man stood on the boy’s other side, one hand clasping his shoulder as he beamed at the camera. Chuuya was standing directly in the middle of the group, trying to look irritated but not quite managing as a small smile had made its way onto his face. He looked happy. 

            To the left of the living room were doors leading to the bathroom & bedroom, presumably, & to the left was a moderately sized kitchen & dining island with stools tucked in, everything was in impeccable order, all stainless steel & modern high end appliances. There were different boxes of tea & coffee on display, a rack stuffed to the brim with various exotic & local spices, a handful of small potted plants scattered around the counter & island. It was immediately clear that Chuuya considered this place his home, with his personal hobbies, belongings & history so blatantly on display. He considered this a safe place to express himself, something he couldn’t fully do even in the Mafia.

               In the blond’s arms, Chuuya mumbled under his breath, curling his arms around Verlaine’s neck &  ❝ Are we there yet, Nii-sama? I don’t… feel very good… ❞  he said softly, his skin still quite cold from the water tank, but his cheeks were a bit flushed. Blue eyes opened groggily & looked over the elder’s shoulder.  ❝ Ah, we are here, good… ❞  he pressed his face into Verlaine’s neck not unlike a little kid.

His forehead was hot, as though he’d suddenly come down with something.

[strayslost]

It seems obvious to Verlaine that Chuuya has no idea how to deal with what he's feeling. One moment telling him he'll be fine, the next, asking him to stay... though Verlaine can't help but wonder what the hell he did to make Chuuya want him to stay, of all people. It's ridiculous. After he killed the people who were so important to him, even so...?

"I'll stay if you wish for it. Though I don't know of how much help I can be." Verlaine speaks with a hint of self-derision, but his voice is steady and unwavering. It's only years of practice that allow him to control the emotions that show on his face like this... and with that thought, suddenly, for a moment - he thinks of Rimbaud...

The scars on Chuuya's body are another painful reminder of how much Verlaine has failed - and how much people like them are destined to suffer in this world, no matter what they do... But unlike Verlaine, who rejected people at every turn, Chuuya doesn't want to be alone.

Seeing the boy's shaken expression and his efforts to hold back his tears make Verlaine's expression suddenly twist in sympathy. He knows what it means to suffer, all too well - so why did it have to be him? Why his little brother, who did nothing wrong...?

"I have to apologize. I don't know what to say in a situation like this, and I know I'm a cold-hearted man. Just- tell me whatever you need."

It seems obvious to Verlaine that Chuuya has no idea how to deal with what he's feeling. One moment telling him he'll be fine, the next, asking him to stay... though Verlaine can't help but wonder what the hell he did to make Chuuya want him to stay, of all people. It's ridiculous. After he killed the people who were so important to him, even so...?

"I'll stay if you wish for it. Though I don't know of how much help I can be." Verlaine speaks with a hint of self-derision, but his voice is steady and unwavering. It's only years of practice that allow him to control the emotions that show on his face like this... and with that thought, suddenly, for a moment - he thinks of Rimbaud...

The scars on Chuuya's body are another painful reminder of how much Verlaine has failed - and how much people like them are destined to suffer in this world, no matter what they do... But unlike Verlaine, who rejected people at every turn, Chuuya doesn't want to be alone.

Seeing the boy's shaken expression and his efforts to hold back his tears make Verlaine's expression suddenly twist in sympathy. He knows what it means to suffer, all too well - so why did it have to be him? Why his little brother, who did nothing wrong...?

"I have to apologize. I don't know what to say in a situation like this, and I know I'm a cold-hearted man. Just- tell me whatever you need."

[strayslost]

Verlaine's eyes widen, ever so slightly. He wasn't prepared for Chuuya's words at all. ...He never is, when it comes to Rimbaud.

He looks away, suddenly unable to meet Chuuya's eyes, and doesn't speak for a moment. He knows he should be comforting Chuuya, telling him that it's okay, and yet...

"He saved my life. Even after I betrayed him." It feels like he's committing some great sin by admitting that at all. But Chuuya's right - in the end, Rimbaud did care, so much so that Verlaine can't possibly comprehend it. He only wishes he'd realized it sooner. It's too late now, and yet the desire to go back burns just as strongly in his chest as it did at that moment...

It hurts so much. Rimbaud...

"I think... that we might not be the same. I'm not one to feed others with false hope or pretty lies, but right now... it's hard for me to see you as anything other than human."

...And what, the treacherous part of his mind whispers, does that mean for me? ...But this is about his little brother. And though he's never admitted it aloud before, his words now reflect how he really feels - how he's felt ever since the day that Guivre was defeated for good.

Chuuya pours them each a cup of tea, both so he has something to occupy his hands & because he’s still so cold. The mention of partners, however, makes him wince. Then he realizes what Verlaine meant. “You mean… Rimbaud?” He asks. It’s been a long time since he’s heard anybody talk about him…

“I visit his grave sometimes.” He admits, thinking he was overdue for a visit. Chuuya had never really had a mentor when he joined the Mafia; if he had he imagines Rimbaud would have been it. “He told me something interesting when… before he…” Before he passed away from his injuries.

The redhead hands his brother the teacup before sitting at the kitchen island, holding his in both hands to absorb the heat. “He said that I might have been a vessel for Arahabaki, but that doesn’t mean I am it. More of a conduit for its power. He also said that… whether I’m human or not doesn’t matter, that I’m me, & isn’t that enough?” He chuckles, somewhat sadly. “Smart guy, he was. No memory but he pieces together just about everything… did I ever tell you why he tried to kill the Mackerel & I?” He asks, sounding marginally calmer. He’d not sure whether this news will comfort Verlaine or not, but he deserves to know.

“…it was for you.” Chuuya closes his eyes & pictures the man’s face. How earnest & reflective he looked, how at peace he seemed once he had his answer. “He couldn’t remember anything about his past, but he remembered he had a partner. He wanted to know what happened to you, if you were… okay. He thought absorbing me - Arahabaki - would help him remember what happened that night.”

A dedicated partner, to sacrifice everything like that, even his life. Chuuya’s heart aches fiercely. I wouldn’t know what that’s like. Mine left me to rot in this place, alone. “He most have loved you a lot, to still think of you eight years later.” He whispers, feeling his eyes fill up with tears again. “Sorry, I — shit. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I can’t keep it together…” he sniffles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.