Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chuuya Nakahara can confidently admit to not having a single bone in his body feel something even as remotely close to a positive opinion on Dazai Osamu. Maybe when he was younger Dazai would've been lucky if Chuuya could have admitted to perhaps feeling some slight admiration, but that was before he truly got to know him and his arrogant horrid self.

When Dazai was just a figment of imagination, someone you couldn't actually reach, so you could sit in silence and wish to be better, letting the jealousy overcome you, and then you get older and he suddenly finds an interest in tormenting you and only you. Whether it's emotionally, physically or psychlogically, Chuuya has experienced every single one of the options possible. He would honest to god probably rather commit the worst sins known to man than spend a moment with him.

He doesn't know how true that statement actually is, but he knows it's true enough for him to say it without hesitation.

Yet despite that, his schedule might as well be the name ‘Dazai’ written on a calendar like a 9-5, standing written in capital letters highlighting his hatred and despair he feels just from waking up.

Every day, every class, every single fucking second, all he has to deal with is the biggest nuisance known to man. He’s aware of this from the moment he wakes up, to the moment he goes to sleep. He’s lucky if his dream isn’t occupied by Dazai as well, it’s horrible, really. He's like a ghost haunting you, or an old tale from ancient japan that could still make you worry and tremble in the current age of day, but the problem is that he's worse. Because he's real, and he exists.

There was a time where Chuuya believed they could be friends, perhaps just enough to be somewhat familiar with one another.

He knows his patterns, the way he walks and the way his voice stays at a specific octave every time he talks.

He's learnt all of this due to the years he spent trying to befriend the man, and the other years he spent resenting him.

“Why are you still in bed?”

Yosano breaks him out of his thoughts, as if it was as easy as opening a can of soda, exept it would probably overflow with the sudden movement and spill all over. He decides to keep his composure today though, she doesn't have to deal with his horrible attitude every single day, even though knowing her she would probably do it. She’s picked up the habit of walking into his dorm without knocking, which bothered him at first but he's by now spent way too much energy lecturing her to care anymore. “Class is first in 20 minutes” Chuuya replies in a yawn as he finds himself sitting up. Most of his days start with his best friend waking him up because he is truly unable to do it himself, he’s never been quite sure why. He's not helpless, he's just unmotivated, really. But since he’s awake now, might as well get up.

As he finds his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth, he notices the silence. The way Yosano follows his pace, and how she doesn’t make snarky comments, or snicker at his morning hair, no, none of that, she’s observing. Observing the way he walks and talks, as if trying to figure something out. She only does this in specific situations, like if Chuuya had accidentally made one too many jokes the day prior about his family, or if she has a suspicion he’s not telling her something. He doesn't remember saying anything stupid yesterday, so it must be the latter.

“Yes, Sano?” He says as he picks up his toothbrush. He recently picked up a new toothpaste brand, one that focuses on tastes, because he doesn’t like the stinging mint. The current one he’s using is strawberry, not horrible but not pleasant. “You’re limping.” She says, he’s a little shocked by the statement, not realizing it himself. “Oh, really?” He pulls up in his pajamas, trying to see if anything is wrong, and to his surprise he has a few bruises here and there. He sighs, knowing what type of conversations this could end up in.

He first realises how they came to be, then he realises why Yosano is being so weird about it, despite probably knowing it the second she mentioned the limping. “Yesterday I slipped on the stairs because I was late to class, ‘s all. I promise.” He needs to reassure her because else her mind will wander places it shouldn’t. Like his parents.

A few minutes later he’s finally getting clothes on, “You know what I heard?” Yosano suddenly says, after having been quiet. “Mm?” He simply hums, rather than giving her a real answer. Mostly because Yosano has a great habit of spilling every slight sip of drama she can obtain, less because Chuuya is uninterested half the time. That doesn’t matter to her though, she enjoys his quiet company. “The tiger kid is officially moving into the dorms, how do you think Akutagawa will react?” She says, having somehow obtained this information that doesn’t mean anything to anyone, maybe excluding Akutagawa.

“Not sure. He’ll probably be a bitch about it for a day then forget about it.” Chuuya shrugs, clearly not seeming to care. Not that he ever does, these kinds of things are completely meaningless to him. Akutagawa is Yosano and Chuuya’s ‘adopted’ freshman, at least they joke like that, but he hasn’t ditched them yet so surely he can’t disagree that much. Chuuya’s best friend is sadly also friends with the god forsaken people Dazai hangs around. Like the horrendously smart senior, or the slightly too obedient sophomore.

Either way, he just hopes today can go by without him giving too much attention to the one person that corrupts his brain, which is a pretty half-assed wish, but if it’s possible, it’s worth wanting.
_______________________________________

Dazai on the other hand, pays no attention to the other. Well, he does to an extent.

Actually more than he’d probably want to admit. A lot of his days pass by due to his ability of pissing Chuuya off, he’s sure a single smile sent his way could make him rage in anger. But it’s because, truly, how serious is a school rivalry when you’re merely 17? Apparently, very, if you ask Chuuya. He studies, and he tries, so very hard, and yet it fails with success every single time. The worst part is that Dazai doesn’t try, he’s naturally smart, he barely has to study at all to pass an exam flawlessly, which is why everyone thinks it’s stupid for Chuuya to put himself through the torture of setting himself up.

A knock comes upon Dazai and Kunikida’s room,
“Open it Dazai, it’s probably Atsushi.” Kunikida yells from the bathroom, he just finished a morning shower. The same shower he takes every morning at exactly 07:00.
And of course, he’s right. Because there is he, the little stupid freshman they decided to help around, who somehow ended up like a clingy little brother. “Atsushi” Dazai smiles as he opens the door, it’s not necessarily sincere, but Dazai’s smiles never are, so there’s no point in dwelling in it. Atsushi often comes by, because he always comes to school too early and needs somewhere to hang around while he waits. It would probably be at Ranpo’s if he didn’t live 20 minutes away from the school. Oh, talking about Ranpo, they were planning to go to his house today. Dazai quickly sends a message Ranpo's way asking if they're still on. “Is Kunikida still showering?” he asks as he enters and comfortably sits on the bed he invites himself on, but he’s like that. “I’ll be out in a minute.” Is replied from the bathroom.

Dazai wouldn’t say he likes people, or enjoys their presence. It’s more a sense of comfort, and toleration. He dislikes a lot of people that come his way, and he surely doesn’t go out of his way to actively see people, but there’s a few exceptions where he has the ability to hold a conversation without being uncomfortable, or without feeling superior. Kunikida was the first person to make him feel that way, which is probably due to how the other is very interested in ethics and morals, and it makes it harder to consider yourself superior to someone who studies basic human rights and everything in between. Then Ranpo came along, no one really knows how. It was like he was always there, truly.

Then one day, Dazai met Atsushi, the most oblivious poor kid in the whole world. It was his first day of school, and he couldn’t for the life of him find his class, in which Dazai ended up helping him, and from that day on he kind of just ended up always finding himself in situations with the sophomores.

“Atsushi, your lunch is in the fridge” Kunikida steps out of the bathroom, still drying his hair.
This became a routine after they realised Atsushi absolutely never remembers specific things, such as his lunch. They’re lucky if he manages an apple for breakfast, but lunch? Never. So Dazai would always buy extra stuff when grocery shopping, and Kunikida would use it to make Atsushi lunch. Then whenever they forget, they’ll hand him some cash and he gets something for himself.

“I got my dorm room.”

Atsushi surely doesn’t sound happy, and there’s a very few reasons that would happen. “What happened? Room besides Akutagawa?” Dazai jokes, though this is a very real possibility, that indeed would be a horrible scenario for Atsushi for numerous reasons. He’s quiet, however. This results in Kunikida and Dazai both fully turning their attention to Atsushi, “No way.” They both say, to the shrugging teenager.
______________________________

“That is quite unfortunate” Chuuya sighs as Akutagawa screams about this worst-case scenario situation being turned to reality. “Is it really that bad though?” Yosano shrugs, “Excuse you, Yosano. For not being able to understand basic human decency” Ironically, this sentence comes from the person who is actively bullying someone else. He probably wouldn’t call it bullying though, just being less-than polite. Akutawa has always been like that, he can be a real pain in the ass when he wants to be, and when he doesn't? Still somehow ends up being one.

Chuuya zones out as the two continue this useless discussion about something he knows will end up being good in the long run. Everyone knows one day Akutagawa will realize he does not despise the tiger kid, he just truly doesn’t know yet. He opens up his phone, looking at the time, before a long sigh escapes him, which catches the attention of the other two. “What? Your one class of No-Dazai is over?” Yosano asks.

And sadly, she is correct. Chuuya has one class, every Thursday morning, without Dazai. Because of course almost every single one of his classes are with Dazai, why wouldn’t it be? Why wouldn’t the world choose to torture him to his roots and rip them up.

He nods, slowly and sorrowfully. “He’s such a pain in the ass.” Is all he says. He truly tries not to be too rough about Dazai when Akutagawa is around, because when you’re 15, getting left behind by someone older you find comfort in is basically the end of the world. This is also the reason Akutagawa can’t stand Atsushi, and deep down he probably knows it isn’t his fault, and he needs to stop being so horrible, but everytime he sees his face he can’t help but feel heat in his face and nausea telling him to either leave immediately or find a way to get the anger out, which usually is making Atsushi’s life horrible.

“Are you guys up to visiting the new cafe later? It’s about 20 minutes away.” Yosano asks as they get up, getting ready to go to their next classes. “You guys go ahead, I was gonna stay home.” Akutagawa sighs annoyed, “Why? Do you need an excuse to see tiger?” Chuuya jokes, but the other clearly doesn’t find it funny despite Yosano grinning beside him, letting slips of air escape her lips as she tries not to laugh. “No. Gin wanted to come by and see me, and I haven’t seen my sister in quite a while.” He explains, dismissing any stupid idea the older ones might have.
To his luck, or more rather not, they both know it's a lie. He mentioned last week that Gin was on a 2 week school trip, but they decide not to mention it because they're honestly afraid they would get their brains blown up. ___________________________________

When Dazai walks into class, he dreads having to leave again. Because it truly is so much fun to make Chuuya angry, so today he decides to sit right beside him. Not in front, or behind, but so close their knees could touch. Obviously, this already pisses Chuuya off. It’s obvious, really. The way his breaths suddenly become a lot heavier, and how his gaze at the front of the classroom is no longer due to interest, but a force of keeping his eyes away from Dazai. “Do you need to borrow notes? I heard the professor is getting more stingy by the day.” He plays it off as a polite request, like him attempting to help. But it’s not, they both know that.

They both know his comment is hidden under his superiority complex, because of course he would have notes, and of course Chuuya wouldn’t. The one thing that makes Chuuya different to Dazai from other people is that he’s not boring. Usually, Dazai feeling superior means he ends up not getting anything out of conversations, but with Chuuya it’s a challenge. A challenge to see just how upset he can make him, and just how tiny he can make him feel without truly making any direct comments.

‘His leg is way too close for comfort, it feels wrong.’ Is what Chuuya thinks, he can hardly focus on the actual thing Dazai is saying because the nausea is creeping in on him.

“No, it’s fine.”

That’s already enough for Dazai to be able to let a snicker out, not a loud obvious one, a silent one only Chuuya can hear. One that rings in Chuuya’s head, reminding him he’s inferior. He pays it no mind, though.

 

The class starts and every once in a while Dazai will make an annoying comment, but to Chuuya’s luck, he’s being less persistent than usual, and it’s great. Now Chuuya actually has time to focus on the class, writing notes and thinking of his grades. Even though the class starts stretching out and feeling horribly long after a while, perhaps it’s because Dazai isn’t being as annoying as usual, but obviously that’s a good thing. Why wouldn't it be? Chuuya just honestly can’t wait to go get drinks and food with Yosano. “Did you hear about the dorm situation?” Dazai suddenly asks, and Chuuya replies with a quick hum instead of truly replying, it’s probably a bad habit, but he doesn’t care when it’s this guy.

The odd thing is however the way Dazai asks a question, like it was just another small thing, but usually he dare not make small talk if it’s not for the sake of pissing off Chuuya, so he’s learnt not to pay attention when he asks stupid questions. “How’s Akutagawa doing?”

There it is. “Shut up.” Chuuya whispers, defensively. It seems like a normal question, one that could be answered with a quick ‘fine’ or ‘whatever’ but it’s not. He’s asking because they both know he doesn’t care, but Chuuya cares. Chuuya genuinely cares for Akutagawa, and yes maybe he’s very dramatic about the whole Dazai situation and he needs to get over it, but he’s still hurting. Chuuya knows this, and therefore he gets upset when Dazai is being a prick and brings him up solely for that reason.

 

He makes an attempt at checking the clock on his phone, 20 minutes left. Surely nothing can go horribly wrong in 20 minutes, but then he remembers he still has a few classes left before the day is over and yes, Dazai is in those too, because of course he is.
____________________________________

Atsushi thinks about how his nickname ‘tiger’ comes from his good features, and how it was Akutagawa who made it up. Which is odd, because Atsushi undeniably has bad features and personality traits, but Akutagawa focused on his strong legs, and how his fangs are slightly more defined than the average person. It’s something you only notice if you really focus, and that’s what plays with Atsushi’s mind.

Surely Akutagawa can’t have already heard about the dorm room thing, and will he honestly be that angry? Why would he even be, if they don’t interact it’s barely a difference to how they are now. At least that’s what Atsushi wants to believe, though he isn’t fully convinced of it himself, he decides to let those thoughts linger far behind in the back of his mind where he can barely reach them, because he has to focus on decorating. He was planning to procrastinate and go with the others but decided it would be better to get it over with.

It’s a knock on his door that frightens him, and he doesn’t want to guess who it might be because he’s scared he could be right. “Come in!” He simply yells, hoping to a god he doesn’t believe in that it is not the one person who-

“What do you think you’re doing?” Akutagawa leans in the doorway, if Atsushi wasn’t terrified of what bruises or emotional scars might be left on him after this interaction, he’d almost consider taking a second to think ‘He’s quite pretty.’
But he doesn’t have the time, because he has to answer. “I don’t exactly decide what room I move into” He tries smiling, hoping maybe Akutagawa at least won’t physically hurt him, which would somewhat be a win.

He’s so tired of trying and trying to get close, to just be friends, mutuals even. Just anything that isn’t so negative. But every time he even barely succeedes, it’s ruined because Akutagawa remembers why he hates him.

And Atsushi might finally be admitting it won’t ever happen, no matter how badly he wants to be polite, or to be friends, or to closer, or to be more-

“Should’ve at least warned me. Maybe I could have had the chance to move out.”

“What, scared I’ll be able to hear you snore through the wall? Or are you hiding some secret, like you secretly like emo bands and I’m not supposed to know?”

It’s a joke, Akutagawa knows it’s a joke. And it’s a funny joke nonetheless because Atsushi likes those god horrific bands and if they were friends Akutagawa is sure he would be forced to listen to it daily and it would be horrible.

“How come you don’t have a roommate?” Akutagawa asks, and it’s too polite for the other’s liking. Like there’s something waiting, as if at any point he will jump and Atsushi will end up bruised, but he denies his fear, and he plays along.

“I can’t sleep with anyone else in the room.” He replies, and it’s the truth. It’s why he’s always thought he could never actually be in a relationship, and a lot of other obvious reasons.

“Ah, so anytime I wanna bother you I just need to come in here?” Akutagawa smirks, as if he’s hit a nerve, it only takes him one look at Atsushi’s wide eyes before he realises how that must have sounded, but he plays it off with a clear of his throat and a new comment on the way, “Or maybe you can move out right now and It’ll save me the trouble.” He shrugs.

Atsushi takes a few steps closer, a hand coming up to hold the door he wishes had never been opened.

“Not exactly on my schedule.” He says before closing the door he’s been longing to for so long, and yet a smile can’t help escape his lips. That wasn’t such a horrible interaction, perhaps they’re finally progressing.
_____________________________________

“You kids need money again?” Fukuzawa asks unimpressed by the 2 students in his home. He’s a teacher at their school so he already sees the stubborn kids way too much, and then his son dares bring them into his home, without his favorite as well. “Don’t do it dad, they’ll use it on stupid shit” The senior jumps into the room, Dazai and Kunikida both shoot glances, knowing their probability would’ve been a lot higher if Atsushi had been here.

“Oh by the way, did y’all wanna pass by the new cafe? It’s right by the corner.” Ranpo asks the others, expecting a yes, obviously. They can resist a lot of things, but a paid snack? Not one of them, and when Ranpo invites anyone anywhere, everyone knows Fukuzawa is getting his card ready in the back.

It’s not even that Ranpo lacks money, he quite literally has a job. He is just very spoiled when it comes to his dad, maybe because he’s an only child or because Fukuzawa is worried he’s not a good enough dad due to the fact Ranpo is adopted, even though he really doesn’t care about that. Ranpo was allegedly first supposed to know about it when he turned 15, but he figured it out at a mere 5 years old, so 10 years early Fukuzawa already managed making his son slightly too spoiled.

"Yeah, I need a breath of fresh air after that philosophy class. It was-"
It takes Kunikida one second too long to realise that his teacher is indeed right beside him, “Terrific, it was amazing. The amount of joy I felt in that class has drained me, therefore I need fresh air.”

He’s a suck up, and he lives by rules, a teacher being mad at him would undeniably probably be the most terrible thing in the world for Kunikida. To his luck though, he and a few others have earned the title of Kunikida’s favorite students, even though he’s never voiced it out loud, it’s an unsaid but known fact. Maybe because they've spent so much time in his house, or maybe because he actually cares about them, he would never dare admit that though.

As they walk to the cafe, Dazai asks a question, not something he does often to be honest. He’s mostly an observer, he’s there to answer any questions coming his way, and if none, then he simply soaks in the voices of other people and tries to enjoy that he has people he can actually be comfortable around. “Does he ever fail you?” He asks

“I’m too smart to get a bad grade, Dazai.”

“Totally, but surely you must have fumbled once?”

“I suppose when I was younger-” His sentence is stopped when he gasps happily, “Yosano!” He runs over, and despite Dazai’s comfortable relationship with Yosano, he feels dread and excitement all at once, because if she’s here, then surely.

“Ugh, really?” Chuuya sighs, more annoyed than he had been earlier in class, because now Dazai is ruining his personal time, which is a whole other deal, and it’s suddenly a lot more deep than a few comments during class. But Dazai doesn’t see it as such a big issue, truly it was a coincidence, and that’s not exactly his fault.

“Chill, I’m just here to get a snack, not to make your day or make you blush.”

That does it, and it barely scratched the surface of what he usually does. He’s flirted before, maybe not to extremes but to points where it was obvious what his intentions were. It’s definitely never actually something romantic, which is good because then Chuuya would probably be on the ground puking up any thought of Dazai he’s ever had, because Imagine. A guy- no not even just, Dazai. Dazai, having feelings for Chuuya? Or even worse yet, Chuuya having feelings-

Nausea suddenly creeps up on him, “Then get your snack, and leave.”

“I’m allowed to be here too.”

“Then sit far away from me.”

“Everything is not about you, Chuuya.”

That makes him sit down, because despite how annoying he’s being, there’s some truth to it. Dazai didn’t come here to bother Chuuya, he simply wanted a snack, and even if he sucks, and is being annoying, he has the right to be here too.

On the other hand Yosano and Ranpo have been blabbering about everything and nothing at once, they’re practically like siblings, a fact that’s obvious if you shoot any glance their way.

Kunikida adjusts his glasses, feeling uncomfortable by the two oh so different conversations he’s stuck between, “Should we get our food?” He finally asks, and to his luck this breaks up the conversations and everyone goes their own way.

It’s a bittersweet taste that lingers on Chuuya’s tongue, though. Anytime he argues with Dazai it is, solely because he enjoys replying back and letting loose, yet he always ends up losing, so it’s a wasted effort.

“Wow, you’re right, he really does enjoy getting a kick out of you.” Yosano says as if it isn’t a fact she’s known for years, but every time she gets the chance to actually see them interact, it’s interesting. Because they truly do seem to hate each other, and yet there’s something else. This sort of desperation for attention in Dazai, it’s clear to an observer that he wants Chuuya to bite back, he looks a lot more satisfied when he does at least . As if all he cares about is the rush he can get out of an argument, but they’re in public, which makes Yosano wonder how harsh he could get in private, she doesn’t dare ask Chuuya though.

He, on the other hand, starts feeling his palms sweat, as if panic is rising in him for no reason and he’s not sure why until Yosano asks the question.

“So you’re going back home this weekend?”

‘ No, please don’t let me, I can’t do it ’
“Yeah.”

When Yosano asks if he’s worried, his thoughts slip far away, too far away. They slip through countless childhoods, all the ones he’s ever heard of. When his best friend talks about how her mom took her shopping, or when he sees Ranpo talk to the teacher in between breaks or when anyone he’s ever known mentions parents that are exactly that. Parents.

“It won’t be too bad, they usually pay me no attention as long as I behave” True, until he doesn’t, and the world falls apart before his eyes. Yosano is well aware of this fact, but she’s learned over the years no words she can say has any form of comfort to them, nothing will help him, because he’s stuck in an endless loop that his parents will never let him out of. So instead she gives his hand a squeeze, and a short lived smile, and they both know the unspoken words beneath it.

‘I’m here for you, Chuuya.’

Chapter Text

When Chuuya finds himself bored during afternoons, knowing Yosano has gone home and is already unreachable by this hour, and Akutagawa doesn’t want to be bothered during his ‘personal space’ hours, he often ends up walking through the long hall of dorms, reading the name of each one to occupy time before he reaches his destination.

Some of them causes reactions in his body.

Such as the name Kenji, which makes him think of Dazai.
Or Tanizaki, which makes him think of Dazai.
Or Kyoka which makes him think of-

Tachihara. Hm, a name he swears he’s heard somewhere yet it rings no bell at all, he wonders how many people in this school he actually talks to, sure it isn’t a lot, but he must talk to someone other than Yosano, Akutagawa and..

Before he even thinks of the name, his mind is interrupted as he sees the name written upon the door, ‘Nikolai Gogol.’

When he knocks on the door, he hears a high pitched screech, which is how he knows he’s home. He smiles slightly at the running towards the door, “Chuuya!” Nikolai smiles widely, he seems to be in an even better mood today than usual. He truly always is this weird ray of sunshine that you’re also slightly scared of.

Nikolai and his friends are seniors that Chuuya doesn’t exactly see often, but when he does he has a great time. Maybe he sees them once every second week, for no longer than an hour, but Nikolai is such an open yet introverted soul he’s hard not to be interested in.

He’s also specifically the nicest one, also the most unhinged one however. Imagine summer, but the kind where you accidentally run into a beehive, and suddenly you see your life flash before your eyes, that’s the kind of feeling Nikolai gives you. His best friend Fyodor is less nice, actually barely. He has the ability to be polite, but he only ever gives those smiles you know are there to bother you, it reminds Chuuya of someone else. Then there’s Sigma, he’s very quiet and secretive most of the time, but when he speaks he’s pretty sweet.

They’re a pretty introverted group, other than Chuuya he questions if they actually ever talk to anyone else despite how popular they are, but they’re probably so famous due to that fact. People enjoy something they have just out of their reach, something that if they really tried, maybe they would have the chance of slightly grasping, yet they would miss it every time with even higher probability.

A sigh leaves his mouth, today has been a long day, full of exhaustion and DazaiDazaiDazai over and over again. It’s horrid, all he wants is to have one normal day without that god forsaken man. Somehow he’s been wishing for that for years, and his wish still never dares come true, how much more can he pray to god before he starts questioning him?

Every time he thinks of Dazai, nausea creeps upon him, as if it was a stalker waiting for the perfect moment, the type where you can’t see them therefore you can’t prove they’re there, but you can feel them. His palms get sweaty, and his legs get tense, ready to run the second Dazai says something he isn’t supposed to. Or the way Chuuya feels like he needs to do something to himself every time Dazai comes too close, or the way he feels his face hurt with a palm across it when Dazai’s knee-

“You coming in?”

Chuuya gets ripped out of his thoughts as fast as they raced across his mind, he lets a quick smile pass Nikolai as he walks in and sees Sigma sitting on the couch, facing the tv. Sigma lives here as well, so it’s to be expected, they’ve been roommates for 2 years now. Their room is pretty much filled to the top, the maximalism screaming its lungs out.

“Hi Chuuya” Sigma smiles slightly before returning his attention to the tv, watching some old drama show nobody’s ever heard of. Chuuya only really interacts with Sigma whenever he’s around Nikolai, the same with Fyodor honestly.

He returns the welcome with a nod on the head, as he turns back to Nikolai, to ask a question he wondered ever since the door opened “Where’s Fyodor?” He asks, being used to the two not ever being apart. The worst part about them is how utterly toxic they are, it’s horrible, truly. Fyodor clearly has a hard time showing he cares about Nikolai, while Nikolai has some crazy sort of attachment issues and on and on again hurts Fyodor with all sorts of stupid shit that actually doesn’t matter, but they’re also very obviously aware of these facts yet they’re choosing to still be around one another. So the hurt they feel is something they choose, something they have the possibility of escaping, but honestly Nikolai is probably the biggest masochist known to man so it’s obvious they’re perfect for each other. The way Fyodor needs someone he doesn’t need to give too much attention to, and Nikolai feels thrilled every time Fyodor either ignores him or is being a horrible best friend, honestly they would probably be dating if they weren’t both men.

Nikolai giggles, in a sort of odd way, like he’s hiding something, but Chuuya doesn’t know him well enough to pry. “In his dorm, he’s showering, probably.. I should check his location” Chuuya sighs as the older pulls up his phone, “Aren’t you oddly possessive for a best friend?” He smiles teasingly, merely a joke.

This however obtains Nikolai and Sigma’s attention all at once, staring at him as if he asked a question that made no sense.

“He’s my boyfriend, I’m totally allowed to be possessive” Nikolai scoffs slightly defensively, probably also a bit too self aware now that he heard it out loud.

Chuuya stops in his tracks, something in him stops. As if his blood runs cold, and something in him wishes it wasn’t for the reason it is, and something else in him tells him to keep quiet, that it’s not his business and it’s not a big deal. Yet he stares, in confusion and slight disgust, and he knows it’s showing, because he can see the way Nikolai suddenly retreats and looks down to Sigma who doesn’t hesitate to stand up, ready incase Chuuya says something stupid. But he wouldn’t, right? Because why would he care?

Why in the world would he care about someone else's business, even more their sexuality? He wouldn’t.

“You’re gay?”

But he would. Because he’s Chuuya.

It’s meant to be a question, one that only shows curiosity, but he knows his undertones slipped out when Nikolai straightens his back and crosses his arms, looking both insecure and highly offended. It’s a normal question, one you would ask if you hadn’t already known, how had he not known? He’s scared of the figure behind him, because if Nikolai heard the disgust, then no way in hell Sigma didn’t. It’s not that Chuuya ever feels threatened by anyone, but in this situation specifically, he feels small and fragile, weak, even.

“So?.. I’ve been out for a long time, Chuuya. Me and Fyodor have been together for a year-”

“No, you can’t. Nikolai you’ll-”

Chuuya stops mid sentence, they’ve been together for a year. Truly he must have already secured himself a warm seat in hell, and it hurts Chuuya, because he quite liked Nikolai and maybe he still does but that’s too much to think about now. And also, even if he does like Nikolai, he doesn’t know him well enough to comment on how he chooses to live a wrong lifestyle, right?

The room is suddenly a lot more uncomfortable than it should be, and he can feel the presence behind him ready to knock some sense into him. But he is the one with sense, surely he is. He’s the one who doesn’t break the rules, who doesn’t do things you’re not allowed to, or should even want to do and even if you want to, how dare you do it? It’s so dangerous, and so, so wrong.

“Out.” Sigma says behind him, he doesn’t turn around, and he doesn’t say anything. He does however give Nikolai a sick form of glare, one that both says ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘You disgust me’ all in one, and he doesn’t know which one he actually means, all he knows is he needs to go to his room, or to bother Akutagawa, or to call Yosano, or to do literally anything to break him out of these thoughts because how could he even have associated himself around such people? What would his parents think.. what if they dare think he’s like them?

On his hurried way to his room, he ends up passing Fyodor, who doesn’t greet him or barely even spare him a look, which is how he always acts and yet all Chuuya can think is ‘Shameful’ and he doesn’t know if the word is meant to apply to him or to Fyodor.

_________________________________________

“Why do you seem so bothered?” Kunikida asks as he makes his evening tea, the same one he makes every day at exactly 08:00. It’s always the exact same taste, a mix of citrus and mint, quite the odd mix Dazai would admit, but he doesn’t comment on the things Kunikida needs to do.

One time, Kunikida texted him if he could pick up some of the tea for him when he went shopping, and despite Dazai saying yes he thought it would be funny to ‘accidentally’ buy the wrong one. Safe to say he quickly learned never to do that again when Kunikida had to pace around the house, keeping hyperventilating in from something that seems so small yet somehow so important.

It was many years ago, but Kunikida still to this day uses it against Dazai when he needs to.

“I’m just tired.” Dazai replies truthfully. Kunikida has a habit of sometimes worrying too much, due to an incident when they were younger, it was dramatic if you ask Dazai, traumatic if you ask the other.

It wasn’t a big deal, he likes to say.
“It was an accident”
“I was being dramatic”
“I promise it’s fine, Kunikida.”

Countless excuses and things to stir the conversation away, so his roommate quickly learned it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, ever, probably. So instead he just keeps an eye out every time Dazai is acting a little bit more depressed or thoughtless than usual.

“Are you gonna go to sleep?” Kunikida sips his tea, “Nah, I’m gonna go check on Atsushi, see if he’s moved in nicely.”

It isn’t out of care, or genuine curiosity. It’s simply because he needs something to do, so the silence won’t deafen him and make his thoughts too loud, Kunikida isn’t good at helping with this specific part and they both know that and the reason is that he knows, he knows why so if he tries to help then Dazai will only see it as that. Not a distraction, something he can focus on, but as help, as therapy.

As he makes his way to Atsushi’s room, the quiet of the hallway is ear ringing. It hurts in his head, the way thoughts finally have a silent hole to slide through, wrapping around his brain too tight.

He knocks on the door, feeling dizzy with the way his head is making more noise than a classroom when the bell rings, or a concert full of people screaming their lungs out, maybe even something as dramatic as nuclear weapons exploding.

“Come in” Atsushi yells from inside, sounding more annoyed than not, which is a little worrying, since he isn’t exactly ever very negative. But then again it’s not that Dazai specifically cares, so he opens the door anyway, and immediately shows off the smile plastered on his face, “Hi Atsushi” He says in that utterly annoying tone, stretching out the last syllable.

But Atsushi suddenly looks a lot more bright than he sounded, sitting up from having laid down, seeming to have been reading something. Dazai takes a second to simply observe the room, it definitely isn’t done, but it’s nice for how quickly Atsushi managed to decorate.

“Spoken to Akutagawa yet?” He asks, curiosity peaking through him, despite it not really being there all that much. “Yeah, barely. He knocked on my door and he was just..” Silence passes the room for a single second before they both in a sigh say ‘his usual.’

Dazai likes to mimic people in that way, where he isn’t being rude, but he probably isn’t being very polite either, but everyone knows he does this so it doesn’t bother them all that much.

_______________________

After he finishes talking to Atsushi and the clock is finally hitting enough for him to be able to sleep soon, he decides to go back to his room.

As he walks not a lot fills his brain this time, a few thoughts do, of course. But not quite enough to make his heart skip one too many beats, or enough for him to feel his hair rise on his arms. Walking along the hallway makes him dizzy once again though, the countless doors and the amount of people hiding behind them, each one having one more thought than the other.

He stops when a specific sound rings in his ear from one of the doors, unexpected considering the time and how they were meant to be quiet for the past 20 minutes. He first attempts to make out what the sound is, it’s quite difficult though, it has this raw roughness to it, yet soft and oddly wet. Ah, of course, it’s vomit.

Then, he turns to look at the door the sound is coming from, even considering checking up on the person just so he has something to talk about to Kunikida before going to sleep, but then his body suddenly feels stiff when the name “Chuuya Nakahara” Is spelled out in capital letters along the door.

The sound only continues, getting worse with each passing second, one would think he could be dying in there. Or maybe he’s being stupid, and doing it on purpose because he ate too much-

No, he wouldn’t do that. Chuuya isn’t the type of person to care about such stupid things, even someone such as Dazai would know that, but then why in the world is he sounding like he’s vomiting his guts out? He didn’t at all look sick earlier.

It’s not even that Dazai cares, obviously, it’s never that. But he can’t deny that he’s curious, and part of him almost wishes to knock on the door and check, but truth be told, his presence will probably make Chuuya vomit anything he has left up immediately. That’s the thing that makes Dazai’s lips curl upwards, and now he truly wishes to do so, but Akutagawa coming down the hall is what stops him.

Akutagawa pauses as well, obviously, it’s Dazai in front of him, alone. This gives him countless opportunities, such as to yell and scream, or to cry, or to beg or to apologise, anything is possible. But he has determination in his eyes, and Dazai is surprised to see that it isn’t for him. “Visiting Chuuya? We’re meant to be in our rooms now Akutagawa” He pulls that horrid smile.

Akutagawa tries not to react too much, not to let it get to him, and it’s clear how hard it is for him.

“I have my reasons.” Is all he gets out, trying not to spill any information while also not being rude, hoping to get Dazai’s approval, even just a small nod.

“Mhm, surely. He seems quite sick though, careful not to get vomit on you.” He leaves a final smile before leaving, disappointed he didn’t get to see the delight of Chuuya Nakahara puking his self respect out.
__________________________________________

Chuuya doesn’t react when the door opens, or when the tap starts pouring water out, or when his closet is opened.

He can’t stop, the nausea attacks him like a violent dog every time he’s done puking.

“You’ll end up actually vomiting up an organ by now.” Akutagawa says as he sits down beside him, there’s no care in his voice. Nothing that shows comfort, or even friendliness, but Chuuya feels the undertones due to his presence, he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t care, he just wishes Yosano was also here. He hates putting pressure on his freshman, he feels like a horrible big brother for simply throwing up in his own bathroom, and for what even?

Why is he being so utterly dramatic?

All that happened was that he learned one of his -not even close- friends was gay, no common human would care about that and he knows that, so why won’t his body stop gushing up all the self pity he’s builded deep down over the years.

10 minutes later, when Chuuya literally has nothing left, and tears are rolling down his face due to the bitter taste, Akutagawa is still there.

Without a word, he hands him the glass of water he made when he came in, he didn’t even take a look at Chuuya before he started getting things ready, such as a cloth for him to dry the sweat off his face, and put some new cold water on. He’s weirdly caring, for how horrible he usually can be.

Chuuya most of all wonders how to the heavens he knew? How did he know to come now, of all times? He doesn’t exactly visit him often, it’s usually Yosano and Chuuya to pick him up.

“I was on my way to complain about Tiger, I had to rant so someone or I’d go crazy, I met Dazai-”

A gag escapes Chuuya’s throat, but his assumption was true, there’s quite literally nothing left in him, but Akutagawa takes the hint and stops talking. And they don’t.

Chuuya doesn’t mention how he’s vomiting because of something as stupid as his friend being gay, and he doesn’t mention how the name of Dazai made it a million times worse. Akutagawa doesn’t ask if he’s okay, he doesn’t ask anything at all.

And that’s that.

Chapter Text

When Dazai walks into class, his body and mind is completely prepared to annoy Chuuya as much as he would any other day. It’s just a schedule, honestly. Chuuya is like his little game he uses to keep himself sane from the modern day. He’s obviously aware it’s not a healthy habit, Dazai is one of the most self-aware people you could meet. He knows how he feels, he knows how he acts, he knows all of it. The problem in his head is just that he believes if it makes him happy it’s the correct thing to do even if it isn’t morally correct, and to nobody’s surprise the one thing that makes him happiest is tormenting other people.

It’s probably always been like that, he doesn’t remember a time where he wouldn’t do stupid shit to piss off his parents but without making it obvious it was intentional, such as ‘accidentally’ breaking a vase, or when he grew older and refused to eat his mom food only for her to either worry or get angry, it depended a lot on the day.

The days where she got angry were definitely not the best ones, he felt a lot more enjoyment watching her worry, the way she would almost attempt to say something, to ask, to do anything to help. But she would always close her mouth and continue eating, then on days where she got mad it was a whole different thing but Dazai doesn’t remember much from those days, they’ve blurred into his mind and disappeared between memories he can’t completely figure out if they’re real or figments of imagination.

There’s one exception to this, though.

Kunikida.

Back in the days, in the far start of their friendship, Dazai didn’t really care what Kunikida felt. He was more there to make the days pass by earlier, and he never felt any guilt knowing Kunikida cared about him because he could be aggressive and annoying which was enough to make the guilt never arrive. He would’ve never uttered any words remotely close to comfort or reassurement, because Kunikida didn’t need that. He didn’t know Dazai was sick, he knew he was a piece of shit so it wasn’t surprising when he wouldn’t reply back to his nice gestures. Maybe he would have acted differently if he had known the illness creeping inside of Dazai despite it never being voiced into reality, nothing with Dazai ever really is. Perhaps he would have never been aggressive - which is a thought he immediately shuts down, because even now he’s still aggressive - or maybe, just maybe Kunikida would’ve never approached him at all. In that case, Dazai would’ve most likely been dead now, he’s not the type of person to be grateful for that though. He’s not grateful at all for living, and he’s even less excited with the way Kunikida has left his thoughts after..

The day happened, and everything changed.

Well, no. Actually almost nothing changed.

Everyone always says that attempting and surviving changes you, that you’ll be scared and all of a sudden you see the beauty of life. The birds singing, the sun shining, all of the things you don’t notice before you’re seconds from losing them. But that wasn’t what made a difference to him, far from. It wasn’t the realization he’d never see his parents again, because he’d known that since the first time he felt the gut wrenching craving for death. He didn’t even bother writing letters, he didn’t believe anyone deserved them, because the suicide was long overdue anyway, nothing that wasn’t expected.

It was Kunikida’s reaction. Something, and he still doesn’t know what, made him feel guilty. A feeling that despite being familiar with it in the sense of logical learning, he had never actually experienced. It was the first and last time he truly felt it.

Ever since then he has experienced a few times that the feeling lingers long hidden in his back, a place he can’t reach. He refuses to acknowledge a feeling as pathetic as guilt, so he has left it completely behind.

When he breaks out of his thoughts and looks around, trying to spot him, he’s surprised to find that he isn’t there.

He doesn’t feel anything, there’s not a hint of disappointment, barely even a slight touch of confusion, yet.

Dazai usually makes an attempt at coming right before class starts, knowing Chuuya is always a little too early, this way he has the ability of sitting himself close to him. Because if Dazai comes first, Chuuya can sit wherever he wants, which will never be within a 3 feet radius of him. He sighs and decides to take a seat anyway, there must be ways to annoy him even from a distance, but finally confusion slithers into his brain when he watches the time tick by on the clock, not long and dragged out as other thoughts usually are, just quickly passing by yet enough to make him shoot another glance at the door. Chuuya simply isn’t the type to be late, it’s a known fact, so it’s completely normal to be curious-

Confused.

As he waits, he takes in the atmosphere of the classroom.

The teacher at the front of the room, one who’s usually very calm and collected but now looks like he’s trying to keep his composure from his computer not collaborating with the screen-share, he’s probably spent all week preparing another PowerPoint, which usually takes up the first half hour of their class. He looks towards the front row and calls up one of the students, hopefully asking about how it works because it’s clear he’s gotten a new computer and he’s absolutely hopeless to even look at.

The girls a few feet away from Dazai, talking about a party that’s coming up in the weekend. 2 of them are talking calmly and light-heartedly, but they do look very excited, one of them even makes a quick mention of a senior she hopes she can strike up a conversation with. He quickly notices the third girl, she’s sitting in the middle and every once in a while she gives a quick smile or even less and only offers up a nod to engage in the conversation, her gaze mostly fixated on the ground but sometimes she’ll let it slither to the girl talking about the senior, she looks miserable. It’s not hard to figure out that situation, anyway, next thing to focus on.

One of the ceiling lamps flicker right over him, nobody else notices because the roof is absolutely bombarded with lamps, so one flickering is not enough to be bothersome, and if he remembers correctly it’s been doing that for the past week anyway.

A strong smell of mint hits his nostrils, it feels like toothpaste. He doesn’t look behind him but he can hear the obnoxiously loud chewing and instantly wishes he had sat in another seat.

Suddenly, everything is a lot more obvious, and a lot more upsetting.

In a metaphorical way, you can probably compare it to if earth lost its moon. Despite the sunlight being nice and usually the center of focus if you asked anyone else, if it’s the only thing there then at one point your body starts burning, your eyes start watering and even if you never specifically needed the moon, you all of a sudden want it more than anything.No, not a want, not even just a craving, but a need. Like you’d do anything to get it back in this moment or you’d have to accept an eternity of burning. How every star would still be obvious at night, but there wouldn’t be the one thing that pulls all of it together, so earth feels flat and empty.

When the teacher finally starts speaking, he gets pulled out of his thoughts, his eyes immediately finding their own way to the closed door. Chuuya isn’t coming.

Which is fine, obviously.
_______________________________________________________

 

Chuuya doesn’t reply to the knock on the door, he’s surprised there even is one if he knows who’s truly behind it. Even though he used to get mad about how she would never knock and just storm in, he stopped caring when it suddenly felt like a sense of familiarity.

When the door opens, he doesn’t turn to look at the other presence in the room, he doesn’t greet them with any form of gesture or movement, he lays completely still, almost as if he had been dead, or maybe just unconscious, because he almost feels like it. “Akutagawa told me what happened yesterday” Yosano speaks, slowly sinking herself down to sit on the bed. “Are you sick?”

‘Yes, more than ever’
He shakes his head ‘no’.

She sighs, knowing it’ll be impossible to break through to him, she’s obviously tried multiple times over the years, and it’s not that she doesn’t care, but she knows that if she pushes too much Chuuya only ever ends up getting angry rather than actually opening up. “I’ll get you some lunch.” She gives a small puff to his head, and then she leaves.

He feels pathetic, completely and utterly pathetic. Why is he being so dramatic? He needs to go up, but truth be told he’s even more scared of meeting Nikolai, or even Sigma. Or worst of all, Dazai, which he’s bound to, because he’s stuck to him like glitter, no matter how much you try to wipe it off, small pieces always remain on you.

So he takes a deep breath, and realises he just has to get through today, and then he’ll have to go home, and see his parents.

Which isn’t much better, but at least he’ll be able to escape this drowning feeling of self-pity and hatred for a little while, perhaps.
__________________________________________________

Lunch is boring for Dazai, he zones out but tries to keep up the weird optimistic personality he somehow has built for himself. Maybe not optimistic, rather enthusiastic. It’s not to seem approachable, because realistically no matter what he does he can’t fake it enough to make himself seem nice and kind. But he can do enough to not seem mean, which is enough for a few people, he’s merely lucky it’s the same people he can tolerate. In the meantime, Atsushi complains about Akutagawa’s horrible attitude to Ranpo and Kunikida who acts like they’re listening to every single syllable despite clearly also zoning out. Atsushi continues, spilling words such as ‘annoying’ and ‘self-centered’ that Dazai almost catches on to every once in a while.

When all of them look up and greet a new presence, Dazai decides to do so as well and is slightly surprised to see Yosano. Akutagawa is far behind her, noticeably on his way here too despite not looking happy about it, it’s quite obvious that Yosano is forcing him to come along. Dazai notices the slight push Atsushi gives Ranpo in a form of complaint under the table.

He decides to occupy himself with observing the new conversation.

After Akutagawa sits down, Atsushi moves uncomfortably in his seat, and yet he doesn’t look angry nor upset, but he does avoid the gaze of mostly anyone. On the other hand Dazai quickly notices how Akutagawa can’t figure out whether to focus on him, or on Atsushi, but there’s a change in his eyes from how they’ve been before. Before, he would look at Dazai with a form of desperation, like a starving dog begging for a mere drop of water, knowing it’ll never be enough.

Like a pet who’s never been fed or cared for, and all they can do is bark or yell until eventually they realise it’s for nothing, their pleas will always just fall silently into the background. They could try other approaches, perhaps biting or even ignoring them back, but Akutagawa has always been too weak to even attempt denying Dazai’s wishes.

He’s like a bird stuck in a cage, or a fish trapped in an ever so small aquarium, he has enough freedom to roam, but he’ll always hit a wall reminding him of where he belongs.

He also used to give Atsushi this specific glare, like he wanted attention but would never go against his own pride and self respect to get it in any other way than annoy him to death, as if tormenting Atsushi would be enough for him to give him the much needed attention he so utterly craved but would never speak out loud. Which was always very clear to Dazai, obviously, he’s the same.

The change is that now.. Akutagawa looks at Dazai with disappointment in himself, as if he’s actually given up.

Like he’s decided to simply lay and wait for his owners return rather than barking until the sun goes down, it’s not a look that says ‘I’m quitting’ neither ‘I don’t care anymore’, it’s unthinkable Akutagawa would ever feel that way about Dazai, it’s merely a look that says ‘I’m still here, even if you won’t recognize me.’ It’s enough for him to feel like he still has control over the freshman, so he pays it no mind.

However he can immediately tell why. Akutagawa needs something to replace the look of desperation, because it has moved on to someone else, to someone it was always bound to find. That look probably hasn't belonged to Dazai for quite a while, and he can tell because of how it sticks to Atsushi.

It makes Dazai shoot a quick glance at Ranpo, who instantly reciprocates, giving him a nod back to show he notices it too. It results in Dazai feeling a slight smile curl up on his lips, ‘good for him’ he thinks, despite knowing Akutagawa would probably rather kill himself than admit to feeling anything remotely positive about Atsushi.

He then looks toward Kunikida, who’s currently the one talking. He’s going on a rant about how even though he loves learning about morals, ethics, and so on, philosophy class might actually kill him soon. Then Yosano and Ranpo both joke about Fukuzawa, a pretty humane normal conversation to sum it up.

He sighs once again, trying to think of what to do when the day is over. Perhaps he should go on some sort of adventure, dragging Atsushi along with him. Somehow he always agrees to go along even when he really doesn’t want to, it’s not because he’s intimidated or anything, nobody knows quite why he does it. Anyway, maybe he could ask Kunikida to do something with him, like binge watch a whole anime or something stupid that’ll take his mind off the boredom. Or, just maybe, he should finally just go kill himse-

“What do you think, Dazai?” Yosano asks, needing a last opinion on some discussion they’ve been having while he zoned out, he quickly tries to think back and see if he latched on to any words, but to no avail. “I’m not very fond of it myself.” He replies, hoping it can save his ass somewhat.

“Exactly!” Yosano immediately looks back to Ranpo, leaving Dazai with a sigh of relief.

Ah, he should text Fyodor. That’ll be sure to distract him.
_____________________________________________

Being at class without Chuuya is fine.

Obviously, why would it be a bother?

It’s completely okay. It’s not agonizing how suddenly Dazai can hear every word spoken in the room, which is always one too many, acting like they’re the thoughts that fries his brain minute by minute. It’s not soul crushing how his thoughts hang him on a tight noose, choking him out by the second, almost making him feel the physical pain he knows he can’t escape. It’s not heart breaking, it’s not excruciating, or painful, nor is it tragic or disturbing.

No, it’s none of those. If he really had to call it something, maybe he would say ‘mildly annoying’ perhaps even a ‘slightly stressing’ if he was being really dramatic.

But it’s fine.

He decides to pull out his phone, hoping the teacher won’t notice, he looks through his contacts and feels a slight ping of annoyance when Chuuya’s name surpasses his eyes, he scrolls past it though, obviously.

ME: what u doing??

Kunikida hates when he texts like that, because he personally texts like a whole robot. No shortenings, no mistakes, commas and everything else needed.

FYODOR: Skipping w Nikolai, Chuuya was apparently a pos yesterday.

Despite his sinister and arrogant personality, he’s a lot like Dazai, therefore he’s easy to talk to. Dazai does not choose to look at that as a problem despite it may being one, either way he isn’t exactly.. friends with Fyodor. It’s more a form of, similar intelligence, that binds them together. So sometimes the two of them talk, if they need advice or something else, since it’s hard for other people to understand them.

ME: ??? How come

He doesn’t like showing interest in Chuuya, but today has been way too much ChuuyaChuuyaChuuya and not enough of everything else, so who even cares anymore.

FYODOR: Dunno, Nikolai says he’s super homophobic.

Dazai continues reading the message as Fyodor then goes on to threaten Chuuya in the most passive aggressive ways possible, he’s the type of person who you’re convinced would kill another man as soon as he goes over the line, which is also why no one ever does it. That’s another reason as to why Dazai is wildly confused on how Chuuya dared say anything to the man's own boyfriend.

But the thing that confuses him even more is, how could Chuuya be homophobic?

It’s not that he exactly goes around screaming about being supportive, but he’s never thrown a hate comment anyone’s way, and Akutagawa is literally-

He sighs, whatever. Nikolai is a very dramatic person, and probably a pathological liar if you’ve ever met one, it wouldn’t surprise anyone if he makes up a little lie to make Fyodor pity him.
________________________________

As they finally get off school, everyone somehow chooses they should hang out in Dazai and Kunikida’s dorm, which none of them really agrees to but with how much they crash at Ranpo’s place, it’s hard to deny him anything, and it’s not that they don’t want to hang out, their room is just a mess because Kunikida hasn’t had his friday-freak-clean yet.

But knowing their friends, they probably don’t care.

Atsushi’s dorm is only stable because he’s literally had a single day in it, give it a week and it’ll look like the place has been actually bombed.

“Can we eat dinner together today?” Atsushi asks as he lets his backpack fall to the floor and he quickly makes himself comfortable on their couch. Ranpo is quiet and observing their place to see if anything is new since last time, “Sure.” He answers, Dazai and Kunikida both humming in agreement. “You’ve been quiet today, Dazai. Anything on your mind?” Ranpo suddenly speaks out to the quiet room.

Yes, way too many things have been on his mind, and way too many of them were about Chuuya, which caused even more things to slither their way into his brain. He can’t say that though, he can’t tell them that he wishes so badly he could just lay down and sleep and not think about anything until Chuuya is back.

Because they can’t know that's how he feels, they can never know how much space in his head Chuuya takes up. Mostly because he doesn’t even admit it to himself so how could he dare speak it out loud to other people?

Also because they’d ask questions even he hasn’t thought about yet, which would just send him spiraling or they’d make some stupid suggestions, like ‘just go to his room’ or ‘just text him’

And truth be told, he could do that, but if he did then Chuuya would know he cares, or- maybe not that, because he doesn’t, but he’d know he thinks about him, which is a problem in itself even without Chuuya knowing. God forbid Dazai ever figures out how big a problem it would be with him knowing, he would probably be absolutely horrific about it.

“I just forgot my pills today.” He smiles in reply, regretting his non-truthful answer the second Kunikida gasps, and he realises he forgot he lives with the most scheduled person ever who immediately rushes to the bathroom to find the pills that Dazai did take.

He drowns in self-pitying regret for a second while watching Kunikida rush around, he shoots a glance at Ranpo who isn’t giving any obvious form of sign that he knows he’s lying, he of course does know, but it does a little relief to Dazai that he isn’t being vocal about it.

“Here you go.” He hands him water with it.

Dazai lets out a sigh too low for anyone else to hear, it’s not like he’ll overdose, worst case scenario he’ll get nauseous and perhaps even vomit, antidepressants are only dangerous if he took a few more, and it puts a little sting to his heart.

He could end himself right here and now.

But the memory of Kunikida’s face merely a few years ago has been a game changer, truly, because now with every attempt almost happening, all he can hear is the scream and cries and-

He takes the one singular pill, committing to his lie too much. He could’ve just acted like he suddenly remembered, but honestly his head hurts too much to care right now.
_________________________________________

And so, weekend crashes over Chuuya.

The long train ride home is either very healthy for his brain, or horribly dangerous.

He can spend his time sorting his thoughts out, putting them into small boxes and lock the ones that are in need of it, or he can spend the next 3 hours thinking way too much and allowing new thoughts to arrive in his head.

He wishes he could decide which one it’ll be, but sadly for him that’s all up to fate. When he has sat down and showed his ticket to the people who check each time, he rushes to find the headphones he accidentally buried way too deep down in his bag, he sighs as his hand continues trying to search for the small thin white wire, ending up grabbing a bunch of other things along the way.

After a minute or so he finally manages, relief washes over him as he can finally relax.

But, he totally can’t.

He tries multiple times to close his eyes, lean on the window and focus on the lyrics going back and forth between his ears, but he needs to skip songs multiple times because every once in a while a lyric will hit him and make him think too much again.

After about 30 minutes of that endless cycle, he decides to turn slightly down for the music so there’s space for his own thoughts to roam freely, perhaps a bit too freely.

His first question to himself is, “What should I do?” and despite going over each different scenario possible, nothing quite satisfies him. He could stay friends with Nikolai and tell his parents nothing, but he wonders if Nikolai even wants to, and if he does then he has to try to not let the disgust slip by his facade.

He could tell his parents. The thought circles his brain a few times, the blurry vision of a hand passing his eyes and leaving his face red replaying over and over again. His father yelling something about satan, the devil, lucifer, you name it. Maybe they’d even assume he likes men, and force him to talk to a priest and beg for forgiveness for such an unforgivable sin, perhaps they’d cry, his mother surely would. ‘How did I raise such a child?” She would whisper, his dad comforting her and telling her it isn’t her fault, he must have given in to the temptations the devil so rudely offered him.

Temptations, surely.

But, rude? No, barely. Not even close, actually.

If the devil is offering him temptation, it’s kind and polite. Served on a silver platter, right there for him to take, but yet the beautiful creature stares him right in the face waiting for him to devour the sin in its whole, whispering sweet words of welcomeness and familiarity, it has his voice. It has his face. The devil may as well be him.

He tries to leave that train of thought behind, he shouldn’t tell his parents. He should simply take his distance from Nikolai and leave the whole situation in the past, even if his brain will never allow him.

He thinks of a new thought but leaves it when it involves Dazai, then a new one, and then a new one, and he almost wants to break his own nose when he realises he can’t think of a single thing that doesn’t have Dazai spelt all over it.

Maybe he’s wrong, actually. The devil isn’t serving him the temptation on a silver platter, it’s raw meat being forced down his throat, no matter how badly he tries to close his mouth, it’s being pushed down with one hand, another holding his jaw open.

The meat is bleeding from how raw and fresh it is, causing him his never ending nausea to surface back once again, and he can’t even vomit it up because suddenly his mouth is being sewn closed and he can do nothing but give in and become greedy.

So, so greedy.
_________________________________________

The weekend is just a long time of doing nothing for Dazai, there’s no excitement or anything to hold on to. When in school, there’s at least something happening to make time pass by, usually annoying Chuuya is what keeps that sanity up but even he is gone this weekend. How dare he stay away so long? He’s like a vampire at this point.

Dazai doesn’t care that he’s definitely being overdramatic, since Chuuya has actually only been gone for a day plus the weekend, he doesn’t spare himself the annoyance of realising he might be in the wrong.

Sometimes he’s lucky and his friends plan something so he won’t have to lay in bed and rot in his own flesh, feeling his brain dry out. When the time stretches out so bad he feels how his teeth glaze themselves, and he can feel the sweat that’s been sticking to him for days.

This weekend is not one of them, however. Atsushi is too busy trying to figure out what’s going on with him and Akutagawa, and Kunikida did something last weekend meaning he has to relax this one, at least he’s still in the room though.

“You’re being overly moody, Dazai.” Is all he says when he sits down, turning the tv on. “Weekends are boringgg, let’s do something Kunikida!” He tries, but to no success.

“Are you okay? I know you don’t enjoy too much free time.” Kunikida asks without turning his head to ask, if it gets too personal Dazai will flee and avoid the question at all costs. “It’s fine, just boring, ‘s all.”

He sighs when the realization washes over him, this weekend will be horribly long.
_________________________________________

Coming home and being greeted is not relaxing, or satisfying, or even nice for that matter.

It’s a routine that’s as practiced as waking up, at this point. He wishes he could say he enjoys seeing his parents, but all that strikes him is fear, and the sudden facade crawling all over his body, the version of him that would never commit any sin, the one that would never dare defy his parents. The version of him that’s perfect, the version that’s loved.

He almost groans in relief when he has the ability to simply fall on his back getting caught by the soft sheets beneath him. Sometimes he wishes he would just continue to fall, just for a minute. Long enough to feel the air graze him lovingly, possessively. Promising it’ll catch him when he finally reaches the ground, but it’s always a second too short.

His bed is nice, familiar. He would honestly rather just stay in it all weekend rather than actually having to talk to his parents, but of course he won’t ever be so lucky.

“Chuuya darling, dinner will be ready soon!” His mom yells out.

Sometimes he wonders if they know. If they have any knowledge on how the son they know is not real, merely a mask to keep up an image they worked so hard to build. Even if they do know they wouldn’t dare speak of it though, they would never voice the sins that leak out of him like fractures on a machine.

The mistakes he bears so heavily on him are sadly as obvious as it is the sun shines.

But it’s better for everyone if these mistakes, issues even, are never to be spoken of

--

At dinner, his parents ask him a bunch of meaningless questions as they always do. ‘How’s school?’ ‘Are your grades okay?’ ‘How’s Yosano doing?’ ‘Have you been praying?’

He answers them quickly without giving any details that would dare show his flaws, making them real even behind these closed doors of his home.

“Chuuya, do you still talk to that Osamu kid?”

That question sincerely catches him off guard, despite trying to hide it he worries it may have been obvious, as it always is. “I see him sometimes in my classes.” Is all he has the courage to answer. “I was never quite fond of him, he seems as if blasphemy runs in his nature.” His mother sighs, he simply continues staring at his food, giving small nods as the conversation takes its natural swerve towards god, he makes a silent prayer apologizing that it bothers him so much, he promises it isn’t personal.
_________________________________________

When it’s monday again, Dazai secretly wishes Chuuya will be sitting in the area of seats he always does, it’s a wish that’s buried so deep down hidden in between every other feeling he’s ever had that has nothing to do with Chuuya that he almost doesn’t even recognize it, it could’ve been any other feeling in the world.

He tells himself that the wish is as simple as its surface truth, that he just needs distractions and the easiest one is bothering the man he has been doing so for ever so many years. He doesn’t dig deeper than that, because he would honestly rather not face the other many truths hidden beneath the surface that he so desperately clings to.

“Can you bring Atsushi his lunch?” Kunikida asks from the bathroom, having finished his daily 07:30 shower. “Why can’t you do it?” Dazai groans as he’s finally pulled out of his own brain, “Now that he’s moved in he doesn’t need to visit us every morning anymore, meaning I would have to skip one of my steps in my routine to go to his dorm. Have some sympathy.”

“For your brain?”

“For the kid. He needs lunch.”

“He really needs to learn how to make his own food” Dazai sighs as he gets up from their couch, finding his way to the cold fridge. He looks through it, trying first to grasp if they have anything he can nibble on while walking to class, but to no avail. He grabs the lunch Kunikida always places in the exact same spot.

“It’s a matter of memory, which he clearly lacks.” Kunikida says, you can hear a slight snicker in his voice when he says it which makes Dazai return a smile back despite the other not being able to see it, “I’ll go give it to him.”

 

He almost doesn’t catch the ‘thanks’ from his roommate as he closes the door, the hallway is almost already starting to spin and causing him utter dizziness. But he makes it quick to reach the younger's dorm so he won’t have to deal with his own brain this early in the morning, “Atsushiii” He drags the vocal as he opens the door without knocking. He almost thinks he feels slight regret when his eyes are met with the last thing expected, but that feeling is immediately replaced with amusement, “Akutagawa.” He smiles as he enters, both of the younger students looking almost horrified at the sight, “That’s your sign, out.” Atsushi sighs in a whisper, Akutagawa doesn’t take longer than a second to be out of the room.

Dazai simply throws the bag onto Atsushi’s bed as he wonders whether he should ask, but of course he should.

“What’s all that about?”

“It’s nothing.”

“You seem rather annoyed, don’t play tricks with me Atsushi” He replies in a hum, trying to signal that he won’t get out of this conversation, purely out of curiosity.

“He’s just being- so- I can’t even. It’s like he tries to get under my skin but not- not to annoy me but because he wants something else and I can’t fucking figure him out,” He suddenly rambles as if his thoughts have no end, “I had given completely up on a friendship or-.. anything, really. But then sometimes he speaks softer than usual and it’s not even soft it’s- it’s not even nice or polite but it’s not as bad as it has been which means something right? Or maybe it doesn’t and I actually can’t-”

“Jesus, Atsushi. Calm down.”

He shuts up in a frustrated groan, “Sorry. Thank you for bringing my lunch.” He whispers, trying to gather the many thoughts swarming his ever so thoughtless head. “Sure..” Dazai replies back, thinking if he has any words that’ll comfort Atsushi in the slightest, not because he cares, which we’ve been over many times, but sometimes he does it as a form of repayment for being around. Even if it’s not about like or dislike, he feels comfortable around these people, so sometimes he feels an urge to repay them, and this is usually how he does it with Atsushi.

“Listen, I don’t think he hates you. Far from, actually. But more than that I can’t give you, you need to figure this out yourself, and perhaps try voicing these things to him rather than just your own closed room.” That’s all he has, really. He just hopes it’s enough so he won’t have to do it again for a little while.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry for dumping all this on you.”

“You’re fine, class starts soon right? How about we walk together? Your math class is right beside me and Kunikida’s philosophy, ah and we have biology later, let’s meet up then hm?”

Atsushi smiles slightly and gives a nod in return, “I’d like that.”
___________________

While walking to class, all Dazai can think of is the question he’s been wondering since he woke up, will he be there?

And at last, when he opens the door, talking to Kunikida just to keep a facade that shows he doesn’t care, he almost smiles at the sight. Almost.
____________________________________

Chuuya immediately senses him, as if it’s an instinct engraved into his mind and body. He instantly feels the urge to reject, to leave the room and never come back. He barely survived the weekend, and now he even has to deal with Dazai. Both the thing he least and most want to deal with, he’d never admit to that though.

“Chuuya!” He smiles, that awful personality that’s so obviously fake which is what makes it so unbelievably hard to stand. “Shut it.” He groans in displeasure as the other sits down beside him, to no one's surprise at all.

“You skipped a whole day last week, doesn’t seem like you” He almost makes an attempt at ruffling his hair before his hand gets swapped away immediately, “Don’t touch me.”

“You’re more mean than usual, what, have I been on your mind too much?” He pouts before getting to the second half of his sentence, Chuuya turns to him, trying not to give it away that he is indeed correct. “Can you shut up? I’m trying to focus” He whispers as the teacher starts speaking, he goes on to talk about Gaston Bachelard, a french philosopher from the 1880’s, Chuuya picks up the words ‘Philosophy of science’ and something about poems as well, but the way Dazai is so obviously trying to be a bother by gently tapping his foot against Chuuya’s keeps grabbing his attention.

“What?” He asks, annoyed, which doesn’t seem to phase the other. “Your ears are red.” Dazai replies back, Chuuya almost misses the way his foot slowly slides away, leaving a phantom feeling of where it was before, “My fever isn’t completely gone.” He replies back, hoping the lie is believable enough. “Ah, fever, is that why you were puking your whole stomach up?” He asks in a smile.

How the fuck does he even know about that? Only Akutagawa and Yosano knows, and despite their relationship to Dazai, he doesn’t quite imagine they’d tell him about that. He doesn’t want to ask though, he won’t dare ask or say or even do anything that gives Dazai the opportunity to engage in further conversation.

“I almost went in to check on you, Pipsqueak.”

“Good thing you didn’t, I would've kept puking till my teeth started rotting.”

“Do I have that big of an effect on you?” The smug smile on his face is what makes it all so much worse, because it obviously isn’t an actual question, rather a comment or- or even an insult hidden behind words that seem normal to the average person.

But Chuuya knows Dazai well enough to see the undertones, to feel them creep under his skin, sizing him up to swallow him whole.

“You wish.”
____________________________________

At lunch, Dazai decides that his new route is definitely worth it.

He knows he needs Chuuya’s attention, but with so many years of being a dick it has only ever gained him glares and small ‘shut up’s along the way, so after he heard the surprising news that may very well be a lie of Chuuya apparently being a complete prick and homophobic, Dazai thought of a new approach.

Flirting.

It’s not sure to work, it hasn’t yet, but today was also just a test run so it doesn’t exactly matter that much. Part of him knows he’s also risking any interaction he could have with Chuuya in the future, but this craving to see him go red with disgust and nausea, the feeling of knowing he has such a strong effect on him? It overbears any other instincts.

The reality that this is the worst way to torment Chuuya if he truly is so horrible, and he’ll be able to see it right in front of himself.

He knows he’ll have to start slow if he doesn’t want to actually get beaten up, but he also can’t take it too slow because then Chuuya will end up getting used to it, and suddenly it won’t be tormenting which ruins all the fun Dazai is already having just by thinking of it happening.

Chapter Text

The silence that Chuuya offers Dazai is not taken well.

It’s taken with silent aggression, one that Chuuya doesn’t notice because Dazai would never give him that satisfaction. His eyes roam over the classroom, wishing to do anything to get the attention he denies he so badly needs.

Well, denial is a strong word. Refuses to acknowledge, perhaps? No, not even that fits. He thinks he might be losing his mind, a little bit. A lot.

It’s not that he cares, of course, but deep down there is that desperation for just a look his way, to see Chuuya get riled up, even yell at him if he’s lucky. Dazai takes a quick second to wonder whether that’s masochism or sadism, the answer he’s met with is the one that satisfies him the most, to his luck.

It’s already been a week, but Chuuya isn’t taking the bait.

He doesn’t react to the small touches Dazai is so sweet to give him, the looks he so generously lays out right in front of him. He simply moves away from it, leaving the other even more frustrated than he was in his past attempts.

He wants to try taking it further- or, not even, he wants to compliment him, which is barely even a romantic gesture in itself, it’s the bare minimum but for how he usually acts it’s definitely quite the step up. That’s sure to make him react, right? Sure maybe he doesn’t react to the small movements causing their skin to touch, they could’ve been accidents so it makes sense he doesn’t pay attention to that. And because it’s Chuuya, who refuses to care about anything that Dazai is involved in.

Which is a fact as known as the color of the sky, as mentioned as the time of day, and yet it’s been a lot worse lately.

It could be because he secretly knows, and understands the plan he’s being mapped out on, the plan targeting him and everything he stands for.

But a compliment? Such a thing must make him react, the only problem is that Dazai will have to swallow a good mouthful of pride to do it, to make it seem believable. But then again, it doesn’t have to be believable, because Chuuya knows him. He knows that anything Dazai does is for the sake of torture, so does it even really matter if it’s sincere? It wouldn’t have been anyway.

Dazai waits for the teacher to start talking again, focusing on the way Chuuya looks as focused as ever.

But then he looks slightly down and notices the way his leg is bouncing up and down, making him seem more irritated than he looks, and his pencil is also simply wavering over the paper, signalling he isn’t truly focusing that much, that’s just the facade he’s trying to hold.

That makes it a lot easier.

He almost hesitates, feeling slight dread of what he’s about to do, and he questions if it’s actually worth it, but as said, he ‘almost’ hesitates, because Dazai isn’t one to hesitate.

Dazai leans into the other, he considers trying for a touch as well, but decides to take it slower for the fun of it.
______________________________________

When Dazai leans close, Chuuya’s instincts are ready to run away immediately. Like an animal catching on to the fact it’s a prey of a hidden predator in the shadows, invisible due to the way it blends into the trees. His leg stops bouncing, his pen stops wavering, everything stops when he feels the breath of his so-called rival leaving a warm spot on his neck. “You look pretty today, surprisingly.”

Silence.

All he hears is silence after that, in his own throat, in the teacher, in the wind outside, anything that made any sound before has been completely muted by his own heartbeat, which he makes a silent prayer would stop right in this moment.

He doesn’t take into account that Dazai ended the sentence with something that makes it seem a lot more insincere, because he knows it is whether he does or not does say it out loud.

He knows he’s not saying it because he means it, he also knows the touches he’s been giving him for a week is not because he wants to. It’s all out of the urges and cravings to make Chuuya lose his mind, so he’s been focusing on keeping his composure rather than getting angry.
The problem Chuuya is facing is just that.. perhaps it works a little too well.

He has considered many outs, like
- Yelling or screaming, making a scene of it.
- Politely tell him to shut the fuck up.
- Return the favor.

None of them seems to ease Chuuya’s mind enough for him to try it out though, so he sits still and allows Dazai to torment him so utterly, interrupting the head that’s running at full speed yet not allowing a single thought to have more than a second of screentime. “Not even a thank you?”

His breath smells almost sweet. Or maybe it’s the taste of his voice.

Too sweet, the kind where you take a single bite and already feel the cavity forming, your teeth rotting inside you.

“Why would I say thank you for something I know you don’t mean? Asshole.” He whispers, trying not to let his facade melt off him, despite the warmth on his neck or the heat spreading through his body.

It’s not even just his facade that’s melting, it’s him in its whole.

“I might not be the most sincere soul you know, but I mean it.”

There’s pressure on the last words, and it almost makes Chuuya wonder for a second if he truly could mean it. And yet, even if he does, so what?

He called him pretty.

Anyone could do that, hell even Yosano does it sometimes and he doesn’t exactly react to that so why is the heat from his body rushing towards his face at a speed he’s unable to catch before the other does.

“You’re blushing.” Dazai states, using that annoying voice he does which is solely for the purpose of being a prick and making the situation worse that it already is. “It’s frustration. Trust me.” He pushes away the other’s foot that crawled half up his leg which he barely had time to notice, wanting to act as if it were never there at all even though he can still feel the cold touch.

Despite his reply he makes an obvious attempt at hiding his face, which to no one’s surprise doesn’t slip by Dazai. To Chuuya’s luck, though, he decides not to comment on it at all.
________________________________________

When Chuuya sits and has his usual daily lunch with Yosano and Akutagawa, he doesn’t miss the way they both shoot him glances every once in a while to make sure he’s either listening or to try and figure out what’s going on in his head.

He doesn’t really care which one is the right answer, to be honest.

Yosano probably knows everything going on in his head anyway, and yet she looks puzzled every time her eyes drift to him again.

He keeps his gaze fixated on Akutagawa as he talks about his situation with Atsushi again, it makes him want to puke.

It’s not that Chuuya is oblivious, and he’s definitely not homophobic. But listening to Akutagawa talk about how much he hates said ‘tiger’ yet trying to hide the faint touch of pink caressing his face when he accidentally uses the name ‘Atsushi’ instead of some stupid remark or nickname might literally be the hell Chuuya is already trying so desperately to avoid.

He doesn’t exactly feel the same disgust he did when everything with Nikolai happened, he can’t quite figure out what he does feel though. Disgust probably doesn’t even come close, the whole situation is obscene if you ask him, repulsive, even. But he doesn’t feel the need to detach himself from Akutagawa, and as much as he hates it, he couldn’t be more grateful.

Yet despite all of this, he does feel slightly revolted, and he can’t help the urge to shoot comments towards the freshman when he mentions Atsushi’s name yet again.

“It’s an illness, Akutagawa.” He sighs

Akutagawa merely blinks, before his eyes darken, “Excuse you?”

“Homosexuality is not only a sin, it’s a sickness spreading through your brain.” He shrugs, as if he’s saying any other thing ever, he says it as of how people say the sky is blue or the grass green, with so much confidence and knowledge that he specifically is right.

“Right, okay Chuuya. I’m not sure where you got the idea that I am homosexual from, but even then, what do you care? Does me fucking men effect you?” He asks in complete monotone.

“It affects us.”

“As a group?”

“As in our friendship.”

Silence stings for a while, Yosano hasn’t said anything during this whole exchange.

They both know Chuuya is christian, and cares a lot more than the average person about what’s right and wrong in gods eyes, despite this they’re both convinced he has no actual faith in the lord he swears so heavily to believe in.

So, obviously, they’ve had a hunch he could have a deranged view on same sex relationships, especially Yosano probably knew it long beforehand. But they both made a silent agreement that as long as he doesn’t voice his opinion, they can pretend it doesn’t exist.

“You’ve never had a problem with it before, that being said, I have no desire or interest for men. So surely, it won’t be a problem now?” Akutagawa says, as if this was the winning question in a million dollar quiz. The answer Chuuya gives now, all in all, determines how they continue on with their friendship, and Akutagawa secretly wishes he’ll back down.

And luckily, today the god Chuuya stands by, is with him.

“..No, you’re right. No problem.”
_______________________________________________

“Sooo, Atsushiii” Dazai drags out the syllable as usual when he sits down to the group he sees at every lunch, he makes a quick glance and picks up on the heavy atmosphere by Chuuya’s table, but decides that he’s already driven him to the edge for today, and they still have 2 classes left with one another.

“How’s it going with Akutagawa?” He asks with a grin plastered on his pale face.

Kunikida and Ranpo both silently notice the way he lets a second glance quickly fall against Chuuya once more, even if he denies the reality of it.

“I wanna die” Atsushi groans as his head fall into his arms, “I just don’t understand him”

Even Ranpo smiles from that, which causes Dazai to react the same way.

“What part? The part where he wants to kill you or the part where he wants to sleep with you?” Kunikida asks, almost sounding too serious for Atsushi’s liking.

“Shut up”

 

“Kunikida’s right, Atsushi. Surprising as it is” Daza shrugs, without giving any further detail to exactly why in the world he thinks that. Ranpo would give an input, but he decides it’s for the better to observe and watch it all burn, as he usually does.

It’s dense, really. The way Ranpo probably has the ability to tell everyone what anyone is thinking at any given time, but he refuses to do so simply because it’s enjoyable for him to sit back and obtain as much information as possible, he’s like Yosano in that way.

“What’s your next class?” Ranpo asks Atsushi when the conversation dies out, “Mathematics.” Atsushi replies, seeming a little more bright now than a few seconds prior, as if any tiny distraction could’ve saved him. “Ah, mine too!” Ranpo smiles, obviously they’re not in the same class, due to the age gap and also the fact Ranpo could take all his classes on ‘advanced’ if he wasn’t so fucking lazy.

“I have biology” Kunikida chimes in, “Chemistry” Dazai joins along on the meaningless and quite useless conversation. It does nothing to spike his brain activity, but it does a little to calm his heart rate, which is enough for him to feel slight appreciation. ________________________________________________

As he finds himself walking to his next class, Chuuya is sure that the dread he feels in his body is solely because he has to deal with the nightmare that is Dazai. He refuses to acknowledge the guilt eating him up from inside out, does Akutagawa refuse to accept his homosexuality as a general thing, or is he lying through his teeth because he knows Chuuya won’t accept him?

He wouldn’t.

Obviously.

Even if the smallest part of his brain is yelling and screaming at him to stop caring, he simply cannot. And even then, if it was actually possible for him to give this thing up and ignore it in its entirety, would he? No, probably not. Because then.. then he would surely be marking a seat in hell with red ink, spelling his name in capital letters as if he’s the guest of the show,

He can’t afford to commit sins.

He can’t be wrong.

He can’t…

He can’t be sick.

“Ah, speaking about the devil!”, Chuuya almost snickers at the irony in that sentence, “Hi chem partner.” And true fear spikes him through the heart with a wooden stake.

“Missed ya.” Dazai smiles over and over again, god, he never stops smiling does he?

Chuuya truly wishes he was made of codes.

He wishes he could be reprogrammed and fixed, the error no longer being there.

He can’t tell if the undertones of that wish is telling him that the error itself is Dazai, or the way Dazai makes him want to slit his flesh apart.

Both, he decides.

“Excuse yourself, chem what now?” He sighs, already knowing he’ll need to drag his own ass out of the burning flames of hell the second Dazai answers the question.
Dread and fear. The only two feelings Chuuya has ever truly known.

“I asked the teachers to sit us together for the upcoming exam, aren’t you lucky, Chuuya?”

 

Yes. Oh, so very lucky.

No, he wants to kill himself, actually.

Quite frankly, he’d realistically rather commit the sin of suicide than the one of same sex relations, so he isn’t being that dramatic he’d like to believe.

“Why, Dazai? Why do you put so much effort into tormenting me?” Is what he would ask, instead, only the two first words leave his mouth. Admitting that time with Dazai is torture is as embarrasing as if Akutagawa outright confessed to Atsushi. Maybe it’s because deep down there isn’t that big of a difference, but that’s a realization for when he feels comfortable in the fact hell is waiting patiently for him.

Actually, not patiently. Hell is dragging him by the feet as he attempts to keep his grip on god, but everyday he feels him linger more and more out of his fingers. He’s sure that the seat marked in his name has been there before his birth, before he was even conceived, surely.

When Dazai shrugs off the question by focusing on the paper in front of him, Chuuya lets out yet another sigh, not one to show off his frustration, but the kind you do because you’ve accidentally been holding your breath for a second too long. He decides that banter and anger is too much for his head right now, so instead he takes a different direction, “Did you know Akutagawa was gay?” He asks, clearly troubled. “...Did you.. not?” Dazai asks, eyes widening by the second.

“So he is?”

“Is it not obvious? The poor kid is practically worshipping the ground Atsushi walks on. Sure he does it by blowing said ground up, but he does it with love in his eyes. Or.. maybe not that, but he’s clearly obsessed with his ‘tiger’ ” Dazai explains, not questioning why Chuuya isn’t cussing him out or looking oddly angry.

“He told me he didn’t have any interest in men.”

“Uh, okay? Why?” Dazai engages in the conversation, despite his face showing very obviously he has no specific interest in it whatsoever. It’s probably another tactic to make Chuuya choose his own fate of hell, but honestly? He doesn’t feel that horrible right now.

“Because it’s a sin, Dazai. I-”

“Ah, so it’s true? You’re homophobic?” He words it as if it’s something he’s been genuinely wondering about, which is what takes Chuuya by surprise the most.

“What? No I just don’t want him to-”

Chuuya will never get to finish his sentence in this argument, he quickly realizes.

“I don’t care, Chuuya. Be homophobic or not, It doesn’t make a difference to me, I already hate you. But denying it? That is quite the odd move.” Dazai once again speaks in his horrible neutral voice, analyzing his own sentence with every word that leaves his mouth.

Chuuya, however, can feel his own face lose the color that was probably never even there anyway. His stomach sinks and his breath hitches, for just a second, a second so short it doesn’t have enough time to convince him, he agrees with Dazai. It is odd to deny it. But his mindset changes back faster than the first, and he shakes his head, because there’s nothing to deny. He is not homophobic. At least that’s what he tells himself over and over, because focusing on not being one thing will distract him from being another.

“May I ask a question?” Dazai asks, and it’s the voice of a person who knows that whatever is about to be asked will be, no matter what the receiver answers, so Chuuya swallows hard and simply waits for the question to arrive.

He’s quick to notice the change in the room and atmosphere when it takes Dazai more than a second to ask his so-called question, as if he’s hesitating. What’s odd about that is simply that Dazai is not one to hesitate, this is a very known fact if you asked anyone who has ever shared a word, perhaps merely a glance with said man.

He takes another deep breath, and suddenly he realizes, maybe he is actually asking for permission to strike Chuuya with whatever it is this time, and it makes him think. He is curious, of course, who wouldn’t be? But from what he gathered at the conversation he had barely a minute ago, he’s sure that he won’t be happy with whatever Dazai could spit out.

The curiosity wins over his safety instinct, however. Maybe because he doesn’t really have one, maybe because he doesn’t feel that scared at all.

He feels his head nod without having been granted permission, and he immediately feels the regret when he sees the smile he hates ever so much creep onto Dazai’s lips so slowly yet quicker than the speed of light.

“You like men, correct?”

The world stops, or, it probably doesn’t, actually.

Maybe it goes faster, maybe it does stop, or maybe absolutely nothing happens and that’s what worries Chuuya the most. These words are muttered from his moms whispers, into complete silence. He expects to die right there and then, as if hell simply couldn’t wait any longer now that such words are out in the open.

He feels himself stop, though. The world surely keeps going, despite his wishes, but he doesn’t. Neither does his sense of vision, perhaps even his sense of reality is slipping away, out of reach for his mere fingertips. He feels his mouth open, but nothing comes out, he can barely even get away with a whisper of a simple ‘no’.

And maybe that’s because he’s shocked. Yeah, of course it is. Nothing else is possible.

He is not silent because Dazai is correct, because his mom is correct or because he is sick. He is not.

Finally, he gathers courage, or rather he uses his own fear against him, “What the fuck are you talking about?” He whispers ever so lowly, but even the loudest wind, or the most silent voice, could never hide the anger and fear hidden barely beneath a layer.

It’s not hidden at all. It’s out, roaming at every corner it can touch, silently whispering to every person it can reach.

He finds himself looking at every soul in the room, and despite the heavy feeling in his chest, nobody is looking. Absolutely nobody.

Except for Dazai.

It’s always Dazai.

“Denying it once again?”

He thinks he could puke right now. Again.

Except this time he would never stop, the bitter and sour taste would linger until the end of time, haunting him more than Dazai could ever accomplish.

“I’m not denying shit, what? You wanna pound me? Is that what this is?”

He hopes the threat- or, statement? Whatever it is, he hopes it enough for Dazai to back down, quickly, if anything. Immediately, because if he says another word it might actually be the end for Chuuya.

His rapid heart beat is already convincing him death is near, he would attempt feeling his pulse to see if it’s delusion, but the other would catch on too quickly, and he can’t have that now. Even his eyes are wandering everywhere they can, except for the tall figure in front of them, this causes him to not realize when Dazai takes a step closer, and his body leans down on its own.

“And if I do?”
__________________________________________

“I think I broke him this time.” Dazai sighs to the person awaiting his arrival like a mother waiting for his son at war.

It’s a thing he’s used to by now, that Kunikida always comes home earlier than him and gets stressed if he doesn’t show up at the ‘curfew’ he’s been given, so usually if he’s late by even minute he’ll walk inside his room and be greeted by the presence of a mad mother, it was a surprise at first, it no longer is.

He had a theory it was because Kunikida was afraid he’d kill himself every time he stepped outside the house, then he quickly realized the OCD brain he’s living with is probably more the issue in this situation, less his suicide attempts.

“Who?” Kunikida asks, arms crossed, keeping an eye on Dazai, clearly being upset that he was 5 minutes overtime but decides to leave it alone when the other walks in with a heavy sigh and a desperate look for rest, it’s only in these situation he can hold back on scolding Dazai, really.

“Chuuya, obviously, who else?” He lets out yet another sigh, that gets followed by relief when he’s finally able to lay in the bed that he himself has awaited.

“Stop tormenting him, Dazai. The kid is too out of it for it to even be fun for you anymore..”

“Oh it’s fun alright.” He smiles lightly, seeming in a better mood already.

It’s obvious to everybody within eye-length that Chuuya is violently uncomfortable being in a 5 foot radius with Dazai, and even then he doesn’t run, ever. He never runs away, he hardly even makes an attempt at re-adjusting his eyes to a spot in the wall, or the teacher, or anything that isn’t Dazai, because it always is.

But then again, even though everyone knows a fact as obvious as the warmth of the sun, Dazai’s personality is as crystal clear as melting ice, so nobody really does anything to save the older one of the two. Even telling him off, threatening him, nothing would be able to drive Dazai away from his desperate need of attention from the one and only person he claims to hate.

“What even happened?” Kunikida asks, even if knowing will do him no good, he’s still a curious soul, but isn’t everybody? At least a little bit, everyone has a bit of need for gossip running in their veins, it’s a drug as addicting as starvation, or heroin, if you wanna get technical.

“I called his bullshit, asked if he was gay.” The answer to a question that probably shouldn’t have been asked is enough for Kunikida to sit down immediately and listen to whatever is next to come, honestly, Dazai wouldn’t be surprised if next he got a blanket and popcorn with that look on his face.

He looks like a little child who’s secretly listening to their older sibling explain their tragic love life, maybe it isn’t that far off after all.

“He first got mad, asked if I wanted to fuck him and as a joke I said yes- as a joke-” He repeats himself again when Kunikida’s gaze changes to even more surprise, less disappointment. As if Dazai had finally admitted to something he should’ve long ago. “He left class. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s puking his guts up right now.”

“...Do you?” The other asks, seeming slightly concerned he has to ask this question. “Do I what?” Dazai yawns without turning his eyes back to the blonde, “Want to engage in sexual intercou-” “Woah, okay. Jesus fucking christ Kunikida, have some filter. No, of course I don’t actually want to, it was to rile him up.” He quickly defends himself, feeling obviously offended by the question.

“Ah, of course.”
_______________________________________

Chuuya finds himself roaming his room left and forth, trying to keep down the only meal he could handle today.

His breath hitches every time it has a chance of sucking any actual air in, rather than hyperventilating until his eyes tear from choking on his own pride and self-respect. He can’t explain what the fuck is happening to him, but it’s not something good, that much is obvious.

Maybe he’s getting possessed by a demon, or maybe he’s facing his own worst fear, or maybe- once again, nothing is happening.

But there must be, with the way his heart is beating so fast he’s convinced it’s the last movement it’ll ever make, the way his legs wobble beneath him and he doesn’t feel secure in the fact the ground will catch him. He stands upright only because he feels if he falls now, he’ll never stop. Maybe hell is just an endless hole, a loop of falling, trying to accept a fate he didn’t himself decide, or rather the fate he tried so hard to avoid.

He obviously isn’t gonna die right here and now.

But no matter how hard you tried telling him that, he still wouldn’t be reassured. He’s so lost inside the mind that’s telling him his life is over, that this is the end and he won’t be allowed any time to prepare or even acknowledge it at all, and if this is the end, it needs to be faster.

His body moves fast, running back and forth as his heart is almost getting puked up from his chest to the floor he avoids looking at, because he isn’t sure it’s even there anymore.

But everything else is so slow.

The agony that fills his body, moving through his veins, but not a rapid pace, a pace where he has enough time to pinpoint exactly where his body goes cold, even if his mind is too foggy for him to actually do that, he’s sure he could.

And then fear is the overtaking one. The dominant feeling that leaves no space for any other emotion, nor thought, for Chuuya to recognize. He’s scared that death is truly this slow, that he has to feel every blood drop of despair before his eyes finally close and he can have a rest (which of course isn’t how it works, in Chuuya’s mind, he’s currently walking down the stairs, getting ready to accept eternal flames) and that’s what scares him the most.

Sure, he’s always been afraid of death, any rational thinking person would be, but he felt secure he’d die a painless and quick death, one where he didn’t have enough time to think, to even realize what was happening, and all he would feel was relaxation.

But that’s not what’s happening right now.

All he feels is his mouth water up, saliva possibly choking him more than his own sanity has been doing for weeks now, and it’s so painful. He feels pain in every last bit of his body, every nerve that’s ever been created, every cell that’s been protecting him his whole life, all of that is being burnt and melted inside of him at once. All of him, every last whole bit of Chuuya might just end up as a puddle of nothing on the floor he’s been swearing is nonexistent.

His body walks on its own, his steps hurrying to the bathroom he’s been getting a bit too familiar with lately. His mind is completely corrupted, so he barely notices the phone in his hand, tapping along letters he isn’t familiar with at all in this current moment, and when his grip gives up, his legs finally turning to liquid, all his faith and hope is poured out.

For maybe a minute, maybe an hour, he vomits every last bit of belief up. Believing in God is honestly the scariest part of this whole situation. Because he feels the eyes daunting on him, judging his every move, removing a step more from the stairway to the pearly gates by every time his throat closes up once again.

His hands grip desperately onto the seat his face is hiding inside, to no gain due to how weak his body has been for the last bit of time, for however long he’s been stuck there. He almost doesn’t notice the way his throat leaves ugly sounds of sobbing between each pour, and he doesn’t want to decide if it’s because of the bitter taste in his mouth, or the sour feeling in his heart.

Crying isn’t like him, so subconsciously he decides anyway, that it could only be due to the puke filling up his toilet in front of him, despite that being lying through his rotting teeth.

--

Somehow, he manages to stand up, his ears ignoring the ringing sound and vibrating feeling from the phone on the carpet on his floor, a carpet that should definitely be washed after he regains his sense of reality.

Once again he’s completely oblivious to where his body is leading him, his mind has a goal, surely, but he can’t figure out if his legs are cooperating with one another, even less if they’re following the lead his brain is sending them.

But when he opens his drawer, he feels slight relief at the fact that he knows where he is, and he knows what’s happening at this exact moment.

He would never kill himself, that’s a sin as great as day, and he doesn’t crave death in the way other people might, so he has other ways of coping with the self-pity and hatred rolling down his face. He feels so utterly pathetic, and he likes symbolism and symmetry. His body must resemble his mind, else he might genuinely lose the sanity that’s holding him upright and standing in this current second.

Even then he reaches down to slowly unbutton his pants, then letting them slide down without any repercussion whatsoever, and then his hands reach for something new.

The blade isn’t rusty, it’s rather new, actually.

Due to a recent infection he got from having used the same one, one too many times without cleaning. Mostly because the corruption of his mind is too impulsive and spontaneous for him to care about something as absolute dogshit as hygiene.

The infection wasn’t nice, though, so he hastily made a decision to get a new blade in case of any further spirals in the future, and he’s so lucky he did. He feels the praise he gives himself, and allows a small smile to linger before picking up the shiny metal.

It’s not exactly hesitation or dread, perhaps just a slight delay. He can’t figure out why, he knows there is a reason behind but none is coming to mind so he quickly thinks it must be his body trying to stop him from causing any harm, but of course he wouldn’t listen.

The blood arrives quickly on the first swipe, one that doesn’t have enough pressure to break flesh, only enough to scratch the surface, perhaps it's because he truly doesn’t have that much fat on his thighs so there’s not a lot to really dig into, but that won’t stop him, obviously.

The next swipe is a slow one, one that focuses on pressure rather than speed, and he feels satisfaction from the way his skin separates, the sound of it being one he’s heard as clear as the birds singing in the morning since he was a mere 12 years of age. This time the blood takes a little longer, giving him enough time to watch into the white surface beneath his skin, one that welcomes him with so much love and care, more than anyone else ever has.

So he does another, and another, and another.

Until the upper part of his thigh is sore and he worries if he’ll be able to sit down without wincing, but he tries anyway because tears are threatening to well up yet again as his aggression gets worse with each swipe, and when he sits down he loses it all. The blood is dripping down faster than the tears spelling out insanity in capital letters, he’s sure he’ll have to wash his sheets after or they’ll forever be soaked in this utter despair he’s known for as long as he remembers.

He crumbles completely together inside himself, allowing his hands to catch the tears kissing his cheeks with a beautiful greeting he has missed a little bit too much, he doesn’t attempt to bandage, or even pull up his pants again, all he can focus on is how fucking stupid he feels.

And that’s when true fear strikes him for the second time this day, actually it’s probably happened a lot more than that, but that’s a conversation for another day, or preferably never.

When the door opens in a haste, he doesn’t need to look up or to even guess who it could be, “You can’t just text me ‘hurry’ then don’t fucking answer m-” Silence strikes, and he doesn’t dare meet the eyes of Yosano, probably standing scared or disappointed or something even worse upon him.

“What the fuck did you do?”

It’s not a whisper, it’s as firm as any other question could’ve been, beneath the anger there’s obvious worry lingering, but Chuuya doesn’t pick up on any of it as he finally decides to look up, feeling naked due to his exposed self right in front of his best friend. The tears aren’t helping at all, of course they’re not.

“I think I’m sick.”

Chapter Text

“What do you mean, sick?” She stares, for maybe a second too long she could guess, but that doesn’t make her turn her gaze away. It's not that she doesn’t know exactly what he means, she’s probably more aware than anyone else could ever be in this situation. She knows what that word means to Chuuya, the self hatred hidden so far down in it you’d almost believe it’s a genuine thing he believes rather than feels.

That the disgusting comments he made is not directed towards himself but to anyone within eyesight, the facade he thought was as clean as a whistle, yet almost anyone knew that all of it was him saying it to remind himself, keep himself in check. To never sin, and to ask for forgiveness if done, but never that. Never.

His eyes shake as he looks back at her, wondering why she isn’t screaming at him to never say such things again, or why she isn’t running out of the door leaving him to go over his thoughts alone and probably end up insane by the time sunrise hits him, and then he realizes that perhaps she just doesn’t know what he means and the second he explains she will never dare look at him ever again. He obviously does know that she understands, deep down somewhere, a place he couldn’t reach even if he spread apart his guts and searched for hours, he just doesn’t want to admit that to himself because he doesn’t believe there's any way someone could look at him with such care and love if he admitted to a sin so deep rooted in his flesh.

But he did.

It’s out in the open, the word being swallowed by the silence Yosano offers as she continues to wait for an answer she isn't sure will ever come, and yet she has a feeling the glare she’s forcing down his throat will make him throw up said answer.

It’s worked before, at least. Whenever Chuuya doesn’t wanna talk she has a way of looking at him, it’s not quite the one she’s giving now though.

Her usual look would be filled with slight judgement, and waiting signing she would be disappointed if she did not get an answer out of him, it’s merely a look though, nothing to be taken too seriously. And yet now she can’t bring herself to use that look, because it’ll break Chuuya down and ruin the last bit of sanity he has left in him.

So instead, she gives a look of care and worry, one that tells him it’s okay and she won’t run away screaming. That he can tell her, and she’ll still be here.

Because she knows he’s always had a belief no one would stay under such conditions, it’s only natural he would feel that way due to his parents, she thinks.

“I.. don’t know.” Is all he can manage to say, and it’s enough for her to accept that as her final answer and sit down beside her bleeding, tear eyed best friend. “Chuuya for fuck sake” She sighs, it’s not one that’s led with disappointment or hatred, merely shock and understanding behind worry.

“I don’t know what to do.”

He quickly says, as if her sitting down was his final reassurement that she’s here, and he can talk freely. He realistically still doesn’t quite believe it but it’s enough for him to say the words lingering on his tongue along with the fear kissed to his lips.

She looks him up and down for a moment, the way his leg is pumping out blood as if trying to replace what’s already lost, despite the opening being so big there’s no hope. Then her eyes fall to the blade he’s still gripping so tightly around she’s sure that his fisted hands are hiding droplets of blood as well.

“It’s okay.” Is all she can muster up the courage to say as her hands slide to his, trying to get a hold of a blade she’d honestly rather just throw into the toilet and never see again. She’s scared to ask, due to his rage and even more his vulnerability in this state, but she can’t hold back. It’s a question that’s been reserved in her brain for as long as she can remember, one that was saved for the moment he admitted to it because then she would know. She would have the closure of knowing if her best friend was in love with the very man he hates. So despite her hesitation, she goes for it. “Is it.. because of-”

 

“No! No I- it’s more complicated than.. I would never…” The last three words are not spoken with sincerity, but with loyalty. He wouldn’t, solely because he would go against the principle of all he lives for, and that’s a greater punishment than anything he’s ever known before.

He would, maybe. No. Yes. Definitely. Never. Impossible.

Maybe.

If not for the hold his God has on him, he’s still unsure if he would ever go for it, because he does not like him. It’s.. complicated, as he says. Which he says with truth, but not for the reason one would think, or perhaps for the exact reason one would think. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. He never wants anything to do with him ever again.

“It’s not like this is the first time.. he wasn’t my awakening or some corny fuckass shit like that, it’s happened before but- not like.. not like this. And I’m so, so scared, ‘Sano.” This time, there’s as much sincerity as one would ever hear from Chuuya, perhaps even more, which shocks Yosano to a point she has to hold down a gasp.

“Do you love him?”

The question is horrible, filled with so much misunderstanding it almost causes Chuuya to break completely free from the episode he’s caged inside. “Never. Nothing even close. I don’t even like him, Yosano. And yet..” He doesn’t finish his sentence, because somehow it’s enough for her to understand.

He doesn’t love Dazai. He doesn’t like, or even tolerate him in the slightest. He hates him, really.

But he hates him because he wants him.

And that’s what’s breaking him down, tearing his flesh from muscle, cells from blood, and nerves from mind. Leaving only Dazai’s name written on every last bit of him, as if his whole being resembles the tragedy of yearning.

Nothing sane is left, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt as clueless as he does right now and he can admit to it being scary because of course it is, now that he’s said it out loud his doomsday is practically running at him with a speed worse than lightning.

“Why don’t you just distance yourself from hi-”

Her suggestion is shut down as Chuuya stands up quickly, looking at her with slight rage and frustration despite the tears stained into his face and the blood finding a new direction to fall in. “Don’t you think I’ve tried that?!” He yells, gesturing his frustration with his arms quite clearly, making Yosano flinch, even if it’s ever so slightly.

“He.. He just. won’t. let me.”
He continues,

“I’ve tried so many times, to ignore him, to stay home, for years and years on end but it never works because he’s so obsessed with torturing me!” His screaming somehow both manages to stop his crying and yet still has his voice break into nothingness between a few syllables.

Yosano quickly gives up on the argument, realizing Chuuya is too much in his head to listen to reason right now. She stands up and his breath falters as she comes closer, “Let’s get this blood wiped off you, okay?”

…

He doesn’t reply immediately, he for a second just stares in disbelief until the sudden remembrance of the pain hits him once again, causing him to nod. “Yeah.”
___________________________________________

 

Dazai is like a puppy.

Not in the adorable and awe-stealing way, no. Not that way at all.

But in a long waiting and utter attention seeking way.

He could sit for hours on end, staring into nothingness with only his thoughts to occupy him if it meant he knew Chuuya was coming at one point or another, and honestly what he’s doing isn’t that far off.

He thinks he might honestly have been doing it for years, if his time management is correct he probably has since the day he met Chuuya and managed to turn his old friend group against him in an attempt at getting the lost attention focused on him.

It more or less worked, probably less.

He sits in class, one that’s almost filled to the top, so crowded he’s sure he can make Chuuya sit beside him one way or another without even attempting. It’s a goal as simple as finding a star in the night sky when laying spread on a cold field. It requires no effort, simply the ability to see.

He finds himself staring at the door, pouting as the clock ticks by, this clearly proving the point of the puppy thing, by the way.

You could describe it as a rush of dopamine when Chuuya walks in, and the said ‘no-effort’ goal is set in works in Dazai’s brain.

What also doesn’t require any effort is noticing the way Chuuya limbs slightly when walking, targeting the weight to his left leg. Now, he looks like a kicked puppy, significantly more than Dazai does, without doubt. It’s obvious what’s happening beneath the black pants hiding so many secrets that Dazai has long before hid himself. He smiles for a second, happy to have learned a new fact about his everlasting obsession.

It’s so surprising that, indeed, Chuuya manages without thinking, to pick a seat slightly too close to Dazai for his usual 5 feet radius rule.

It’s two rows in front, so he makes a quick lean and asks the person in front a question he’s been preparing for anyone he’d have to ask to secure a smile on his face on such a cold day. “Hey sorry, I’m sensitive to the lightning here, mind switching seats?” He asks with a smile, one that’s almost threatening to the jock in front of him, a guy who could easily just tell him to stop being ‘such a sensitive queer’ (which has been said before, indeed.) But the sarcasm in his eyes is just enough for the guy to scoff. “Whatever man.” he mumbles as he gets up from his seat to switch with said ‘sarcasm-face’ (Yes, that has also been used. That one was by Ranpo, however.)

Chuuya does not notice how close Dazai suddenly is, he barely even noticed he was in this class, despite his usual knowledge of what classes the two share together.

The lack of attention is enough for Dazai to already be disappointed with the rage filling inside his chest, today he will get a thrill out of bothering Chuuya, he needs to. It’s all he has.
Especially after what happened yesterday, the adrenaline he felt watching Chuuya in utter fear is like a drug, something he’s sure he’d experience withdrawal for in the next 5 minutes if he doesn’t do something immediately.

“Right handed, huh?”

…

Chuuya doesn’t react.

Why the fuck does he not react?

Is Dazai making a direct comment on his ripped up legs not enough to make him at least a little angry? Is flirting seriously the only thing that’s gonna cut this?

He doesn’t even know if his addiction is worth that much.

.. Of course it is, though.

One might think that Dazai could be mistaken, that maybe Chuuya fell or sprained his ankle. But if anyone knows what loss of sanity and lack of blood looks like, it would be the very man currently trying to rile said injured boy up.

“How deep do you go?”

He whispers due to the lesson starting and the crowded room, and he finds himself utterly pleased to see Chuuya turning his head slightly towards him, his lips parting in hesitation.

“To the vein, you should try it sometime.”

The reply instantly fires something inside Dazai up, there it is. He’s arguing back, being as petty and annoyed as always, it’s the most gorgeous sight known to man. Said man being Dazai Osamu watching Chuuya Nakahara believe he has any self control left despite the other having him wrapped around his finger.

Of course, the opposite is as correct as the original statement.

Dazai’s obsession is like no other, at this point he might as well be considered a stalker- or actually a psychopath might be a lot more fitting.

His obsession has been as clear as day ever since he even met Chuuya, truly. But back then it was less an obsession and rather an interest, a very intense one at that. He remembers being told by an older male he used to know to be careful when it got to Chuuya, which only spiked his interest.

He thinks of what to say next, flirting will make Chuuya more ill and might risk having any fun for the rest of the class, day even. If he’s really unlucky. So he decides to test the waters a bit more, “You think I haven’t? Think I wear these bandages just for fun?” He’s sure that Chuuya can hear the smile in his voice.

“Go, fucking, deeper.”

He speaks in monotone, it’s hard to pick up on any anger or frustration which is what’s really bothering Dazai at this moment. The comments technically mean nothing if he doesn’t feel the hatred on the surface, being as clear as day. There’s no point if Chuuya isn’t his hating self, because then he just turns into another person. Another someone Dazai once knew but got tired of, and even then he isn’t so confident that it’s actually possible for him to ever get tired of Chuuya.

Because if he really remembers back, Chuuya was always always reactive, but even on days where he wasn’t, Dazai never quite gave up. The adrenaline wasn’t as good if there wasn’t a snary comeback, but he’s only ever experienced complete withdrawal when the other decides to disappear without a trace for more than a day. So..

No, the fear and frustration is not the drug.

Nakahara is.

His presence itself, his rageful eyes and his non-stuttering voice telling Dazai to go kill himself is enough for him to wanna live another day.

This realization makes him go back to an earlier statement, a question he proposed himself finding the quick answer, but now he rethinks. He might really be a masochist.

“What if I die, though? I’ll never get to see that pretty face again.”

Once again, it’s not exactly sincere. It’s all just torment and yet Dazai knows there's a slight truth to it. Suicide would be a shame if he hasn’t drained Chuuya for every anger filled comments he can possibly get. So essentially, Chuuya Nakahara is Dazai’s reason to live.

Not his said ‘pretty’ face, but him in his whole.

His reply only seems to get a sigh out of the other, though. Which immediately sends Dazai into a spiral, did he actually break him the day before? There’s no way, right?

Surely not.

But then, as he’s arguing with himself, Chuuya once again turns, “My face would be the last fucking thing you’d see before death, Dazai.”

It’s slightly shameful for Dazai to admit that a very small part of the blood running in his veins is rushing to his pants. Not enough for him to care, but enough to notice and make mockery of in his head.

That sure would be a sight. Chuuya, in some odd position, whatever makes most sense in this new scenario he hasn’t pictured before, holding a weapon. What would make most sense? Dazai can see him stabbing him, feels a bit basic and overdone but all in all, murder is murder. He wouldn’t be the type to do a gruesome death, like fucking his face with a chainsaw, or an axe perhaps. No.. no he would make it quick, and the quickest way to kill someone?

Chuuya would hold a gun to his head.

Maybe he’d threaten him first, giving birth to proof that his end is near, and he has no way to turn away from this fate that lies in the hand of the person on top of him.

That’s the position he’d be in. Pinning all limbs he could manage down, making sure Dazai couldn’t escape even if he cared to try, which frankly in this scenario he knows for a fact he wouldn’t. In real life, obviously he would. He’d also be able to end Chuuya in a second in real life, but let a guy have his fantasies.

Anyway, Chuuya would probably tell him why this is his fate, what unforgivable sin he’s committed, Dazai smiles slightly at the thought of replying with ‘murder is a sin as well Nakahara.’ but he quickly runs back to Chuuya’s voice in his head, telling him death is the only way for him to ask for forgiveness.

The thought makes slightly more blood rush to his cock, this time enough for shame to make an appearance. Still not enough for him to need to acknowledge it though, which he thanks Chuuya’s god for.

“That so?” He asks, hoping for some extra content to this scenario that’ll keep him awake at night, feeling satisfaction bigger than the one he gets from pissing off Chuuya.

Sadly, to no avail.

He sighs as he leans back, deciding to run the scenario back one, perhaps two times, before thinking of what to say to the other next, he looks forward to it, really.
_______________________________________

When Chuuya finally escapes another hour of the most insufferable man known, he sighs in both relief and self hatred. He wishes so utterly that Dazai didn’t have such an ability to rile him up, and it’s all just a game to him anyway.

Maybe Chuuya would look differently on it if Dazai did it for other reasons than personal satisfaction. Like, if maybe, he just needed a chance to talk to the other but doesn’t know how because he’s grown up in a weird household or something, anything that gives Chuuya some sort of understanding on this odd situation he keeps finding himself trapped in.

But he’s long given up on any hope regarding the younger one, for the rest of his life he’s sure that Dazai will haunt him, no matter the lengths he has to go to to achieve it.

Part of him kind of likes that, though.

He finally reaches the table Yosano and Akutagawa are sitting at after walking for what feels like an eternity, he sits down, letting yet another sigh escape the lips he wishes he could keep closed even after Dazai continues asking questions he really shouldn’t.

How the fuck did he know anyway? It’s not like he was dragging his leg, he was merely balancing more weight to the other. There could be a thousand reasons behind that and yet the other knew so quickly exactly what was going on and had not a single flick of guilt or remorse commenting on it.

“Man of the hour, how was class?” Yosano asks, sipping on whatever she’s drinking this time, probably apple juice. Her and Chuuya have had so many arguments against if apple or orange juice is better that at this point they’ve been banned from discussing the topic.

He looks at her unimpressed for the question, “It was great. So, fucking, great.” He says, with as much sarcasm as the average person could swallow. She quickly shoots up an eyebrow and doesn’t hesitate to make an attempt at asking but is immediately shot down, “Don’t wanna talk ‘bout it. Akutagawa, how’s it going with Atsushi?”

This question is asked with both a hint of sarcasm, but it’s also genuine enough for Akutagawa to actually wanna answer, even if he despises talking about Atsushi. Well, he says he does, surely, but yet never another name is heard from his mouth so it’s hard to believe such a lie.

“Eh.. I talked to him yesterday,” He says annoyed, acting as if he isn’t probably burning slightly to talk about this interaction, he’s always just kind of been that way so they’re used to seeing through his act.

“He was playing his- horrific fucking music again and I was trying to sleep, as one does. But I finally had enough and found myself basically knocking his door down, it took him a fucking minute to open, what’s up with that?”, He continues, “I mean like, sure, he knew it was me. And he dislikes me, so do I, but atleast have respect and open the goddamn door?”

It’s to no one's surprise that Akutagawa is this upset about a door being opened, of all things.

“Then..”

YESTERDAY, 12:04 AM.

Akutagawa could rip the fucking head off the tiger right now.

The music is drumming in his ears as if he had by will attended a live concert and gotten barricade tickets, but here he is, simply trying to get some rest.

He has tried to keep his composure and not go act impulsively because Yosano has been saying something about ‘development’ and ‘aggression’, whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean anyway. But after multiple attempts at drowning out the music or ignoring it, he’s finally had enough.

He’s obviously annoyed about having to get up from the bed he’s probably spent more hours in than he’s spent having basic human interaction, but he’s a lot more frustrated over the fact Atsushi is gonna see him in fucking pajamas, of anything. Despite his usual flawless look - if you ask him, obviously - he’s ashamed to walk outside of his room looking like such a sight.

Regardless of this, he can simply not hold himself back anymore.

He prays to a god he’s never once even thought of believing in that no one passes by him as he stands in the hallway, annoyed by the fact the music can’t be heard from outside so he’s probably the only person being bothered by it, which makes him feel even more over dramatic than what Yosano has already called him.

He holds one arm crossed over his chest to hide his skin from the cool atmosphere in the empty hallway, and knocks perhaps a bit too violently on the nuisance’s door.

A fucking minute goes by.

It’s not that he’s asleep, Akutagawa has quickly learned that Atsushi does not sleep with music on so he knows he’s awake and is deciding not to open the door on purpose because he knows who’s behind it.

“Open the fucking door, Tiger.” Akutagawa tries to speak harshly but still keeps his voice low enough to a whisper, so no one will come and complain about him.

To his luck, that does it. But he’s not met with a sight he enjoys, because Atsushi looks slightly like perhaps the loud music was for the sole purpose of drowning out his own thoughts and Akutagawa gets even more bothered by the fact he feels a spark of guilt lingering in his guts from the look on Atsushi’s face.

“It’s about the music right? Sorry..” He sighs, letting a hand slide down his face rather quickly, “I’ll turn it down.”

“Why do you look so miserable? It’s an ugly look on you.”

Atsushi turns back from almost closing the door immediately, looking shocked by the comment rushed his way. “What’s it to you?” He doesn’t hesitate to reply, feeling bothered he even has to stand here and have a conversation when all he wants is to return back to bed, and honestly it’s probably what Akutagawa wants more than anything as well, and yet he’s the one trying to make conversation.

“Nothing. Just wondering.”

Atsushi is too tired to determine whether that’s a lie or not so he takes the bait, leans against the door and for just a moment the other's mind lets his eyes fall for nothing more than a mere second.

A second long enough to consider everything about Atsushi’s frame as possible, the sweatpants, the slightly oversized blue hoodie, the pale hair falling messily over his face, even the tired eyes that look like he hasn’t slept in a minute too long. He’s sure if any girl saw him like that she’d be calling him ‘cute’ or something along the lines, he doesn’t care to acknowledge he thought that thought first.

“Just a long day, ‘s all.”

His eyes are ever so tired, there’s no anger and no threat hiding behind them, which makes Akutagawa less on guard for having to defend himself in case he makes a snarky comment, he doesn’t want to admit he’s usually the first one to do that. He finds himself wanting to lean against the same door frame, as if his body is forcing him to move closer.

It’s almost embarrassing how much restraint he has to give to not do that very thing, so he tries to come up with a response, “Can’t sleep?” Is all he asks, and he comes to the realization that all the anger he had stored in his chest a mere minute ago is gone by now. He doesn’t like that realization at all, no, not even close.

“No I uh..” He looks outside the hallway for a second, then he takes another look at Akutagawa as if heavily considering how safe it is to say whatever is lingering on his tongue, and Akutagawa definitely does not want to comfort him. Or to tell him to just spit it out. He does not wish to deal with that, yet somehow he’s still standing here, desperately trying to keep this silent moment between them going. This might be the most polite they’ve ever been with each other and he can’t decide if he hates or loves it- likes it.

“Nightmare.” Atsushi shrugs, finally admitting to what’s keeping him up, Akutagawa raises his eyebrows for a second in surprise, not that it's particularly surprising that an orphan of all people would have nightmares, he’s more surprised that he’s admitting to it to him.

“About?” He asks, as if it’s not obvious what this exact person in front of him probably has nightmares about and he regrets his own question quickly when he sees Atsushi change his position while clearing his throat, suddenly looking a lot more uncomfortable.

He instantly gets ready to have a ‘goodnight’ rushed by him and a door slammed in his face, but the silence that’s a lot more air-choking this time is giving him slight hope that maybe- just maybe Atsushi might actually talk. Not that he wants that, obviously. It’s merely for blackmail or.. something else, he doesn’t know right now but surely he’s only listening to obtain this information so he can use it later.

“Just,” He sighs again, not even attempting to hide the regret in his voice that he’s standing here, “My parents.” He says, this time looking directly into the gaze of the other. It’s not a surprise, so Akutagawa doesn’t say anything. He just decides to be selfish and steal another second to look back at the eyes staring him down, then he clears his throat. “Right, well. Just turn that fuckass music down, it’s bothering everyone in the hallway.” He accidentally uses his arms to gesture this half-assed frustrated facade a bit too much. Atsushi gives him a quick nod as he finally brings himself to look away, “Yeah, my bad.”

The music stops, and Akutagawa still doesn’t sleep a wink that night.

PRESENT

“Really? That’s so fucking corny” Chuuya sighs into his arms after hearing the story done, feeling the goosebumps rising all over from his body cringing. “I agree but.. why are you suddenly so nice?” Yosano asks, unpacking her lunch, immediately reacting to Chuuya opening his mouth asking for a bite. “I’m not.” Akutagawa replies with a bit too obvious of a pout filling out his face.
_____________________________________

“And I mean, he could’ve just left or- or not asked! But he totally did!” Atsushi rambles on, as if his interaction from yesterday is the biggest moment of his life, he’s already spent 20 minutes overanalyzing every little detail with a bit too much support from Ranpo and not at all enough from the other two. “I’m just saying, maybe it was just to make sure you would turn off the music or something related to that. You know Akutagawa, Atsushi. There’s a very low chance any of this is due to some feelings-” Kunikida gets interrupted by their senior, “But then again, when has Akutagawa ever chosen kindness as a way to make Atsushi do anything?”

“Never!” Atsushi bursts up, flailing his arms all over the place and trying not to allow himself a quick look towards the other table that Dazai has his eyes glued to. “My point” Ranpo points at the excited freshman and gives Kunikida a quick nod to show he fully believes he’s correct, and Kunikida simply gives a slight scoff which convinces everyone that Ranpo has won yet another discussion.

“I just think that.. perhaps he’s actually giving me a chance this time.”

Atsushi’s excitement is almost saddening, because it’s happened a few times in the past that Akutagawa has managed to stay polite and not only offer violence to him, and every time it gives the boy complete and utter false hope. He gets as depressed as the prior time every time Akutagawa then goes back to his old ways.

“Tiger.” Akutagawa gives all of them the biggest shock, coming from the one direction they weren’t looking in, except for Dazai, of course. His eyes widen instantly, and he lets a deep breath out hoping it doesn’t sound too much like the sigh it may be, fear creeping up on him that maybe the other heard and he’s here to tell him to stop thinking such foolish thoughts.

Kunikida, Dazai and Ranpo are all three sat, watching Atsushi turn around ever so slowly, terror and slight excitement brimming into his eyes and they all feel slight worry only sadness will be left when he turns back around. “I.. uh” Akutagawa doesn’t speak in a nervous tone, it’s obvious he’s hesitating but one could easily mistake it as if he had been given a dare to ask someone he hates out. His tone is filled with disgust but at least 2 of the older males are able to understand that it’s not disgust for Atsushi.

“My apologies for yesterday, I was rather rude.”

In truth, he one hundred percent was not, he was actually probably the nicest he’s ever been and yet he’s apologizing? Now that’s a surprise that may as well be a joke. “What? No, not at all.” Watching this interaction is like watching a rom-com of 13 year olds falling in love and it’s nauseating but cute in its own really odd way.

“Right, well. That was all. I’ll see you later.” Akutagawa quickly finds his way back as Chuuya and Yosano are giving him thumbs ups and big smiles, Dazai feels relatively irritated watching Chuuya already be so normal despite all the effort he put into tormenting him just earlier, merely half an hour ago.

Atsushi immediately turns back around, using his hands to gesture the whole short-lived conversation he just had, probably having no words left in his throat from the shock, and to be completely honest? Even the other 3 are unable to speak, shocked at least as much as the younger one is.

“That was.. weird.” Dazai says, clearly not caring a lot but still engaging, which is enough for Atsushi to usually be grateful, and is today as well, to his luck.

They sit back down again and the conversation slowly dies out to some other complaints about school life, ones that have been heard almost a million times by now one could guess, mundane over-dramatic death wishes due to a single exam, or a grade simply one number too low, every once in a while a happy comment will join in like when Atsushi mentions he did well on a science experiment and everyone praises him except the one he expects it from the most.

He never really knows when to expect praise from Dazai, sometimes it’ll be from a small thing, he could give a pat on the head and a ‘I’m proud of you’ from him simply eating a meal, next day he could run a marathon, win an olympic medal or become president and he would barely achieve a nod of approval. It’s wildy infuriating but it’s become the norm by now, and the one thing that helps is he’s usually the only one who gets this very praise.

On good days for the others they might get a ‘good job’ but it’s such a rare occurrence that it’s not something to be considered in this argument.

Despite all of this he does find himself disappointed when Dazai doesn’t at least offer a curl on the lips for all the work this mere 15 year old does.

It’s probably because he’s never gotten any real acknowledgement before, any form of praise or understanding his way, which isn’t any real surprise considering the way he grew up, and it’s not exactly like Dazai does give him any true understanding or sincere praise for that matter, but the rare snippets he gets is enough for him to get out of bed, and he despises himself for the dependence he’s put on those useless words.

He catches himself zoning out and tries to fall back into the conversation now about a possible hang out later,

That is until 3 seniors make an appearance.

There’s only one person on the table who really cares for any of these people, Ranpo knows them relatively well only due to also being a senior, Kunikida has heard the stories and thereafter told them to their freshman, Dazai however is very pleased with the sight.

“Fyodor. What brings you here?” He asks in slight excitement for one of the only people who could give him any kind of brain stimulation from a conversation. He simply does a nod towards his excited boyfriend, “Iiiiii,” He drags out the vocal, “Nikolai Gogol, am hosting a party, this weekend. It’s not exactly a private party but I thought you guys deserved some special invitations, merely for fun!” He smiles, being overly dramatic, “Do you have to make it so dramatic?” Sigma asks, looking annoyed he has to be anywhere but his room right now.

Nikolai gives him a scoff and tiny hit on the shoulder where Sigma reacts a bit too much, which immediately causes the other one to feel better and smile again, as if making his friend pout is top tier entertainment to him.

Kunikida clears his throat, “Does this ‘special’ invitation come with any benefits, then?”

Nikolai laughs loudly at the question, “So serious!” He smiles, then gives a look to Fyodor and Sigma who are both standing stone faced as if they were listening to an uninteresting five hour long presentation about something as boring as dirt, it’s obvious it lightly infuriates the taller of the three, but he sighs it off.

He looks toward the table of three other people, all of them are adored in one way or another by the very people he’s talking to right now, but he lets an over exaggerated eye roll happen anyway, “Sure, you can bring a plus one. Just.. no homophobes, how ‘bout that?” He smiles brightly, staring Dazai down. “You think I’d bring Nakahara?” He smiles back, being even more sarcastic than the other male in front of him.

He goes over the question in his head a second time, would he? Perhaps so.

For the drama maybe, or a chance to really up his flirting game, and now he’s honestly really considering it so he internally takes back his rather snarky reply and allows himself to give a point to Nikolai for winning this one.

“Well, one has to make sure.” Sigma comes to his defense quickly.

Ranpo tilts his head, “Can’t anyone bring a plus one if it’s an open invite?” He shrugs, making Nikolai suddenly look even more annoyed than when his friend called him dramatic, despite the truth to it, “I’m trying to be nice here, what’s with the vibe?” He flails his arms out dramatically and crosses them across his chest, “Ugh, whatever. Bring whoever the fuck you want,” Dazai shoots an eyebrow up before being interrupted, “But be aware, if Chuuya shows up I will take matters into my own hands.”

It’s a threat most people wouldn’t be very afraid of, since it would usually just be there for the sake of making sure he won't come, but since it’s Nikolai who’s the most sinister man known, it’s a threat as honest as could be.

“Anyway, my friends! Have a good rest of your day, hopefully I’ll see you on the weekend.”

Him leaving is absolutely as relatively outstanding (dramatic) as his entrance, but they brush it off due to habit.

“Soooo….. who are y’all ‘inviting’?” Ranpo asks in air quotes, making mockery of Nikolai as soon as he’s out of eye sight. “W-well..” Atsushi stutters for a second, gaining the attention of everyone.

It’s obvious, painfully so.

“Ahhh, now this is an opportunity if I’ve ever seen one.” Kunikida chimes in, everyone nodding along. But Atsushi is quick to reject his own idea, “No. It’s like- definitely too soon and- and stupid! He would never agree and I would never live it down and I don’t even like him, what’s the point?”

Despite his ramble, it’s an obvious lie when he says he doesn’t like him. All of them know that which makes it so much more corny to watch all of their interactions and the way Atsushi gets like this whenever the chance is given.

“If you do it, I’ll ask Chuuya” Dazai shrugs, trying to let that be encouragement. But it’s a fail at most when everyone looks confused at him,
“You’re just doing that to annoy him, you would do that anyway.”
“Totally not the same thing”
“Nikolai quite literally expressed very clearly that he would beat the poor kid up.”

All of them attack him at the exact same time and he’s lucky he managed to catch all of the three sentences thrown his way. “Jesus, fine.” He puts his hand up in defense, as if it’ll help the damage of the hits already bouncing off him, “What about you guys though?” Atsushi asks, looking to Kunikida and Ranpo.

Ranpo thinks for a second, “I’ll probably invite Yosano, she’s always cozy to party with.” By ‘cozy’ he means that she knows how to get black out drunk and have fun while doing it, “I’m not going. I dislike parties, just drunk people swallowing tongue’s of other drunk people. If it’s an interesting party, maybe someones high, as if I would waste my dear writing time on that.”

Dazai makes mocking visuals of Kunikida speaking highly of himself beside him.

In the meantime, Atsushi truly is considering whether or not asking out Akutagawa would be the stupidest thing he’s ever done, which it in all truth would be even if he said yes. But then again, the simple thought of him saying yes is a motivational boost almost enough for him to stand up and do it right here and now.

It’s only a party, after all. It’s not like it’s prom, or anything else that makes an indirect representation of a romantic relationship.

If he’s really calm about it, he could act like it’s just because of some inconvenience and he had no one else to bring along.

Yes, he’s gonna do that.

Atsushi is totally gonna ask Akutagawa out- well, not in that way (definitely in that way) but it still counts for something.

On the other hand, Dazai is going over his choices as well. Not particularly ‘if’ he should ask Chuuya to come, but ‘how’ he should.

He could make some outrageous shit and basically force him, but it won’t be as much fun. He wants to see if he in any way can make Chuuya say the word ‘yes’ purely out of own reason, it’s not likely but it’s an attempt Dazai would die to test.

He will make Chuuya go to that party, one way or another.

Chapter Text

Chuuya’s eyes open in relief.

The feeling washes over him as the sunlight from outside attempts to sneak in but is blocked due to the heavy curtains pulled in front.

A few other things could be noticed if observed deeply, like how he only has one sock on which is already a sensory nightmare when he has enough consciousness to realize it, or how if you listen well enough there’s a bunch of students outside, roaming the halls preparing for class. He’s sure Yosano is somewhere out there on her way here already.

When the students get ready he’s reminded of how horrible morning people are, because why in the ever-loving fuck is anyone up, yelling in positivity at 7 o’clock in the morning despite being in for another day of endless hours preparing you for a life of capitalism.

Okay, that might be rather negative, perhaps even more than he usually is this early.

A few minor extra details pop into his head about this morning, none worth mentioning however.

He feels the relief wash over him once again when he remembers why it’s there in the first place, and the answer is of course yet another dream filled with the nightmare of Dazai.

He almost manages to feel angry at himself for having such dreams, not that they’re.. vulgar, or anything. They’re usually surprisingly humane and normal, or, as much as any interaction with Dazai really has the ability to be.

The dreams more or less consist of simple back and forth like their day to day life, but it still manages to strike fear in Chuuya’s unconscious body.
Sometimes, if Dream-Dazai makes a comment slightly too inappropriate or shocking, Chuuya has experienced a few times waking up in a cold sweat, unable to fall asleep again.

He would almost dare to say these ‘humane’ dreams are worse than actual nightmares.

He used to have vile ones, the kind that makes you attempt to stay up for days simply because you’re afraid of closing your eyes and being met with the vision you just escaped. He stopped having such nights after he met Dazai, and even now he still would prefer those dreams to the ones he has now.

Because nightmares are just fiction. It would be.. monsters, shadows. Anything that could strike fear into the average human. And it did, it was terrifying, but when he woke up he at least had the privilege of knowing they weren’t real. No matter how horrifying they were, he wouldn’t wake up feeling his body trying to reject any food or liquid he had consumed the day prior, because dreams of Dazai were real as can be, and that was the exact effect they had on him.

The door opening breaks him out of his thoughts - thank god for that, or more or less thank god for his best friend - Yosano bursts into the room as she has a habit of doing. “Have you heard?”

It’s violently painful for Chuuya to even attempt at holding a groan in, so he allows one to roughly slide out of his mouth. He turns around in his bed, feeling his shorts cling onto the sweat on his thighs, stinging tightly to the new wounds. Yosano interrupts his morning thoughts with useless blabber every single day, and it’s as annoying every single time.

He doesn’t want to admit that most of the time, these interruptions save him from losing his mind utterly, letting into every bad thought deep rooted in his mind.

He rubs his eyes, forcing them to adjust to the light when she allows the sun in, welcoming him in a bitter manner.

“No, ‘Sano.” He sighs, “What happened this time?”

She looks bothered by the question and it seems like she almost hesitates on telling him and for a second he thanks god once more, but the grateful prayer falls silent as she opens her mouth, “There’s an open-invite party this saturday.”

“So?”

“So, we should go.”

“Absolutely not.”

 

Chuuya turns back around, trying to allow himself a few more minutes of sleep despite probably already being late. It takes him a few seconds of silence before he remembers he absolutely can not let Dazai surpass him in fucking philosphy, of all things.

He groans once again as he stretches his body out, every nerve getting release, his eyes turning slightly bloodshot and his thin stomach grumbling.

“Well, I’m going.” She mumbles annoyed.

“You do you, no way in hell am I going to a party hosted by that fa-” Yosano doesn’t question that somehow Chuuya already knew about the party, because she’s too busy noticing the way he retreats and the familiar sensation of self-hatred fills over his pale face. “Nikolai wouldn’t want me to come anyway.” He whispers, finally getting up, not wearing more than loose shorts and a too big off-shoulder.

She for a second smiles at the resemblance he holds to those boys you would always see teenage girls drool over, it’s sarcastic in its own weird sense.

She watches his thigh for a second, just to check in nothing new has happened since she was gone, and luckily there isn’t. That’s not to say his other wounds look any good, they still look too open for comfort and like they could get infected any minute now, but she makes the wise choice not to comment on it.

“He won’t know, that guy gets black out immediately and can barely survive a party without a line. Plus, there’s always so many people at his house, come on”

Her pleading does no good, he gives a quick shake on the head, trying to clearly show there’s nothing that can make him go. Yosano often does this, tries to force him out and socialise but it only works on very few occasions, this doesn’t seem to be one of them.

Chuuya never gives in, maybe when he feels really bad because he said no the last five times but then it’s a small gathering he can agree to, parties is a situation that would realistically never happen for this man.

He walks out to the bathroom, instantly getting ready to brush the teeth he forgot to take care of the last two days, guilt sparks in his stomach but is gone by the moment he feels mint in his mouth, “Eugh!” He spits out immediately. Yosano looks in, bursting into laughter at the sight of Chuuya hunched over the sink, washing his mouth as if he just swallowed piss. “Sorry Chu’, forgot my toothpaste here.” She shrugs, smiling at the death glare coming her way.

“Get it away from me..” He pinches the bridge of his nose, already tired of today.
___________________________________

Atsushi paces around his room, thinking over his decision and plan for today yet again. How does he ask out Akutagawa in a way that shows he means it romantically but not enough that he can’t say it was just for fun if it backfires?

He barely got any sleep because he spent all night trying to figure out the answer to this question that honestly doesn’t require that much logic thinking skill, to Atsushi’s bad luck though, that’s exactly what he lacks.

It’s so stupid. It’s not a big deal at all, he’s just asking him to accompany him to a party, a totally normal and super platonic thing to do.

He sits down, trying to gather brain information and any form of logical thinking hidden somewhere in there.

It’s impossible. There’s no way to do it other than just asking, ‘Do you wanna come along to the party with me?’ but-

Another thought strikes him, and he almost screams at the frustration, what if someone else asks out Akutagawa? Like that blondie from the year above who clearly has a thing for him, or literally anyone.

He feels hope linger away from him as a passing light. If he’s gonna do it, it’s gotta be now, but then again, it’s 7:40 in the fucking morning, and that’s the furthest thing from romantic, even if he doesn’t want it to be way too obvious he should definitely do it at afternoon. There’s still a few days till the party, surely no one would ask today, if anything, he’ll make sure it doesn’t happen.

He quickly gets up and walts to the door a few steps down the hallway, attempting to ignore the gnawing feeling in his chest telling him to run to the door beside his own room, but he luckily manages to resist and reach his destination, then knocks louder than usual on the door he’s become oddly familiar with.

“Yes Atsushi!” Dazai yells from inside.

He rushes inside as if his life depended on the mere extra seconds he could’ve taken.

“What’s with the rush?” Kunikida yells from the bathroom, having somehow been able to hear the hurry he had gone in, perhaps from the smack of the door or the stomps from his feet.

“I need help.” Atsushi blurts out accidentally too seriously, which causes Kunikida to storm out, a towel around his hips, shaving cream still on his face and his glasses not giving him the usual frame his face always has, it looks oddly cliche to what you would see in a movie franchise or a slice of life series with too many seasons. “What’s wrong?!” He yells as a dad who just heard his daughter say she got cheated on. Or, maybe not that, maybe just like a worried parent, but the dramatic way of saying it adds for better effect.

He flails with his arms for a second to signal it’s not as serious as he makes it sound, but still enough to need critical help.

“What kind of help?” Dazai asks, laying on their couch, clearly procrastinating getting up.

“I’m gonna ask Akutagawa out,” All attention that before wasn’t on him definitely is now. “And I need you guys to make sure that.. like.. no one else asks him out..?” He shrugs, first now realising how stupid of a request it is.

“Atsushi, that’s imposs-” “I will do my best!” Kunikida cuts in line for whatever Dazai was attempting to say, acting as if this is a life or death mission. And to be fair, this honestly might as well be one by now. At least the other two would surely feel bad for anyone who manages to ask Akutagawa out with how determined Atsushi looks.

“Thank you so much” He thanks mainly Kunikida, but makes sure to give a quick look to Dazai, just in case.

“I’m also gonna attempt at asking out Chuuya today, just hoping the poor guy doesn’t kill himself the second I ask.” He sighs, as if it was a genuine real possibility. Knowing Chuuya though, it just might very well be. Dazai is slightly afraid to either witness a suicide or be the victim of murder every time he even dares approach him.

“Oh yeah, because that’s totally gonna work. Is your stupidity finally catching up to your lack of empathy?” Kunikida lets a sigh slip past his lips, knowing he couldn’t in any possible way make him take back this choice, which he has made solely for the sake of torture. A word that’s been written so many times and each time it’s with brutal honesty because that’s truly all Dazai wishes for. The attention he can obtain from being the worst human alive, a thing he firmly believes is completely worth all the effort he puts in.

“It will work.”
___________________________________________________

“Look at you, coming on time today. Missed me?” Dazai immediately gets on with it the second Chuuya walks in, sitting at the seat closest to the door. Chuuya flips him off out of exhaustion and honestly he has no interest in engaging with Dazai’s games today. He quickly finds his way up the middle stairs and sits at the other corner of the room, which he instantly regrets when the other comes to sit beside him and he suddenly has no escape route.

“What do you want?” He turns to Dazai, “You.”

…

Would telling him to kill himself be appropriate?

No, he’s trying to ignore him, and be mature. He needs to stop giving him the attention he’s so obviously desperate for, “Cute.” He replies sarcastically, getting his notebook out, paying more attention to the teacher at the front of the room than the constantly-moving presence beside him.

That’s another thing that makes him absolutely fucking insufferable, he can’t sit still for the live of him. It’s actually most of the time more bothersome than his comments and glares.

“Heard about the party yet?” He leans closer, drawing small red stars in the corner of the others notebook, he wants to smack his hand far away but he’s recently picked up on the fact Dazai might be a masochist at heart, so now he’s relatively horrified at the thought of inflicting him any pain. “Yeah. Are you going?”

He hates himself for not being able to keep his mouth shut, for giving into the temptation.

He feels as if simply sharing words with the boy is a sin worse than if he went and ate raw human flesh, like a second too long of a stare makes him feel the chains on his feet dragging him down to his final destination, too impatient to wait for his death.

Dazai will be the reason he arrives in hell, buried alive.

“Depends if you’re going with me.” He smiles, the same one he always does. The smile anyone can tell is a facade of foolery and mockery directed at the person he’s talking to, which somehow always ends up being Chuuya.

“Fuck no. I don’t even wanna go to it in the first place, going with you would be a clean suicide wish.”

He misses the way Dazai’s legs close together from his usual manspread, his knee notices the absence but he pays it no mind. “Because Nikolai is hosting, I assume?” He starts filling out the mini squares filled all over the page when he gets tired of drawing stars continuously.

“That, and because he’s a druggie.”

“Or because he likes men.”

 

“That’s not my business.”

Dazai gives him a look that tells him he knows he’s lying, but that he’ll give him the opportunity to keep his pride for today. Thank God for that.

“He did tell me if I brought you along you’d wind up dead.” It’s clearly an over exaggeration, but it wouldn’t surprise a single soul if it wasn’t.

Chuuya finally looks towards the other, part of him wants to join this game Dazai keeps playing, to see how far he would have to go until even he would be disgusted and finally back off. But, of course he can’t do that.

“Good thing I’m not going, then.” He says, waiting for the other to return his look, and when he does, he looks utterly small.

Dazai’s head is laying in his arms on the table, which causes his eyes to look bigger than ever when he lets them slide up to meet Chuuya’s. It makes him look sincere, genuine, even. “Even if I beg?”

For the first time today, he is actually caught off guard. He’s quickly gotten used to the fake flirting, the looks and the temptation. It’s been.. possible, to resist. Not easy, not at all, but he’s been doing a fine job up until this exact moment.

Because now he’s stuck, and he’s unsure if he’s able to look the other way, despite the way the smile on the other grows a centimeter every second he keeps his eyes fixated on him. But his eyes are so tempting.

They’re not.. beautiful, or anything corny and romantic along those lines, they’re devilish and evil. As if he was the embodiment of temptation, sent personally for Chuuya and no one else, his feet suddenly feel even more heavy and his throat is closing up while his mouth waters.

He wishes someone could give him a pat on the head, or a highfive, or any form of fucking aknowledgement when he manages ot catch himself and not fall into it. “I would like to see that.” He replies back, stealing just a tiny bit of self respect from Dazai and latching it onto himself.

“Don’t tempt me.”

It’s ironic that he’s the one who’s saying such a thing when this is the state he has Chuuya in from just a basic interaction.

“You could get on your knees, and I still wouldn’t do anything you dare ask me.”
It’s a lie as obvious as the faint pink caressing his cheek hidden behind some of his messy hair. “Is that so?”

“What, you wanna find out?”

“Absolutely.”
___________________________________________________

Akutagawa fucking hates Atsushi.

With every sad pitified bone in his body, he truly despises him.

No longer because of his relationship to Dazai, actually he pays that no mind nowadays. Not because it doesn’t bother him, but because he’s too busy raging out on himself for being unable to resist the constant urge to speak to him.

Every time he sees Atsushi it feels like he’s possessed by a personality he’s never known, one that’s made entirely for him. And yet, this personality might be a little too familiar to how he was with his sophomore, but he doesn’t like that comparison because Dazai was like an idol. An ideal he was following, someone he couldn’t go against, truth be told, perhaps Dazai was somewhat like a god. It gives him a slight understanding of what Chuuya probably feels.

But it doesn’t compare to the way he reacts to this person he allegedly ‘hates’.

And that’s because Atsushi is not a god, or something he can kneel to. No, he’s as real as they come. Dazai was something that might as well have been a figment of imagination, formed from his utter desperation for something to believe in, for someone to give him a reason to keep living. While this pale, disgusting, white haired boy with a terrible music taste is.. someone he wants to stand beside. He doesn’t want to be below Atsushi, even now he doesn’t wish to be above, all he wants is to be equal.

If you dig really deep, that’s what love means to Akutagawa.

He would never say that out loud though, because he hates Atsushi Nakajima.

Truly.

“Akuuuu, are you going to the party?” Yosano sits down, visibly annoyed as Chuuya follows behind. “Uh, party?” He quickly replies, seeming as uninterested as possible.

His older friend shakes his head at him as a warning signal, which he will probably soon understand as of to why. “Gogol is hosting a party, and Chuuya is refusing to go. I mean, I can just have fun with Ranpo but I would really appreciate it if one of you came along.” She doesn’t say it like a suggestion, more like a threat hidden behind nice words, they’ve long since learned not to fall for her facade.

“I don’t really like parties that much, Yosano.” He explains, slightly terrified of how she’ll react. But to his luck, it’s nothing more than a hope-lost groan.

“His parties are usually full of drugs too. I can stand with drinking but I’ve seen multiple people do injections, you know I don’t fuck with that shit.” Chuuya chimes in, trying to justify himself even more despite Yosano having already given up.

“.. No, yeah that’s fair. Sorry, Chu.”

“It’s alright, just not my thing.”

“Akutagawa, never do drugs.” Yosano turns to their friend, who is a mere 15 years of age. “Wasn’t plannin’ on it.” He shrugs, digging into his lunch.
________________________________________

Dazai, Atsushi, Kunikida and even their senior Ranpo all sit at the same table, staring intensely at the blonde sophomore. “What’s her name again?” Dazai asks, “Higuchi.” Somehow all of the others answer, each one knowing her name for a different reason.

Ranpo realistically knows the name of any bypasser, observing way too much information on the daily to let a single name slip past him, while Kunikida has a class with Higuchi and has spoken to her a few times.

You can more or less guess how Atsushi would know her name.

“Do you think she’s noticed?” Atsushi asks when one of the girls at the same table almost catches on to them staring as if on a secret mission, which it quite literally might just be.

They’ve been sitting and uselessly staring their whole lunch break, waiting for Higuchi to make any form of move.

So when she stands up, slightly giggling as her friends give her small pushes, Atsushi almost immediately follows behind, but Ranpo is quick to pull him down. “Be calm.” He sighs, as if he had known seconds before that this was gonna happen. “Weren’t we meant to stop her?” Kunikida asks, confused, whispering in hope she won’t hear a thing even though she’s across the room.

“Let’s watch how it plays out.” Dazai says, smiling slightly, enjoying this moment as if it was a breaking point in television.

She slowly makes her way to Akutagawa’s table, her hands fiddling behind her back. She’s usually a very confident woman, a straight A student at that, one you wouldn’t expect to be ‘boy crazy’ and especially not for one years below her. Ah, it sounds vulgar, she is only 16, it is not as if she’s a cougar but Atsushi would silently judge anyone he finds a threat in this whole situation.

Yosano gives Akutagawa a punch on the shoulder when Higuchi gets close enough that it’s obvious she’s there for him, you can notice the way he greets her politely and it doesn’t take more than that to tick Atsushi off.

“Oh come on.”

She starts talking and all of the 3 older males gives their younger friend a look, he already seems as if he has lost all hope but he keeps his eyes fixated just in case, so clearly not all hope is lost if he still believes there’s a chance she’ll get turned down.

What’s most shocking is the way Akutagawa goes completely silent when she’s finished talking, and his eyes find Atsushi’s.

He gets asked out, and his first instinct is to look across the room at another boy? Now that’s some cliche romance shit. And they all know that, because somehow at the exact same time they give him a slap beneath the table to signal that this is very much not normal and definitely a sign.

But of course he’s too self pitying to admit that, he looks away from the eye contact he’s been stuck in for a good minute, and he does his absolute best to attempt at hearing what Akutagawa answers.

“Sorry, I’m not interested.” Ranpo repeats, reading the lips of the younger boy across the room.

Atsushi groans loudly, being more frustrated than when Higuchi had originally gotten up from her seat, “Not interested in what? The party? Her? Anyone else at all?” He rambles, giving up on the hope he had before despite the seconds he shared of what Dazai calls ‘eye-fucking’ despite it being as innocent as possible.

Okay, probably not that innocent if given context.

Not sexual, obviously, not particularly romantic either, but it’s the furthest thing from platonic and Atsushi can’t avoid that so instead he refuses to admit the whole thing even happened at all.

“I give up.”

“No you don’t. You’re gonna ask him out.” Kunikida says, determined as if he was the one doing the proposal.

“He doesn’t like me-”

“He very clearly likes you, idiot.”

“What do you know? You like women.” He says, almost making it sound like an insult. “Yes, but I’ve also been a 15 year old boy with a crush, and that? That’s definitely a boy with a crush right there.”

“... Ranpo, what do you think?” It’s slightly a shock to everyone that this is being asked, because it’s a known fact Ranpo almost never shares his opinions because he knows. He knows basically everything there is to know by everyone in this god forsaken school and therefore he refuses to disclose any information because it ‘spoils the fun’ he says.

But they’re friends, and he cares about Atsushi, so perhaps he’ll do an exception.

…

“Dunno.”

Nevermind.
___________________________________

 

“You seriously came to my fucking room, to ask me to go to a party?” Chuuya laughs at the stupidity of watching Dazai be this desperate.

He's definitely been in situations where he was more in need of attention than usual, but this is a whole new level even for him, and they're both unsure on how to go about it, but it's worth it for a party, is what Dazai tells himself. He's doing this for another chance at torture and torment, surely.

“I thought we made a deal, Chuuya. I beg, and you do your best to resist, no?”

It sounds a lot more sexual than supposed to, which bothers him and makes the whole situation suddenly feel a little less fun than it was a few seconds ago. “Fine, show me what you got.” He stands tall, despite having to look up to meet Dazai’s eye.

He’s sure that seeing Dazai begging will give him some sort of self respect back, or maybe just teach him to have some self-control. Honestly, both are fine, as long as he doesn’t give in.

“Hm, I’m not exactly used to being the one on the giving end. How about this, you tell me what to do, and I shall follow command?”

What’s most annoying about this, is that it’s all thought out and on purpose.

Chuuya likes being in control, he likes the power and Dazai has been knowing this for years and has tormented the other by never giving him this one thing he so deeply wants, and now he’s turned to a different method. He’s giving Chuuya all he wants and it’s all for the sake of a fucking party, because if he gives in, then Dazai is the one winning in the end.

But he’s too weak, because being able to make Dazai do anything he asks? Now that’s a dream that’s never had him waking up in a cold sweat.

“Alright, get on your knees if you’re so desperate to act like a damn dog.”

And he does.

He’s quick with it too, it sparks a kick inside Chuuya’s brain and he already now comes to the realization, he’s gonna lose this fight. He’s been losing it for a long long time, perhaps he lost it years ago.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to come to the party with me.”

“Beg.”

Silence falls over them, but not in an awkward manner, because they both have sinister smiles plastered on their faces, making it obvious they’re both exactly where they want to be right now. Chuuya thinks again, wondering if Dazai truly is a masochist or if he just believes he’s the one with the power right now, he might be. Chuuya doesn’t care, frankly.

“Please.” He does those eyes again, and his voice changes to something that hasn’t been heard from him ever, he sounds genuine, and he looks it too.

He’s breaking already, he could honestly be getting clothes on and grabbing his cigarettes to leave for the party at this current moment if he heard that plea one more time.

“Not convincing.”

“What, do you need me to bark as well?”

“Tempting, but no.”

Dazai tilts his head for a mere minute, waiting for the next command to follow.

And then the moment becomes something else, when Chuuya bends his knees and lowers himself enough to be in direct eyesight with the one at his feet. “Stop acting stupid, Dazai.”

He’s totally right, by the way. Dazai is acting dumb on purpose because even now he’s resistant on giving in completely to being the one with less power, but he remembers that his goal is to get Chuuya to that party one way or another and he will win this awful moment of embarrassment as long as he keeps up his facade.

“Please, Chuuya?”

…

“Fine.”

And so he breaks, having gotten what he wanted he doesn’t even care that he’s agreed to the last thing he wants to do, and he’s probably gonna get beaten to a bloody pulp by the party’s very own host, he got to see Dazai begging on his knees, a sight that’ll help him sleep a peaceful night for once.
_____________________________________

Atsushi stands outside the door, having tried to knock onto it almost seven times now.

Honestly by now he’s worried Akutagawa will for whatever reason be the one to open up the door and somehow find him standing cluelessly here, looking like a kicked puppy once again.

His sweatpants and t-shirt isn’t exactly helping that statement at all.

It has to happen one way or another, so let it be.

He knocks, one, two, three times. And so many seconds pass by he almost finds himself going back to his own room merely 2 steps away from his current location.

But to his luck, or not, honestly time will show, the door does open.

“Yes, Atsushi?” Akutagawa yawns, and the other immediately bows down, “So sorry! Did I wake you?!”

“What? No I was studying for our fucking algebra test tomorrow, what’s wrong with you?” Despite the harsh words, there’s no hatred in his tone, which helps Atsushi calm down again.

“Can I… uhm, can- can I come in? It’s rather cold out here and I have something to ask you.” He stutters and falls over his words and he’s seconds away from bashing his own head into the wall beside him until Akutagawa actually lets the door open more, “Sure, as long as you’re not trying to look at my homework, fucking- whatever, come in.”

He instantly falls onto his bed, pointing at the chair by his desk, “Sit. Talk.”

Atsushi is quick to follow command and sit as if he were a dog, it’s giving a sense of familiarity pointing to the door across the hall.

“What uhm.. What was Higuchi asking you earlier?” He fidgets with his hands, dragging time out before having to ask what he originally came here for. “Uh, why?..” He doesn’t get a reply, Atsushi simply avoids eye contact and waits. “She was asking me to come to that fuckass party, it’s stupid.”

“Is it?”

“Obviously. Everyone knows I don’t like girls and she was clearly trying to hit on me. Feels a bit odd when she’s older too, kind of felt like I was getting groomed or some shit like that.” He’s talking so freely, as if they’ve always been this close. “So.. the party wasn’t what was stupid?”

“Tiger, stop trying to change subject, I’m fucking tired so just ask what you wanna-”

“Do you wanna come to the party?” Silence. “Uhm, with me.. if that wasn’t clear.” He tries explaining himself as if it’ll make the silence any less awkward, to no help though. Because Akutagawa is looking at him wide eyed, and neither of them can tell if it’s a bad or good thing.

“Are you asking me out, Nakajima?” He smiles sarcastically, squinting his eyes absurdly.

“No I wouldn’t.. not like that exactly- I mean, like, unless you want that then that’s cool but I don’t uh.. fuck okay..” He sighs into his own hands, trying to ignore the familiar sense of failure creeping up on his back.

“That’s.. cool, huh?”

He looks up, Akutagawa is standing in front of him. Centimeters away. “Y-yeah. Cool. Super cool.”

“Cool, let me know when we’re leaving. Now get out, I need to sleep, we have a test tomorrow.”

Did he just.. agree to coming with Atsushi to the party? Romantically?

Yes, yes he did.
__________________________________________

Chapter Text

Saturday hits Chuuya like a crashing truck on the highway.

He doesn’t wake up in relief, or even the slightest feeling of having had a well-rested night, no, he wakes up soaked in regret.

He swims in it like when you accept a challenge to go under a cold shower or dip your head below the waves in the ocean at late winter time. It’s painful, and all just for the sake of an achievement that doesn’t actually mean jackshit.

Because it’s 1PM in the morning- or the average person would probably not consider that even close to morning, but to someone as sleep deprived and insomniac as Chuuya it may very well be.

Yosano has already sent 4 messages and a missed call, first message she’s asking for permission to come get ready at his dorm, by the fourth one she’s letting him know when she’ll be there, which is in a fucking hour.

Great, so he has an hour to let his thoughts take over and drown in regret before Yosano will come and force pre-party shots down his throat, as she calls them.

He feels sick.

Not in the way where he’s seconds from crawling to the bathroom as his throat closes up, or the way where he has to reach for painkillers, it’s the kind where he stares at his drawer and tries to think of any other ways to calm his brain down.

But his wounds are finally closing up, giving him space and energy to make a few more, but then again he doesn’t wish to be caught by a cheerful Yosano and ruin her night because he can’t cope in a healthy way.

Even if all he wants is to slit up his body, he turns around and lays on his back, staring at the ceiling. He allows his hand to run across his body, trying to name every place he’s left scars, first it’s quite easy.

Hips, legs, arms, then it becomes harder to remember and more difficult to feel, he catches his collarbone, he only has a single very faint one there, from when he was 14.

He can name the occasion for that one, it’s special in its own sense.

It was his birthday, actually, it’s horribly cliche and he cringes every time he remembers. His mother had made him a cake with flavors he disliked, it was a gesture meant to look nice and was utterly performative, but she knew he wouldn’t eat a thing, he refuses to eat anything with a flavor he doesn’t like.

She did this occasionally, like putting specific seasonings on his food to keep him from gaining weight, he had complained a few times but each time he’d end up with regret, so by the time his 14th birthday rolled around, he allowed the guests to take first slices.

He took one of course, and even played around with his fork to make it seem as if he had eaten something so no one would suspect a thing, it was an act he had practiced ever since his aunt had made a rather rude comment to his mother, something about ‘starving the poor kid’ and she ended up putting the blame on him, saying he’s terrified of gaining weight and never eats no matter what she does, so he had to put on the act.

It was one of the small things she would do that Yosano has described as ‘abusive’, she never hit him. His dad did once or twice but it wasn’t.. he wasn’t abused. He’d hardly say he was neglected. Sure, he didn’t have a normal childhood but a lot of people didn’t, that doesn’t mean they were abused.

Anyway, that day a relative of his had pointed out his exposed shoulder, said something along the lines of ‘there’s no point showing off a body as boney as yours’ which was also quite rude and very odd to say to a child but he made an attempt at paying it no mind, which clearly failed because he ended up leaving a permanent scar on the very place that was described as ‘boney’. It still is, he never got used to eating like a normal person, he doesn’t starve himself anymore but he definitely keeps his calories in check, he’ll fast for a day or two before going home just to avoid his mother saying anything.

His hand finds a new scar, one below his jawline, one on his waist, he doesn’t touch the horizontal one showing itself off on his wrist.

He groans slightly, being bothered by the amount of thoughts filling his head this early in the morning, despite how used he is to it.

So he takes a shower.

It’s pathetic, really. The way he has to hold himself when stepping in, trying not to freeze to death because the water hasn’t become hot enough yet, it quickly turns to the correct temperature and allows him to relax for a moment though.

He reaches outside the curtain to grab his toothbrush as well and rolls his eyes when he notices Yosano’s mint flavored one still laying on his sink, he goes for the cherry one today.

It’s too sweet to his liking, but it doesn’t sting on his tongue and makes his eyes water, so it's tolerable, he makes a mental note to himself to get strawberry again next time.

The water falls on him, cleansing him of the sweat from spending hours in bed, and probably the smell too, but it doesn’t rinse off the regret one bit. Each droplet highlights a new reason to stay home, and it’s painful to know he simply cannot, no matter how much he wishes he could.

Maybe if he broke a bone, or something, but it feels a bit over dramatic and he doesn’t need that on his self esteem right now.

After having put in shampoo, conditioner and body wash, he’s finally able to turn off the water and get out, having half an hour left before his best friend arrives and hopefully saves him from this black hole of self-pity he’s in once again.
_______________________________________

“Are you gonna act like a responsible adult?” Fukuzawa asks out of obligation, even if he already knows the shit Ranpo gets up to anyway.

“Suuuuper responsible!" He smiles, waiting for the door to break in and save him from this conversation that’s more or less useless.

“... I never should’ve gotten children.” His dad says as he pinches the bridge of his nose, making this one singular party seem rather substantial. “Who’s hosting, again?”

Ranpo doesn’t take it to heart when he says such things, because he quite literally signed a contract letter for letter to adopt him, he wasn’t some sort of ‘one-night stand mistake’ or anything along those lines, it was all on purpose which makes him very secure in the fact his father does not hate him in spite of some of the comments he’s heard while growing up.

“Nikolai” He mumbles slightly, knowing that’s the only factor that could certainly secure him a ticket to stay home.

“Nikolai, as in the Gogol kid?”

“It’s fine, I know he does all sorts of shit, you know I’m smarter than to do that!” He smiles widely, letting it reach his eyes in hope it’ll convince him, it reminds him of when he was younger and wasn’t allowed to go out without someone going with him simply because he didn’t understand how trains work, he still doesn’t, quite frankly. Luckily he has Atsushi now, who will almost always tag along, back in the day he had to drag Kenji with him because Dazai and Kunikida were too busy trying to kill one another.

“Mhm, I trust you.” Fukuzawa says even if it isn’t a hundred percent true, he’s had Ranpo come home hammered a few times but never has he taken anything, that’s with guarantee.

The door knocks and neither of them has time to yell out a ‘come in’ before three teenagers burst in, 2 with bags of clothes, and another who’s here purely for the moral support. “Atsushi,” Fukuzawa almost lets a smile onto his stoic face, “Osamu, Doppo. I surely hope you won’t let this party affect your abilities to focus in class on monday.”

“Wow, favoritism much, Professor?” Dazai gives a mocking wink, it’s a known factor these days that Fukuzawa definitely favors Atsushi over the other two, no one really knows quite why, Ranpo says it’s due to how polite he is which had Kunikida pacing back and forth going over every interaction he’s ever had with Ranpo’s father, later on Dazai said the difference was that Atsushi is naturally polite while Kunikida is performative and does it for the sake of likeness and approval from others, and obviously a philosopher would be able to see through that.

“Tsk.” He gives a lost scoff before leaving the room, allowing the soon-to-be drunk students into his house.

After a few minutes of painfully discussing clothes for the party, Kunikida asks a question everyone’s been too terrified to ask. “How did you exactly make Nakahara agree on going to the party?”

…

“My.. charm and gorgeous face?”

“Yeah, no ones falling for that.”

“Hm,” Dazai thinks back to the afternoon, wondering whether he should just explain in great detail of how he was begging on his knees, ready to do anything he was asked to, but he also knows his social circle enough to be well aware they would never see it as a situation where he was in power, even if it worked out in the end, so perhaps telling the truth is not the best idea.

What lie would be most believable?

He could go with the easy way out, that he ‘simply threatened’ him, which is relatively in character for him so they’d believe that, the problem lands on Chuuya in this situation however because he is not one to be intimidated by meaningless violence threats, less because he doesn’t believe them, more because he knows he could kick Dazai’s ass if he truly wanted to.

So, a violence threat is off the table, but then again, he owns the great knowledge that Chuuya’s parents would with no doubt disown their son if word ever got out he liked men, unexpectedly he feels a ping of regret for not going with this solution instead of begging like a damn dog on the floor.

It’s quite the half-assed plan though, he could easily just deny these facts since Dazai doesn’t actually have any evidence on him despite it being clear as day, but surely Kunikida and Atsushi aren’t smart enough to think that deep into his lie, Ranpo is another situation but there’s never any point in trying to lie to that man, he realistically already knows exactly what happened.

Maybe from the slight drop of sweat dripping on the side of his face, and the dust bruised knee on the pants he’s been rewearing for three days.

No point in dwelling in that now.

“I just gave him a slight threat of letting it slip to his parents that he would probably be on the ground choking in cock if it wasn’t for the sake of his obsession with me.”

What he means is, Chuuya is not sucking dick because Dazai isn’t allowing him to, so if he wasn’t ‘obsessed’ with him he’d have a free way to go for any man possible.

“.. Can you get diagnosed with delusion?” Atsushi asks Ranpo, who gives him a quick nod.

“And that.. worked?” Kunikida asks, wildly confused, “Course it did, he’s terrified of his parents.”

“Wow, you’re a fucking douche.” Atsushi chimes in, reaching for the cupboard where Fukuzawa hides chocolate, ending up having to jump slightly to reach it.

“I tried telling him that years ago, it never breaks through.” Kunikida shrugs, it’s an unasked question in the group of why they’re still friends with him, and no one has an answer, which is probably why they made a silent agreement to never ask it out loud.
______________________________________________

Akutagawa almost doesn’t get a wink of sleep for two nights in a row, because he somehow ended up agreeing to a date- well, not a date, but it was definitely with romantic intentions.

Right?

Surely it was, ‘asking out’ is never a platonic thing and he made it obvious that he was agreeing to that, he thinks at least.

Jesus fucking christ, why did he even agree to it?

So much for hating the tiger, love thy neighbour they say, he hadn’t expected it to be so literal.

It’s 9AM when he finally decides to get up, realising he can’t force anymore attempts to sleep in. It’s nauseating to be so aware that Atsushi is in the room right beside him, he could be doing anything at this hour, probably still sleeping though, he takes a guess.

No music is playing, and he’s tried to get familiar with it recently, allowing it to be a sign that Atsushi is there and is safe rather than letting it be a nuisance, he would never admit it to anyone and especially not his neighbour but it’s become a sense of comfort when the awful music starts playing.

It’s actually gotten to the point where he finds himself able to sing along to the lyrics and he gets filled with rage every time for letting himself become such a wimp, especially because now he almost gets fucking anxious when the music isn’t drumming in his ears, forcing him longer and longer away from sanity.

All of those thoughts gets rinsed away with the rainy water falling on him, but his moment of peace gets interrupted when a new question strikes him, being as stupid as each one he’s had over the last two days, ‘I wonder which pressure function Atsushi uses when showering’ … what kind of fucking question even is that?

As if it makes any difference. Okay, actually, if he uses the mist function Akutagawa might need to have a word with him because that’s genuinely revolting.

It’s all just so unfamiliar, how in the world could someone like Atsushi have any interest in someone like him?

He’s always been rude, even violent and some could perhaps use the word abusive against the other, and somehow he’s still here, going as far as to asking him out.

The biggest reason he lets the regret keep flowing in his blood is the knowledge that it won’t stop, no matter how close they get, he will always be like this. They could go on dates, become a couple, fuck they could get married and Akutagawa would still be screaming and throwing things at the other and how is that fair?

Atsushi fights back, sure, but they’re both awfully aware that Akutagawa starts the fights almost every time and sometimes.. Atsushi just looks at him. With this horrible look, as if he’s pleading for him to just stop and talk to him like a normal person, and he’s tried. He has, so many times, but every time his instincts take over and insult him till they’re both exhausted.

When he steps out of the shower, he drags his palm against the foggy mirror, only letting the vision of his eyes reflect back to him.

Today, he’ll do better.

If Atsushi is so set on them being something, he’ll make it worth his time.

And then his phone rings, Yosano’s name filling half the screen with a picture of her filling the rest, he sighs and picks up.

“Yes, ‘Sano?”

Atsushi has tried over a long time to get them close to one another, and Akutagawa has always rejected his efforts.

First it was because of the hatred, the outrageous amount of anger he had that this was Dazai’s new fixation, and that he still had the audacity to come close. When that anger faded, it was fear. Fear he had learned from the very man himself, because when Dazai was his reason to live, he was let down again and again, finding himself never able to get completely up again, it was first when he somewhat gave up on ever getting that approval back he was able to live like a normal person.

So, allowing himself.. love? Of all things, that’s the least thing he could bear.

If something as small as dependence and loyalty had him so far down, how much could love betray him? It was something he would never dare find out, and he hates himself slightly for letting into it, for watching Atsushi walk into his room and all he did was lay, waiting to say ‘Yes, I’ll go to the party with you.’ It might’ve come off more angry and sarcastical, but it was as genuine as could’ve been.

“I’m going to Chu’s to get ready later, wanna come?” Yosano asks, ruffling is heard on the other end, she’s probably eating breakfast or something related.

“Uh, yeah, sure, I guess. I’ll be there.” He agrees as his eyes fall to his body, his hip bones poking out from beneath him, reminding him he should probably also get something to eat at this hour or he’ll be insufferable.

“Great! I’ll let you know when I’m coming. I need the damn guy to pick up his phone first, or I’ll just break in, depends if he can wake up today. Anyway, see you.” She hangs up before he has a chance to get another word in, he can already tell today will be awfully long, and somehow it feels worth it to get a few hours of drinking in.

…

And time with Atsushi, whatever. Who cares.
_____________________________________________________

“Does this mean you’re finally getting your slut clothes on again?” Yosano asks happily, squinting at the mirror as she attempts doing her eyeliner for the third time, not being able to make it symmetrical to her first eye.

“I guess yeah, is it that slutty?” Chuuya asks, looking in his closet for said clothes.

Yosano looks at him for a second, Akutagawa following as well, “Whatever.” He sighs in a smile, shaking his head a little at them.

He feels a lot more at peace when they’re around, even when they’re in situations he doesn’t really wish to be in, it’s all much more tolerable in their presence.

“Have you taken a shot yet without me?” Chuuya quickly looks at her, threatening. Okay, earlier when he said ‘force them down his throat’ maybe that wasn’t quite the truth, but she has a convincing glare, okay.

“I would never!” She finally gets the eyeliner right and stands up, finding her way to her bag on the floor, pulling out a bottle of cherry-flavored vodka, “You want any, Aku?” She asks just to be polite despite knowing his answer. “Nah I don’t drink before parties, and I don’t want Atsushi to think I’m some sort of alcoholic.”

“Oh, right, are you going with his group or is he coming with us?”

“We can’t go alone now?” He scoffs.

“You don’t own a car, smartass.” Chuuya chimes in, smiling at Akutagawa mockingly, “I think we’re meeting there.” He replies, ignoring the fact that the topic of conversation is already making him look hammered despite how sober he currently is.

“So not romantic.” The older one sighs, but Yosano is quick to defend Akutagawa, “Aren’t you and Dazai doing the same?”

He’s taken off guard, pulling out the black shorts he finally got a reach of behind all his hoodies, “Totally different thing, they’re going as a date, I’m going out of force.”

Yosano laughs, taking the shot she poured and handing the other to Chuuya, “Whatever makes you sleep better at night Chu.”

He takes it immediately, a mouthful of a mix of bitter and sweet filling out his taste buds, he makes a face for a mere second and puts down the small glass, the sound a bit too loud for his comfort when it hits the table.

He bends down, taking on the shorts, grimacing at the fact they’re a bit loose by now, how does he keep losing weight?

Whatever, no negative and depressing thoughts today.

He reaches inside his closet again to find the tight-fitting see through black shirt that reveals basically his whole waist. “Is it a knee high converse type outfit day?” Yosano snickers, almost instantly realising the way Akutagawa flinches beside her, “Oh, right, Nakajima wears that stuff too? You guys are more alike than I thought.” She comments, directing it at Chuuya.

“I am nothing like him just because we wear the same shoes.”

“And like the same music.”

“Unrelated.”

He walks around, trying to find his pyramid studded belt, trying not to acknowledge Yosano might be right.

Yes, he also wears knee high converse, so what? Let a man live.

“Ah, let me do your hair!” Yosano jumps up, finally finishing all of her makeup, for some reason doing that before getting dressed, he will never understand why she does that.

She spends around one and a half minute putting his hair up in a messy ponytail, clearly having fun with it, “Where’s your eyeliner?” He asks, gripping his hand in and out waiting for her to hand it over.

Yosano gets ready as well, wearing a flowy dress, tight sitting on the top part however. She’s very attractive and pretty at that, Chuuya used to wonder why he wasn’t attracted to her at all despite this, it’s obvious but he didn’t dare admit that.

While Akutagawa starts getting ready and looking way too casual by just wearing baggy pants and a red t-shirt, his outfit is saved by his accessories so at least that’s something, his phone rings and gains everyone’s attention.

“Ah.” He picks it up immediately, Chuuya and Yosano instantly know who it is from the reaction alone, he’s often minutes if not hours about answering, she was lucky to even get him on the line today.
They observe his reaction and it’s quite endearing, he looks at his phone for a second too long before turning his head the other way so his older friends won’t notice the warm color hit his pale face, “What’d he say?” Yosano sneaks up behind him, looking over his shoulder, being as nosy as she always is.

Akutagawa shows his screen while still avoiding contact and it’s so adorably corny, Atsushi has sent a full body mirror picture of his outfit and a small ‘Like it?’ following.

“Woah, how did he suddenly become so bold? Didn’t you say he was super shy and stuttery just asking you to come to the party?”

“Mhm..”
__________________________________________

“Oh my god I sent it what do I do, Kunikida take my phone, throw it out, break it, do something!” Atsushi yells, panicking as the text bubble suddenly arrives, “TAKE IT!”

“Atsushi calm down, it’ll be fine.” Dazai says, looking very calm which is infuriating to Atsushi because why is no one else as panicky as he is right now, this is totally a big deal.

Seconds go by while they all wait in silence, each and all terrified to see the reply, like when you watch a rom-com and it’s finally the breaking point and the main character confesses.

‘You look great, Jinko.’

…

“I’m gonna kill myself.” Atsushi whispers, staring at his phone, “You guys are so corny.” Ranpo says, finally leaving the nosy pit circling Atsushi’s phone.

Dazai observes as the kid panics and wonders whether to reply or just like the message, in the meantime he picks up his phone as well, having gotten a new idea and being starved from any interaction with Chuuya since he woke up.

He types the letters with full confidence, knowing he’ll probably get no reply, if he’s lucky he’ll get a ‘shut up’ or ‘die’ thrown his way but it’s a rare occurrence he gets any messages of his answered, he’s usually on delivered actually. Never not even a ‘read’ is spelt out on his screen, he’s learnt to live with it because he sees him every day anyway so it’s not that tormenting, but on weekends where one of them are home, it’s very annoying.

‘Am I gonna get a picture too or will I have to wait for the surprise?’ He writes out, sending it immediately.

He puts his phone down beside him, watching the chaos in the room as Atsushi is still trying to find his hair spray, what a kid. He hopes Chuuya at least reads the message on his lock screen, just so he can piss him off a little bit.

Dazai isn’t exactly excited for the party, it doesn’t give him any sort of dopamine, he doesn’t do alcohol ever since his big brother died, neither does he do drugs or any of all the making out, unless it’s part of him and Chuuya’s traditional game, so he doesn’t get invited very often because he stopped going to them in general, but this was a perfect opportunity to get really get into Chuuya’s head, and he still claims he won.

His phone buzzes, and the possibility of it being his ‘date’ for the night doesn’t even pass his thoughts, yet he picks up anyway.

‘No surprises for you, dick.’
Image attached

A picture fills out most of his screen, and he takes a few seconds to observe everything he can.

The few scars peeking out under the shorts, some still not looking all healed. The shoes, the accessories, the way he’s getting flipped off which is no surprise, he can also notice Yosano in the background and a very faint shadow of another person which he can only assume is Akutagawa.

Tonight might be entertaining.

Surely something will happen, even if it’s just Ranpo getting black out and accidentally spilling half of the school’s secret, happened once before and he didn’t get invited to a party again for 3 months.

Or perhaps something would happen between Akutagawa and Atsushi, they’re finally reaching the breaking point and will probably end up in one another’s mouth at some point, or if he’s lucky he’ll get to see Nikolai beating Chuuya to a bloody pulp.

Mhm, this party might for the first time give him some brain activity instead of just waiting music playing in his head over and over again.
__________________________________________________

The party is quite early, it starts at 4PM but since it’s winter it’s already dark out around this time of year, causing the same atmosphere as if it was during night.

Chuuya, Akutagawa and Yosano arrive at 5:02 PM, All trying to fade into the people that look like they’ve by now have had one too many shots despite the party having only been open for an hour.

“I’m gonna go search for some free vodka, if any of you run into Nikolai, guide him far away from the pool room, I am not looking for a beating today.” Chuuya sighs, the heat in this room being suffocating due to the gracious amount of people, “Will do, let me know if you find any!” Yosano yells to him as he has to squeeze past the crowd.

He already knows the house well since he used to be somewhat friends with Nikolai, so he’s been here once or twice before, for that reason it takes him around 30 seconds before he manages to find the pool room and where the table full of bottles is placed.

He’s dizzy from the heat and sound in the other room and possibly the extra shots he took as Yosano was driving, but he still manages to get a hold of the fresh vodka already half empty, pouring it into a glass of which he also pours redbull into, one he bought on the way.

“Just arrived and already drinking?”

He’d recognize that voice anywhere, and regardless of the need to ignore it and walk the other way, he turns his head toward the monotone voice right beside him.

Instead of answering he takes into account what Dazai is wearing, black long pants, looking a bit too formal for a party where essentially someone will easily end up puking on him, which might as well be Chuuya. A black loose button up, that only has a few of the buttons actually doing their work, even his sleeves are rolled up.

The shirt allows Chuuya his first laugh of the night.

“Trying to show your stomach huh? Someone's tryna get laid.” He smiles, his tone seeming more teasing than insulting. Dazai replies with a mirrored smile, “Mm, says you. Your whole over body is being flashed to anyone who looks your way.”

Chuuya doesn’t react to the hand reaching for his waist, he doesn’t smack it away because he knows that’s exactly what Dazai wants. He wants him to get riled up and angry, usually he sticks to awful comments and even compliments, so he’s still taken aback by the touch internally, but he doesn’t dare show it.

“What, jealous?”

“Far from. I know you’re not gonna look at anyone else.”

“And why is that, asshole?”

Dazai grips tighter on Chuuya’s waist, letting that be his only answer for a second. “Go on then, entertain me and choke on someone's tongue, I couldn't care less Nakahara.” His touch leaves Chuuya’s body cold and craving for warmth, but he simply scoffs and takes a big chug of his glass, “Oh I will.”

This is something that used to happen a lot when they were younger, around Akutagawa and Atsushi’s age, they would fight the second they ended up in the same room and had consumed any sort of alcohol, Chuuya had hope it wouldn’t happen this time since Dazai no longer drinks but his hope falls dead.

He plays along every time, it’s one of the games they’ve had ever since they reached an age mature enough to have an understanding of sexuality. They bicker and insult for a few minutes, minutes where it’s only them, and then it’s a competition of who can have most women in one night.

That was unironically how Chuuya lost his virginity, all because of a game to win over Dazai, and with a woman. It’s always a woman, of course it is. Dazai? He’s all around, which is actually relatively annoying because that makes it easier for him to get laid, any man would jump on him the second they could, women not so much but he has the charm to seduce a few.

He looks out to the room filled with people and music again and is quite aggravated by Dazai’s presence already. “Now, or are you gonna keep me waiting?”

“You’re so fucking impatient.”

Chuuya grabs the wrist of the taller of the two and drags him into the main room again, it takes him a few seconds to catch the eye of a woman, she has long black hair and is showing way too much skin to feel secure in it, eh, not his business. He recognizes her from mathematics and smiles realizing she’s in his year, he lets go of Dazai’s wrist and walks over to her.

“What’s your name?” She asks, still moving her body along to the music, he takes a second to his own thoughts.

This night is already moving way too fast, he just got here and he already has to put on this God forsaken pretend of going through women one by one.

“Chuuya, I’m in your year.” He smiles, he lets his eyes find Dazai for a single second, making sure he’s still watching. His arms are crossed and his head slightly tilted, and his eyes are drilling holes into Chuuya’s.

“Yeah? That’s awesome. You look great.” She smiles, leaning closer to him and by now he’s secured the fact she’ll probably let him take the lead, but he’s not drunk enough to have sex this early on.

“So do you.” His hands find her waist and she doesn’t resist, it takes them a few more seconds of eye fucking before he leans down and kisses her, his right hand slides up her body to grab her face gently.

He opens his eyes, the music is still giving him a headache and he can feel a very small percentage of alcohol hitting his blood, making him more relaxed even while he has to keep up this facade. He never really enjoys making out with women, nor does he enjoy the sex. Or, well, maybe that’s a lie, if he focuses only on the feeling and not on the other party in the situation he can finish, he wouldn’t say he hates it but truly it’s all for the sake of winning and proving a point.

He likes women.

He tells himself that when kissing them, when being inside of them, when talking to his best friend, he tells himself he likes women even when he stares intensely into the eyes of the person he hates most, almost forgetting to focus on how to move his mouth correctly.

Dazai doesn’t break eye contact once, he keeps his eyes fixated until the other dares look away, but he doesn’t. He continues staring as the girl he didn’t even get the name of pulls away, she giggles and looks at him, somehow not caring or perhaps being too intoxicated to notice that his focus is far away from her. Somehow she still finds the confidence to lean into his ear, whispering words confirming a theory that passed his head for merely a second.

“You’re hard.”

Dazai has always been very great at picking up on hints, so he easily understands what’s happening in the middle of the room, he claps his hands silently and mouths something even worse than what Chuuya just heard heated into his ears, ‘use protection’ he winks.

What a fucking piece of shit. This is exactly what he meant. When Dazai said ‘ I know you’re not gonna look at anyone else.’ This is what he was hinting at, because Chuuya does indeed not look at anyone else. He can be intensely making out with a woman and will still search for Dazai’s eyes, as if showing off, a simple ‘I told you’ if you will, that doesn’t explain why he keeps staring until said girl points out he’s hard but he chooses to ignore that.

He turns a corner and walks away, leaving the eyesight of Chuuya, his image burned into the others eyes. “Wanna go upstairs?” The girl laughs, he looks down with a smile, “I’m terribly sorry, I don’t have a lot of time, I need to check on my friend.” He says, talking about Yosano as he promised to let her know if he found any alcohol.

She pouts but her hands find their own home again, and it’s odd the way he doesn’t get the same warmth from her hands, or how he doesn’t feel the same cold from her absence.

“Find me later if you change your mind.” She tells him, and he nods even though he knows that even if he did change his mind she’ll be black out drunk in the matter of the next hour, especially with the way she’s finding her way to the pool room this very moment.

He’s so stupid.

He plays along, every single time.
_____________________________________________

Atsushi looks around for Akutagawa, and he can be quite hard to find since he isn’t the tallest and he has black hair, so he easily blends into a crowd.

He lost Ranpo the second he found Yosano a few minutes ago, and Dazai of course disappeared to look for Chuuya, so he walts around alone.

He ran into this girl named Lucy while trying to find his.. date?

Is Akutagawa his date? He should be, hopefully.

Anyway, it’s always running into her because he isn’t very openly out regarding his sexuality and she obviously has a crush on him, he could just tell her he’s gay or that he’s here with someone else, but he’s horrible when it comes to rejecting people so he copes by avoiding her as much as possible.

Finally, he catches a glimpse of black hair with white ends, and he feels outrageously more at peace already, it’s embarrassing and perhaps even pathetic but he doesn’t care right now.

He rushes quickly to the kitchen where only a few people are placed, most of them looking through the fridge that isn’t theirs, some getting water for their probably too drunk friends, and there is Akutagawa, talking to someone else, it’s very clear he does not enjoy the conversation and is only doing it for the sake of being polite.

He walks up to him anyway, giving himself the privilege of interrupting the speaking person he has never seen before, “Akutagawa.”

It’s not a smile, but somehow it’s noticeable how his whole face lights up, probably also feeling saved for the conversation, he quickly tells the person this is important and waves them goodbye.

“Jinko.” He says, even with his stoic face and emotionless voice, it’s ten times more genuine than when he was talking to the other person. “What’s with the new nickname?” Atsushi smiles, tilting his head, he looks adorable.

“Ah, don’t get used to it.” Is all he replies, Atsushi has a feeling he’s absolutely gonna get used to it.

Now, the question is which one of them is boldest and dares to make the first move, and Akutagawa promised himself earlier that he’ll try, no matter how terrifying or pathetic it feels, it’s most likely worth it.

“You look great.”

 

“You already told me that.”

“I mean it.” He smiles, not a lot, it’s Akutagawa of all people. But enough for Atsushi to notice and take genuine appreciation to the compliment.

He takes a step closer, noticing that almost everyone is leaving the kitchen around now, having gotten what they wanted, “Well, you look amazing too. Scored myself quite the pretty date didn’t I?” Akutagawa laughs, which is a pleasant surprise but definitely one, Atsushi almost wonders if his comment was too much and if he should backtrack but then..

“I assume by ‘you’ you mean me, I deserve at least 70% credit for that proposal. But sure, whatever you say. Are you planning to drink tonight?”

He smiles, feeling a lot more comforted and safe in the conversation again, “Yeah, not a lot but what’s a party without?”

“Mhm, let’s go then.”
____________________________________

It is not very difficult to spot Yosano and Ranpo, ever.

They are loud and obnoxious when sober, a lot worse when drunk.

“Found free- are you smoking?” Chuuya attempts at letting Yosano know where he found available alcohol but instead ends up with a smoke of weed blown into his face, “Just weed, Chuuya. Don’t worry.” He nods, he’s used to her smoking weed but he always gets worried she’ll do anything harder, it’s not happened yet though so he’s confident it wont, it’s just an awful amount of paranoia and childhood issues.

“Hi Chuuya!” Ranpo smiles, drinking directly from what looks like a bottle of rum, what a manic.

He wonders if it’s worth it to ask for cigarettes from a guy he’s only ever shared a few words with before, but then again it’s a party, AKA; a situation where anyone can talk to anyone about anything.

“Ranpo. Hi. You got smokes on you?” Chuuya sighs, already feeling tired with the events of this party, resorting to what he knows best. Ranpo immediately checks his pockets, “Ah, Dazai has ‘em, ask him.” The boy shrugs, shaking his head sorrily.

 

Another sigh escapes him, mixed with a groan. “Right, of fucking course he does, I need a drink.” And so he waves them goodbye, rushing back to the pool room, pouring around 4 shots of pure vodka and they all slide down his throat roughly.

Okay, finding Dazai can't be that hard.

It’s 6PM, he’s been here for around an hour, an hour into a party he usually have already spoken to a bunch of strangers, being the talkative and annoying person he is, meaning around now he’d be needing a quick charging break, so he’ll be somewhere with not a lot of people.. kitchen.

He has to get through the horrifyingly loud and nauseating main room full of music and the smell of booze and sweat, all for one cigarette, that is if he’s even lucky enough to find Dazai.

The voice of the host, however, sends genuine fear through him. He sounds to be a few feet away and is cramped between the people dancing, he’s talking to someone, likely Fyodor. Chuuya needs to get out of this room immediately or he’s as good as dead. A bunch of “Excuse me” and “passing through” slips by his lips as he does his absolute best to get out, and he manages, thank God for that.

“You look rather terrified, run into Nikolai yet?” Dazai sips on a glass of something, probably soda or something related, knowing he has given up on drinking. He’s leaning against the counter and he has much too resemblance to some male lead love interest in those horrific rom-coms, looking so confident and annoying as ever.

“He didn’t notice me. Edogawa told me you have his cigs, hand me one.” He gets to business immediately, not wanting to look at Dazai for longer than necessary. “Sure, I’ll come along.” Of course he will.
Seconds later they’re upstairs and walking outside to the balcony, a surprise is that no one else is there. At Nikolai’s parties people are usually vomiting by now, but it’s empty and quiet.

Especially the breeze is nice, giving some coolness to the prior heat from inside.

Dazai ruffles in his pockets, searching for the cigarettes and lighter Ranpo made him hold for him, “Here you go.” He hands them over.

There’s silence between them, not completely though, the sound of the wind is loud enough to be noticed, and music from downstairs is definitely still enough for the bass beat to be felt inside, it’s quite comfortable really.

Chuuya leans down, letting his head rest on his left hand, the other putting the cigarette back and forth every once in a while.

He looks towards Dazai, who quickly picks up on it and looks back. “I like the ponytail.” He whispers, Chuuya lets out a chuckle, smoke leaving a fog after being breathed out. “Yosano did it.” He whispers back, trying to let the silence still be as nice as before. “I’m sure.”

A few seconds of innocent eye contact go by, the kind where they’re not trying to insult or kill one another, this truly usually only happens when one of them is drunk and the other is nice enough to follow lead. Chuuya raises an eyebrow and hands out the cigarette, the other refuses kindly, having also long ago put smoking away.

“You think the kids are having fun?” Chuuya asks, standing up and leaning against the rail as well, turning against the house while Dazai turns the other way, despite this their eyes never once leave one anothers. “I hope so, Atsushi’s been freaking out for days.” Dazai smiles, causing Chuuya to scoff out a chuckle once again, “Aku as well.”

Both of them remember back to when they were 15, it definitely isn’t the same, considering the fact two of them are on a date and these two were having sex with women to compete, but there’s slight similarities that all matter in different ways. Like how they use violent words and degrade each other without admitting they wish to have one normal conversation under normal circumstances, or how they both have their own struggles which the other knows everything about yet would never speak aloud of.

“You had any yet?” Chuuya asks, more or less being direct about asking if he’s had sex yet, perhaps he’s asking if he’s planning to.

“No, watching you get a boner from looking at me was entertaining enough.”

“Did not!”

“Whatever you say.”

“I was making out with a girl, that not enough for me to get hard?”

“Hasn’t been before.”

“As if you would know.” He sighs, realizing his cigarette is done by now. He takes it out on the railing and throws it down to the dark wet grass a few feet down.

“I’m gonna go down and get some more to drink, enjoy the rest of your night douche.” He flips Dazai off without looking back at him as he finally leaves the silent balcony, part of him wants to stay on there and chit-chat with that ridiculous human for hours on end, but that’s like a self-inflicted method of torture, and he’s too tired to endure that right now.

As he walks down the stairs, his head hurts with every step and he feels an immense amount of dread which he can’t quite figure out where’s from. It could easily be the alcohol running in his veins replacing the blood he’s been busy cutting out from his body, but it doesn’t feel like that’s what it is.

He’s only been here for a few hours and his head is already getting too loud with thoughts he hoped would leave him alone for the night, but that’s a meaningless wish, so he continues walking as every thought gets louder by the second and he has zero hope in having a wink of good rest tonight.

As he reaches the living room, he feels his blood run cold, or perhaps the alcohol leaving him sober, and he instantly knows where the dread is from.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Nikolai asks, looking at Fyodor as everyone turns to Chuuya, almost like Nikolai’s voice is of a siren and compels everyone to let go of the music, paying attention to the new center of focus. “Ah, uh, Nikol-”

“Did I not make it fucking clear you shouldn’t be here?”

Chuuya’s eyes fall to the empty injection needle Nikolai is handing Fyodor, and the small red droplet of blood leaving his inner elbow. It’s not a surprise, everyone knows Nikolai is a drug addict, if he stopped now he’d kill himself from the withdrawal but Chuuya has never experienced it first hand.. seeing him do it. It’s revolting and he doesn’t wanna be as dramatic as mention the word traumatic yet it is not anything but that.

Fuck drug addict parents, they screw your sense of reality up for good.

“I’m here to pick up-”

“No, no no. Since you’re here..” Nikolai shows teeth through a major smile, and already now Chuuya feels like curling up into a ball and cry or to simply run out and never step foot into this house again, but knowing the man in front of him? He has to live through this, second by second.

“Darling, would you be a dear and get me the bag?” He asks Fyodor, who immediately turns to Sigma, pulling out a small plastic bag filled with fine white powder. “You really wanna drug someone today?” Sigma sighs,making this sound like a too often occurring situation.

“I won’t drug him. He’s gonna do a line out of own will. Right, Chuuya?”

He looks around the room, hoping to catch the eye of anyone he knows, even Dazai would be okay right now, anyone who can save him from this situation.

“Drugs… aren’t really my thing Nikolai.” He says apologetically. Chuuya is usually not at all helpless, was this any other day he would beat the shit out of Nikolai but to his tragedy alcohol turns him into a fucking wimp, and now his legs are too weak and his brain too foggy to help himself out of this situation.

“Homophobes ain’t my thing either, do a fucking line.”

He stares and for the very first time feel the consequences of peer pressure from every eye in the room being directed at him, and somehow he’s still unlucky enough for none of his people being there to save him, because he’s too pathetic to save himself and he’s painfully aware that even as Nikolai says he won’t force him, Fyodor is looking very ready to use violence if he doesn’t sit down and sniff the thin line being formed by Nikolai at this very moment.

So, all in all, party not so fun, simply put.

It’s not worth it, not one fucking bit. But there’s nothing else to do. If the room had been empty he could run for his life and he would without a doubt but right now he’s cornered by almost every single soul in the building. So there truly is no way to escape, this is it. The line, or a beating.

Drugs aren’t that big of a deal, everyone his age has done it so surely it won’t be that terrifying, it’s only once, it’s nothing.

Exactly, it’s one, thin line.

It’s ten times better than the pain of getting beaten up, especially knowing the sinister man in front of him that would keep going until the teeth of him would get knocked out, which would also get him a major dentist bill and if he’s really unlucky a trip to the hospital, so all in all, taking cocaine is his best solution right now.

“Go on.”
_______________________________________

 

Dazai has experienced very few times in his life the feeling of being worried, and it’s never been enough for him to truly care. That is of course with the exception of Odasaku’s death, but that’s a conversation for later.

So when he walks down the stairs, actually ready to go home, and the music has stopped, he’s curious as to what could be happening. He smiles at the thought of Nikolai having realised Chuuya is here and is slowly killing him cell by cell, but the room is too quiet for that to be the case.

He looks toward the empty pit everyone is circling, and there it is. The unfamiliar feeling of worry.

Mixed with some shock and satisfaction, but let’s not talk about that right now, it seems rather inappropriate.

Chuuya is there, on his knees, bent over a table. Fyodor, Nikolai and Sigma are all standing around him and it doesn’t take Dazai more than a second ot catch glimpse of the bag filled to the rim with coke, and so a loud sniff is heard, and he remembers back to when he mentioned something surely would happen at the party, and here we go, here it fucking is.

Dazai takes into consideration what his options are, he could either act as if he has nothing to do with any of this and leave Chuuya to however he ends up dealing with this, or he could go down and immediately drag him home to safety or he could call for Yosano to deal with this.

Fourth and final option, watch how it plays out first.

“How is it?” Nikolai smiles, the sinister one that never quite leaves his face. Chuuya looks up at him, revealing that pale and agonizing face Dazai has grown accustomed to by now. Part of him actually does wish to pick him up and get him to safety, he’ll do that later, surely.

Silence hits the room, everyone acting as if this is the ending in a theatre, waiting for a plot twist or a dramatic action, and it’s Chuuya. Meaning, of course they get that.

“You fucking happy? Can I leave now?” He spits angrily out, but Nikolai is quick to reply “Don’t you wanna do a-”

“No, you piece of shit, I don’t wanna do any of your drugs, have you ever considered enjoying life in a sober and healthy way or is the only thing you can do slowly kill yourself and take dick by a guy who doesn’t even care about you?” His arms flay all over the place, the words are being thrown out so violently spit probably hits Nikolai in the face multiple times but he doesn’t look to care all that much.

“Are you jealous? If anyone here wants to take dick by a guy who doesn’t care, it's your pathetic self. Have you even noticed? How Osamu has been staring at you sniffing that line, screaming at me and wishing for him to save you? You think you get to say and do anything because what, you believe in god? As if that makes you superior,” Chuuya hopes for a second he’s lying, no matter how much Dazai hates him he also knows him, there’s no way he would just stand and watch-

Their eyes meet.

“Chuuya, if you still believe in that god, I am letting you know right now, he does not love you one fucking bit, and I might be slowly killing myself, but I’ll wait for you in hell and greet you a warm fucking welcome when you arrive. Now get the fuck out of my house.”

He stands still, his eyes keeping contact with Dazai’s. He looks utterly betrayed, as if their 5 minute conversation was enough for him to feel secure he would save him from such a situation, but their eye contact is broken when two people break up the circle and get a hold of Chuuya.

“Hey, let’s get out of here, yeah?” Yosano tries getting his attention while Akutagawa attempts at getting people away from this awkward situation, hoping they can stop a fight from breaking out.

They’re obviously drunk and very shocked by everything happening so they don’t seem to be in their right mind either, meaning Dazai will indeed have to take matters into his own hands. As always, he has to save Chuuya, because he knows him better than anyone, even with hatred and disgust, he knows every single thing there is to know about this boy and he’ll be able to handle this situation best. That’s of course with the bonus that he can drive, and everyone else is filled with alcohol.

Dazai rushes down the stairs, “You’re intoxicated Yosano, I’ll take him home.”

Chuuya still stares at him, “Fuck you.” He whispers, so silently only Dazai will be able to pick up on it, “You’re lucky you’re not beaten and bloody right now, Nakahara.” He whispers back, taking his almost numb body away from Yosano, lifting him up. “I don’t care how ‘sinful’ you think this is, wrap your legs and arms around me.”

Chuuya is too weak to resist and does as he says, gripping on for dear life in hope of not falling.

Akutagawa and Yosano help move everyone out of the way to give Dazai space, what a fucking night.
___________________________________

Chuuya feels himself getting lowered onto his bed, the soft feeling of getting sucked in by his madress relaxing a bit of the panic rushing through his body, but he can’t allow himself to relax right now, so he makes an immediate attempt at getting up.

“You really wanna be stubborn right now?” Dazai sighs loudly, sitting on the edge of the bed, Chuuya doesn’t answer.

Somehow, he actually does manage to get up.

Nikolai was right, he is as pathetic as they come, he resembles his dad a line too much right now and he needs it out of his system. God does not love him, he is a walking sin. Even when not acting on his devilish thoughts, even when he doesn’t accept the temptation the devil tries to force down his throat, even when he begs and begs for forgiveness, he is a lost cause. He will never be well. He will be sick until the very day he dies, and he can’t escape it.

Admitting it does not make him nauseous, it doesn’t make him angry, nor does it make him hurt. He feels nothing anymore, admitting to it makes him hopeless.

He searches for the only coping mechanism he knows, the one thing he resorts to every time that ruins him over and over again, punishing him for every sinful thought he’s ever had. He used to believe punishing himself was what was granting him forgiveness by God, it ended up just becoming the only way he could focus on something new, something far away from reality where he could hide.

“What are you doing, idiot?” Dazai asks, trying to get a look of what Chuuya could possibly be doing now, and he’s rather annoyed when he sees the drawer being open. He stands up instantly, walking over to grab Chuuya’s body when his legs give up under him, grabbing the blade his hand is gripping onto as if it was the last bit of hope he had left.

“Chuuya you can cut yourself all you fucking want but you have too much shit in your blood. You’ll end up slitting a vei-”

A sob, so pathetic it could be heard miles away.

“I don’t care” He whispers, it’s hard to make out exactly what he’s saying because he might as well be choking on his tears by now.

Of course Dazai had to end up being the one to take care of him. It’s not that he doesn’t.. care, okay truly he doesn’t care enough that he’d be here if anyone else could, but he cares just enough to not leave Chuuya to kill himself at this moment.

His arms are shaking and trying to get free of Dazai’s grab, obviously attempting to hurt himself in any possible way he can find, “Can you please calm down? You’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be.” It’s not calming or comforting, but he’s hoping it can give Chuuya a reality check or something along those lines and make him snap back to reality, even though that’s a very low possibility.

His whole body is giving up on him and he’s surprised he hasn’t thrown up all the alcohol yet, it’ll come by later surely, what a great fucking night.

Dazai lowers both of them down to the ground, holding onto the other as if he’d drift far away if he let go. He’s crying like the day has no end and he’ll be here forever, like the pain is absolutely not temporary and he’ll be stuck in a pity hole of agony, it’s something Dazai is wildly familiar with and therefore understands the situation more well than anyone else probably could right now, so he stays. He doesn’t leave, he doesn’t say anything, he just stays.

He isn’t sure if it’s due to the intoxication or the mental break that Chuuya’s arms wrap around his waist, basically resting his crying face in the lap of the younger of the two of them. He lets his hand on top of his head, caressing ever so slightly while still holding on, just in case.

“I fucking hate you.” Chuuya whimpers.

“I know.”

Chapter Text

Dazai wakes up by the obnoxiously loud ringing coming from supposedly his phone that has fallen to the floor overnight.

Not a single bone in him feels as if he’s had any real rest, his eyes are still heavy and his head too cold to have been drifted out. He’s used to sleepless nights to a somewhat bigger extent, yet it feels more like pure exhaustion rather than tiresome when he opens his eyes this morning.

He stretches his body out in a loud yawn, judging from outside it’s still early in the morning, so who in the world would be calling him at this time?

Fat chance it’s anyone he cares enough about to answer.

He looks to his side tiredly when he realises he’s on the edge of the bed and has no space to move in further, and he would like to pretend he’s shocked by the sight of Chuuya Nakahara, who’s laying a mere centimeters from him, turning towards the wall. But he put himself in this situation, so it’s not a surprise at all.

He looks down to observe any other details, there isn’t a lot but a few catch his eye. Like how his shirt is buttoned up completely, which is probably due to heat from this locked away room, he’s often experienced that he’ll start stripping in his sleep if the room is too hot, it’s something that’s normal for the average human being though so who’s to judge, and then he notices something quite interesting.

The way his hand is tightly intertwined with Chuuya’s.

It’s not in a loving or caring way, but in a desperate attempt at making sure his hands are unavailable to cause him any harm. Dazai hadn’t intended to fall asleep in Chuuya’s room nevertheless hand in hand with him, but fate has it this is how he ended up enjoying his sunday morning.

He reaches down for the still ear-raping ringing on the phone, when he picks it up the vibration wakes his hand up enough for him to have energy to read who is calling, and the answer suddenly makes the situation far more understandable.

He taps accept and brings it to his ear, somehow having sympathy enough to whisper, attempting not to wake the sleeping ‘beauty’ beside u. “What’s up Kunik-”

“Are you safe?” Kunikida asks, panting on the other line.

“Uh, yes, I sure hope so.” Dazai replies, “Why are you freaking out?”

“Well what do I know, you didn’t come home last night and I went to bed assuming it was dragging out but you were still not home.” Kunikida explains, sounding like an angry wife because her husband had been out drinking.

“No, I fell asleep at a friend’s. I’ll be back in a few.” He hurries the words out and hangs up before Kunikida has an actual chance at getting mad and then this morning will be a lot more awkward than it’s already looking out to be.

Dazai considers whether he should make a silent escape and never let Chuuya know this happened, he probably doesn’t remember too much about yesterday and Dazai has a great alibi for taking him home if Yosano remembers that part and doesn’t hesitate to ask Chuuya about it. He can easily say it was all because no one else was sober enough to do it, and that he threw him in bed and left as soon as the chance was given.

But yet, the whole point of the party was to torture Chuuya, it went out of hand for sure but it would be sad for him to forget everything, or at the very least not know this is how Dazai woke up.
______________________________________

Chuuya tries not to wake up.

The second he gains any consciousness after having slept for what he can only guess has been many hours, nausea immediately takes him over.

That’s not to say he doesn’t notice the warmth in his bed, the unfamiliar feeling of comfort and care, maybe not that, but just something closely related.
With eyes still closed, he makes an attempt at calming himself and finding distraction from the nausea by focusing on everything his body is currently touching.

First there’s his bed again, it’s as soft as usual but it’s target of weight is not Chuuya, which leaves him less sunken in than his other nights. His clothes are now a t-shirt and boxers, he hopes to God that it was himself who undressed him else he’s gonna have a really awkward realization later.

His hair is no longer in a ponytail and it’s definitely tangled, however it’s spread over his whole face, he ignores the feeling of drool by the side of his mouth as he tries to find something new he hasn’t yet noticed.

And there it is, the tight gripping feeling of his hand clinging to another.

He almost considers shooting himself right then and there, because he’s utterly terrified to find out who could be on the other side of the bed, he wouldn’t be equally as scared if the weight against him wasn’t so heavy, if he couldn’t obviously tell the person was significantly taller, or if he couldn’t recognize the cold feeling of the hand he has been touching for multiple hours by now.

Even if it isn’t the worst case scenario, he is absolutely sure that there is a man beside him. And who else could it possibly be than his very own nightmare.

He recognizes the cold touch and the slender fingers due to the years of fighting, to Dazai recently attempting at making touches, he’s always been more cold and boney than the average human so it isn’t difficult for one who knows him to be able to tell him simply from the touch of his hand.

He doesn’t dare turn around, more because he’s also afraid he’s gonna puke all over his own bed the second his body senses any form of movement from him, and honestly that’s almost more embarrassing than if he outrightly admitted to being in-

“You awake?” Dazai asks, in the way he would if he were to make a sarcastic remark only second after, but he decided to hold back for the sanity of the other, which is odd because usually he’d never ditch a chance to drive Chuuya into insanity, but he’ll take it happily.

He attempts a nod, hoping it won’t make him immediately puke his guts out, but Dazai doesn’t seem to be looking at him, “Can you get me water?” He asks, it’s realistically the most polite and innocent thing Chuuya has ever asked of the other, which gives him some hope he might say yes.

“Sure thing, aren’t you gonna vomit it all up though?”

“Asshole.”

Dazai does indeed get out of the bed that switches to targeting Chuuya’s weight as he’s now the only presence in it.

The shift in atmosphere does definitely not help with the nausea filling out his body as if it were oxygen, replacing the blood and cells with utter sickness. He’s gonna vomit at one point or another, he might as well get it over with.

So he makes the hast decision to sprint to the bathroom as if he’d die if he didn’t make it there in time, it’s quite the funny scene if you were a third person seeing it, the way Dazai is standing, holding a cup of cold water as he stares at Chuuya running for his life. He doesn’t instantly go check on him, there isn’t any doubt of what’s happening in the opposite side of the room nevertheless.

The sounds coming from the bathroom might as well be described as gory, Chuuya is not the kind of person to cry while puking meaning that every other sound is usually intensified.

Dazai stares in slight shock, still listening to the situation of guts getting spilled out, he might need to check the poor guy isn’t actually coughing up blood if this keeps going any longer.

When Chuuya’s body has finally calmed down and decided it’s gotten every toxic material out, he flushes the toilet and continues leaning against it, his legs too weak to stand up. His eyes are red, tears filling at the rim from the bitter taste even if they never fall, his mouth and nose can only recognize the taste and scent from vomit as if it’s all they’ve ever known.

Dazai makes his way out, still holding a glass of water, “Still want this?” He asks, and the boy immediately shoots a hand out, ready to grab the liquid.

He sighs, his lips turning upwards slightly as he watches Chuuya chug it down like he’s been thirsting for years. “Sorry I can’t stay,” He says sarcastically, “Please don’t call me if-”

“What the fuck were you doing in my bed?”

Dazai stares back at the angry look, as if he had forced his way in and condemned Chuuya to eternity in hell, when actually he did the complete opposite, he sighs yet again, being more and more bothered by every time the boy opens his mouth, he’s the embodiment of irritation, but Chuuya would say the same thing about Dazai, so there’s no point in dwelling over bad insults and nicknames.

“I’m sure your friend, or at least the little one,” Dazai says as if he doesn’t know Akutagawa’s name by heart, “will be able to tell you of last night's events. I promise I haven’t dirtied you with my oh so sinful self, all I did was make sure you didn’t kill yourself, I could at the very least get a thank you for that.”

Chuuya isn’t one to thank anyone other than his bestfriends genuinely, and even less when the person he’s thanking is Dazai, but surely he has a point, and he hasn’t made any too harsh insults despite him being on the ground, his guts puked up. He allows himself to give an insincere ‘thanks’ at the situation given.

Dazai, surprised, smiles. “Progress. I’m gonna leave now.”

 

And so, he does.

Chuuya lets his whole body get caught by gravity and lays down completely on the cold floor, hoping to soon escape the atmosphere of vomit, even if he stays in the bathroom. It’s only a matter of hours before Yosano and Akutagawa wake up, bashing in here to explain what happened last night and why the fuck Dazai Osamu was in his bed, holding his hand.

It takes him a few seconds to ponder over his change of clothes once more, and the realization that Dazai took part in it almost makes him gag once more.

He decides not to dwell on that so as to not get sick once more and instead attempt at getting a few more minutes of sleep in, carrying his body is however a lot more heavy than he imagined. He finally reaches his bed and it takes him less than a minute to fall into another slumber.
____________________________________________

When Dazai makes it back to his room, Kunikida isn’t staring at him or yelling, because he’s busy listening to Atsushi speak, it’s oddly surprising that he would be awake at this hour and enough to walk in here and start blabbering about whatever it could be this time.

He looks at the two of them talking for a few seconds before finally deciding to announce his entrance. It's easy to pick up on the fact Atsushi is talking about yesterday’s events, and that actually does interest Dazai.

But he’s also deep in a hangover so he isn’t speaking that clearly and he groans between sentences every once in a while, making a big spectacle of whatever headache he has at the very moment.

He finally makes his way into the room, so silently only Kunikida can see it because he’s in viewpoint of the other. He doesn’t pay it any mind because Atsushi’s mouth is working faster than his brain, so of course Dazai’s first instinct is to sneak behind him and shock the remaining alcohol out.

“And then I fucking kissed him!” Atsushi screams, causing Dazai to stop in his tracks, “You what?” Both him and Kunikida reply in an instant, Kunikida being more dramatic about it than Dazai is no surprise but it very well happens.

Atsushi turns around to the tall man hovering over him, groaning as another hit of headache arrives.

“You kissed him?” Dazai asks, crossing his arms.

“Do you regret it?” Kunikida asks like a worried parent.

“No of course not- well, I don’t know I was worried because we were both drunk so maybe he didn’t actually want to but then I got carried away and, ugh I don’t know okay.” Atsushi rambles as he thinks over the night, probably only remembering patches of it.

Clearly, everyone has had a very different form of night.

Dazai honestly can’t wait to see how Chuuya will treat them when they’re back in class tomorrow, but what he does know is that he needs a plan.

In the meantime, he’ll probably have to hear about whatever truly went down yesterday with Atsushi and Akutagawa.
_____________________________________________________
THE NIGHT OF THE PARTY

 

“It’s so noisy” Atsushi says, gulping down the last drop of alcohol in his glass as he closes the door to a more quiet room for him and Akutagawa.

The noise doesn’t disappear, but it turns into a blur that’s manageable to ignore if you don’t pay attention to it. The room is filled with a dim yellow light, the moon and stars might as well be causing more light than the actual light source in the room. It’s no big deal though, none of them will complain as long as they can see one another on a fair level.

“Kunikida would be killing me if he saw me right now.” He adds on, watching the boy in front of him take a seat in the comfortable bed one can only imagine is Nikolai’s.

Akutagawa tilts his head, also sipping a bit on his glass, trying not to overdo it. “Why?”

Atsushi lets a sigh past his lips before getting on to the simple yet annoying explanation.

“He believes he should take on this fatherly role all because I don’t have one, and I always tell him like ‘hey, you’re two years older than me, you’re not my dad’ but that’s not enough for him to stop.” He puts the glass down, “So now I’m destined to be scolded by a 17 year old every time I do anything ‘too mature for my age’ as he says.”

Atsushi sits down but immediately resorts to laying when he hits the bed, feeling the room spin over his vision.

The silence is quite nice, the kind you see romantized in movies when teenagers decide to get drunk and have some ‘poetic’ leaning moment of eye-fucking, trying to make it seem like alcohol fixes everything, it’s a wonder how many teenagers have gotten stupidly drunk and admitted their love for one another,

But the big question is, does it ever end well?

“Jinko, why did you ask me out?”

Atsushi sure hopes it does.

Sometimes they’ll act as if it never happened, or admit it but blame it on the alcohol, he makes a silent promise to himself he won’t let that happen.

However, that is a very honest and too communicative of a question for Atsushi to completely believe it’s Akutagawa. But then again, he’s not one to beat around a topic and he is definitely also affected by the amount of alcohol in his blood flow at the moment, so this is not the time to be paranoid and wonder if it’s some sort of imposter asking him this question.

He ponders for a mere seconds, attempting to figure out whether he should answer truthfully or ruin all chances he has by saying it was a joke or it was just friendly or something that’s such a lie it’s pathetic.

Akutagawa lays down as well, having placed his glass on the floor, and now that he’s eye to eye with Atsushi the answer is very clear. His only option is being honest, because there’s no way he could be this close, looking this pretty, and Atsushi could have any sanity allowing him to lie.

“Because I like you.”

The answer doesn’t exactly catch Akutagawa off guard, because that’s quite an obvious answer to a question so simple, what’s shocking is how honest Atsushi is about it.

“Why?”

“You’re pretty.”

“Pft, that’s all?”

“I don’t feel threatened or scared even when you’re screaming at me.”

That single sentence might as well be a love confession when you understand Atsushi’s situation. Due to the way he was treated growing up in an orphanage, he reacts very strongly to screaming or even just slightly raised tones.

So, more or less he could’ve just said ‘I’m in love with you’ and it wouldn’t have had that much of a difference.

“I don’t mean to yell at you,” Akutagawa sighs, “I just don’t know how not to.”

Atsushi smiles a little, appreciating the honesty, “How come?”

They both look at one another, as if this was the million dollar question. “It frustrates me how I can’t think straight around you.” So he ends up lashing out, it’s a truth as clear as day. Sure, at the start it was nothing more than jealousy from him and Dazai’s relationship, but nowadays that has changed.

Atsushi is seconds from making a stupid pun based on the word ‘straight’ being relatively contradictory to the topic at hand, but instead his instincts take over and close the space between them.

It’s a sudden decision, one that he wasn’t sure on, if he has to be honest it probably didn’t even cross his mind for more than a single second before he jumped to action.

Akutagawa doesn’t mind though.

He’s making that very clear by pushing the shock away to kiss back immediately.

The highlights of Akutagawa and Chuuya’s night are very far from each other, and he could not be thinking about Chuuya less right now. He doesn’t even have any thought of Dazai in mind, which is the biggest surprise. One might think he would be asking himself ‘would Dazai approve?’ or ‘How would he feel about this?’ But it’s as if this single touch of lips is enough to make his head completely corrupted by Atsushi.

Not that it hasn't been for a long time now, but this is a different kind of corruption.

Prior to the kiss, what he felt was a head-aching, lousy and ear-drumming need, but that has changed in this very moment.

It’s the kind that consumes you whole, you sink for as long as the touch happens and it’s no longer a need, it’s a swallowing desperation.

In this second, Akutagawa might be desperate for Atsushi.

Part of him wishes to push him away, to act as if it never happened, as if they’ve never shared a word, because he’s truly terrified of how he might end up hurting him, but the way he’s crawling on top of him to have a better position is way too mindblowing for Akutagawa to care about any of all that.

His hands find their own way to his waist, squeezing a little too hard every time Atsushi makes the kiss deeper.

It’s clear that the boy kissing him is hesitant and scared, despite the desperation, so Akutagawa tries to find a way to calm him, letting his hands grab the face of the other, by kissing back almost more aggressive than him, but truth be told it’s very hard to think of strategic at the moment.

If he could choose a feeling, physical and mental alignment, this would be what he wants to feel for the rest of his life.

Him pulling away could be described as heaven getting ripped from the palm of your hands,

like when you’re handed a treat but it’s all for the sake of teasing.

It has to be a reward, and so it shall be.
“I’m sorry, how much did you drink?”

Atsushi asks, panic freezing over him.

Akutagawa smiles at him, that’s the second time this night. What the fuck is alcohol doing to his body?

Nothing, absolutely nothing. It’s all Atsushi. Every single last bit. The reason he’s smiling, the reason he’s kissing him, the fact that if his head wasn’t spinning before, it sure is now.

“Enough to be kissing you.” It’s meant to be a joke, but he quickly regrets it when Atsushi’s eyes widen as if that was the worst possible thing he could say. It might have been.

He makes an immediate attempt at getting up from the bed, trying to escape the situation, apologies flying out of his mouth as if begging for forgiveness. He almost mutters the words, ‘I promise I won’t-’ until Akutagawa grabs his face yet again.

He doesn’t feel scared that he just ruined it all, this is simply Atsushi overthinking and overanalyzing as usual, all it craves is an explanation and they’ll be fine. Not that he’s particularly good at that either, but once more, he promised himself that at the very least, today he’ll be good.

“You’re being wildly overdramatic, Jinko.” he says, towering slightly over the other. “I didn’t mean I haven’t been wanting to kiss you, it was merely a joke.”

Calling him overdramatic might not be the best approach, but it’s the truth, and give the guy a chance, he hasn’t liked anyone before.

They stare at each other for a while until Atsushi’s breath falters and his eyes aren’t pacing back and forth any longer.

Part of Akutagawa is praising himself right now for the communication he’s doing, a thing he’s never really mastered and probably never will, but apparently all it takes is Atsushi believing he finds him disgusting to make him completely calm-headed and talkative.

It’s a bit concerning, actually. Because every time he has put out a sign for disliking or hating the white haired boy, he didn’t feel remorse, he didn’t feel guilt or regret. But this? He will not tolerate Atsushi’s chronic overthinking to ruin what could possibly be an active making out situation.

Okay, that’s a bit insensitive, he’s not saying he doesn’t care, he would care if he was having an actual freakout or if he had a valid reason to be doing so, Akutagawa’s joke was stupid but by now the room is calm and safe again, so he honestly wishes they can go back to whatever was happening a few seconds prior.

“I’m just..” Atsushi finds it in him to look up, “Do you like me?”

Nevermind.

This sight is almost better than the feeling of his lips,
He’s saying that with more confidence than he ever has.

“That’s a stupid question.”

He tries to say it with a gentle tone, but he’s too focused on his thumb going back and forth on his cheek, revealing the prettiest tone of pink.

Part of him wants to kiss him, so bad.

The bigger part of him truly does, but he also knows he has to give a clear answer if this has to go well. So he musters the last bit of self restraint he has in him and speaks,

“Of course I do.”
____________________________________________

When the door is burst open as usual, it’s no secret who’s in the room.

It’s a problem, really. Someone could run into his room while he was sleeping to kill him, and despite waking up he’d simply assume it was Yosano. Yet she never really learns what knocking means.

There was one time when they were a few years younger where she was scared off after opening without a care in the world and getting met with Chuuya and his hands in his pants, she knocked for some weeks after that but the change died down quickly.

“Hey Sano.” Chuuya forces himself to sit up despite the headache thumping his head into oblivion.

She doesn’t answer, doesn’t even spare him a look.

She paces around the room, opening any drawer she can find and looking through it as if she was doing a cop chase, trying to find drugs or something alike. “Do you have ibuprofen? My head is fucking killing me.”

Well, great to see she has her priorities set straight.

“Yeah I’m great, thanks for asking. Hey, why the fuck was Dazai in my bed this morning?”

She immediately looks at him, squinting her eyes in confusion while popping open the pill she managed to find, “Hold on.”

She makes her way to the bathroom, obtaining water to swallow down the painkiller. Her pace is fast enough that someone who has had any amount of alcohol could surely believe she was in double speed.

When she comes back, Chuuya is still staring with a question mark on his face, but hers is significantly bigger. Her arms slowly makes gestures, as if the confusion is leaving her speechless and she’s attempting to communicate through whatever the fuck this is.

It’s not particularly working.

“Osamu. Dazai Osamu, was in your bed?”

“I’m as lost as you are.”

She stands still, going over last night's events, acting like some sort of detective figuring out a murder case. Does Yosano somehow become more stupid when hungover? One might think.

She isn’t one to go to parties ‘often’, she isn’t one to turn down a party either though. So this is a situation that has happened countless of times, ‘Do you remember if I kissed that guy?’ ‘Did I ask for her number?’She always has hope of doing what Chuuya does and more or less whore around, but she ends up spending most parties drinking with Ranpo.

Which she never regrets, by the way.

Going back to last night, she of course once again did that, so she isn’t the best witness to ask for information.

She remembered the part where Dazai took Chuuya home, so she tries to make her way through the night from that point, she only obtains small patches here and there so the better question would be, “Do you remember anything from last night?”

He sighs, knowing this question was coming, he’s been attempting to remember since he woke up again but to no avail.

“I remember making out with a girl.. and I think maybe I had a smoke with him but it’s a complete blur after that.” He answers truthfully.

The theory and wonder is painted all over Yosano’s face, so Chuuya immediately defends himself, “He told me nothing happened, well he told me in a really screwed up way but he said something along the lines of ‘I was just making sure you didn’t kill yourself’ but why in God’s name would I be killing myself? What the fuck could’ve happened?”

Yosano sighs as she sits down on the bed Chuuya has buried himself in, “Best ask him then. He seems to remember.”

“He doesn’t drink, of course he remembers.”

Today might be more of a headache than whatever happened yesterday was.
__________________________________________

Akutagawa spends his first minutes of his morning screaming internally, while somehow still holding on to his usual stoic face.

He stares into nothing when he gets out of bed, when he gets breakfast, when he showers to wash off the horrible alcohol-sweat, and when everything in his world is filled with Atsushi.

It’s absolutely fucking torture.

Admitting that he has feelings for Atsushi has not been easy.

There was first the stage of self acceptance, which happened the night he asked him to the party, he can count on one hand the hours of sleep he got that night. Then, he had to admit it to Atsushi, which means it’s officially a real thing, that’s out in the open, and no one ever tells you how tormenting that is.

You’ve ever seen those movies where teenage girls worry way too much about their ‘crush’ and what they think about them, and it’s always the stupidest thing in the world? Well, news flash, that’s real.

It’s as real as the sky is blue, or the grass green, because Akutagawa is - god forbid - styling his hair.

With real stuff too, gel, powder, anything he has available in his drawer. When he first put it in his hair he acted as if it was simply because he felt like it, but when the questions of ‘would he hate or love this’ kept coming like a parasite invading his brain, he chose it was for the better to stop denying it.

He’s never been one to truly care about appearance, he cared about looking ‘professional’ whenever Dazai was around, but only now he feels a genuine need to be visually appealing, all for a boy who already likes him.

His eyes glance at his phone when it vibrates, he tries to ignore the part where he wishes it’s Atsushi the second he sees it isn’t.

The phone light’s up;
Sano: Do u remember anything from last night??

Oh, he does.

He does not remember whatever they may be talking about, because he drowned himself in mountains of alcohol after the kiss, a ‘celebration’ of sorts, but everything before that is far from his brain.

But, in all truth, he doesn’t care about much else that could’ve happened.

He sighs as he makes his way into his bedroom again, attempting to find clothes as fast as possible to go find out what they’re talking about before having to face Atsushi again.
________________________________________

Dazai’s head has officially been messed with.

He never thought his brain would wrangle into anything else but a constant need for attention, he doubted if even that would ever leave him, which of course it wouldn’t. It’s a spirit, following and haunting him worse than the death of his older brother did.

He used to think about Chuuya a lot -somewhat- on the daily.

He would pop into his mind, saying something stupid or maybe just screaming as he usually does.

Maybe that’s stereotypical, though. Chuuya is an angry person, that’s a fact one can’t deny, but he’s not as negative as Dazai makes him seem. He can be calm, happy even, and in very few situations he can manage to be ever so slightly cute.

So yes, Dazai thinks about him a lot.

But something has changed, he doesn’t know what it is, and he would prefer to simply ignore it. Leaving it alone is definitely the better option, in every logical sense to grace earth, he should never feel anything more than attention-sickness when it gets to Chuuya.

And It’s not something big, it’s not as if he’s fallen in love, nor is he romantically interested in him, but it’s something undeniably bigger than it was before.

How does he know?

Dazai is worried.

Not in the groundbreaking way where he’s running to Chuuya’s room, or where he dares call him to ask how he’s feeling, but in the way that if he was in front of him right now he’d make a silent attempt at making sure the other is somewhat okay, and that’s not exactly something he’s experienced before.

He’d check if he had hurt himself, or he’d make a joke and ask if he continued throwing up, anything that can answer his question if he's okay.

It’s never, truly never, been worry.

It’s always been curiosity, an ability to make fun of him, a new fact about his favorite pastime hobby. Chuuya in his head has always been a form of object, something he could use to make himself feel better, but right now? He truly wishes to know how he’s doing.

He doesn’t know how he’ll react when he finds out though, will he feel relieved, perhaps even something so extreme as somewhat glad to know he’s doing okay?

And if he’s not?

Will he be sad, disappointed?

Or will he truly still not care?

Maybe that’s what he needs to do; he needs to figure out how Chuuya is doing, and his reaction will help determine whatever the fuck is going on inside that head of his, because he truly doesn’t know himself.

“Watcha thinkin’ about?” Atsushi asks, raiding their fridge as if it was his own.

“Mmm, yesterday, mostly.” He answers, letting a sigh escape him, it sounds awfully close to a groan of frustration which it might as well be, due to the current situation.

Kunikida gives him a look, it’s rather judgemental because he still hasn’t gotten an explanation of what happened the prior night. He isn’t planning on getting to that, it’s too much for his head at the moment and he doesn’t want to explain why he slept in the same bed as him, holding his hand so he wouldn’t attempt to break skin surface on himself.

To be completely honest, Dazai has had this fantasy.

Not one he’s been particularly seeking out, or attempting to make happen, but something that has either kept him awake or helped him fall asleep; He has wished for a long time to get a real watch on Chuuya’s body.

More specifically, his wounds.

Some nights he’s considered walking into his room uninvited, not caring to knock, hoping to get a glimpse of him tearing his flesh apart.

The day where Chuuya walked into class, limping, it was as if part of that fantasy got fed, which is why he couldn’t hold back on being a relatively bigger douche than usual. Not that he regrets it, not one bit. He doesn’t regret a singular interaction he’s ever had with him, not the ones where he hurt him, not the ones where he didn’t.

They all mattered in their own way, whether it was for better or for worse.

He can’t tell why he wanted to see his skin break apart so badly, why he felt so fascinated by Chuuya’s flesh himself, but it started a lot of unfortunate situations for him. Like how, when he was 15, he tried to open his own thigh up with a box cutter and stared at the flesh for hours, hoping he would get an answer, but it never got resolved.

It’s not like Dazai hadn’t cut himself before, he was never addicted, nor was it exactly a ‘coping mechanism’ but more something coming from curiosity, but when Chuuya came around, the way his brain worked changed completely.

So, when yesterday, he had to help Chuuya take his pants off, he thinks he might’ve been blessed.
_______________________________________
THE NIGHT PRIOR.

Chuuya can breathe normally again, which gives Dazai some hope he can get to leave this room soon.

It stinks of sweat, alcohol and sickness.

Smells he can only associate back to a specific person.

Odasaku liked to pretend he didn’t have a problem, that everyone drinks every once in a while and he’d even a very few times in the early stages of this time period invite Dazai to drink. When he got worse though, he’d forbid him from consuming any toxic stuff, drugs and nicotine included.

He goes back to trying to distract Chuuya away from this major outburst, also using it to distract himself, because his eyes are getting heavy and his head fussy. “How come you hate me so much?”

Everyone knows Chuuya despises Dazai to his core, of course he would. But Dazai himself can’t exactly pinpoint why. Surely he knows he’s an asshole, and that he does annoying things from Chuuya’s perspective, but it’s a question he’d enjoy a clear answer to.

Beneath him comes breathing, the focused kind. He’s calming down, trying to answer the question.

Is Dazai taking advantage of the fact Chuuya is on mixed drugs and alcohol at the moment? Perhaps. But he’d never care enough to answer any other day other than just screaming some quick half-assed reply in his face.

“I don’t.”

…

“But I want to. So badly.”

That answer absolutely takes Dazai off guard, he had not expected a truth as harsh as that one, but he allows Chuuya to continue.

“You make me sick, Osamu.” He breathes in, “But sometimes, I don’t mind being ill for just a little.”

If Dazai had a brain as small as Chuuya, he would’ve probably believed he was speaking literally as in some sort of ‘your face makes me nauseous’ or ‘I dislike you so much it makes me sick’ but of course, that’s not it.

It might be part of it, sure, but context given, Dazai has to act as if Chuuya didn’t somehow just admit he has feelings for him.

He will never, truly never, tell him this.

“Mm. You would feel a lot more sick if you were to remember this.” He grins, pinching his bridge in frustration.

This situation is rather unfortunate.

Chuuya on the other hand seems to be dozing off, which is good. He’s probably exhausted from having cried and screamed for a good hour by now, but it is annoying he has to fall asleep in Dazai’s lap of all places.

He sighs as he picks him up, and quite literally carries him to bed.

He looks at the uncomfortable tight clothes he’s wearing and decides to be a decent human for tonight, so after gently placing what he refers to as ‘the big baby’ in bed, he walks toward the closet in search of more comfortable clothes.

It doesn’t necessarily look as if there’s any pajama pants or even sweats when he just looks in, he’s sure there is but he’s not gonna go the length to find them. He is lucky enough to find an oversized t-shirt though, which is what he decides to go with.

So now, he stands with the challenge of having to undress Chuuya.

And also hope he doesn’t wake up and accuse him of being a pervert.

He starts with the shoes, which is easier to get off than one would think, considering the knee high converse, then the shorts and tights.

When pulling off the see-through black thin fabric, he’s met with his very own fantasy.

Good god, maybe he is a pervert.

He’s never had a sexual interest in Chuuya, not that he’s had a romantic one but it’s not that he’s staring at Chuuya’s body and he feels turned on or anything along. He does wonder if he could actually enjoy him in a sexual sense in a different situation, like one where he isn’t drugged up and unconscious, Dazai might be a horrible person but not to this degree.

The wounds on Chuuya’s thigh are slowly closing up, scabbing already. It’s slightly disappointing, Dazai would surely enjoy the view of a new fleshy, bloody and open wound, but this is enough.

He has scars all over his legs, it’s surprising they were not visible through the thin lace he wore, all consideration taken.

Their purple color might be the best part, they match his skin tone so perfectly.

He looks beautiful.

One might even say perfect in this case, at least Dazai probably would. But he decides that right now is not the time for this, it’s perverted.

He quickly manages to change the shirts on Chuuya, leaving him in just boxers and a t-shirt too big for him. He pulls the covers over him, hoping the heat will help keep him asleep for the night. But of course, fate has it these two must be forced to stay together in this very moment; because Chuuya’s hand reaches out and weakingly grabs the hem of Dazai’s shirt. As cliche as it is, when he manages to mumble the one word, ‘stay’, Dazai does not resist.
________________________________________________________

Chuuya hesitates knocking on the door in front of him. Staring at the name ‘Osamu’, ignoring the one below.

He doesn’t really feel like talking to Dazai at the moment, but something is telling him more went on yesterday than he remembers, and it’s for the better to just find out already.

Yosano allows him less than a minute before she takes the task in her own hands, knocking too aggressively, too loudly. But surely it’ll get the insiders attention, so who’s to care?

She’s also more friendly with them since she’s actually their friend rather than an awkward situationship and a childhood nemesis.

Akutagawa in the meantime is standing, only caring about the fact Atsushi is also behind the door they might be entering. He knows this solely because Atsushi sent him a ‘goodmorning’ text 20 minutes ago but there’s no music coming from his room, making it rather likely he’s at Dazai’s.

He does wonder what he and Atsushi are now, if anything is truly different or if this is just how they’re meant to be.

“Come in!” Kunikida yells from inside.

Two of them are hesitant, but Yosano is quick to open the door, revealing any barrier between everyone.

Chuuya and Akutagawa follow behind rather awkwardly, both staring at the person they spent time with yesterday.

He doesn’t want to see nor talk to Dazai, but he has to, so he gets it over with immediately.

“Can we talk?” Chuuya asks, trying to ignore the way Dazai’s eyes take a full-body check on him. He doesn’t expect him to say no, knowing Dazai doesn’t pass down an opportunity to annoy Chuuya in the slightest, “Sure.” He gets up, “Akutagawa, why don’t you take Atsushi to your room?” He smiles.

Akutagawa is quick to follow command,

“Mm. Jinko, you coming?” He says, trying not to spare Dazai a glance, Atsushi immediately nods and follows along. They walk out, both their hands tightening as they don’t grab the others, after all they are truly still just 15 year old boys.

Dazaiis towering slightly over Chuuya again, something they’ve gotten used to.

“Alone or do you need eye witnesses?” He asks, looking at the two other people in the room, hoping they can do this in private, “Follow me to my room.” Chuuya instantly says, walking out the room, simply expecting him to come along, which fair to be, he does.

------

Chuuya keeps standing up when they walk into the room, not daring to sit down, while somehow Dazai chooses this is enough home for him to be comfortable sitting in Chuuya’s bed.

It’s not a sight he enjoys, far from.

“Get up.”

“Why? I’ve already slept in it.” He shrugs, what a genuine asshole.

Chuuya grits his teeth, already being way too annoyed to deal with this whole conversation.

The worst part is there’s no guarantee Dazai will actually admit to anything, let alone explain what happened. Meaning, Chuuya might be actively torturing himself for nothing at this very moment, but he has slight hope Dazai has enough respect for him to explain why he slept in his goddamn bed.

He has to ask, because surely there’s no way Dazai will just start talking without being pressured just a little into it, unless maybe if he begged, Chuuya’s sure he would love to see that.

“Why did you-”

“How are your wounds doing?” He quickly gets interrupted.

…

“What wounds?”

“Your legs.” He says, face stoic and voice in monotone, as if he doesn’t care one bit.

Right. Okay, so he saw Chuuya’s thighs once because he chose to do the God forsaken act of undressing him. Obviously he knows it wasn’t perverted, and he hasn’t really cared about the fact he definitely saw his scars because he’s already made it very clear he’s aware of them.

But despite that, it is very surprising he dare bring it up.

“Since when do you care?” He asks, snarky as possible.

Dazai shrugs once more, leaning back on his arms and never breaking eye contact. “Be careful not to get infections.” Is all he says, not caring to answer the original question, so Chuuya decides to leave the matter alone for now.

“Can you just please explain what happened yesterday?”

‘The part where you got drugged or the part where you basically confessed your love to me?’ Dazai thinks, but he promised himself to not tell Chuuya about that part, ever.

He wishes he could ask, though.

Is it love? ‘Are you in love with me?’ or is it just fascination, perhaps slight interest?

But he can't'.

So he thinks on what to tell him, it’s definitely better to cut it into smaller pieces so he won’t have another outburst, “Well, you got hard while staring at m-” “Okay, after we smoked, thanks.”

Silence hits them both for a small amount of time, this conversation is starting to get uncomfortable.

Chuuya can immediately sense that whatever happened was not good, and maybe it is for the better if he doesn’t know. But now he’s already digged himself into the hole, and he’ll actually go insane if he doesn’t figure out why the fuck Dazai was in his bed.

“Okay. I’ll tell you, if you promise not to freak out, deal?”

“Deal.”

…

“After we smoked,” He starts, “You went down. I stayed for a few minutes and..” He takes a breath in, trying to put on a small pretend to not just dump it all on him at once. “Nikolai was forcing you to do a line of coke. It’s not a big deal for most but most people knoww your whole thing with drugs so obviously it was bad or whatever.” Chuuya is almost about to interrupt when he continues,

“Yosano and Akutagawa were trying to get to you but they were drunk to the rim so I took you home. Then you had a major freak out, tried to cut yourself, then fell asleep.”

Chuuya simply stares for a few seconds, trying to go over the story in his head, attempting to remember anything but it’s all a blur. “That doesn’t explain why you were in my bed.”

Dazai sighs, “I was gonna leave, but you asked me to stay so I did.”

“Ew.”

“Well, there you have it.”

Indeed, that is a lot to take in.

He’s right when he says drugs aren’t a big deal for most people, but because of Chuuya’s past with his parents he’s always refused to take anything other than alcohol and occasional weed because he doesn’t wish to become like them, hence the freak out from yesterday.

He finds it hard to believe he was pushed into doing drugs, usually he would never let such a thing slide, but if he was already intoxicated it makes enough sense for him not to doubt the truth.

“..Anything else?”

Dazai almost does it, he wants to.

He wants to use this as another form of torment and humiliation.

But he cannot.

He would if his brain hadn’t turned on him, if he didn’t suddenly feel differently about Chuuya than he did 2 days ago, even if it’s such a small change it’s enough for him not to use this specific thing to make fun of him; because if he does, he might for real lose him.

He can’t lose him, he knows that, because he’s not his. He’s not his object, or his possession, or anything of the sort.

But he can’t risk his attention-needing self to have Chuuya distance himself. That’s even worse than humiliation, truly.

So he stays quiet.

He shakes his head, and Chuuya sighs in slight relief, and that’s that.

Chuuya can never know that Dazai knows.

Chapter Text

Akutagawa wishes all the way from the roots of his flesh and bones he did not have to be communicative, in all truthness he would rather just sit down and make out with Atsushi than anything else at the moment.

An act he feels somewhat secure in that Atsushi would want the same, but he cannot do so because they need to talk and figure out what in the world is going on.

Is anything going on at all?

They kissed, that’s one thing. But admitting to liking one another puts them in a whole different position than if they had just drunkenly been making out. They did both, but one sure has more in depth meaning than the other.

He doesn’t know if he’s grateful or regretful it happened while both of them were drunk, it gives him the opportunity to blame it on the alcohol, to run and never look back.

Yet it also causes the situation to be more fragile, if he tells him he meant it, there could still be doubt left behind due to the single drop of intoxication.

“Do you remember last night?”

Is the first thing Atsushi asks.

He asks while holding his own arm, his thumb going back and forth as if to soothe himself because clearly he does not feel as secure in this whole situation as Akutagawa does.

Which is quite fair.

It’s very obvious that Atsushi likes Akutagawa, it’s a fact one wouldn’t even need eyes to witness, but the other way around might not be completely reciprocated.

Well, no. If you know him on the level Chuuya and Yosano does, it might be obvious, or if you’re as intelligent as Dazai and Ranpo it’s definitely not even close to being a secret.

But Atsushi is both insecure and relatively stupid, so it’s idiotic to expect him to just know and feel safe in all of this.

He exhales before sitting down, almost ready to answer the question immediately.

If he did not want Atsushi, if he genuinely believed all of this to be a mistake, this would be his chance. He would tell him ‘no’ and put on a make-believe that last night never happened, even if it were to break his heart.

But he does want Atsushi.

So bad it almost makes him shriek in fear, but there’s no time for that, because said boy he’s ever so in love with is looking a bit too anxious for his liking.

“Of course I do, Jinko.”

He answers truthfully.

…

“Okay.”

…

…

Okay?

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Who answers ‘hey I like you’ with ‘okay’?

That’s neither rejection nor accepting, so what could..

Akutagawa quickly realizes he is now in a position where he has to communicate on an even higher level, he has to take the lead and not just follow whatever Atsushi does, and that might be the final call.

Atsushi is forcing him to do this.

To prove himself.

Now he’s truly considering simply saying it was fun and then leave it at that, or maybe he should lash out yet again to make sure Atsushi does not want him anymore, because this is a lot scarier than he had ever expected.

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying not to pay attention to the hope mixed with anxiety lingering in the other’s eye.

“What.. is it that you want from this?” He asks, hoping he won’t have to elaborate.

Atsushi may be dumb, but stupid is he not.

“I don’t know. I just don’t wanna act like nothing happened.”

A fair request, one they can both agree upon. Akutagawa nods at him, signalling he feels the same way despite not being able to completely explain what’s going on in his head.

He moves closer to him, using all the restraint in his body and soul to not kiss him and ignore his horrid communication skills; he uses the thought of Chuuya to make himself feel better about that though.

“I can’t court you.”

Atsushi stares at him for a moment, “You’re pretending as if I’m asking for your hand in marriage.” He smiles, “Who the fuck uses the word court nowadays?”

Akutagawa rolls his eyes, face still as he ignores Atsushi laughing in front of him, the warm breath somehow still soothing him.

“Jinko-”

“I don’t need a relationship.. yet, at least.”

“I don’t know if I can ever give you one.”

It’s clear he’s saying it with doubt, mostly directed at himself rather than them in general. It’s not that he doesn’t have confidence in their -not- relationship, but more that he has not a shred of confidence in himself.

“We’ll figure that out later. How about we go on an actual date?”

A date.

A fucking date.

If you asked Akutagawa what his opinion on dates were before he fell in love with Atsushi, he would describe them as how Chuuya describes Dazai. ‘Something of the devil’s work’ or ‘I would rather puke than-’ anything related to the subject.

Now? A date sounds like a solution he doesn’t hate the idea of.

“Mm, does that mean I can’t kiss you before three dates or do I get a pass?”

Jesus, where’d that confidence come from?

Atsushi smiles at it though, like a teenage girl being flirted with for the first time ever and she’s unsure on how to react to such words, yet he sure has an idea on what to do because it doesn’t take him more than five seconds before his hands are touching the soft fabric loosely placed on Akutagawa’s hips.

“A pass doesn’t sound too stupid.”
________________________________________________________

“Can you leave me the fuck alone?” Chuuya asks, as agitated as ever.

Dazai smiles, just happy to be getting the attention both he and his dick aches for every single day.

He’s become aware of his masochism as of recently.

He enjoys any attention he can get out of Chuuya, even the kind where he’s quiet but makes it obvious he’s aware of his presence.

It’s not the best kind, obviously. But Chuuya ignoring Dazai is also a sign he is somehow paying attention to the fact he exists and is present.

But when he gets really angry?

Now that does something to Dazai.

He’s never actually gotten hard from it, he’s been close for sure though. When he gets graphic and explicit in his description of how much he hates him, of how much he would love to break his skull or stake his heart, it’s like vocal pornography.

A simple ‘I hate you’ could probably make his dick twitch.

“Your day would be so silent and boring without me.” He tilts his head on his hand.

Today, he has gone over a specific line in their relationship.

Dazai sat at Chuuya’s table at lunch.
Beside him.

Alone.

Safe to say, Akutagawa and Yosano took that as their opportunity to sit by their second-favorite table, leaving Chuuya harshfully aware of the fact that all of the people swarming Dazai’s table are most definitely talking about them.

“My day would be peaceful. God knows how long it’s been since I’ve had the blessing of a day without you, Osamu.” He replies, trying not to spare him a glance.

Dazai is however, extremely quick, and extremely good at turning Chuuya’s words around.

“Are you saying I’m a curse made specifically for you?”

___

Chuuya might kill himself if he has to listen to another flirty comment out of that shit-filled mouth.

And yet, he can’t stop engaging in it.

If he really wanted, he could stand up and leave.

Or he could just not answer, so many opportunities to stop this interaction and yet somehow he is still here, answering every comment.

“I’m almost convinced you’re the devil himself, rather than something as simple as a curse.” He replies, taking a bite from the apple in his hand.

Rather ironic due to the topic at hand, it’s a pretty clear representative view of how Dazai is just a constant temptation and Chuuya is always too quick to grab it.

When Dazai sat down beside him, he knew today was gonna be one to endure and get through with self-restraint.

Every day he has to resist strangling the guy that’s been after him for years.

He would, for sure.

“Do you still feel ill?” He suddenly asks, and the ever so tiny, almost unnoticeable care in his voice is enough to change the atmosphere surrounding the table.

Chuuya obviously goes over the question, trying to figure out first if it’s a trap or genuine worry, yet somehow it seems to lean more to the latter despite his knowledge that that’s far from possible.

Answering is dangerous, and lying would be the best option if Dazai couldn’t see right through him.

“A little. Haven’t been throwing up though so.. I should be fine.” He sighs, hoping that’s the end of this conversation.

“And your legs?” But of course it isn’t.

Is this some sort of fetish?

Why is Dazai so fucking obsessed with trying to get information on his cuts?

Obviously Chuuya doesn’t consider the option of Dazai simply caring, perhaps because it’s never that simple.

Even if it comes from a question of care or worry, there’ll always be something more when it comes to him.

“They’re fine.”

“Are you?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Just asking.” He shrugs in defense.

“You’re never ‘just asking’, I’m tired of you.” He whispers, mostly to himself.

Dazai keeps looking like there’s something he wants to say, a secret he knows or an insult he wants to fire his way, but he’s resisting for whatever reason.

If Chuuya was to say how badly he wishes to end Dazai’s life at his hands, he’s already too aware of what the answer would be.

Because his eyes tell it, as if it was the only truth to ever be told.

‘I would let you carve my flesh open, and I would let you consume me until I can no longer feel anything but the pain that you cause me.’
_______________________________________________

Yosano takes a second-too-long drag of her cigarette as Chuuya explains the conversation he had with Dazai earlier that same day.

“So what you’re saying is, he totally wants you.” She says, exhaling the smoke from her lungs.

“Okay, no. I’m saying he’s being fucking weird.”

“Because he’s into you.”

“Because he’s Dazai!” He almost yells, arguing against the point Yosano is trying to make.

They’re lucky no one else wanders the garden part of campus at these hours, else almost all of their secrets and contents of shit-talk they do would be getting them thrown out at this rate.

He reaches out, asking for a cigarette as well, hoping it’ll calm his nerves of this.. kind of caring and way too flirty Dazai he has to deal with.

“Okay, fine, let’s say that. But can we at least discuss what would happen if he actually liked you?” Yosano asks, reaching for her packet.

Chuuya rustles in his pockets to grab a hold of his lighter as he goes over her question, “Dazai doesn’t ‘like’ people. I can’t imagine his tolerance would ever reach a romantic interest for anyone, and he doesn’t even tolerate me, so in what world would that be the case?”

He makes a fair point, truly.

Dazai does indeed not like people, he at the most tolerates them, so making the assumption he can have any sort of romantic interest is absurd.

“Mm, sexual interest then?”

…

Yosano too, makes a fair point.

This is more likely, one can easily have sexual interest in someone despite hating them, actually a lot of the time that’ll be the sole cause of the interest.

“That would be a sin.”

“One you’d be happy to commit.”

 

Chuuya almost takes offense to the joke, he would if it wasn’t so true.

“Would you have sex with him?” She finally asks, as if it’s a question she’s been holding in for ages.

He ponders for less than a second before he has to answer, “You’re asking me if I’d risk burning for eternity, for the sole purpose of touching him?”

“For feeling him.”

He wants to say no, more than anything.

He wishes so badly that a shake on the head would be enough, a truth.

But it’s just not.

He takes a drag, inhaling smoke, as if it was a foretaste of hell. He feels it all the way to his lungs, letting it overtake him for just a second. “Yeah. I would.”

Yosano is quiet for a while, inhaling and exhaling the toxic smoke, waiting to ask the second question. “Do you want to?” She asks, her lungs feeling relief.

Chuuya has to take a deep breath in order not to tremble, she’s unpacking him layer by layer with no remorse.

He looks at her, revealing too much with just his eyes, “So badly.”
_______________________________

 

Next morning, Dazai and Kunikida wait in their room, slowly coming to the realization they’ve started depending on Atsushi to be their form of entertainment.

The whole day has been cancelled due to all of the teachers having to do some big sort of appointment no one really cares about, so all the students have been left with a free day.

“Is he gonna leave us now because he has a boyfriend?” Kunikida sighs, pinching his bridge.

“They’re not boyfriends. I think.” Dazai answers uncertainty.

They sit in silence, trying to figure out what they used to do before they met Atsushi, but when they both realize all they did was either fight or drain the fuck out of one another, they sigh simultaneously.

Atsushi is not even that entertaining, that’s what’s most embarrassing about all of this.

Are they really this boring?

All that kid does is talk for hours on end and usually they even wish he would stop but right now it would be more than appreciated.

“How did we even become friends?” Dazai groans, finally standing up and making his way to the cabinet.

Kunikida doesn’t answer because at this very moment he’s wondering the same exact thing.

In the meantime of the awkward silence, a subject change is an immediate need.

“How’s it going with your plaything?” Kunikida asks sarcastically, also getting up now, helping Dazai reach whatever he’s searching for by the cabinet.

He ponders for a second, thinking over how it is going. Because it’s one or the other, either Chuuya is coming around and will potentially soon have some sort of interest in Dazai, or he is a single snarky comment, a few flirty sentences or perhaps just a glare away from them never speaking to each other again.

At this point though, Dazai believes even Chuuya ignoring him would turn him on.

The mere thought of his hateful eyes, of his threats, his scars.. it’s enough for Dazai to truthfully say he would go to extreme lengths to experience them in a more.. sexual manner.

Not particularly sex, no.

But something intimate, dirty and frankly quite disturbing.

If he had to explain his desires in detail he’s not sure of how that would end, because seeing Chuuya’s scars has made him spiral. He has had an even more intense urge than usual, to harm Chuuya, or be harmed.

“Not sure.” Is all he can muster of an answer, but to his luck the attention instantly gets drawn to the door opening and both of the presences in the room let out a relieved sigh.

“Atsushi.” Dazai says, welcoming him in, trying to make it seem less excited than it is.

“Sorry I’m late! I’ve been a little busy.” He smiles awkwardly, a hand going back and forth on his neck.

Kunikida stares at him for less than a second, “Yeah the purple marks on your neck tells me that, you didn’t have to.” He clearly looks proud of his comment but quickly goes on to the question at hand, “So, are you dating?”

Atsushi just walked in, ready to eat some lunch and yet here he is, already being questioned as he has committed a crime.

He shrugs, crossing his arms as he makes his way to the fridge, finding an already pre-made lunch.

“No. But.. yes? I think we’re.. what’s the word, exclusive?” He explains, “I slept in his bed. With him. And I mean we talked and he confirmed he likes me but you know him, he’s weird and also terrible at communicating so it took a while to get to that point but.. no we’re not dating.”

Dazai turns around, “Could’ve just said no.” He shrugs, Atsushi is quick to flip him off and start eating his food.

These three over the years have simply gotten so used to one another that one might describe them as brothers at this rate.

“What’s everyone’s plan for today?” He asks, sitting down by the table.

Kunikida sits down beside him as his eyes keep following the pacing Dazai, unable to sit still, ever.

“I’m going to Ranpo’s today, you can come along if you want to.” He answers,
“Gonna see how many of Chuuya’s nerves I can get on.” Dazai follows along.

Atsushi takes a bite of his food, “Wow, seems interesting. I’d love to come Kunikida, I haven’t seen him since the party.” He smiles, excited to see his friend once again.
_______________________________________

Chuuya lays in bed, going over his options on what to do today.

Akutagawa and Yosano are an option, but honestly he’s too exhausted to be social, yet somehow also too bored to sit around and do nothing.

The boredom immediately forces his mind on other things.

As it always does.

That’s what addiction does to you, it’s not always a constant thing, for some people a distraction is all they need to stay off for a while but the second they’re left alone with their own thoughts, it’s the first solution.

He hasn’t cut since Yosano caught him, mostly due to distractions. So laying here, his room silent and empty, is causing an extreme urge to slit up his flesh.

When he started he of course had his reasons, such as stress relief or punishment, and those two are still active reasons he has but in the recent year he has had way too many sessions be blamed onto boredom.

He finds it quite embarrassing, really.

Who the fuck cuts out of boredom?

Him, clearly. And it might just be the reason for today.

However, both to his luck and not, his phone starts vibrating, spelling out ‘Mom’ in big white letters.

As he picks up his phone and his heart skips a beat at the text, a sigh leaves his mouth and his hand runs over his face. He would let it ring and ignore her for weeks if that wasn’t the kind of act that would actually make her grab her keys and drive all the way up to campus.

He taps the green button ‘accept’ and brings the phone to his ear, his voice instantly becoming higher and more pretendable.

“Hey, mom.”

‘Chuuya, dear. What are you up to?” She asks, putting on that performative mother voice.

He’s very used to it, it’s mostly there when other people are around or when he’s been gone for a while.

If he still lived at home, she wouldn’t be acting like this unless there were witnesses, but due to his absence she must feel some kind of guilt or, maybe not that, but something that causes her to behave like a normal mother for just a minute.

He rolls over and stands up, walking back and forth in his room as he answers, “We got a day off, so not really anything.”

His answer is enough for him to know he already screwed up, if there’s one thing his parents hate, it’s unproductivity.

A sigh so small it’s almost unnoticeable is catched over the phone, ‘You should do some studying then, honey.’

She always does this, she sounds so disappointed over things that don't matter. So what if he has a single day of relaxation? She doesn’t know he was pushed into taking a line of coke and almost hurt himself in front of the very person he hates just a mere 2 days ago.

Or how he’s been pacing back and forth trying to figure out if he really does hate him.

Or how he was just about to cut himself 40 seconds ago.

She doesn’t know shit, and somehow she still has the audacity to act like this.

“Yeah, I will, mom. Why did you call?”

‘Right, I just wanted to check on my son of course, and ask when you’re planning to come home again?’

Well, preferably never, but sadly he can’t answer that.

“Oh I don’t know mom, I’ll check my calendar and text you okay?”

‘Sure honey. How have you been eating lately?’

He sighs, “Fine.”

She’s quiet for a bit, ‘What does that mean?’

That she’s forever fucked up his eating habits and now he can’t eat like a normal person without being afraid of a beating.

“I eat a small lunch and dinner, mom. I’m not snacking or anything.”

‘That’s good, Chuuya. Wouldn’t want you to gain anymore now would we?’ She laughs over the line, as if this is all just some big joke to her.

As if multiple doctors telling him he wasn’t eating enough, that he was too skinny or that he’d have issues with growing if he kept it up was all just a little setback. While they all sat and thought he was at fault, that he was starving himself.

He sits down, already drained from the conversation. “No. I’ve gotta go now, have to study with some friends.”

‘Of course. Have a nice day and remember to text me’

“I will.” He hangs up, quickly rushing to his drawer.

It’s impossible for her to have a singular normal conversation, isn’t it?

Even when he comes home, he’s lucky if he can manage to have one dinner without one of them lashing out on him, getting mad over something that probably barely happened.

However when he opens his drawer, he’s met with not just disappointment, but terror.

His blade is gone.

He knows he has some back ups somewhere, but the problem is that it shouldn’t be able to just disappear like that, he always puts it back. He moves a few things around, hoping maybe it’s just hidden beneath something, but no.

Where the fuck could a blade just go?

Accidentally leaving it on a surface or the bathroom is likely, maybe not so much for him but enough for him to have hope there’s a chance.

Yet, still nothing.

It’s safe to say Chuuya is now, (more) or less panicking. Searching his bed, cabinet, table, anywhere he could’ve possibly left the blade but it’s nowhere to be found.

To Dazai’s misfortune, this is what he walks in on.

When the door opens and Dazai is quick to throw out a ‘Chuuyaaa’ before noticing the heavy breaths and constant movement, the room stops for a second.

The silence is rather awkward because Chuuya at the moment looks like a drug addict in extreme withdrawal, eyes watery, heavy breathing and frantic searching.

Dazai assumes it could be some sort of after-effect on the coke but he had told him earlier that he was feeling fine, and this seems like a big jump from that if nothing had happened.

“Have you ever heard of knocking, bastard?” Chuuya asks, hunched over a pile of clothing in the corner of his room, not even sparing Dazai a glance.

Dazai takes a few more steps into the room, welcoming himself in once more, trying to catch a glimpse of what must be going on, “I did, but you didn’t reply so I thought I’d just take a chance. Seems I caught you in a rather.. unfortunate state?”

“You could say that.”

“What are you looking for?”

When Dazai asks this, sounding not as confused as what he’s saying would make it seem like, Chuuya finally looks at him. “Do you have it?”

The chance of Dazai having it is surprisingly big, because he slept in his room, giving him an opportunity to take anything while the other was unconscious, and he did tell Chuuya he was attempting to hurt himself in front of him, so maybe he did it to torment him more.

To steal his only coping mechanism and leave him absolutely insane.

Dazai tilts his head, a small smile approaching his lips, “Do I have what, Chuuya?”

He rushes to his feet, basically sprinting across the room.

The impact of him grabbing Dazai’s shirt combined with his fast movement causes both of them to crash against the wall, though they spend no time caring about that due to how close they are and how angry Chuuya seems to be.

“Did you take my fucking blade?”

Dazai smiles, “Ah, that’s what this is about.”

Chuuya clenches his fists around the shirt tighter, removing even more space between them. The edge of their feet are aligning by now.

“Did something happen?” Dazai asks, not with a lot of care or worry in his voice but it’s enough to catch Chuuya off guard.

While he waits for his reply he even has the audacity to let his hand loosely fall upon and hold on to Chuuya’s waist.

He tries to pay it no mind, to not think about it because if he does he’ll think too deep into it, and his mind can’t handle that right now.

Maybe tomorrow, or in a week, or just anytime but now.

“Stop acting like you care, Osamu. Give it to me.” He answers, slightly more calm this time.

“And if I do care?”

“Then some kind of fucking miracle must have happened that managed to turn you into a human being with empathy. Sadly, that’s not what I think happened.”

Dazai has to hold it in himself to not show how much he enjoys the rough tone and the fist just below his throat.

He reaches down to his pocket, taking less than two seconds to find what he’s searching for.

He shows Chuuya the very blade he’s going so frantic over, “I didn’t steal it, Nakahara. I grabbed it from your hand when you were high and trying to hurt yourself, I first realised I had it yesterday and managed to forget.”

It’s a solid explanation and one Chuuya can’t really allow himself to be upset over, so instead he snatches the blade and lets go. “You can leave now, please.”

“If I leave you’re going to cut yourself, correct?” Dazai crosses his arm, not taking a single step behind or forward.

“If you keep being annoying I’ll do it infront of you.” Chuuya threatens.

Of course he doesn’t realise how much of a threat that absolutely not is, and how it’s more an offering or a blessing if you were to ask the other person in the room.

“Chuuya, I-”

“Why are you acting like this?!” He yells out way too suddenly, gripping tight onto the silver in his hand, as if his very name was what set him off, “What changed? Why are you suddenly pretending to be all caring and shit, I don’t fucking get it Dazai and I know trust me I know you love messing with my brain but can we stop this?”

They stare at each other for a few seconds, time moving so slow it feels like minutes. “What If I’m not pretending?” is all he says.

Not ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ or ‘you’re right’, instead he decides to claim he truly does care.

Chuuya immediately lashes out again, “Then what? I’m supposed to fawn and be grateful? I’m supposed to just.. constantly be weak and pathetic in front of you because you’ve decided to care now?! After so many fucking years, what did it?”

“I don’t know.” He answers truthfully, he can admit to a change having happened, but he doesn’t know how big, or what caused it.

“Because it’s not real, you idiot.”

“You can’t know that.” He defends himself.

“Of course I can! Oh my god, Dazai, you made direct comments about me cutting myself in class! You have never cared and I have never expected you to, I’ve never sat down and wished you’d wonder how I’m doing because we’re not friends, and we never will be.”

…

At this very moment, Dazai doesn’t know how much he’s actually enjoying the verbal noise.

Some part of him definitely does, a lot even.

But another part of him wishes he hadn’t walked in on this tantrum, because right now he feels like he was absolutely right. Either Chuuya had been slowly getting used to him, or he was on his last line, and it seems like it was the second option.

“Why are you so angry?” He asks, trying to put on his usual smile, to not show Chuuya that this is very slightly affecting him.

Chuuya’s chest is still rising and falling too fast, trying to get the air back he lost while screaming.

“Because I’m tired of you. I’m so tired of feeling like this.”

“Like what?”

He wishes he could hesitate, to not say what he’s about to but he’s too deep in.

“That maybe, there’s a chance I could actually mean something to you, that there’s a single bone in you willing to change for the sake of us being friends. But I gave up on that, Dazai. A long, long time ago.” He sighs, “I don’t wanna have that hope again just to get disappointed like last time. I much prefer knowing where we stand so please.. stop this.”

Dazai stares back at him, his body having to resist the urge to move forward.

“Fine. Tell me to leave, and I will. But don’t expect me to come back and care, because you’re making it very clear you can’t accept if I actually wished to change.” He replies, waiting for the command.

Chuuya stands still, adjusting his back. “Leave.”

They share a last second of eye contact before Dazai turns around, leaving the room empty and quiet once more.

Chuuya’s legs give up under him and he quickly finds himself on the floor, “Fuck.”

Chapter Text

Chuuya would like to say he has had the best month of his life.

That not interacting with Dazai has been freeing, his first actual taste of clean air in years. That all the minutes of silence are a blessing from God himself.

That he officially feels just a slight will to live, to enjoy the sun or look at the ocean for too long despite it never moving.

And perhaps even that he’s found better things to waste his thoughts on, something that isn’t as useless or hurtful as Dazai.

He would truly, genuinely, love to say that, and to mean it.

But it’s far from the truth.

The last month has been intoxicating, the air so thick he chokes on it as it blocks his airways, the sun hidden behind gloomy clouds ready to soak up the last shred of his self respect and dignity, the ocean too far away to catch a glimpse of.

Not having to deal with Dazai’s constant nagging, his flirty comments or the way he sometimes just leans down to rest on his arms but never allow himself to look away from Chuuya, the absence of that has been absolute torture.

Of course he doesn’t want to admit to that.

He doesn’t want to tell Yosano that he’s been complaining about being tormented for years, but that this tops it.

That his absence is a million times worse than his presence, even if his presence isn’t all that good to begin with.

When he had sworn to the heavens that Dazai was a curse sculpted by the hands of the devil, his eyes made with temptation, his body made with heat from the very place he came from.

And somehow, his absence is not anything close to a blessing.

It’s an answered prayer, definitely.

Chuuya has been begging for Dazai’s disappearance for years, or for God to bless him with enough self-control to push him away, to not give in and to stay pure, but this feels like the furthest thing from pure.

And it’s all Chuuya’s own fault.

He has had thoughts before, surely. Ones he could manage to force away though, thoughts that would come when he was in another girls mouth and Dazai was staring as of some form of jealousy, thoughts that would come when Chuuya told him how much he wished to take his soul from body, and he looked as if he would allow him to do anything, no matter how rough, no matter how much it would ruin him.

It’s worse now, though.

Relentless thoughts, and perhaps it’s because the devil is fighting back against his absence, trying to make Chuuya.. miss him or want or even need him.

He keeps wondering if Dazai is officially done with him, or if he knows how tormenting the distance is and that’s why he isn’t breaking it. If maybe, this is just another one of his tricks to make Chuuya go insane.

He’d never have guessed that Dazai actually respecting his boundaries would make him feel this horrible.

And at the same time he feels absolutely horrific for trying to put the blame on him, for thinking ‘he’s doing this to bother me’ or ‘does he not want to bother me anymore?’ when he was the one who bluntly told him to fuck off with no hesitation what-so-ever.

He had also never expected anything could make him think about Dazai more than he usually did, but now it’s a constant. When he wakes up after no more than 4 hours of rest, when he goes to sleep after a day that has managed to be exhausting despite him not doing anything, when he’s in class and Dazai comes in, not sparing him a glance yet somehow knowing exactly which seat is furthest away from him, when it’s lunch and Dazai never looks at him, not even once.

He feels like a fucking ghost.

But he can’t say it was a mistake either.

How could he ever?

He can’t even fucking jerk off without thinking of that douchebag, nevertheless cut himself.

Can one even imagine how much it sucks not being able to cope in any way, do any human activity or even just exist without his mind immediately spelling out Dazai in capital letters.

No messages, no call, no visits, not even a single look.

It’s 2 am, on a Friday, or speaking on a clock it’s Saturday now.

And Chuuya is now officially having enough.

Today feels different, somehow. As if it’s important.

Should he reach out?

No, definitely not. He can not be so pathetic and desperate to be the one to break this awkward distance when he was the one who caused it. Yet, at the same time, using that logic it’ll never be broken, but isn’t that exactly what he wanted, what he asked for?

In this never-ending mess of thoughts, his phone vibrates.

He groans in annoyance before reaching over the bed for it, stopping the music that’s been playing to keep his thoughts at a reasonable volume.

It’s the one and only person he has enough energy to actually answer right now, Yosano.

“Yes, Sano?” He asks, trying to not let a sigh slip past his lips but he embarrassingly fails.

The faint sound of a car engine is running on the other side, and if it was really quiet you could probably hear the wind from outside as well, “I’m coming over in 5 minutes.” She says, nothing more, nothing less.

“It’s 2 am, you can’t get inside campus at this hour.” He smiles a little, not too bothered by the thought of company at the moment.

“You’ll go downstairs and open the door for me, obviously. I’ll text you when I’m there, bye love ya!”

He doesn’t get to reply before the line cuts, He hadn’t exactly planned on sleeping so this isn’t the worst case scenario at all, far from it.
_______________________

 

Dazai sits awake in his living room, turning his phone on and off.

Sometimes he’ll start doomscrolling and hope it’ll keep him entertained even this late at night when nothing else is available, and then he turns it off again when it’s a successful fail.

Kunikida went to bed long ago, and there’s nothing to eat to keep himself occupied either.

He considers going to the 24/7 tankstation down by the road when you leave campus, but at this hour there’d be no one he could ask to open the door for him again.

He could use this as an opportunity.

And he wants to.

For the past month, Dazai has had to have an immense amount of self-control to not flirt, to not annoy, to not even look at Chuuya.

His attention-craving self is starving, so dry he feels he’ll cough every time he takes a breath in, and it’s all for the cause of proving a point.

No, he’s not doing this to torment Chuuya, partly at least, neither is he doing this because he doesn’t want Chuuya’s attention, this is all to prove that he cannot be satisfied in a life without him.

When four days had gone by he was surprised it had lasted this long, and he has had to really hold himself back from immediately pulling attention to himself at all times.

The worst was Chuuya’s birthday.

He always stays very lowkey about it and only people close to him even know about it, so having to pretend, having to not send him the yearly annual ‘Happy Birthday’ and wishing him another year of tolerating Dazai was the real kick in the gut.

And now Dazai’s birthday is coming around, which gives him a good excuse to leave campus and do something.

Kunikida, Ranpo and Atsushi have all agreed they’ll go out to eat for his birthday, but truth be told he’d rather just have at least one minute to talk to Chuuya.

This is his first birthday in a very long time where he’s been unsure on whether he’ll be the one to get a ‘happy birthday’ yet with that being said, he was the first one to not send the message.

If Chuuya and him had to talk again, wouldn’t today be the perfect day to do so?

Birthdays are meaningless.

But today..

He sighs, finally standing up and attempting to leave the trail of thought behind, he leaves the room and quickly finds himself in front of Atsushi’s door.

After knocking three times he doesn’t expect an answer, but when the door opens and it’s a half-asleep Akutagawa yawning as Atsushi lays soundlessly in the bed, he isn’t exactly dissatisfied.

He’s been living vicariously through their awkward not-relationship to keep himself from going insane, so this is okay.

“It’s late, what’s up Dazai?” Akutagawa asks, and it’s always a slight surprise how calm he is around him nowadays, but he brushes it off quickly.

“I’m gonna leave for a little while, are you gonna sleep? I need someone to be able to open the door for me when I come back.”

Akutagawa stares at him, for what seemingly could be half a minute despite it definitely not being that long, he looks towards Atsushi and sighs. “Yeah, I was gonna sleep. Why don’t you ask Chuuya?”

“You know why.” Dazai looks back at him.

For a second, Akutagawa almost seems angry.

His expression changes, and the way he looks at the older one sends shivers down the spine of the sleeping boy hidden inside the room, maybe because he’s cold, but for the dramatics let’s say this is the reason.

“.. I’m tired of this weird shit you guys got going on, learn how to communicate, start here. He’s without a doubt awake, just go fucking ask him, please.”

They stare at each other for a while, but Akutagawa feels himself sink back when Dazai’s eyes go cold, the same stare he used to do whenever he’d disobey anything he said. His arms cross over one another as he leans slightly forward, “You’re talking about ‘communication’ to me? Have you met yourself, Akutagawa?”

 

“Fuck’s that supposed to mean?” He snarls back, trying to be quiet so as to not wake up Atsushi.

“You can’t even tell Atsushi you love him. Until that happens, don’t you dare speak a word on communication to me.” Dazai smiles, finally moving away from the door, and Akutagawa is quick to close it, not giving him any answer.

________________

“Mm.. was that Dazai?” Atsushi rubs his eyes, yawning as he uses his weak arm strength to sit up, still too tired to have full strength.

Akutagawa sits down beside him, his smallest finger reaching out to grab one of Atsushi’s, clearly desperate but hesitant on initiating touch, even a month into whatever this is, he’s lucky Atsushi isn’t too clueless anymore and turns his hand around to hold his.

“Something wrong?”

Akutagawa sighs, letting a hand run over his face.

“You know I lo-..” Atsushi is too tired to notice the spoken mistake, fortunately. “You know that I like you, so much, right?”

He sits for a little while, “Did Dazai say some-”

“Answer.”

The corners of his lips curl slightly, but it feels as insincere as it can. “Yeah. Of course.”

Akutagawa looks at him, trying to see if he can spot any doubt or need of reassurance, but Atsushi truly looks as if he believes him. “I just.. I know I’m not good at showing stuff like you Jinko and I worry it’ll make you-”

“Hey, Aku. It’s okay, I promise.” Atsushi cups his face, his eyes droopy with exhaustion, having not gotten enough sleep yet. “You like me, I.. like you too. We’ve established that. Okay?”

He sighs, leaning into the warm touch on his face, nodding as he mumbles ‘yeah’, his breath causing warmth on Atsushi’s palm.
_____________________

Chuuya opens his door as the message from Yosano comes through, eyes on phone as he walks out and locks the door.

He puts the phone down into his pocket quickly and turns around to walk down to the backdoor, but he stops the second he’s met with a tall figure a few feet away from him, looking rather glum.

“You’re up late.” Dazai whispers, so low it seems like if Chuuya didn’t notice that’d be his escape.

Chuuya can’t take his eyes off him, because he hasn’t had a real chance of looking at him in a whole fucking month and oh God, he’s still as beautiful as ever. Not that Chuuya’s admitting to that, of course not, but the thought is there for sure.

Even when he’s just standing there, clothes too comfortable to be considered nice, his skin pale and his eyes tired, he’s still so utterly gorgeous.

He was truly made for the sake of temptation.

“Can’t sleep. Where are you going?”

The question is an open invite for conversation, he could’ve easily said he had to go somewhere, but instead he stands still, waiting for a reply.

Dazai’s voice has both been the worst presence for years, and the worst absence for a month.

He smiles, taking one single step closer, “The tankstation, I’m hungry though it’s too late for any supermarket to still be open, what about you, Chibi?”

Well, that nickname hasn’t been used in years.

In this moment, Chuuya should probably be reading between lines and realising that something is wrong, but he doesn’t give in.

“.. Yosano is coming over, I was gonna go open the door for her.”

Dazai almost asks, asks how he’s doing. What he’s thinking, if he could possibly miss him at all or if he’s truly delusional and going mad, but he doesn’t even ask if Chuuya would also open the door for him.

Because while his eyes seem to be begging him to take a few steps closer, his body is hesitating, ready to run far, far away.

“Mm, have fun. I’ll go out the main door-”

“No it’s.. it’s fine. Just come.”
__________________

 

Walking alongside Dazai is nothing less than awkward, nothing more than painful.

Chuuya had not at all prepared himself for this tired interaction this late at night, and he wants to yell at himself for giving Dazai an opening for conversation.

For so easily giving him his time of day, with no hesitation whatsoever.

“How’ve you been?” Dazai asks, calmly as ever, as if trying not to screw up their one moment of interaction. Chuuya doesn’t look at him in hope it’ll make it easier, he’s afraid if he were to see his face he would lose all restraint and ki-

“You look like you wanna kill me.” He chuckles lightly, focusing on the harsh expression on Chuuya’s face. Kill. Yeah, that’s what he was thinking.

This is the first time Dazai has looked at him in a fucking month and he’s definitely choosing to make it sound like it’s Chuuya’s.. right, it is Chuuya’s fault. No matter how much he wishes to scream at Dazai, again, no matter how much he wants to flee far far away, this is all his choice.

Dazai pulls his whole body back to himself when he still doesn’t get a reply.

They walk alongside each other, silently, and painfully.

There’s so many words to be spoken, lies or truths to be yelled, confessions to be screamed loud enough to break a sound barrier, and yet the silence is so thick it’s choking them.

“Happy birthday. Sorry I’m late.”

Dazai whispers it low enough for Chuuya almost not to catch it, but oh how he does.

He has to stop this.

His body is trembling in need, his eyes dry from the constant lack of sleep, and if Dazai says a single fucking word more he might as well turn around and drag him back to his bedroom.

“.. Thank you.” Chuuya mutters, hoping he isn’t making it obvious.

To his luck, they reach the door, and it’s first come to his conclusion now that Yosano is on the other side and will see these two, together.

Dazai is about to say yet another thing but Chuuya makes an immediate escape and opens the door, causing Dazai to stop the second he sees Yosano. “Hey Chuu… Hi, Dazai.” She smiles.

Yosano still talks to Dazai occasionally due to her and Ranpo’s friendship, but seeing him stand beside her best friend after having listened to undying yearning for a month, is a fair surprise. Think of it as when your best friend breaks up with their ex, and you spend weeks advertising them to never get back together, and then you see an ‘i love you’ message on their phone from that very number, because this is basically that.

“You two look like you’re having a great time,” Yosano says, the sarcasm clear through the roof, “But I’ll have to borrow Chuuya, sorry Dazai!” She smiles as she drags him away.

Chuuya takes a slight peak back, but Dazai is already on his way out of the door. Won’t he need someone to open it again?

___

“What the fuck are you doing?” Yosano asks before Chuuya even has a chance of closing the door behind him. He’s quick to sigh and try to come to his own defense, but she’s too quick and shuts him down immediately, “Listen, I love Dazai, not that I fully believe he’s the best party nor the most comfortable person to rely on, but either way I’m not telling you to stay away from him because I dislike him.” She says, “It’s because you use him to self-destruct, you know how much he genuinely hurts you and you thrive off of that, it’s not healthy and I won’t watch you do it again when you’ve finally found some self-respect and told him off.”

Chuuya doesn’t reply.

He really just looks at her, for a few seconds, for a few minutes even.

He finds the chair in the corner of his room and uses that as his only support in this moment of silence. He obviously knows that Yosano is completely right, even if he doesn’t like to admit it.

“We ran into each other by accident. He was going down as well, and it was bound to happen at some point, we barely even talked ‘Sano.” He says, defenseless yet attempting, hoping she’ll understand even though he’s leaving out the crucial plot-point of him being the one to initiate conversation.

He wants to tell her how he looks even more beautiful than the last time he truly looked at him, which was in a moment of frustration and hate, now that hate might as well have overflowed to nothing but admiration and need.

Well, no, if he were to think past the genuine agony of the distance, he remembers the hate just fine, just enough to not regret his decision.

But seeing Dazai again, his eyes tired and his body tall, his voice low and his gaze somewhere else..

Surely, he can’t be the devil, not anything close to.

“... His birthday is coming up.” Is all he has the courage to say.

Yosano sighs, stretching her back slightly in ponder, “I know. He isn’t much for parties but he knows too many people to get away with a chill birthday, so it’ll be like every other year.” She replies.

“Big party, talk to a few people, spend all night on the balcony.” He says sarcastically, explaining how Dazai truly does spend his birthday. He borrows Ranpo’s house and Fukuzawa gives a lesson on responsible drinking the following Monday.

He smiles a little thinking about it, feeling pathetic.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea you go, Chuu.”

“I know, I know, it’s just.. no matter how much I hate him I’ve never skipped his birthday, probably mostly because I knew he’d avoid the party so I’d have a chance at getting laid the most and wanted to use that as a mocking mechanism, but my point stands.”

They spare a look to each other before Chuuya takes initiative to change the course of the conversation, “Why did you suddenly come over so late anyway?” He asks, getting up and finding his way to the kitchen.

“I couldn’t sleep” She shrugs, as if that’s enough reason to drive 15 minutes over to him at 2 AM, which in all honesty to her it might as well be.
__________________________________

Dazai walks down the dark road, the specific path where cars usually don’t pass so he can have some silence.

There’s a few street lights guiding him his way, and the sky is so clear that the moon’s light reflects directly upon him.

Dazai has never once considered picking up a glass of alcohol since Odasaku died.

An urge, sure, perhaps even as much as a fantasy; to get lost in the bitter taste and the never-ending dizziness, but it’s never been an actual option.

He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s afraid of disappointing his older brother, even in a world where he’s no longer around to tell him right from wrong, or if it’s because of the way he looked when he died.

His skin pale due to the lack of oxygen, his mouth dry despite his lips having a wet coat of whiskey lingering, his eyes that weren’t looking anywhere particular even though they were open.

One could’ve pretended he was looking at the ceiling, imagining the starry night, or he was somewhere completely else; but no. He was gone, and his body was colder than a cold beer mid December.

The thought makes him sick, and he tries to avoid the endless suffering that follows, but to no avail.

He can’t help but make a gagging motion to the sudden nausea rolling over him, to his luck nothing comes up so he continues walking.

It’s been a few years since Oda’ died, so he’s gotten used to the new norm of his brother not being around, and the heart-staking constant feeling of missing him. Obviously it never gets better, but you learn how to sneak around the grief on a daily basis, yet for an obvious reason tonight is a lot worse than it’s been for quite a while.
It could be because of the late night or perhaps not having distractions since the split with Chuuya, but those are both too simple options.

And for the first time in 2 years, Dazai is not going to the tank-station to get food.

Because today is a very special day.

Getting access to alcohol has never been an issue, since most people around town knew Odasaku and therefore also knew Dazai, causing them to risk a little and give him alcohol when he asked.

It’s a surprise none of them ever got found out they were selling straight vodka to a 15 year old, but he never complained, and neither will he 2 years later.
____

After walking for a few minutes, he arrives at the empty tiny store.

The cashier looks undoubtedly tired and takes a quick second to roll his eyes when the bell rings, but his eyes light up slightly when he sees it’s Dazai.

This is not a guy who knew Odasaku, but he does know Dazai.

Probably from the amount of night-visits he has gone on to get some food when he couldn’t sleep, but either way he knows he won’t have any problem getting his hands on beer.

“Thank god it’s you, I really couldn’t deal with some drunkard right now..” The boy behind the desk says calmly but clearly relieved.

“Rough night?” Dazai asks as he finds his way toward the alcohol section, trying to find the only brand of beer he remembers tasting good. He didn’t drink that often, and his drink of choice was most certainly not beer, perhaps three or four times he drank a full can but it was always the same brand because all the others tasted like vomit.

The boy sighs, leaning against his hand to keep him awake. “You have no idea, and I’m first off in 2 hours.”

The conversation ends there, as usual; they always keep it at quick small talk, nothing too personal and nothing too common.

“6 pack? Don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink, for your friends?” He asks as he checks in the singular item, the price showing in glowing letters. “Yeah, they know I’m the only one who usually can get away with buying.” He shrugs with a tight smile, lying through his teeth.
______________

“And he says ‘chibi’ ? He DARES use that nickname now?!” Chuuya flairs his arms in the air, pacing the room back and forth.

Yosano yawns, blowing smoke out of the window. “Hasn’t he always called you that?”

Chuuya pauses his movement, “Well yes, but he stopped years ago after..” He debates whether to talk about it or not, “Anyway, he’s using it to get under my skin.”

Yosano looks up, taking another yet quick drag of her cigarette, “After Odasaku died? Hm..then it’s quite odd he’s using it again, but it may be nothing. Try not to overthink this Chuu.” She reassures him, even though she’s painfully aware her advice will never reach his ears as much as she wishes.

He walks over to her, finding his own pack and lighter to join her in blowing toxic air to the stars, or just smoke, if you don’t like the fancy metaphors.

“I miss him, I think.”

“I know.”

“But?”

“But there’s no point in missing what was never there, Chuuya.” She sighs, “He never truly cared, he doesn’t care for anyone, that’s how he is.”

He looks toward the dark sky, taking in the words she’s speaking so loudly and somehow still so gently. He could stand and count the stars, forget about all the meaningless thoughts, and the useless emotions he can't escape, even if he ran directly to hell.

“I miss how he made me feel. Even if it weren’t good emotions, they were emotions nonetheless.. now I just feel so empty all the time.”

Yosano takes out her cigarette and turns around to lean her back against the rail of the window, “Then distract yourself. That’s what me and Akutagawa are here for.”

“Aku is busy with Atsushi and I shouldn’t try to rely on a 15 year old to keep me sane, I’m an adult for crying out loud.” He almost groans the words as his neck goes loose and he allows his head to rest upon his arms.

“Then rely on me!” Yosano stands up completely, almost seeming offended.

She looks around the room for a second, “You never allow yourself to rely on anyone, the only time I’ve ever seen it happen was when you were drugged out of your mind and the only one who could help you was.. him, of all people.. I just don’t understand why he’s the one you keep thinking about when I’m right here Chuuya. I’m supposed to be your best friend, so talk to me.”

The silence is deafening and almost nauseating.

She isn’t wrong.

Chuuya truly never allows himself to speak his genuine feelings, neither does he ask for reassurance or comfort or something so simple as an understanding perspective.

There’s no completely reasonable argument behind it, the best one he can think of is he’s afraid of showing vulnerability, but he’s already done that a million times. Last time being when Yosano walked in on him slitting his thighs up, for example.

It could be that he’s scared the listening party won’t understand, and maybe will be judgemental, but he’s smart enough to know Yosano is too loving to ever destroy him like that.

He looks at her eyes, then her clenched fist, her almost angry stance, and then he glances back at the sky.

“Sometimes.. I wonder if he’s worth burning for.” He inhales the smoke, “And then I remember I made that conclusion years ago.”

“And?”

“If anything is worth it, then it’s him.”

She smiles slightly, not a happy and perhaps not even a sincere smile, it seems significantly more like a pity one. “So why don’t you do something about it?”

He clenches his hand around his hair, “I can’t help but be afraid, and no matter how much I want.. him, I still hate him. My blood still boils when he speaks, my face goes cold when he enters a room and I feel ill when he looks at me, so I pushed him away. And it’s too late now, so I’ve just got to move on.”

As if that’s possible.

He found a person who’s worth going against his every belief for, who’s worth burning in the hands of God for, and he’s supposed to just move on?

But Satan would never dare turn down a challenge, because temptation is the greatest power to be found.

Chuuya reaches for the vibrating phone in his pocket, mostly ready to hang up, but who could’ve guessed?

‘Osamu is calling’

His phone tells it to him as if it was a dare, challenging him to pick up, to give in even with Yosano right beside him. The good angel on his right shoulder who’s supposed to be helping him through this, to help him move on, gives him a nod.

The button of ‘accept’ is as intimidating as ever, but Chuuya takes in the opportunity that he’s just asking him to come open the door for him, and he’ll agree and never speak to him again.

It’s about remembering, feeling and drowning in that hate.

That’s the only thing that’ll get him through this.

'Accept.'

“What do you want, Dazai?”

The silence gives him immediate goosebumps, because in what world would Dazai be quiet when the option to annoy Chuuya is right there?

“Chuuya..?”

His blood runs cold.

He looks towards Yosano, who’s staring and observing the conversation, and she looks as concerned as he does.

“Yes? Is something wrong?”

He does not remember his tone ever being this gentle with Dazai, except for the funeral.

This memory causes him immediate panic, because finally.

Finally, he takes a look at the new date of day, and it instantly brings back memories he prayed to forget, long, long ago.

“..Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

_____________

 

While driving, Yosano finally takes in the opportunity to ask what could possibly be happening.

“What’s up with today? You freaked out the second you saw the date.” She asks, speeding up and trying to figure out how to get to the shore.

His leg is bouncing up and down in frustration while his eyes stay glued to his phone, not daring to leave the message-area between him and Dazai.

“Odasaku’s death.” Is all he manages to reply, and Yosano doesn’t say anything back, her only reaction is her foot stepping slightly harder on the pedal.

“You don’t think he’s drinking, right?” Chuuya sighs, part of him feeling worried, part of him feeling annoyed he has to deal with this while trying to not think about Dazai at all.

She shrugs her shoulders, her expression not giving him the comfort he wants.

Driving to the close destination somehow feels like hours on hours on end, and it’s causing even more stress between the two.

They decide not to speak on the matter anymore, and focus on the road.

Chuuya of course can’t help but worry, because nothing ever good happens on this date. There was the death, the attempt, and now this.

It’s not Dazai’s fault, really.

He never feels. He never copes, never talks and always pretends. Perhaps that’s what makes him and Chuuya so alike despite their many differences. So it’s not his fault he lashes out on this day, it’s the only day he ever allows himself to express any emotion and it bothers Chuuya deeply that he forgot.

How could he forget? Odasaku’s death is essentially the biggest reason behind Dazai’s never ending void, his attempts and his horrible attitude, this day should not be forgotten.

His thoughts are broken up by the lights placed upon the shore, and Yosano gives a reassuring nod that she’ll wait in the car, so he fastly clicks up his seatbelt and more or less bolts out the door.

He checks every corner, before finally seeing Dazai laying down, his legs hanging too close to the water, his phone tightly in one hand, a beer in the other, and 5 empty ones beside him.

A sigh escapes Chuuya’s lips, and it causes Dazai to jump, one of the empty beers falling from the impact of his fast reaction, but the second he sees Chuuya, he does not cry, he doesn’t yell, he doesn’t make any snarky comments, he just.. smiles.

“You came.”

He walks over, crouching down to be in eye-sight with him.

“Yeah well.. you called.”

His smile grows bigger, as if he doesn’t realise how serious the situation is.

“Beer? You don’t even like beer, Osamu.”
Chuuya says, picking up Dazai’s phone to put in his own pocket, in hope he won’t accidentally throw it in the water when they stand up.

“They weren’t for me, Chibi.” He says, suddenly looking irritated.

“Then for who?” He asks, not paying much attention to the conversation but instead to their surroundings.

“Oda. But he didn’t show.. so I drank them. I’ll buy him some more so he doesn’t get mad, so don’t tell him okay?”

Chuuya doesn’t dare tell him, not now.

“Alright, I won’t tell him. How about we go home, yeah?” He grabs Dazai’s hand gently, hoping he won’t resist.

“The night is young, Chuuya! Let’s get some more, you can join us.” He smiles, so innocently it barely looks like him. Or maybe it does, it just looks like a version of him that died alongside his older brother.

“Dazai, come on.” Chuuya seems to have had enough of this, not wanting to listen any further.

But Dazai doesn’t budge.

“Why are you so mad all of a sudden? You don’t usually get mad when I drink.. did I say something stupid?”

“You only ever say stupid things.”

“Like what?”

“.. let’s just go home, please?”

The conversation doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, and Chuuya isn’t exactly strong enough to simply pick up Dazai and drag him home, so unless he himself agrees this might take quite a while.

Yosano would wait though, for as long as it may take.

Chuuya sighs yet again, pulling out his phone.

He dials a number he’s never touched before, but that he’s memorized for the sake of these kinds of scenarios.

“You calling Oda?”

“You wish, just lay down for a second.” He replies in a mumble as the line rings.

It rings just long enough for him to give up, but at last, it connects.

“Who is this?” A voice is heard on the other side of the line.

Chuuya lets out a groan of relief, “Is this Kunikida?”

…

“Yes. Hello, Chuuya. How come you’re calling me this late?”

He probably wants to ask why he’s calling at all.

Chuuya would like to ask how Kunikida recognized his voice so easily, but this is no time for that.

“I’m with Dazai, on the shore. He’s drunk.”

Kunikida seems to instantly stand up, the ruffling of clothes getting thrown on being more than obvious.

His movements manage to sound fast even over the phone.

“No I’m not..” Dazai mumbles beside him.

“Did you make him drink? Why’s he drinking? You should be aware of how he gets when he-”

“Yes, I am aware. He called me and he was like this, he’s refusing to go home.”

There’s silence as the sound of Kunikida running around is too loud for comfort, keys rustling and lights getting turned on.

“I’m on my way, stay with him and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, I’ll be there in five minutes.” He hangs up before Chuuya gets a chance to agree on the plan of him basically babysitting this drunk child before him.

“Chuuya, do you hate me?”

Yes.

No.

Sometimes.

“You know the answer to that, idiot.”

“But you confessed..”

…

Pause.

Pause everything.

Pause time, the earth’s very rotation, the sunrays from the sun, the lingering glow on the moon, stop everything this instant.

“Sure, Buddy. When?” He laughs awkwardly, hoping this to be Dazai’s constant delusion.

But the way he looks at him is telling him the exact opposite, and suddenly Chuuya feels as if he may be drunk as well.

“When Gogol got you all drugged up..”

His mind flais to something else, “So you remember the most humiliating moment of my life but not..” He stops himself, there’s no point in making the situation worse. “What did I say, Dazai?”

He smiles, “That I make you sick.”

Chuuya crooks an eyebrow, feeling confused as to how that could possibly be a confession.

“And that sometimes you don’t mind being sick.”

Ah, there it is.

Of course, of course he fucking had to say that.

And Dazai has had the nerve to keep this a secret? For this long?

.. Is that it?

Is this what he’s been waiting for and dreading at the same time?

Is that the very proof he’s wished to gain, that Dazai has no single ounce of interest-

“Can I tell you a secret?”

His thoughts are splattered over the ground.

Chuuya nods immediately, intrigued to listen if he can humiliate him anymore than he already has.

But to his surprise, to his genuine very real shock, Dazai does the exact opposite.

“I think.. you’re different from others.”

Oh.

…

Right.

This story has had its fair share of miscommunication, and metaphors as confessions, and here is yet another one.

Because this could easily be understood as Dazai telling him he’s just different in general, he could even be insulting him, but no.

Because this very clearly means, to someone who understands how his brain works at least, that he has some sort of deranged affection for Chuuya.

Deranged, because he’s incapable of feeling true, normal, human affection, which is precisely what makes Chuuya ‘different’ from others.

Another drunk confession that’ll be forgotten tomorrow?

Yes.

Will Chuuya promise it to himself to never bring it up again?

Of course.

Will this confession end up being the cause of something even bigger, for better or for worse?

In what world could the answer possibly be no?

Because cliche is one thing that’ll never leave this world, and it is not time for Chuuya and Dazai to reconcile just yet, and they both seem to be painfully aware of this.

Car tires stopping abruptly causes an extreme screech over by the road, and they both look towards the sudden fast-coming figure that’s coming closer to them by the second.

Kunikida, in sweatpants and sweater, his glasses barely sitting correctly and his hair undone, panting as he finally arrives, seems to be what breaks Dazai.

“What are you doing here?” Dazai asks, his face suddenly showing the agony that’s been hiding inside him for hours, the sorrow he attempted to drown with the only thing he’s ever known.

So he can be vulnerable in front of Kunikida.

That’s a surprise.

“I’m here to get you home, what else? Didn’t I tell you to go to bed?” Kunikida sighs, crouching down, Chuuya standing up in his place.

He observes as Dazai seems to be giving in to the liquid welling in his eyes, and he wonders how he didn’t feel safe enough with him to give in to that. Kunikida seems to be different from others as well, just in another way than Chuuya is.

A sparkle of jealousy hits him gently in the stomach, but he swallows it bravely.

“Thank you for taking care of him..” He thanks, pinching his bridge, and now it makes sense.

Kunikida is the older brother Dazai no longer has.

Because he’d be here through thick and thin, and Chuuya left him like it was the easiest thing on the planet.

Even if Dazai was no longer human, detached from reality and emotions stripped from him, Kunikida would be here,

But Chuuya forced Dazai out the second he got too close.

“Yeah.. of course.” He whispers back.

Kunikida tries to grab onto Dazai to lift him up, but instead he replies by clinging his whole body to him.
__________

He has dealt with Dazai’s tantrums for years, his lash outs or his rages, his episodes and his anger.

He has not dealt with emotional outbursts as much, because if anyone hides their sorrow and pain well, it’s the boy in front of him.

It happened one time.

Exactly one year ago. When Kunikida found Dazai gently swinging in the air, and he had ended up screaming for hours on end at him, not expecting him to actually show any reaction, and for the first time ever, he saw Dazai cry.

This marks the second time it has ever happened, and he worries this will be an annual thing each year.

He had expected him first to make a spectacle tomorrow, so this is a bit of a surprise however.

The boy clinging on to him seems to be letting out emotions he’s bottled up for weeks, perhaps months, perhaps a year.

His sobs are unbearable to listen to, because they’re not directed to any of the ears around him, but to the ones hidden inside a coffin, buried deep beneath the ground.

“Dazai.. you’ll get a cold. Let’s go home.” He tries, his hand petting the messy hair ruffled on the head buried in his chest.

Chuuya still stands beside them, watching this chaotic display.

“I don’t wanna be here without him.” His words are barely understandable, crashing together between cries, and Dazai has never seemed so far from himself as he does right now.

He seems like when he was 13, and Odasaku wasn’t sick and gone in alcohol yet, so Dazai didn’t yet feel the need to pretend to be strong and brave, and he’d allow himself to cry in front of his older brother.

The first time Odasaku had passed out, something in Dazai switched, a sudden need to be the responsible adult was to hit him soon.

And when it did, he bore the role well.

He wasn’t responsible, but he was significantly more responsible than Odasaku was, and it only worsened with time.

Even at his death, Dazai refused to shred a single tear.

“I know.” Is all Kunikida says, this time finally picking up the crying child-looking drunken boy.

“You gonna take him home?” Chuuya asks, trying not to show his worries through his facade of hate, and the slight jealousy squeezing his heart tightly.

“Yeah.. I’m gonna call Atsushi and have him open the door, follow my car and we can go in together.”

Chuuya nods, now walking behind Kunikida.

He catches a glimpse of Dazai’s wet tired eyes peaking over the shoulders of the older male, staring directly at him.

His hand reaches over, a single finger reaching out.

And Chuuya gives him his hand, just for tonight.

Just until he can pretend he doesn’t exist again.

Just until they go back to normal.

Just until he can forget about being in love with Dazai.

Chapter Text

Kunikida tries his best to calm down the still sobbing Dazai, knowing if he gave in he’d definitely get beat up for it tomorrow.

Dazai has always been high on his pride, he walks the room with no shame, and this would surely be the shame crashing him to the floor.

One year ago, when he had cried after the instance of his ‘best friend’ finding him gracefully in the air, and he had to endure hours of screaming, yelling and scolding, he was most certainly embarrassed.

He’s very aware of the fact Dazai would rather die than act like this, so it’s in his best interest to push him away.

Not that he necessarily wishes to do so, but it’s what sober Dazai would want, and his wish shall be Kunikida’s demand.

It’s difficult, however.

Because he refuses to give up.

Dazai keeps trying to hug him, to seek comfort or relief of breath.

His body desperately clinging to him, trembling more for each time Kunikida pushes him away.

“Dazai, come on.. you know I’m not one for touch-”

A pathetic sob cuts his words short.

“Kunikida please.” He begs, as if this is his only solution in this sorrowful state.

“You’re gonna be real embarrassed when I tell you about this tomorrow..” He hesitates, but his body undoubtedly is less tense now, not trying too harshly to push away the crying child-like boy.

He cries again, seeming to be a completely different person than the Dazai everyone knows.

“I just want my brother.” He whimpers, his sobs getting choked in his throat between his words.

This is the final strike for Kunikida.

His body finally loosens completely up and he allows Dazai to bury his head into his chest, even though the snot and tears are making him soaked already.

He pets his head, “I know. I’m here.”

He doesn’t have enough experience to completely know how to comfort any individual, much less Dazai.

But he assumes reassuring him that he won’t leave, and that he’s here, is what works best in this case scenario.

It wasn’t entirely Odasaku’s fault he died, he definitely played part in it for not considering rehab despite his desperate little brother, but the blame can only be on the alcohol really.

Either way, Kunikida knows well that Dazai bears resentment, anger and agony towards his brother, the resentment that puts all of the blame on him; as he was the one who dared pick up a glass of whiskey and never learned how to stop.

His anger that only puts half the blame; as he didn’t exactly make the choice to become an alcoholic, and that he refused to acknowledge his problem meaning maybe he never truly realised he had one.

His agony that would never dare blame the person dearest to his heart; because Oda would never leave him on purpose, surely it was entirely the toxic liquids fault for so brutally stealing his brother's life.

Essentially, Kunikida has now become the replacement of what Odasaku once was.

Naturally this means Dazai will have a fear of him leaving as well, even if he never dared speak it aloud, and continued to pretend he barely saw Kunikida as a human with emotion, this did not pass his eyes.

The way he’d only flinch if it was Kunikida yelling, but when it was anybody else he would stand with a mocking smile plastered on his face.

The bitter and fearful look he’d give after seeing Kunikida with a glass of rum in his hand, and after he had to explain he was simply holding it while Ranpo was in the bathroom.

He isn’t stupid.

He knows exactly why all of those things happen.

Why Dazai killed himself in their apartment, so that if anyone found him it would be Kunikida.

He could’ve done it in a forest, he could’ve jumped from a bridge, he could have overdosed in the bathroom, but somehow everyone knows part of him wanted to feel Kunikida’s fear.

He wanted to see him, scared and desperate, all for the sake of Dazai’s life.

“I’m not leaving, Dazai. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He for sure doesn’t feel okay.

But the words are a relief to his drunken mind, probably overthinking every possible thing.

Part of him feels sure Kunikida will always be here, another part of him knows it’s inevitable he’ll leave at one point or another.

He just hopes it’ll be in the far, far future.
________

“Ugh..” Atsushi enters his room, having been awoken once more in a single night.

Dazai being the cause of both of those times, which honestly doesn’t make him feel any better about it. Plus the extreme worry all over him, he’s never seen Dazai cry before.

Kunikida has once before mentioned the attempt, and mocked Dazai slightly for the way he cried after being scolded, in a friendly matter of course. Atsushi just always had a difficult time even imagining Dazai crying, so seeing him sobbing in Kunikida’s arms was a rather surprising sight.

Akutagawa immediately rushes over from the bed, “Where have you been? How long were you gone?” He asks, his hands grabbing Atsushi’s shoulder tightly.

He had forgotten to leave a note, because it would really only take a minute so he hadn’t expected Akutagawa to wake up and panic such.

But apparently he did, and instantly assumed something had happened since Atsushi was gone.

“Not long..” He moves forward, his arms slowly finding their way around the other’s waist, his head resting on his shoulder.

He seems to be a little shocked by the gesture, but he’d never dare push him away.

“You alright, Jinko? What could’ve happened at this hour?” Akutagawa asks, clearly worried.

But Atsushi doesn’t reply.

He just moves them forward, onto the bed, ready to sleep once again.

He doesn’t want him to worry as well, because he knows he had spoken with Dazai just earlier that night, so telling him what happened might make him feel guilty and overwhelmed, so there’s no point in ruining his sleep.

“.. Do you think Chuuya and Dazai will forgive each other?” He asks, almost silently, as he buries his head into the warmth of Akutagawa’s chest.

He thinks for a little while, genuinely going over everything that has happened.

“I don’t know about forgiveness, but I don’t believe they can stay away from each other forever, however long it may be.”
________

Time moves fast when all you want is for it to stop and give you a break to breathe.

For Chuuya, it has never taken just a second to let him be, to allow him to sit down and think.

Time is constantly chasing him, throwing him further in each time it catches him.

It’s been a month since the incident, and once again, they are refusing to talk to one another.

He made an agreement with Kunikida that in the lucky case Dazai forgot about the night, they wouldn’t tell him anything to spare him the embarrassment and conflict, and that’s exactly what happened.

Chuuya, is however freaking the fuck out.

Because time moves so fast, it is officially Dazai’s birthday tomorrow, and of course, a party has been set up, which is to be expected, as mentioned.

So now he has an angry Yosano pacing the room back and forth, scolding him about how he should absolutely not go to this party because now they’ve both confessed, at least somewhat, even if Dazai doesn’t remember it, meaning that if they were to see each other now?

 

Chuuya would have no self restraint.

He has been the one to completely avoid Dazai this time. Before, he’d seek out his gaze, hoping for a second of eye contact.

And Dazai definitely hasn't been giving him that anyway, since in his head nothing has really changed.

But for the older, he’s taken it up a notch.

He refuses to sneak glances, to overhear conversations, to even think about him, because he isn’t sure he’d be able to not strip off his clothes and give in to years of temptation.

“You are not going to that party!” Yosano yells, for the third time this day. Like some angry mother scolding her child, for barely any reason.

He hadn’t completely intended on going to the party, especially so he could avoid the other for longer, but when people started talking about it he couldn't help but be intrigued.

Chuuya sighs loudly, standing up to defend himself, “It’s just a party..” He says, clearly not believing in it himself.

…

“Fine.”

His head snaps up, “What?”

He had most definitely not expected her to actually agree, and he feels the trap stand just beneath his feet, waiting for him to bite.

“.. What’s the catch?” He crosses his arms, ready for some sort of challenge.

She smiles, immediately ready.

“You and Dazai have your own little game at each party, I’m however very sure none of you will win tomorrow. So instead.. If you manage not to talk to him at all, You win.”
Seems… easy enough.

“And if we do?”

“If you have sex with him, I win.” She shrugs, moving to the kitchen to grant herself some lunch, despite it being her best friend's room.

Chuuya stands awkward for a moment, “I don’t get it. What if we talk and don’t have sex?” He asks, confused about the rules of this game.

She groans, annoyed at his stupidity.

“That’s not possible, Chuuya. One thing I know is, you’ll refuse to talk to him before at least a few shots, and I also know how terrible your self restraint is when you’ve had alcohol. Meaning, if you wind up talking to him, I doubt you’ll spend any hours at the party not sucking dick.” She says it calmly, but Chuuya can’t help but be awfully offended.

He flails his arms in the air, signalling she’s absolutely wrong.

“I have self restraint.” No he doesn’t.
“You’re also assuming Dazai would want to screw me.” He would.

“I would never give in, okay? But fine, I’ll play your game.”

Yosano smiles, “Yay! Also be careful with drinking, we wouldn’t want another incident.”

It doesn’t really make sense. Yosano has been very clear on the fact Chuuya should stay far away from Dazai, having scolded him multiple times and given lessons like an angry teacher, and now she suddenly backs down? It’s probably due to her adrenaline desperate self.

This is a chance to prove to Chuuya that he doesn’t have self restraint, that she’s right, and she also gets a little game out of it. All in all, even though she’s going against what she’s been screaming about for months, this is in her favor.

But it’s all so fucking stupid.

There’s no chance he would screw Dazai.
____

There’s no chance he is not going to screw Dazai.

“Ha! I’ll see you tomorrow, make sure to have my money.” Yosano gives him a punch on the shoulder, making her way towards Ranpo.

This is going to be a very long, excruciating night.

Because how, in the heavens, does he look so good.

It’s as if the distance has either made Dazai significantly hotter, or Chuuya significantly more sick.

He doesn’t know which one is correct, but in this moment he can already admit that Yosano was right. If he speaks a single word with this man, he’ll go to hell.

His hair has grown longer, he clearly stopped caring about cutting it.

Not that much longer, since it has only been a month, but long enough for Chuuya to notice it.

His figure seems slimmer, but not in a sickingly way. In a very elegant and rather charming way, which isn’t at all helping this situation.

Dazai stands across the room, having some not-very-entertaining conversation with a kid from a lower class, his name is something like Kenji, but Chuuya is too busy staring to take a mental note of that.

Coming here.. might’ve indeed been a problem.

He’ll have to pray for forgiveness, because even if he does not speak to Dazai, his thoughts are racing faster than time has ever run after him.

He seems to already be annoyed with being here, which is very in person for who he is, so Chuuya decides that if he walks away now and take a few shots and perhaps smoke a cigarette, Dazai will already be hiding somewhere, not daring to come out for the rest of the night.

He finds his way to the kitchen where everyone is roaming, making drinks and talking.

“Hello, lovebirds.” He mocks as he gets his eye on Atsushi and Akutagawa, arms wrapped around each other as they watch a drinking game go down.

“Chuuya, you came after all.” Akutagawa nods, his lips curling ever so slightly upwards.
_____

“So, think your plan will work?” Ranpo asks, taking a chug of his glass as Dazai sits down beside him.

He shakes his head, “I doubt it. It’s not a plan as much as a little game to entertain myself through the party and the drunkards.” He explains.

Ranpo puts down his glass at the mention, having respect for Dazai when being in his radius.

“You gonna talk to him?” He asks, with a smile on his face as Yosano comes back from searching the whole crowd for two cigarettes, “talk to who?” She asks immediately, intrigued.

Dazai studies her for a second, considering how clever it would be to confide her in his so-called ‘little game’, but in the end he decides he might as well.

“I’m just gonna try to get Nakahara’s attention, is all. Hopefully I’ll get a chance to have at least a small conversation with him, but I doubt he’ll bite.” By ‘getting attention’ he means he’s gonna do his utmost best to make out with someone in front of Chuuya, preferably a man, and then hope he’ll get riled up enough for Dazai to get a chance at a conversation, even if not civil.

Yosano nods, “Seems clever, hope it works out. Ranpo, smoke, now.” she hurries, clearly in need of a break from the already too loud noise, and Dazai isn’t one to judge.

Now that he’s lost his only current entertainment, perhaps it’s time for the next one.

____

Chuuya finds his way around having fun by interacting with any person he can run into, some of them seem rather happy to be talking to him, others not so much.

But anything is better than wasting time thinking about putting his dick where he shouldn’t.

“Spacin’ out again?” Atsushi asks him.

He never really talks to Atsushi.

His only real connection with him is through Akutagawa, and he always assumed he’d have some kind of hatred for him due to his close friendship with Dazai.

“Yeah, the music is kinda lame.” Chuuya shrugs, trying to engage in the conversation as his actual friend is currently out to catch more drinks for him and his companion, that companion now being here stuck in this awkward space.

The silence is almost nauseating, there’s noise everywhere but for some reason the only thing Chuuya can hear is Atsushi’s damned breath and he would much appreciate to run now, but the sad truth is that this is by far better than running into the host of the party.

“Do you miss Dazai?” He asks, his mouth gulping the last bit of his drink.

Chuuya doesn’t even pretend to care about the fact he’s underage and definitely drinking more than he should, because the question throws him off guard by miles.

“No?” Yes. “What kinda question is that?”

A loud sigh comes from him, and he’s quick to realise the younger boy might already be quite influenced by the alcohol, which gives Chuuya some advantage in this conversation.

“Think he misses you, just kinda hoped you guys would get back to your usual stuff. None of my business, but all of us are tired of listening to Dazai whining.” He explains.

Tremors shoot all the way through Chuuya’s body.

He’s not stupid.

He’s obviously aware Dazai isn’t 100% alright with their current stance, out of care or affection? No.

But out of his constant need for attention.

The attention he has begged for, for years on end, and that Chuuya feels even now he’s begging for despite the distance and silence in their space.

There’s consequences to reaching out, to go back to how they were, the first one being Chuuya will most definitely regret it when Dazai starts teasing and mocking again.

Second one being, Chuuya knows his ticket to hell is in his hand, and the train will arrive the second he utters a single word to the other.

Yes, he’s admitted he would risk it.

He would burn for eternity if it meant getting a chance of feeling heaven in his hands, even if only once.

But as he’s also mentioned, it’s far too late now, and still completely out of his comfort zone.

Even if you said you’d take a bullet for someone, even if you genuinely meant it, the second that bullet would be in front of you, you’d be scared.

Of the pain when it hits, of the knowledge you cannot take your actions back even if you’ve promised to never regret them, the agony that follows is too terrifying.

He wants Dazai.

In ways he’s never wanted anyone before.

He wants his body, his soul and his flesh.

But allowing himself any of these, will be an indication he is exactly what he’s refused to be his whole life.

He can’t be sick.

Because then he’ll be sick forever.

And all of this is only with the assumption Dazai would actually want him at all, as well.

“Sometimes it’s not that simple, Nakajima. You can miss someone, and you can want them, but it doesn’t mean you’re entitled to them.”

A groan comes from in front of them, Akutagawa standing with two glasses in his hands, looking as annoyed as ever.

“You’re not entitled to him, no. But have you ever taken a look at the guy, Chuuya?”

More than a thousand.

He’s studied the very way he walks, the way his mouth moves when he talks depending on the tone he uses, the way his eyes never truly focus on anything.

His eyes are always somewhere distant, somewhere no one else can reach but him.

“Your point?” He asks, taking a sip from Akutagawa’s glass without permission.

He swings an arm around Atsushi’s shoulders.

“He looks at you like he wants to consume you.”
___________

“Seriously?” Ranpo asks, having come back from smoking.

“Mhm!” Dazai smiles gladly.

“Why me..” Ranpo asks once more in defeat, knowing he’ll give in for the sake of helping his friend.

He wouldn’t usually, but he owes Dazai quite the lot, and this will take years of that debt, so he might as well.

And it isn’t the worst case scenario, he makes out with friends quite frequently. Especially a certain someone, who sadly couldn’t make it to the party.

“I need to kiss a guy, he’ll undoubtedly be more jealous then, and if it’s someone I spend a lot of time around… he might think we got something going on.” He shrugs happily, already knowing Ranpo will say yes.

He stares at him in silence for a brief minute.

“Alright.” He groans. “Who takes the lead?” He takes a chug of his vodka filled drink, knowing Dazai won’t be upset about it at a moment like this.

He chuckles lightly, “Me, of course. But you gotta play into it, man.”

“I’ve had enough drinks to make out with you, dude. Let’s just do it.”

Dazai takes his hand and guides him to the room with the main party going on. He managed to convince Yosano to bring Chuuya into the room in 5 minutes time, around 3 minutes ago.

It’s clear she’s trying to prove a point, so she doesn’t mind subjecting her best friend to a moment of weakness if it’ll get them on the correct path, so she agreed.
___________

“Whyyy ‘Sano? I just wanna drink some more, I don’t wanna dance.” He complains as he gets dragged away from the serving table.

“It’s just for a second!” She giggles, obviously being drunk already.

As he expected, this might end up being a terribly long night.

“I’m really not a fan of big crowd-”

For a moment, Chuuya believes hell has not ever been waiting for him.

He’s spent many years worried of the day death would greet him, take his hands, and show the revealing stairs leading him to the gates of wherever he’s supposed to go.

Right now, death can’t come faster. Because clearly, hell has never been waiting for him.

He’s been standing in it all along.

Allowing the flames to swallow him, consume his flesh and bones.

Slowly burning every nerve-ending, licking the purple glint in his scars, his hair turning black from the roast, his skin thinning by the second.

God is the furthest thing from his friend.

He’s spent so long resisting every urge he’s ever had, every temptation thrown his way, and yet he’s being punished as he had committed blasphemy.

Dazai has his arms placed gently on Ranpo’s waist, Ranpo’s hands cupping the other man’s face.

This is not making out, they’re practically devouring each other.

Their mouths are moving more aggressively than their bodies entanglement would lead you to believe, if you had not seen their faces it would look innocent and gentle, but this is on a whole other level.

And it’s a man.

Why does it have to be a fucking man, and Ranpo, of all people?

The heavens have never had any doubt. They have never had their gates open, their songs welcoming, or their light guiding.

His whole life he’s been guided by flames, sung to sleep by the malicious voice of the devil, and hell has always been open, just for him. As if he were the ruler of the place.

Guardian angels are a myth, because clearly Satan is standing behind him at this very moment, keeping his head in place and his eyes open. Forcing him to watch the display.

He’s spent a month hiding his gaze away, hoping his eyes would never catch a glimpse of him, and here he is, mouth buried in another man.

And Chuuya is staring.

Which someone seems to quickly notice, because Dazai’s closed eyes open.

Directly towards Chuuya.

Well, shit.

He’s doing this to make him jealous.

And oh God is it working. It feels as if he holds the rage of all of heaven inside him, waiting for them to separate so he can either take Ranpo’s place or beat Dazai to the ground, burying him alive as he watches regret flow over him.

How dare he attempt to make Chuuya jealous?

And how dare he do it so well.

Dazai’s eyes close once more, and this time his arms grab tighter onto Ranpo, pulling him even closer.

Their bodies are so tightly pressed together they could be grinding up on one another at the moment and no one would even be able to notice.

“Fuck this.” He pushes Yosano’s arm off him. Not looking back even when she calls out for him.

He storms out of the room like an angry kid throwing a tantrum, and he can’t help feeling utterly pathetic. This should not bother him to such an extent, really. They’re not together, they’re not friends, they're not anything that could validate Chuuya actually being angry at the other.

He runs up the stairs, hoping to seek relief from the air on the balcony, despite knowing he’ll feel infinitely more trapped in the house than he already does.

“Ah..” He gasps for breath the second he opens the door, immediately rushing to support himself on the railing.

Even the cold breeze, the sudden cancellation of the loud noise, the scent of recent cigarettes, none of it helps him calm down the slightest.

There’s only one thing that can distract him.

He needs to get home immedia-

“It’s cold out here.”

Time has chased Chuuya for years.

He never truly experiences the world stopping it’s constant rotation, neither does he feel time move slower or the wind falter for just a moment.

Except for now.

“No.” Chuuya instantly whispers.

“I don’t wanna talk to you, I’ve made that very clear, have I not?”

Despite his harsh words, he doesn’t dare look Dazai in the eyes, because he fears deeply that if he did he would forget all of these horrible feelings. That despite his heart tightening, his eyes stinging and his body feeling weak, he’d look at him and not feel anything but need.

“I didn’t know you’d be this upset about-”

“Shut the fuck up, Dazai.” He looks up,hoping the anger fueling him is enough to stop his rationality for the moment. That he won’t give up and simply bring their mouths together to stop their never-ending fighting.
“You.. You don’t get to make me feel shitty again. You do this every fucking time and that’s why I pushed you away! Yet you manage to screw me over once more and then have the audacity to mock me about it?”

Dazai closes the doors behind him, hoping to keep this outburst a secret from the public.

“I didn’t intend on making you feel shitty. You’re misunderstanding my intentions, Nakahara.”

That sentence is the furthest thing from comforting.

And yet he continues.

“I wanted to rile you up, yes, so that perhaps we’d end up talking. I just didn’t expect this intense of a reaction, alright?”

The most annoying thing about all of this, is that Dazai got exactly what he wanted. Here he is, riled up, and indeed talking to him. So his plan worked.

“You fucking.. asshole!” Chuuya screams, hitting his palms against Dazai’s chest to push him away, but all Dazai takes in is the fact he used his palms rather than his fists, not intending to actually hurt him.

“Chuuya-”

“I was fucking right. I really..” He pushes him further, “considered talking to you again.” A second push. “But I knew it would be a mistake!” A third push. “I knew I’d regret letting you in again,” A fourth push. “and somehow, even though I didn’t, you still manage to fucking hurt m-”

His words are cut short as his lips are blocked.

So, so, gently.

It’s not aggressive, or an attack, or evil.

Almost as if he’s afraid this action will have him wound up dead, which it might.

Dazai backs away, his hands still grabbing the wrists of Chuuya’s arms. “Can you calm down, for just a second?”

He just kissed him.

And now he’s acting like that’s normal?

Despite the confusion, once again, his plan worked. Chuuya is no longer screaming, no longer pushing, and no longer hyperventilating with tears welling in his eyes.

“.. Are you calm?”

…

“I still wanna strangle you.”

Dazai chuckles lightly, “That’s alright.”

He takes a deep breath in, “Why is it you refuse to let me touch you?”

That was worded rather awkwardly.

Chuuya understands his actual meaning, that it’s not meant in some metaphorical perverted way, that he’s not being sexual, that he’s not attempting to tempt him.

He keeps eye contact, his arms still up in the air as if ready to attack despite Dazai’s grip.

“Because you make me sic-”

“That’s not right. Think again.”

Chuuya sighs, feeling defeated once more this afternoon. Vulnerable and pathetic.

He inhales,

“You wouldn’t last an hour in the hell I was raised in. You don’t understand what it’s like to grow up in constant fear every time you feel. You don’t know what it’s like to burn.” He starts.

Dazai smiles, understanding that he’s finally peeling off layers he’s attempted to for so long. “If you were raised in what you consider hell, what’s the point in trying so hard to avoid it?”

He looks away, feeling naked in the ray of the moonlight.

“I don’t want to drag you down here with me.”

…

There it is.

The reality, the reason he’s never once admitted out loud.

The truth.

“Your logic is horrible. I’ve had sex with men, Chuuya. If hell exists and punishes us for such a thing, I’m surprised I’m not there already.”

He’s indeed correct. There’s no true logic behind Chuuya’s reasoning, as Dazai has been getting engaged with men for years, he has a significantly higher chance of winding up in hell.

“That reasoning started before you went around fucking anything you could get your eye on, I don’t know why it still holds.. I feel sick, like I’m dirty and contagious and you’ll get infected if-”

He kisses him once more, this time with more pace, as if he’s actually kissing him sincerely rather than just attempting to shut him up.

His hands grab on tightly to his waist, pulling him in.

It’s intoxicating.

He’s way more dizzy than he’s ever been from drinking.

And he doesn’t want to stop.

His hands find their way to the now quite long brown hair, using this to push Dazai further into the kiss, and it’s almost as if he’s wildly sensitive to that, because instantly his hands start roaming.

Trying to get a touch of every cell on Chuuya’s body, but he clearly has a soft spot for his back.

Chuuya makes a quick mental note of cursing Yosano, because she was right. He is absolutely gonna fuck this man.

They’ll both be sick.

He’s contagious, and he’ll infect him.

But Dazai simply doesn’t seem to care.

“Think anybody will miss you for the rest of the party?” He asks quickly, hoping he won't have to stay away from his lips for too long.

“Who fucking cares?” Dazai asks, suddenly grabbing his hand and dragging him away, “Ranpo has a guest room on this floor.” He says, quickly finding his way around.

Oh, shit. He’s actually gonna fuck this man.

Wait, what?

How in the world did they get here?
____

Dazai opens a door and pushes Chuuya inside, his movements fast and quick yet somehow still managing to be oddly gentle in the heat of the moment, almost as if he’s more desperate than Chuuya himself.

But who is he to take the lead?

Instead, Chuuya grabs Dazai’s shirt and forces him to sit upright on the bed, instantly placing himself on the lap of the man.

“Ah, Chuuya, this position is a bit-”

He rocks his hips forward which makes Dazai shut up in an instant.

Once again his hands find the throat of him, and God. Part of him wants to choke him to death right here and now, see him lose the light in his eyes and the color drain from his face as life leaves his body.

He’d voice this feeling out loud, but part of him knows that would rile Dazai up even more, and he’s trying not to make this too.. odd.

He really could strangle him, though.

How dare he be the cause of Chuuya acting like a horny middle schooler going through puberty.

He moves his hips again, this time not stopping as the motion continues.

Whether it’s to please himself or tease Dazai, he does not know. Frankly, it doesn’t really matter to either of them.

This should without a doubt only cause small friction between the two, yet Dazai is acting as if the ground beneath him is shaking and he’s having trouble keeping his balance, especially with the way he’s grabbing so harshly onto Chuuya’s hips.

“Chuuya..”

“Shut the fuck up.”

His arms wrap around Dazai’s neck and shoulders, as suddenly the feeling is also becoming a lot for him. He allows his head to fall and rest on the arms tangled around Dazai’s body, but he can’t ignore the pleasurable pain from the nails digging into his back, and the hot breath in his own shoulder.

“Mngh..” It’s more than obvious Dazai is trying to hold it in, his teeth probably gritting in determination. This is nothing more than some innocent grinding, and somehow he still seems to be feeling all of it so intensely.

His pride is probably hurt from Chuuya taking the lead, even if he’s the one of them grinding himself into the other's dick.

To be completely honest, it’s as if they both switched roles. Now Dazai seems like the shy and somewhat insecure one in this moment, while Chuuya is rather confident like he hasn’t been fearing the punishment of this sin, but that’s the furthest thing from his mind right now.

Even he is struggling to keep quiet, because Dazai is undoubtedly forcing his hips upward, giving Chuuya friction he couldn’t accomplish by himself.

“Ah.. what’s got you so, hngh, confident?” He whispers, trying to keep the embarrassing whimpers on the downlow.

“Please.. stop moving.” Dazai pleads, as if he isn’t very much himself contributing to said movement. “I won’t be able to hold it..”

Woah.

It’s as if one minor sexual act has him so riled up he turns into a completely different person.

In what world, has Osamu Dazai seemed like a man who would admit to coming after 2 minutes of some innocent dry humping? Not this one, for sure. Yet here he is.

“Are you that sensitive?” Chuuya smiles into his arm, unconsciously speeding up his pace and grinding down harder for more friction to them both.

“No..” Dazai denies the accusation, “It’s- It’s just you- ngh, fuck.”

He fastly tightens his whole-body grip on Chuuya and buries himself in the space between his shoulder and chest, his whole body trembling as he does.

…

“You came from me slightly grinding on you? That’s-”
Dazai pushes him off, forcing him to stand up.

“Woah, I’m not mocking you, I think it’s kinda cu-”

In the meantime as he was speaking, Dazai managed to not only pull down his shorts, but devour the entirety of his ashamed-to-admit throbbing dick into his mouth.

The surprise doesn’t last long, because his mind is instantly corrupted as the warm wet sensation comes over him.

“Oh fuck..” He gently whispers, trying not to make it too obvious he’s sensitive to this specific action, because he’s never experienced it before. There's no point though, Dazai already knows that, of course.

And how in the world is he so good at it?

He basically consumes everything to the point his nose is pressing into Chuuya’s lower stomach.

“You’ll- oh God- you’ll hurt yourself” Despite his words, his hands have a consciousness of their own because they excitedly grab Dazai’s hair, he’s hesitant however.

But the second he feels a slight nod from the head wrapped around his cock, he instantly presses his head in, rocking his own hips forward.

He looks down to get a view, to check that Dazai isn’t actually choking.

But the tears in his eyes and his mouth so widely open, his spread legs and his palm pressing down towards his own clothed crotch, might be the most erotic sight Chuuya has ever seen.

“Fuck, how many times have you done this? How are you so.. mngh.” His free hand instantly springs to cover his mouth as he catches himself about to let out an actual moan.

Somehow, Dazai finds a method to make the feeling even better. Chuuya can’t tell what it is, if he’s using his tongue differently or something, but all he knows is his dick might actually explode at this rate.

“Yes, keep doing that, oh my God.”

He seems utterly pleased with the minimum praise and the sensation of Chuuya’s whole body shaking in pleasure.

“I’m so fucking close..” His hands grip even tighter in the hair of the man on his knees before him, “Can I come in your mouth? Please?”

Of course, Dazai doesn’t even hesitate to nod.

And at that, Chuuya’s legs go weak, his whole body welcoming the intense sensation of relief.

“Jesus..” He slides down, sitting on the cold floor as Dazai still sits in front of him. His mouth filled. Chuuya almost tells him to spit it out, but he’s too late by the time Dazai swallows every last bit.

Around his mouth there’s still small remains, and Chuuya reaches out to get it away from him.

The heavy breathing overtakes the room, the slight scent of sweat and the heat surrounding them being overwhelming.

“You’re quite vocal.” Dazai smiles mockingly, but the mood changes instantly.

Because of course, now that the moment is over, Chuuya is realising what just happened.

That he’s officially given in to temptation, and he has no way of backing out. He has a feeling he wouldn’t want to’ even if he could, though.

But he needs to voice his thoughts,

“I’m not queer, Osamu.” Chuuya says harshly, almost as if convincing himself instead of the other.

The younger of the two doesn’t mind, though. “Right. You’re sick.”

 

There’s silence between the two. Dazai doesn’t seem to allow the tension to ruin the situation for him, as he speaks up again, “And what am I?”

Chuuya stares at him for a second, taking in his appearance.

His long, now messy hair.

His distant eyes, that manage to focus on Chuuya’s.

“You’re beautiful.”

Chapter Text

…

“So?” Yosano asks, eating the leftover icecream she found in Chuuya’s fridge.

He bought it hoping it would help with the hangover but the taste was too artificial and had strawberry clumps in.

There are many good flavors out in the world, like watermelon or grape, but when it becomes artificial it loses all meaning, who enjoys eating anything that basically tastes like flavored plastic?

It’s sunday, 1 PM, and she’s insisting on interrogating him about yesterday's events.

She came around 2 hours ago and has been continuously trying to sneakily get answers, asking ominous questions like ‘how was your night?’ and ‘How did you get home?’ without making it too obvious. But of course Chuuya knows her real intentions.

He doesn’t exactly regret it, far from it, but he does feel shameful.

That’s to be expected, of course. Judging from everything that’s been going around his mind for years, what he’s most surprised about is the fact that his head is finally silent.

He always thought that finally giving in would mean the world ending, the sun exploding and the stars disappearing. That he’d never get a single second of sleep or a minute of peace, but it’s been the complete opposite.

He slept better than far longer than he can even remember, and the weather when he woke up was perfect despite the late season.

He didn’t need to drink coffee to wake him up, and the headache wasn’t worse than two bites of artificial flavored ice cream could help.

“What?” He asks Yosano, crossing his arms to defend himself.

Even if he lies to her, she’ll know the truth deep down.

But he knows her well enough to sometimes doubt her own master-mind-in-reading-thoughts abilities, meaning that as long as he lies, she won’t scold him, tell him how stupid it is and act like a mother who just found out her 15 year old is pregnant.

She crooks an eyebrow, looking him up and down. “Did you screw ‘i'm?” She asks with another mouthful of strawberry ice cream filling her mouth. How does she like that awful stuff anyway?

He leaves the train of thought behind, starting to get annoyed by the simple look of the disgusting thing in her hands.

He sighs, “No.”

She clearly doesn’t believe him, looking him up and down a few times in doubt, as if trying to gain some kind of insider information.

It’s more than obvious she’s searching for hickeys, she nods when she doesn’t find any. “Okay, did you do anything with him?”

Once again, he doesn’t bite. “No.”

______________

“So what happened?” Kunikida asks, surprised over Dazai’s somehow-even-more enthusiastic self this morning.

He can instantly guess it has something to do with Chuuya, and having heard about his plan the day before he assumes they talked, maybe even fought. Honestly all of it would make Dazai equally excited.

Dazai smiles happily, “I sucked him off.”

He spoke as if he had won the lottery, and honestly? Kunikida is slightly taken aback by this.

Not because he doesn’t think it’s possible, it’s just a relatively big jump from not speaking for two months - excluding the night Dazai has no memory of, of course - to suddenly being overly intimate.

The others don’t seem as surprised, though.

“Of course you did.” Ranpo joins in, sitting on their couch, taking his eyes away from the tv.

Atsushi, of course, also joins. “Aren’t you worried this will make things more complicated?” He seems to be searching for something in their bathroom, making a ruckus of noise, so Kunikida stands up and walks out to help him while waiting for Dazai’s reply.

He looks toward the bathroom, then towards Ranpo. “Why would it? He’s given in, what could happen now?” He asks, confused. As if he really is oblivious of the one thing the three have been trying to teach him for years, being consequences.

If something was ever going to go wrong between them, it clearly already did. Nothing more than 2 months ago.

Ranpo sighs, stopping the ongoing show to focus fully on the conversation.

“Chuuya is still gonna have his issues, Dazai. Even if he somehow manages to come over his irrational religious fear, he’s ill. He might end up attaching himself to you and use you as a main source of comfort, would you be able to handle that?”

“Pfft, Dazai comforting someone? I’d pay money to see that.” Atsushi laughs, walking out with empty hands and Kunikida holding onto his upper arm, like a scolding mother.

He tries to genuinely think about it rather than just giving a meaningless answer.

Some months ago, he’d refuse to help anyone other than the three in this room right now, and even then it would be the bare minimum.

He’d give a pat on the head after listening to Atsushi ramble for hours, not really taking in anything he said, or he’d make Kunikida’s hourly tea for him on days he was too sick to do so himself and pestered Dazai about it.

Sometimes he’d tell Ranpo he could sleep on their couch on those rare occasions where he fought with his father.

Those things are the reasons they stick around, probably. He isn’t a good friend, he’s very aware of that, but that’s because he doesn’t believe in friendship, formality or affection. Sometimes he’ll just put on a pretend, because even if he only tolerates his ‘so called friends’, life would be very empty without their nagging.

But it seems that his past dislike of Chuuya turning into.. something else, has also caused him to be more empathic.

The only proof he has of this is from Gogol’s party.

Usually he’d barely considered helping someone home, much less sleep in their bed to make sure they wouldn’t hurt themselves. Yet, after this night, he never misses to do a full body check of Chuuya when he’s looking away, just in case.

“I don’t believe he’ll start seeing me as his source of comfort, but if it comes to that I’m sure I’ll figure it out.” He shrugs, playing it off as nothing, despite his knowledge they might be right.

He has no actual ability to reassure people, because he has never needed to learn how to do it.

He’s never had a reason or interest for being a person people would find comfort in, other than those tiny moments he’d offer the three, but now he feels it might be necessary if Chuuya is to stay.

The others notice Dazai’s doubt and decide changing the subject might be for the better, so Atsushi is the first one to cut in, “Ranpo, has Fukuzawa started planning his annual speech yet?” He smiles in a light chuckle, setting the mood.

All the three older ones groan, knowing they’re the ones who have to sit through an hour of sex-ed when they’re meant to have philosophy. “Yes, tomorrow we’ll be talking about responsible drinking as usual, and then sex diseases.” He answers, visibly annoyed.

A second groan escapes Kunikida and Dazai.

___________

As Sunday afternoon comes around and Chuuya’s room is quiet once more, he takes this as an opportunity to speak to an old friend.

One he regrets having not had a real conversation with in months. He’ll leave small prayers, quick questions, or absent apologies that never really meant anything.

He walks towards his bed, doing the usual routine of going on his knees and holding his hands above his head.

Usually when speaking to God, at least when he was younger, he’d simply lay and talk. Stare into the ceiling, hoping it was catching his words and delivering them to the man intended. This routine was solely for when he felt it was necessary.

‘... Hi.”

He starts, feeling a bit awkward as it’s been quite the while.

Starting conversations with someone who can’t audibly answer you feels pathetic sometimes, but he truly needs to talk to him.

‘I apologize I haven’t talked to you recently, I’ve been.. frustrated. I was worried I would take it out on you, because we’ve both experienced my days of anger accidentally ending up in curses.. but something has happened, and I felt we have to talk about it, so please listen.”

He waits a second, as if waiting for acknowledgement, and when he feels it’s granted, he continues.

‘I’ve before come to you, praying for numerous things. Like Dazai leaving me alone, or removing the most disgusting part of myself. I’ve prayed for you to cure me, in hope that would mean you’d still accept me..’

He inhales, ‘But it seems that wasn’t ever going to happen. I don’t know why, I’m sure you have the ability to, I’ve seen you do it for others.. I think. At least that’s what they say, I don’t know how much I believe in it anymore.. because you never attempted to heal me. I wonder if it’s because I was born sick, and others developed it over time, allowing you the ability to save them, while I was a lost cause.’

‘..or maybe you already accepted me. I’m scared of believing that, because I’m afraid of giving myself hope you’ll open the gates for me and wait with open arms, but either way, I’m here to.. confess my sins. I’d ask for forgiveness, I’d beg for hours, believe me, but I feel that even if you were to forgive me now, that won’t stop me from giving in again.’

He shifts slightly,

‘I don’t completely understand why something that I believed was temptation from the devil, seems to be more satisfying than the idea of heaven.’ He coughs, clearing his throat. ‘Excuse me, I have no intention of offending you.. I’m just trying to be honest.’

‘Sometimes, I think my brain is a parasite and my body the host. Inside all of me knows what the right thing to do is, and it wants nothing but to reject him and his touch. But my mind allows me to wonder and go against everything I know, letting him become the only thing I’ve ever truly known.’

His eyes feel itchy, but he ignores it and continues.

‘I’ve never fully believed in anything. In all honesty I’ve had my doubts about you, even. On mornings after a night of praying you’d take me out of this world, and I woke up to you greeting me with sunlight. Or when I begged you for endless hours to cure me from this sickness, and I’d find myself still daydreaming about his warmth.’

He waits a second.

‘But I believe in him.’

He exhales the breath stuck in his lungs.

‘I don’t know what that means.. completely. I’ve never liked him, yet I’ve always wanted him. I don’t believe he’ll stay forever, or even that I will. I don’t believe in us. But something leads me to simply believe in him, and nothing more. Not his feelings, his comfort or his warmth. Just.. him.’

He sighs, inhaling another deep breath.

‘I wanted to tell you that I’ve sinned. And that I don’t regret it, so I come not asking for forgiveness, but for understanding. Amen.’
______________________

Dazai enters class, slightly more excited than in his past days of annoying Chuuya.

Not that his mind isn’t absolutely set on doing just that, but he knows that he has a true chance of getting under his skin now.

Whether that’s because he can now tease him on a more sexual level than before, or the fact he’s now fully aware of just how weak Chuuya is to him, he does not know. Frankly, he doesn’t care either. He just wants to watch the man crumble under his words.

He doesn’t know yet he’ll end up being the one doing so.

When he searches the room for Chuuya, his eyes are instantly met, and he’s lucky enough in his assumption of their new situation, because he doesn’t look away.

Dazai stands still for a second, simply watching Chuuya’s hair not being set up but instead falling nicely over his shoulders. That is until he takes his eyes off him, looks to the seat next to him and gives Dazai a slight nod of approval, or invitation. Whichever one it is, he instantly accepts it.

As he sits down, Chuuya lets out a defeated ‘hmph.’ As if he didn’t intend on allowing him so close when he woke up, so the other is already very pleased with seeing his self restraint be so horrible.

“Finally opening up to me again?” Dazai smiles happily, but the older is quick to turn his head and steal his gaze.

“If anyone’s opening up, I’d assume it’s your mouth.” He replies, not even taking a second to think of it before it spits out of his mouth, his face stoic and voice in monotone. He can easily hear the teasing and annoyance hidden beneath the tone, though.

So he instantly seizes him up, “I’ll do it again if you want me to.”

“Who wants anything to do with you?” Chuuya mumbles, seemingly mostly to himself despite clearly replying to Dazai.

He chuckles, “You weren’t complaining a few days ago..” His finger finds the others, ready to be smacked away but at least get some more teasing in. But to his surprise, Chuuya accepts the touch.

“Is it the yearly parental talk?” He asks, immediately changing the talk, hinting at Fukuzawa getting ready with a power-point presentation.

Dazai groans, lowering his head into his arms.

“Sadly.”

Chuuya notices his defeat, and he can’t help but let a small laugh out, “I’m sure you’ll survive. Or is two minutes really the only attention-span in your head?”

Dazai shoots his head up, his face flushing red from embarrassment.

Who is he to suddenly be a tease?

He really doesn’t enjoy this power-switch they’ve had. Dazai was alright with begging and going under when it was in his favor, but right now it doesn’t seem to be.

Unless..

“That was your fault.” He mumbles, making it more than obvious he feels shame over it.

But Chuuya instead curls the finger Dazai had placed his on top of around, causing some sort of awkward ‘hand-holding’ with their pinkies.

“Maybe we should test it.”

…

Wow.

He’s insecure about everything, but the second it comes to sex he’s as confident as a horse. What a douche.

“Shut up.” Dazai whispers back, annoyed that his plan turned on him and he’s now the one getting teased. He can’t help slightly engage the idea, though.

____

As Fukuzawa speaks about yeast infections, of all things, how appealing,

Chuuya notices Dazai’s foot reaching over to his.

He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t show any reaction either.

His eyes dart quickly to their fingers still interlocked, hoping no one notices the touch that can easily look like an accident despite it being more than intended.

He tries to ignore the way Dazai uses his foot to slowly reach up his leg, but when he’s about to reach his knee he gives him a look, “What are you doing?” He whispers harshly.

Dazai smiles innocently. “I’m bored. Wanna go to the bathroom?” He tilts his head, still putting up an act of innocence.

Chuuya is more than unimpressed.

Is this guy a sex addict?

He’s seen how many people he’s spread his legs for, or spread the legs of, over the years, and Chuuya has never really cared, but now that’s on him he’s seriously out of words. They’re not only in school, which is already public, making it more than problematic, but they’re literally in class for safe sex.

What’s not safe sex? Unhygienic sex. What’s unhygienic? School bathrooms.

He sighs in disbelief, “Are you seriously asking me to skip class, about safe sex of all things, to have sex with you?” He asks in a way that makes it obvious a part of him assumes it’s a joke, while the other, bigger part, is very aware Dazai is nothing but serious.

"No..No..” He waves his free hand in defense, “Not sex. Just thought I’d help you with some.. relief?” He smiles again.

…

“No.” Chuuya turns his head toward Fukuzawa again.

Dazai sighs in what should be defeat, but instead he’s sighing because of Chuuya’s stubbornness, knowing he’ll give in.

“Please?”

…

______

“I hate when you beg.” Chuuya says, looking away as Dazai closes the door to the bigger and isolated bathroom, knowing that doing this in a stall is significantly too risky.

He looks at him as he finds himself instantly going on his knees, feeling his personality slowly switch in real time. “Why? because it works?” He smiles once more, as always.

Chuuya shakes his head.

“It doesn’t. I went here to scold you, not allow you to..” His voice gets drowned in his throat as he gets a clear view of Dazai on his knees once again. This time, his vision isn’t blurry from the alcohol, and his senses too gone in his dizziness to fully focus.

He has his cheek pressed up against the key-point of Chuuya’s pants, and his eyes are hungrily looking up, as if waiting for permission.

.. like he’s waiting to be fed.

“Mhm-mhm.” He bites his cheek and shakes his head once more. “We’re basically in public. And we’re meant to be in class..” He sighs.

“But then you’ll be all pent up Chuuya..” He smirks, pressing against the now harder spot.

He gives a small kiss, trying not to go over the line, having still not been given permission. “You won’t be able to focus like this, I’m just helping you out.”

He crosses his arms and looks away in hope it’ll throw him back to reality, that not being able to see Dazai almost look desperate will help him not continue to let all his blood rush to his dick.

But it’s no help, because if anyone is stubborn about getting what they want, it’s Dazai.

“Please? Let me take care of you.. I’ll be good.”

Self-restraint is a word that’s been used many times recently, and it’s never worked, nor been true.

Now? There’s no point in even trying.

If a single word more is uttered from the mouth that should already be filled to the rim, Chuuya might actually just bend him over instead.

“Please Chuuya. Just.. just relax and let me..”

He groans loudly, admitting defeat. “Fine. Fine.. But you’ll do good, yes?” He unbuckles his belt, looking down at the desperate man.

He looks like he’s starving.

“Of course.. so good. Use my mouth as you will, you can be rough.”

… “Are you sure?”

“Please?”

Chuuya sighs as Dazai finally takes him in, “You really will be the death of me.”

His fingers once more interlock in the strands of Dazai’s hair, giving him quick flashbacks to a few nights ago.

He reaches up to the t-shirt that’s annoying his head, signing for Chuuya to hold it up, his whole mouth being too filled for him to actually say anything.

He doesn’t notice the way Dazai’s fingers graze along the scars filling out his thighs, almost paying more attention to them than the dick he’s meant to be ‘doing good’ on.

While he doesn’t realize why, he definitely notices the unfocused mind, so Chuuya almost asks if he can push before he remembers being asked to do just that.

He grabs harder and pushes Dazai’s head in, thrusting his hips out as he does so, and he immediately notices his mind being focused once more. “Good boy.” slips past his lips in a moan, and he catches both of them off guard, but before getting the chance to apologize he notices the way Dazai’s fingers tighten around his thighs and his legs squeeze together.

“You really do like praise, huh?” He smiles, breathing out a heavy breath.

Dazai nods beneath him, moving closer as if he can fit anymore inside.

Once again he gets it all thrusted into his mouth, and part of Chuuya much appreciates finding out early that Dazai is absolutely okay with swallowing.

And that he seems to have enough experience for his gag reflex to not react harshly.

“Yes.. so good..”

The words of praise leaves him without even noticing, and he simply continues using his mouth as his personal toy.

“Do you like it?” Chuuya chuckles lightly, and Dazai instantly nods, opening his mouth more.

An idea comes into his head, as he remembers that the man beneath him can finish unusually fast, he wonders if he could do it hands-free. He might as well put it to the test, as he has nothing to lose from it.

Maybe a little bit of his dignity, but he lost that a long time ago.

He inhales, swallowing the remaining embarrassment in his body.

“You’re doing so good.”

Dazai’s fingers clench once again, digging nail marks into Chuuya’s thighs.

“You’re making me feel so good, Dazai. Oh.. fuck..” Clearly the praise helps with motivation, because he instantly swallows the last bit he couldn’t fit a mere second ago.

“Good boy. Such a.. mgh.. such a good boy.”

Dazai lets out a series of whimpers beneath him, the small vibration adding extra feeling to the already warm wet space around him.

He looks down to get a glimpse of the beautiful sight, but he notices the sudden empty feeling on his right thigh and finds the missing hand rushing to open Dazai’s pants.

“Ah-ah.” He grabs harder, thrusting in continuously, and he instantly understands and puts his hand back in its reserved space, clenching tightly onto Chuuya’s thighs for support.

“Please..” He mumbles out through his full mouth, trying to get permission to relieve himself, but Chuuya stands his ground and continues without speaking another word.

“Fuck, mngh.. you’re- ah, you’re gonna make me come. Good boy, I’m gonna come in your mouth, okay?” He inhales as his body tenses up, “Oh, yes, hngh-”

His body trembling endlessly causes him not to notice Dazai’s doing the exact same, meaning his test succeeded.

A few seconds pass of heavy breathing, and the faint sound of swallowing.

“Good?” Dazai asks, his thumb wiping around his lips. Trying to put up a front that helps with the embarrassment.

Chuuya looks down. “Unbelievable.. Do you have a praise kink? Your nails almost made me bleed.” He smiles, still trying to get his breathing under control.

The other once more seems rather embarrassed, looking away and shaking his head.

Chuuya decides to let it go for now.

“Let’s head back to class, I'm trying not to miss too much. So next time, wait until we’re off, okay?” Dazai nods at the order.

He looks down, sighs, then finally stands up. “I uh.. I have to go do something.” He mumbles.

He’s like a whole other person when it gets to sex. Suddenly shy and obedient, while usually he’s confident and stubborn.

Suppose it’s the same with Chuuya, though. He only becomes this confident when Dazai doesn’t have the ability to humiliate him because his mouth is full of cock.

“What?” Chuuya asks as he gets his pants back on.

“.. I need to change pants.”

…

He can’t hold it in.

Chuuya instantly bursts out laughing, both enjoying the humor and the fact Dazai came from nothing but praise.

He leans in to give a quick kiss, “Good boy.”
_________________________

At lunch, the two boys both make an attempt at focusing on the conversations their friends are happily trying to make them engage in, but they’re fighting the urges to just stare at one another.

Is this what good sex does to people?

And it's not even sex yet. Only God knows what’ll happen when Chuuya is the one to be full- wait, is he gonna be the one to take it? Their dynamic is a little odd, he’s unsure of who-

“Sure, but how exactly do you go about that? Do I just like.. kiss him and say ‘I love you’?” Akutagawa’s words instantly pull Chuuya out of his horny trance.

“I mean.. you could take him on a date?” Yosano suggests, looking at Chuuya for help.

He mumbles a quick ‘what? oh’ before trying to think of a way as well.

“Yeah, taking him on a date seems like the best opportunity if you wanna say- wait, you love him?” He finally catches up to what’s happening, suddenly showing his obvious doubt on this situation.

Akutagawa seems to take slight offense but pushes it off, “Yeah. I mean we’ve been.. not together but you know-”

“You’re basically together” Yosano cuts in.

“Right. For a few months now, and I do.. love him. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to show that.”

__________

“Why won’t he just say it?!” Atsushi groans, stretching out the last word as he lowers himself on his arms, mimicking a crying motion.

“Are you sure he loves you?” Kunikida asks, not realizing how that might sound, luckily Atsushi doesn’t realize either.

Dazai finally catches up to the point of the conversation, still trying to shake off the awkward look they all gave him after asking why his face was so red and his voice hoarse.

“.. I think- no, I know. And I would say it first to make it easier for him, but I’d also appreciate the effort, you know? I want him to say it first.” He explains. “I’ve done a lot of our ‘firsts’ so I feel he should be the one to do this.. I don’t want to make it easy for him because I want to know he’ll go against his own isolation and doubt to love me.”

Is doing all of these things with Chuuya a mistake?

There is a real chance of him catching feelings, and that would cause some real problems.

Essentially, if Chuuya was to catch feelings, Dazai would have to deal with that one way or another, even if it means simply ignoring it. Maybe he’d have to reject him and end this new thing they’ve got going on, or…

Yeah, no. Definitely not that. The chances of Dazai falling in love with Chuuya are the same chances as the existence of flying whales.. could’ve used a more poetic sort of way of saying that, but the point is the same either way.

He doesn’t like people in even a platonic sense, the closest he’s ever come to that is Kunikida which is only because-

That doesn’t matter right now.

He simply has a sexual interest in him, and some sort of deranged affection that comes from somewhere he can’t reach. The only important thing is that it won’t grow, if anything it should just disappear, but it feels like that’s far from possible.

“Being in love is nothing but an illusion made up by poets who wanted a reason to live.”

Atsushi looks at Dazai, and so does the other two.

“Wow, way to kill the mood.” Ranpo giggles, “Being in love is a feeling people chase and find comfort in, because it does give you a reason to live. But even if it doesn’t, it provides safety. It’s not an illusion, or something made up.” He tries to comfort Atsushi.

“How would you know?” Dazai sighs.

Ranpo’s mood visibly deflates a little, but he brushes it off. “Just because I don’t experience romantic love doesn’t mean I don’t experience it at all, Dazai. I love my dad, for example. I love all of you guys. None of that is an illusion, so why would romance be?”

He shrugs, having not intended this to be as big of a discussion as it’s coming out to be.

“I just don’t believe in love.”

Atsushi answers, “Then I don’t believe in suicide.”

There’s a tense silence for a while between them.

“That logic is unreliable. Suicide is an act, love is-”

“Love is also an act.” He’s quick to shut down the argument, “It’s just also.. more. Many actions are counted as love, giving flowers, for example. Even in death, it’s a resemblance of love.” He thinks for a moment, “Do you believe in hate, Dazai?”

He’s almost about to say no, that it’s too black and white and that’s not how emotions work, that you can’t feel one main feeling because there’ll always be something else. But his words are caught in his throat when he remembers how he felt merely a year ago.

How he felt when he was tying the noose, thinking of his deceased brother and his wretched fate caused by alcohol.

He hates Alcohol.

He hates Addiction.

“You got me there.” He smiles, accepting defeat.
___________________________

When night hours come around, and Yosano has once more gone home, Chuuya finds himself with his phone in hand, his thumb hovering hesitantly over the send button.

On nights where his thoughts became too much, he had 3 options.

He could call either Yosano or Akutagwa, and have them help distract him for a few hours until his head was exhausted enough to fall asleep without any major anxiety attacks or urges.

He could give in to the urges, sobbing and puking as he tore his flesh apart in hope the blood spilling out would take his agony with him. It never did.

Or he could try to go to sleep, trying to ignore the voices and constant noise in his head, his breath hitching and his heart beating faster while he could feel his temperature rise in real time as sweat appeared mysteriously on his body.

Now, he’s found a new solution.

Not a good one, far from it, actually. But for some reason, it feels like the right thing to do, yet he can’t help but curse himself over it.

They’re nothing.

They just help each other relieve stress.

So who would he be to ask Dazai to..

Ugh.

Feelings are complicated. Way more complicated than the black and white between heaven and hell. He gives a quick ‘amen’ of apology to God once more, and deletes his message.

He retypes a new one, still appreciating the chance of small conversation.

‘What are you doing?” He sends, and he almost jumps at how quick the message is read.

. . .

The bubble is nothing but anxiety-infecting.

‘Depends. If you want me to come over, I’m on the way to your room. If not, I’m currently making coffee.’

He rolls his eyes at the obvious flirting, quickly typing the next message.

‘Coffee at this hour is stupid.’

. . .

‘Then I’m outside. Should I knock first or are you gonna let me in immediately?’

He turns his phone off and moves to the door instantly, trying not to show his obvious relief when he sees Dazai indeed standing there.

He doesn’t really get any time to truly process it though, because the door is instantly closed, and he’s being pushed into the room with two hands on his waist, and lips on his.

“Dazai.” He says firmly as the other leaves gentle kisses on his neck.

He almost forgets what he’s supposed to say. Adjusting his neck to leave more open space.

“I didn’t ask you here to..”

There’s a sudden pause,

“What do you mean? You didn’t ask me here at all Chuuya.” Dazai looks at him, confused, until that expression turns into realization, then the most annoying smirk to ever graze earth.

“You were gonna ask me to come over, huh?”

Chuuya sighs, louder than what he originally meant. Irritated at how easily Dazai seems to figure him out.

This is part of why it was a fucking horrible idea.

“I guess, yeah. But it wasn’t for sex.”

There’s a quick flash of terror running through Dazai’s eyes, the same one he showed for less than a second when Chuuya had told him he never wanted to see him again just 2 months ago.

Obviously, the terror is covered by his usual front as quickly as it came.

“..Okay, then?” he smiles, it’s clearly fake, though.

Chuuya inhales deeply, deciding he might as well tell him now. “I just don’t enjoy being alone at night.” It’s stupid, isn’t it? Dazai sucked him off twice, and now he’s basically asking him to sleep over because he gets scared and anxious. It’s nothing but pathetic.

Dazai tilts his head, “Oh. Okay. I’ll sleep here then.” He says, getting into Chuuya’s bed that he clearly feels familiar in.

He’s surprised by the outcome of this, in all honesty he’d slightly expected Dazai to leave the second he realised he didn’t want to have sex, but he can’t exactly say that he’s complaining.

He slowly crawls into bed too, cautious of the other man.

But Dazai holds his arm out, sitting somewhat up, laying somewhat down. He’s more than obviously offering Chuuya to sleep on his chest. What a prick. How is he supposed to keep it sexual and no-strings-attached when he acts like this?

In his defense, they never agreed on a ‘no-strings-attached’ situation, so it’s not entirely his fault.

After a few silent seconds, Chuuya gives in and lays on Dazai’s chest.

He tries not to pay attention to the hand gently going back and forth on his shoulder.

“I do think we should talk about our situation though.” Dazai says, suddenly.

A sigh so silent that even Chuuya almost doesn’t catch it slips by his lips, and he looks up at the other. “Okay. What should we talk about?” He asks, hoping to just get it over with, but the question being fired his way is entirely different than what he had expected.

“Who’s gonna be the top?”

…

“..That’s what you wanna talk about?” He asks, confused.

But Dazai seems even more confused, “Yes? What else? Oh, did you think I was gonna talk about some serious stuff like ‘no attachment’ or being ‘exclusive’?”

He knows him too well.

It’s annoying.

“I guess, yeah.”

Dazai thinks for a simple second before answering that immediately, “Well, there’s no need for a ‘no-strings’ type situation, since a universe where we could have romantic feelings for one another seems more like a fairy tale than those of fairies and magic.” He says in a shrug.

Ouch.

Not that Chuuya disagrees, he doesn’t think he’ll grow romantic feelings or.. that he already has them, an attachment maybe but nothing romantic. But he could at least sugarcoat it.

“And I don’t mind being exclusive, but neither of us really have sex with people if it isn’t for parties, we can talk about that if a party comes around, yes?”

He simply nods, wanting to go away from the serious side of this conversation and instead go back to the dumb one.

“Great, so, who tops?”

He thinks for a moment, genuinely trying to form a reply. “What do you want?”

Dazai smiles happily, “I don’t mind both, I switch.”

Of course he does, indecisive asshole.

“I don’t really mind either.”

Well, that’s great. Their communication skills have exceeded of what is stupid to what is simply nothingness.

“We can just switch, then?” Dazai offers, which Chuuya isn’t opposed to, so they agree on that and stop the conversation there.

The two lay entangled in silence, Dazai’s eyes open and Chuuya’s not, for what feels like eternity.

Chuuya is trying to sleep, but the obvious feeling of Dazai being awake and thinking is causing him to be oddly anxious, but he doesn’t want to start anything so he tries to ignore it.

______

Dazai sits, thinking as Chuuya falls asleep on him.

If he’s meant to stop him from actually falling in love, he shouldn’t be engaging in meaningless stuff like this.

‘Love can be an act too’ Atsushi said.

Is this what he meant?

Will Chuuya misunderstand this as an act of love, rather than just the smallest hint of affection and boredom?

But at the same time, he simply looks so beautiful when he’s asleep. No angry or irritated faces, no bickering or snarky comments, no tears or screams. Just silence, and peace. His hair being all over the place, his breath calm and the leg that unconsciously lays upon Dazai’s, and the arm that intendedly wrapped around his waist for extra support.

He’s gorgeous when he’s oblivious of the world.

“Don’t fall in love with me, Nakahara. It’ll only end in tears.” He whispers, closing his eyes.

Chapter Text

“I’ll have a cheeseburger, please.” Atsushi smiles at the waiter who’s finally done taking orders for the most indecisive table in the world.

You would believe this group of adult men accompanying a single teenager would be better at choosing what they should stuff their face with, yet the waiter had to come back 3 separate times because they still hadn’t decided.

Dazai stretches his arms, looking over at the boy who spoke last. “You can order more expensive stuff, Atsushi. You seem to forget you’re in a group of-”

“Of spoiled rich kids.” He shrugs, typing something out on his phone.

All three older people sitting around the round table seem to freeze for a second. “Now spoiled I wouldn’t say..” Kunikida adjusts his glasses uncomfortably. But when he looks towards Ranpo for an agreement, he swallows his words remembering that if anyone is a so-called ‘spoiled rich kid’ it is indeed Ranpo himself.

Dazai and Kunikida are slightly different, but not to the extent of which they can argue against Atsushi in this situation.

Dazai is the least well-off of the three, but he’s definitely not close to poor. At least not anywhere close to Atsushi, though since that is being said, it’s fair to also say Fukuzawa has a clear weak point for him, and is willing to borrow him money anytime, while Kunikida makes sure he has food every single day, so safe to say despite him being poor, he’s okay.

“Let’s change the subject while we wait, yes?” He simply suggests, hoping not to prove Atsushi’s point right.

The others seem to agree and focus on the atmosphere surrounding them, they haven’t been out on a real hang out in quite a while unless it was for a specific reason, like Dazai’s birthday, so Ranpo suggested they go out to eat again but for the simple sake of it.

It’s mostly an excuse to eat good food and finally catch up on everything happening in each other's lives, since the focus is usually on the two pursuers.

Dazai shifts in his seat, “How’s it going with Akutagawa?” He asks Atsushi, proving that point correct.

Romance is simply just the most interesting topic in most situations, so it’s always easiest to keep the focus there for a kickstart.

The other groans, “It’s going great. I can tell he’s really trying, like sometimes he’ll just say ‘I’ and then pause for a long time only to change the course completely. But he invited me out on friday, so..” He shrugs, signalling his hope.

The three cheer, hoping that’ll give him some comfort.

It doesn’t necessarily, but he appreciates the effort anyway.

“What about you guys, anything new?” He asks, looking at all of them, who end up looking back and forth on each other.

They should truly leave the dorms more, nothing exciting ever happens which leads to their conversations sometimes ending up relatively awkward when it’s at the ‘what’s new’ stage.

Dazai smiles proudly, “Well me personally, I’ve completely bagged him.”

Clearly, no one is as impressed as he had suspected. They even seem to doubt him quite the lot. “You mean you got on your knees and begged, and he agreed out of pity?” Ranpo smiles back at the arrogant one.

Laughing abrupts around the table while the one they’re laughing at pouts.

They always get a good kick out of teasing Dazai, for some odd reason no one really understands.

It’s probably because he’s the one to always tease, so whenever they get a jab back at him it’s enjoyable to the max.

“I won’t argue getting on my knees, but he didn’t agree out of pity. He agreed out of pleasure. Excuse me for having skill.” He replies back annoyed, but he’s only fueling the laughter surrounding him.

As they catch their breaths, Kunikida strikes another question. “No, seriously. He ‘agreed’ you say? To what, exactly?” He smiles, his breath still hitching between words.

Dazai sinks into his chair slightly.

Technically speaking, Chuuya hasn’t really agreed to anything.

You can easily assume that him agreeing to have sex is him agreeing to be fuck buddies.. or whatever, but it’s definitely in their best favor to actually speak abut boundaries. Because that’s apparently a thing you have to do, Dazai isn’t really used to that. When it came to women, he just did whatever they wanted, sped up if they asked, stopped if they told him. When it came to men, he would usually lay and let them do as they wanted.

Having sex with women was a relief thing.

An opportunity to relax and just enjoy pleasure for the time being.

Having sex with men?

That was more of a coping situation.

He has a tendency of striking up people's temper, even when they’re aroused, so men had a habit of being rough with him. He didn’t experience it too many times, situations where it was rough enough for him to tear and be in pain for days, that happened less than 3 times, so nothing to dwell on there.

But they’d still be rough enough.

Some would ask if they could choke him, hit him or blindfold him, and he’d always just nod mindlessly. It was only slightly uncomfortable on nights where they didn’t ask before doing so, as if they were completely entitled to his body.

He puts the blame on himself there, though. It’s not like he ever said stop, and he never cried or yelled. If it was uncomfortable, he’d just consider it a way of ‘getting what he deserves’ even if he had not done anything worth punishing.

But that's exactly why this situation with Chuuya is so odd.

He asked him to be rough.

Hell, he even begged.

He’s never once asked to be hurt, even on days he considered it. He’s never gone on his knees begging to take care of someone, it was usually a demand he couldn’t help but follow.

Yet here he is, acting as if he would starve every second of the day his mouth isn’t filled to the rim.

“Uh..” He shrugs, “To be.. fuck buddies, I guess?” He says confused, almost as if he’s asking the others.

The others seem to be striding away from this path of conversation, which he suddenly wildly appreciates.

He takes a quick mental note of the question Kunikida asks Ranpo, and how he brings up that man named ‘Poe’ they haven’t met yet. Ranpo used to describe him as some sort of stalker, but they actually seem to be good friends now.

As he tries to focus on the conversation happening in front of him, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. It doesn’t take him more than 5 seconds to have it in his hand, the light slightly blinding him.

It reads:

CHIBI : Where are you?

Well, someone seems to be missing him.

He smiles, all his focus gone from the conversation to his phone.

ME : I’m out eating. Why, miss me?

He chuckles lightly to himself, hoping the others don’t have the energy to notice nor mock him for it.

CHIBI : You wish.

CHIBI : Do you wanna come by tonight?

Cute.

ME : So you miss my mouth, is what I’m reading?

CHIBI : Don’t get ahead of yourself. I just wanna talk.

He sighs, texting out a last response.

ME : Alright then. See you tonight.

He packs his phone away once again, silently hoping for another vibration to hit him, though it never comes.

____________________________

30 MINUTES EARLIER

____________________________

A heat that could be mistaken from the blue flame hitting 1,600 celsius seems to surround Chuuya completely.

As if he’s being swallowed by something more than just fire, more than the scorching heat from the sun, almost as if he was drowning in magma boiling by the second, consuming him whole.

The painful warmth comes from hands roaming over his body, aggressively and fast, as if desperate to cover him in scars.

Then, it becomes oddly slow.

Not necessarily hesitant, more so gentle, and caring.

First it touches the bottom of his feet, which gives the sensation and illusion of him walking in the depths of hell. Then it slowly creeps upon his ankle, making him feel trapped in place. Have you ever experienced slowly walking into water, by the shore?

Perhaps in the ice cold winter, so freezing your breath is completely white and your body shaking, and somehow it feels as if you’re burning. The water traps your feet, and you’re unable to walk further, yet not able to back away either.

This could compare to that, he’d assume.

Then his lower legs, which the entity doesn’t seem to care much for as the excitement for his thighs take over. Each finger slowly, but as painfully as the next, caress over each and every scar he’s inflicted upon his own flesh.

If he were to look down, he’s partly convinced he’d see them being ripped up, and his blood not even getting a chance to roll down his skin before the heat of him would make it boil into damp mist.

He feels nails as hot as lit matches pressing into his deepest wound, one he’s now unsure if had ever even healed.

He’s completely convinced the nail digs down enough to pass by the barriers of skin, shovel between the layers of flesh, and then caress his bone hidden long beneath self pity and despair.

He can’t help but gag at the sensation of nails scraping across his bone, it feels so vivid yet there’s no pain that seems to be caused by anything but the burning heat.

The hands finally move on to his hips, they only quickly grab on before then swirling all around his waist.

He tries to zone out, to not pay attention to the heat getting forced on his chest, to the voice blabbering blurred words and mismatched sentences he couldn’t make out if he tried.

He wishes to squirm away, to kick and scream when the hands gently caress his face and open his eyes.

He uses all his strength to keep them closed, scared of what might become of him if he is to see the scenery happening before him.

But it’s to no avail.

His eyes are forced open despite his silent prayers, and it could not be a less comforting sight.

He thinks that, but he can’t ignore how for a second his legs stop trembling, and his heart doesn’t feel like it’s about to be puked out of his throat.

No, this is not the sun's fire, a volcano’s lava, or even the atmosphere of hell..

This is the very Devil himself.

Touching him desperately, gently, aggressively and kindly all at once.

He lays with the Devil on top of him, and finally he can make out the squeezy words, whispering his name sweetly, as if eating raw sugar. His bed is no longer burning and swallowing, but comforting. It pays no mind to the extra weight, nor does it turn to mist at the touch.

The Devil isn’t a deep bloody red, he doesn’t have horns that frighten you, he doesn’t have glowing eyes you believe could find you no matter where you hid away from them.

His body is frail, in the sense you wouldn’t be confused if he was covered in bruises and bandages. You almost wish to take a look, trying to find his body’s weak points, but you’re distracted.

His hair is long, grazing your cheek as he looks down on you. As if it’s gently kissing you, wishing to comfort you.

His eyes are distant, as if he can’t bring himself to truly look at you, and if you pay close attention, you’ll notice that the before burning desperate hands are now shaky and insecure in their touch.

You’re no longer bound to the bed with burning chains, scraping at your skin with every move, no.. you’re free to leave if you please.

However you can’t help but be hesitant when the shaky hands gently hold on to your wrist, his eyes that despite being distant seem to be pleading for you not to leave, even though he was the one forcing you down merely a second ago.

You don’t know whether to leave or to stay.

Neither does Chuuya, because what he had expected to be the face of Satan himself, is instead the face of his very own personal devil. The one person haunting him through the time that he seems to never be able to catch up to, and here he is, now begging him to stay.

Has the Devil ever really been true? Did he ever exist, forcing temptation down Chuuya’s throat, or was it always Dazai?

A white light flashes before his eyes, and the man on top of him disappears. His hand twitches, urging to reach out and keep the figure close, but he’s in his room, which feels rather cold in comparison, distracting him from the thought.

Chuuya might be losing his mind, actually.

It’s not that he’s never dreamed about something as simple as hell, and it’s not even that he’s never dreamed about Dazai, whether in a sexual or brutal way.. it’s just that somehow, this seems different than those times.

He sighs loudly, trying to compose himself by finding focus points around his room, like the closed drawer hiding the most gruesome part of himself, the lamp he’s not fond of turning off, the window he always closes before sleeping, and his phone beside him.

It was merely supposed to be a nap, but he managed to sleep until dinner time.

A hand runs down his face, and he grabs angrily at the phone.

He types out the letters, feeling more pathetic than not. Part of him hopes to be left on delivered, and he’ll shamefully delete the message and they’ll pretend it never happened.

ME: Where are you?
__________________________

Atsushi and Dazai walk alongside each other as they make their way back to the dorms, having left Kunikida and Ranpo to themselves, which they clearly didn’t mind.

It’s also been a while since Atsushi and Dazai have spent any form of time alone.

Sometimes they can talk for hours on end, other times they’ll sit in silence for what can seem like eternity, but they never truly mind. They’re like brothers, comfortable in each other's presence by nature, so when Atsushi walks in silence, Dazai pays it no mind.

He doesn’t seem to be upset, at least not in a way where he’ll need any form of comfort, which Dazai silently appreciates.

He does notice the hitched inhale, though, and he turns his head, ready to answer whatever stupid question the kid has thought of now.

Being quite used to his stupidity, his theoretical questions and hypothetical wonders, exposing just how vulnerable he is to the real world. Sometimes, Dazai will answer his questions with brutal honesty, while Kunikida listens silently. Ranpo pretends to wonder along with Atsushi, but everyone knows he’s straight-thinking and doesn’t believe in hypotheticals.

So, he expects a question along the lines of “If aliens do exist..” or “Maybe we all live in a simulation..” starting a conversation as stupid as the next.

He keeps his eyes on him, but he does notice the quick hesitation, which gives him enough time to wonder what he could possibly be about to-

“Do you think.. Chuuya is in love with you?”

 

Scratch that, he is not at all prepared to answer the stupidity in that question.

He stares at Atsushi for a few seconds, stopping the pace in his steps completely, trying to catch any form of sarcasm or jokingly manner in the face of the younger, but there’s none to be found. He’s asking this out of true, genuine curiosity.

That not only makes it that much more stupid, it also proves that everyone else can see exactly what Dazai can.

It’s a stupid question, because of course he isn’t.

At least he shouldn’t be.

Dazai hasn’t exactly.. done anything that could be worthy of falling head over heels for.

But the question being proposed so openly, makes it more than obvious that others notice it too.

It doesn’t matter much when Dazai notices it, the small things, because he doesn’t truly understand love nor believe in it, so he always assumed he was just overthinking despite his wonderful intelligence.

The chances of Chuuya being in love with Dazai are low, a nat 1% in any case of this universe developing to a love-filled wonderland, which isn’t exactly on Dazai’s current schedule and it doesn’t seem to be on the world’s either, so there’s truly nothing to worry about.

Yet there’s been times. Times where his eyes linger for just a second too long, times where he’s too upset about something someone with only sexually motivated intentions would be, times where he texts Dazai to come over because he can’t sleep.

Times where he seems utterly, and hopelessly in love.

But then again, Dazai doesn’t understand real human emotions.

He can get behind a few, like grief, due to personal experience. But he doesn’t know what being in love is, nor does he know completely what hatred is, and this proves he can’t label someone’s emotions based on a few shallow moments that could all in all mean nothing.

And he’s simply spent too many years ‘tormenting’ Chuuya and making him have some rather negative and non-pleasant emotions towards him, that one's obvious, due to all the screaming he’s endured as of late.

“No. I don’t.” He answers coldly.

Atsushi removes his lingering gaze, starting to walk once again.

“Akutagawa does.” He says.

Silence fills the empty hallway just like before.

Dazai assumes he should reply, act shocked or ask why in the world he would think such a thing, but he’s honestly a bit too occupied once again wondering why Chuuya asked him to come over at all.

Is he horny? Can he not sleep again? Is he going to scream about Dazai being a horrible person, and how he never wants to see him again?

They’re all very real possibilities, and he would rather spend his last minute walking considering his solution to all of the scenarios than talk with Atsushi about his boyfriend believing Chuuya is in love with him.

When they pass Akutagawa’s room, Atsushi waves goodbye to Dazai and knocks on the door, paying slight focus to the man walking away from him.

He’s been feeling more anxious around him lately, worrying that Akutagawa will back out when he finally realises that he is indeed in love. That he’s too scared of such a big emotion, and will instead take the easy way out

It takes less than three seconds before the door opens, and he’s not at all oblivious to Dazai speeding up his pace, hoping he’ll get far away enough in time for Akutagawa to not notice his presence.

“Hey.” Atsushi smiles, walking inside.

It does not take him more than a singular second before he realises his boyfriend seems rather troubled, as if he’s wildly uncomfortable or stressed.

His heart skips a beat, and all the anxiety comes flooding upon him once again,

Is this it?

Either way, he needs to keep his composure, because if he panics, surely Akutagawa will as well, and there’s no reason to make it messy if it turns out to be nothing at all.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, sitting down on the bed he’s gotten used to over time. Akutagawa closes the door behind him and stares at Atsushi for a second, taking in his appearance. His stupid white hair, his legs that are significantly stronger than they look, his always dumbfounded clueless face, all of those things of which he lov-

“I love you.”

…

He what?

“What?” Atsushi asks, almost jumping up from the bed in surprise.

It’s not that he’s that clueless. As he mentioned, he was ready for Akutagawa to say it when they went on a date, he was however not at all prepared for him to say it the second he got home.

Especially not when part of him had just been mentally preparing to get broken up with.

How is he supposed to respond?

Should he say thank you? Kiss him? Jump him? Run out of the door and never look back?

In all honesty, he might as well turn to dust right this second.

“Really?” He whispers, it being all he’s capable of.

Akutagawa avoids eye contact, as if ready to be rejected despite Atsushi’s love being more than obvious. He nods silently, his hands clenching onto each other, it’s adorable, really.

Atsushi can’t help but let out a small chuckle, endearing the shyness plastered onto the other's face. Though he’s quick to stand up, walking over to him in an instant.

He used to seem like the most confident person alive.

Someone who would speak his mind without hesitation, without doubt and fear.

Yet here he is, hesitant, and scared. Doubtful, not at all.

Atsushi grabs his face gently, forcing him to look at him and finally stop avoiding eye contact.

“I love you, too.”

He kisses him, kindly, sweetly, lovingly.

_____________________________

Dazai is pressed up against a wall, unable to break free from the grip, and without a single desire to.

Though he’s recently adapted this habit of.. slightly caring about Chuuya’s feelings, or whatever.

So despite Chuuya aggressively kissing him, licking the roof of his mouth, not giving him a single chance to breathe, and despite the fact his dick loves it an almost embarrassing amount, he pauses him the second he gets a chance.

“At least let me get inside first, Chuuya.” He smiles, the grip on his wrists loosening in real time.

“You are inside. The door is closed.” He replies, gasping for breath, proving he clearly couldn’t get a chance either.

“I’m still wearing my jacket.”

Chuuya seems to take that as an invitation instead of a rejection, quickly peeling off the long beige coat, covering way too much flesh.

Dazai can’t help but smile once again, loving the attention, as always.

He had not expected this when he walked in, sure he knew it was a possibility he was asked here for sex but being pinned against a wall before even being able to say a simple ‘hello’ was not how he had expected that scenario to go, so he hadn’t planned a response either.

“I thought you didn’t ask me here for sex.” He says, helping Chuuya peel off the next layer of clothing, that being his shirt.

He looks up, suddenly seeming more pouty than before, irritated at having been called out. “I didn’t. But I changed my mind.” He quickly mutters, kissing Dazai’s collarbone in hope he’ll shut up and focus.

It doesn’t work, completely at least.

“Why did you text me, then?” He asks, trying to keep a noise of pleasure in when Chuuya circles his nipple with his tongue, moving faster than lightning to cover his entire body in saliva, apparently.

He’s not used to being on the receiving end, but he can’t say he dislikes it.

He doesn’t answer, so Dazai gives up in trying to get it out of him, and instead uses his free hand - the one that’s not still actively being pressed against said wall - to grab onto Chuuya’s head, pressing him further into his chest.

He’s never had anyone do this before, but he’s not exactly complaining. Despite not being on the receiving end often, he’s tried a blowjob once or twice, this? Never before. It’s not a big mindbreaking action, but it’s a new sensation he can’t help but appreciate.

“Do you wanna?” Chuuya asks, moving up again, leaving kisses between his shoulder and neck, his hands now both working to unbuckle the belt keeping Dazai’s pants on.

A chuckle escapes his lips, of which he wishes were more occupied than they are.

“Have sex?”

“Mhm.”

“.. I do.”

Chuuya looks up, parting their tangled bodies slightly. “Why do you seem hesitant? I’m not gonna do you.. if that’s what you were worrying about.”

Again, he can’t help but let a small laugh pass by him. He kisses Chuuya, “That’s not the problem, I am quite aware of that. That’s not to say you can’t, but based on the way you’re acting right now it kinda seems like you want me to do it. It’s just.. uh..”

He tilts his head confused, “Just what?”

He looks away, “You haven’t exactly done it with a man before, which wouldn’t be a problem if you were topping but since you’re not.. I just don’t wanna hurt you, is all.”

Wow, a world - the real one, too - where Dazai is hesitant to have sex because he’s afraid of inflicting harm on anyone. Now that’s some unexpected development.

Well, real talk, he’d never intentionally hurt someone physically while having sex. He’ll hurt them emotionally, sure. And physically in any other situation, but when it gets to sex he’s simply not into inflicting pain upon others.

He’s also discovered that when it comes to Chuuya, he’s more on the masochistic side.

If he was to be hit right now, or choked, even, he’d be far from complaining. He’s partly worried that’s all it would take for him to come, actually.

He doesn’t need to tell Chuuya that, though. He would definitely exploit that weakness.

Chuuya groans, frustrated and impatient, “I washed. I.. fuck I loosened up too, alright? If it’s such a worry to you, then loosen me up more, but really it’s not a problem. I don’t believe your dick is big enough to hurt me that much, worst case I’ll tear.”

Dazai wishes he could bite his desperation between his teeth and resist, but Chuuya admitting to have ‘loosened up’ has caused his dick to already start twitching, and he’s partly worried that if he gets any more turned on he’ll come the second he puts it in, and he’s already getting enough shit for finishing too fast.

He doesn’t need any more of that on his ego.

“Already loosened up, you say?” He pushes Chuuya towards the bed, “How many fingers?”

The other looks away, almost embarrassed it seems.

He gets embarrassed so easily, it’s adorable. But the image of him in the shower, fingers inside him, stretching him out as he clings to the wall for support, moaning in desperation, begging for Daz-

“Two. I don’t understand how it can feel pleasant at all to have anything up there. It was just uncomfortable.” He shrugs, leaning on his elbows, waiting for Dazai to be done taking his pants off.

Sure. Ruin his fantasy. Chuuya can never allow a man to dream, apparently.

“Uncomfortable? Then how come you want to have sex?” He asks, moving forward to now help Chuuya take his shirt off as well.

He sighs, “Took a nap. Wanna be able to sleep tonight, thought this would exhaust me enough, so make sure not to come the second you put it in, alright?” He smirks, teasingly.

Ugh, it hasn’t even happened yet and he’s already getting shit for it.

Well, that’s what you get for fucking the one guy who hates you, he supposes.

“Alright, then.”

Both of them decide to let the conversation die here, but Dazai sure knows how to drag time.

He’s focusing on kissing Chuuya’s shoulders, neck, and he clearly has a soft spot for his collarbones. This is however, the first time that Chuuya has enough time to notice the fingers silently and gently caressing over his bulging scars.

It gives him immediate flashback to their recent encounter, where there was also a significant amount of focus placed onto the space of ripped flesh. He didn’t have time to notice when that happened though, he was too busy filling Dazai’s mouth.

Surely it must be a fetish, no?

Not only did Dazai always pay attention to his wounds, searching for proof they existed, and was rather satisfied when he discovered they did, but ever since they started having sex he’s been even more obsessed with them.

Is that a turn off? Or a deal breaker?

…

Should it be?

Surely having sex with a man and finding out he has a fetish for your self-inflicted scars would be a deal breaker.. but honestly, Chuuya can’t help enjoy the fact that someone likes the ugliest part of himself.

That the one part of him he both craves to disappear and spread, is making someone else go crazy with lust.

How would that ever turn him off?

His thoughts are ripped away when both of Dazai’s hands slide behind his thighs, as if to lift him slightly, and the mouth that was just before kissing very close to his face, is now lowering at a pace too fast for him to digest.

His chest, his waist, his- what?

He had assumed Dazai was trying to suck him off again, since he clearly has some sort of oral fixation.

And he wasn’t.. entirely wrong.

“What are you doing?” Chuuya makes one single attempt at sitting up, but a hand is quick to force him down again.

“You think just because you used two fingers, I’m gonna risk hurting you? Gee, you take me for such a prick, Chuuya. I’m almost hurt.”

“Then use your fingers, not you tong- oh, fuck, okay..”

He’s shut up by the tongue pressing against his rim.

At this point, he’s convinced every part of his body has had some sort of interaction with Dazai’s tongue.

It’s a sensation so distant and so familiar all at the same. The familiar feeling of this very specific mouth circling all his weak spots, managing to be gentle and playful all the while teasing him.

The distant feeling of an unfamiliar soft and wet muscle pleasuring him so simply, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

His dignity wants to push Dazai away and tell him to just get on with it, but he can’t exactly argue that this - while feeling weird - is unpleasant at all.

So, instead, his hand slides down his body and in between his scarred thighs, pressing the man who’s clearly enjoying himself just as well, even deeper.

He can’t quite tell what turns Dazai on yet.

It’s clear he likes being praised, that much everyone knows. And that he likes giving. He always offers himself up to pleasure Chuuya, and it doesn’t seem like a self-sacrifice, but something he genuinely, truly enjoys.

It doesn’t seem like he likes being the more dominant and leading one, however. He doesn’t seem to dislike it, exactly, but his hands tightening around Chuuya’s thighs and his face willingly pressing against him more, his mouth opening and his quick noise of pleasure leads Chuuya to believe that Dazai likes to be dominated.

Even when he’s taking the lead.

“Ah.. right there.” He allows himself to whisper when Dazai finally reaches deep enough, somehow.

It’s almost impossible to notice in this situation, but a silent nod comes from the man between his thighs, as if once again asking for more praise.

Chuuya doesn’t budge, though.

“Hey.. I think it’s fine now.” He hits Dazai’s head lightly a few times, but clearly he isn’t the only stubborn one here.

Instead, one of the hands gripping tightly around his thighs slide over to his - shamefully admitted - dripping cock.

He lets out a squeal, the unexpected touch feeling more intense than he was prepared for. His mouth opens, about to tell Dazai to stop, but the pleasure from the sudden motion is all too much distracting.

He doesn’t notice the way his whole body starts trembling when pleasure erupts from both sides, it’s overstimulating to a point where he can no longer find it in himself to care for the shameful and impure noises escaping him.

He can barely make out the repetitive ‘Dazai’ splurting out of his mouth as a praying beg.

“Dazai.. please, I’m getting close, why are you-”

His head flies back at the pace speeding up, and the tongue digging deeper.

His nails scrape against the sheets he’s gripping onto, trying to find relief somewhere, anywhere.

“Oh- fuck, I’m gonna-”

Dazai presses his thumb against the tip seconds from coming.

Chuuya’s breath hitches, and for a second his body is unsure of all surroundings. The hand leaves his cock, and the tongue is pulled away from his rim.

Dazai has never once thought of backing down on the torture, he’s just discovered new ways of exploiting it.

“Ah.. I’m actually gonna kill you.” Chuuya stares at him as he finally comes up from having his head buried.

He can only imagine this will be an ongoing thing, since he hasn’t been actively mentally tormenting him for quite the while.

He doesn't mind. Even if this is psychically painful and his cock is aching a severe amount, it’s much better than the mental torment he’s endured for years on end.

“Surely not.” He smiles, innocently. “I thought you didn’t wanna come yet? You made it seem that way.”

He looks away, irritated that he is in his own sense correct.

“Whatever, just.. put it in.”

Dazai leans down, grabbing his face gently by the chin, turning his face back in natural position so he has easy access to kissing. “Ask nicely.”

Douchebag. “Not gonna happen.”

He can feel the grin against his lips, “Course not.”

He can’t help but let out a gasp at the feeling of getting ripped open so intensely.

He had never quite expected Dazai to be the type to take things slow, and actually seem gentle and caring. But to his surprise, he’s taking an abnormal amount of notice on Chuuya’s reactions.

Not only his noises, but his facial expressions.

Like how he bites his lip to blood when Dazai first leans down, and how he grits his teeth when he pushes in. How he gasps when it reaches his walls, and how he tries to catch his breath when he’s deep enough for some of the pain to erupt into pleasure.

It’s all wildly overstimulating and unfamiliar when you haven’t tried it before, but he can’t help adore the way Dazai buries his head in his shoulder, gasping slightly as well, and his hand gripping tightly onto Chuuya’s.

It’s surprising, quite indeed.

Sure, Chuuya has had sex before, but not with a man, and definitely not on the receiving end. Though he knows Dazai has, so seeing him react like this is a shock.

“Do you.. ah, act like this with everyone?” Chuuya teases, wrapping his legs around the other to press him deeper in.

Dazai turns his head ever so slightly, gaining the tiniest bit of eye contact possible, shaking his head. “I told you, just you.”

Oh.
Right.

Chuuya makes a mental note of praying that Dazai mistakes his heart beating so viciously for him simply reacting to all the contact happening, and not him reacting to those words.

How pathetic.

“Can I move?” He asks, kissing the neck in front of him. Chuuya nods instead of giving him a direct answer, but his legs help with pressing the two against each other, so he can’t possibly be misunderstood.

The first thrust sends a series of electric bolts through his whole body, as if he was being attacked, but not necessarily unpleasant at all.

He can’t say it feels good yet, though.

He can focus on the small spot of pleasure when Dazai goes deep enough, but everything else is a mix of pain and uncomfortability. He understands that’s how it’s meant to be the first time, so he tries to ignore it until the pleasure will take over.

His body however is incapable of not twitching at every thrust, still being on the edge after being stopped last time. The chances of him finishing this way without any contact to his dick is too low, not that he minds particularly.

His hand reaches down to grab onto the dripping mess between their stomachs, hoping to find relief through that.

“Ah.. shit.” Dazai isn’t the most verbal one out there, it’s not like he’s whimpering and crying, but he’s most definitely not being quiet either, in fact, he might be making more noise than Chuuya.

That might be because he’s stubborn, and will grit his teeth and bite his lip to keep it in, but the point stands nonetheless.

“Should I.. mngh, pull out when- ah”

Chuuya snickers, “You’re wearing a condom, idiot. No need to pull out, just do it insi-urk!”

Apparently, Dazai also has a thing for either finishing inside, or simply for Chuuya’s voice, because he instantly speeds up. He can’t help but wonder which one it might be, but he doesn’t have enough time to focus on that when a bulge appears on his stomach and a fat bead of precum slips out of him.

“A-ah- that’s.. a little..” He tries telling him it’s too deep, but it’s as if the pleasure finally overpowers him and he’s unable to stand his ground.

Dazai is more than obviously affected by the sight, it’s as if his eyes might pop out of his spinning skull with the way he’s staring. He’s completely still in motion, seemingly hoping it won’t disappear.

He somehow manages to lean down, pressing in more.

“Arggh!” Chuuya cries out, the pleasure overwhelming all his senses. It is to no help at all when Dazai presses his hand against the bulge, forcing a series of rather vulgar noises to splurt out from the one beneath him.

“Fuck..” He stares at the sight, “That’s so hot.”

Chuuya once more bites his lip, trying not to yell at Dazai to go kill himself right here and now.

He gasps out, “Move, fucking-” Another glistering bead of precum hits his stomach, “Hurry- mngh- hurry up.. Dazai..” whether it’s the plea or his name being called out that convinces him, nobody would be able to figure out, but instantly his hips are pulled back and forcefully thrusted inside again once more.

“So good..” Is the only words Chuuya is able to make out between all the blabbered noises coming from the one on top of him.

Well, he’s rather happy that Dazai is enjoying this.

His hand glides back to the painful cock he can practically feel throbbing every second, begging for release.

He can’t focus on specific parts, like circling the tip or using a practical pace, because his whole body is trembling and being rammed into which causes his thoughts to overflood enough for him to give up on anything other than keeping his whimpers reasonable.

That’s not to say he completely gives up on the front though, there’s just not enough focus there for him to care much for it.

His thighs tremble, pressing against Dazai’s. His back arches up with every bolt of pleasure, and his stomach is a wet mess already.

“Chuuya.. I’m sorry, I can’t- I’m..”

“It’s alright, me-mnghh.. me too.. just keep going-argh”

Dazai leans down to kiss him, giving a final internal press, forcing them both to come simultaneously.

Their mouths gasp at the same time, causing them to be rather moaning into one another than kissing, but no one cares to complain about that.

They both gasp for air for long enough for their bodies to recover ever so slightly.

“Fuck.. that was awesome.”

Chuuya rolls his eyes, “Yeah yeah, fuck me empty and call it ‘awesome’.” He smiles lightly, pushing ever so gently to Dazai's limp body. “.. Was it actually good, though?” He asks, letting a hand pat the other's head.

He shoots his head up instantly, as if trying to read Chuuya’s expression. “Yeah. I mean, to me, it physically doesn’t make that much of a difference, it’s more of a mental thing. And I told you, didn’t I? You rile me up. So, feel proud or whatever.” He shrugs, “What about you, did it hurt too bad?”

Chuuya chuckles and gets up from the bed, forcing Dazai to roll over as he stands up. “Of course it hurt, but it felt good too. I do however.. really need a shower.” He sighs, looking at his cum-covered stomach.

Dazai shoots up from the bed, “I’ll join you.”

Chuuya stares at him.

He smiles, innocently, once more.

“Don’t try anything. I’m not into shower sex.”

Dazai opens his eyes, his smile fading slightly, “Me neither. Let’s go!”

As much as he truly hates to admit it, as much as he wishes he didn’t have to, Chuuya can’t help it.

It’s pathetic, utterly and hopelessly. But surely the blame isn’t on him.

How is it on him?

How is Dazai allowed to change so much, and it be not his fault that Chuuya’s heart can’t stop beating so hard it hurts his chest.

How is he allowed to ask him not to fall in love with him, and still pull all the right cards, coming to his rescue whenever he needs it, and how is he meant to not..

How is he to be expected not to feel anything at all?

___________________________

Kunikida shifts in his seat, having somehow ended up between Ranpo and Yosano, both discussing the current situation over cigarettes and beers.

He doesn’t drink, not really.

Mostly because he can only imagine Dazai’s reaction if he were to, but he also doesn’t exactly feel the need to either, so what’s the point?

“I’m just saying, I don’t understand why he suddenly feels like he can’t open up to me about this? He’s always told me everything.” Yosano groans, taking a drag, followed by a swig.

Ranpo mirrors her motion, pretending to think over it.

Everyone knows it’s a practised act, he knows things easily, even when it comes to people he doesn’t talk to often, but that also causes people to be rather disturbed by his immediate knowledge, so he’s learned to pretend he’s thinking over things for at least five seconds before answering.

Kunikida and Yosano both know of this, but choose to let him be, despite knowing that he, of course, knows that they know. It’s probably a habit, so there’s no need to care for it.

“You’re not exactly.. supportive of them having sex. Of course he’ll be hesitant.” Ranpo shrugs.

Kunikida nods, agreeing with Ranpo’s point.

Yosano seems to take slight offense to it, “Okay, sure, whatever. I’m not supportive, but you guys are naturally on Dazai’s side here, and everyone knows he won’t be the one hurting in the end! Chuuya has been- he’s.. I just don’t want to watch my best friend getting hurt over and over.” She sighs in defeat.

The other two look at each other, and Ranpo gives a nod, signalling for Kunikida to take this one.

He’s never been good at comfort, he speaks in facts, so if there isn’t a comforting side to the situation, he’s not exactly capable of being comforting himself.

Kunikida has enough experience to take over, he hopes.

He adjusts his glasses. “We aren’t “naturally” on Dazai’s side.” He starts, which has Yosano looking up, so he assumes he’s on the right track.

“We’ve simply been around him for far enough years to be aware we can’t stop anything he puts his mind to. We’re sadly deeply aware he’ll end up causing Nakahara unavoidable pain, but.. we are just not capable of stopping it. The only out for him is if he himself leaves the situation, because I’m far from believing Dazai will be the one to stop this.. agreement.” He explains, Ranpo nodding along in the meantime.

She groans loudly, taking in the words he’s saying.

He’s not wrong, not at all.

Dazai will keep doing this, having sex with Chuuya and acting nice, only to at one point disappoint him once more, whether that be abandoning him one way or another, or simply stopping the whole thing.

But she also knows Chuuya doesn’t have it in him to stop it himself, he tried once. It worked for two months, but in those two months he was somehow even more miserable than he had seemed to be before, so who is she to wish that upon her best friend once again?

It’s a blocked path.

This won’t stop until Dazai ruins Chuuya, until he’s worn down to the bone, until he’s alone.

“Do you think..” She looks at them both, “Dazai’s capable of change?”

Part of her wishes they’ll smile, give her a reassuring nod, and that be it.

But of course, that won’t be the case. When has something ever been so simple, when it gets to Dazai Osamu?

Ranpo puts his beer down, pressing his cigarette against the bottom half of it to turn it off. “If somehow, Dazai manages to have a change of heart, I can’t guarantee it’ll be for the better. So it’s undoubtedly best to wish for everything to stay the same, and hope Chuuya doesn’t get too attached, or.. fall in love.” He sighs, running a hand down his face.

Yosano bites her lip, “If he falls in love, he’s done for, isn’t he?”

Kunikida looks away, “There’s never been a good outcome of loving Dazai. He’s a pest, he should be impossible to love, yet.. we’re all still here.”

Dazai Osamu, a pest.

Nothing more than a deathly plague, ready to destroy whoever falls in its grip.

All you can do is not fall.

Because if you do, you won’t come out alive.

“If he falls in love.. he’s gonna kill himself slowly.”
_________________________

Fyodor sighs, unbothered by the tongue swirling around him.

“You seem upset again, Kolya. What might be bothering you?” He asks, forcing Nikolai to look up at him from beneath.

These two have spent enough years together to read each other easily, like a sixth sense or natural instinct, so obviously Fyodor will be more than capable of recognizing when his boyfriend is being weird, even if he doesn’t often care, sometimes he has it in him.

Nikolai shrugs, using his hand as a replacement. “I just hate seeing those two act all happy. They went to the bathroom in the middle of class, Fedya. So he gets to shit on me for being gay, but doesn’t hesitate to take it up the ass? What a piece of shit.” He groans, wildly annoyed by the subject.

Fyodor silently pushes him off, taking his pants fully on again, realizing they won’t get anywhere if Nikolai is upset about something, whether it be rational or not.

He rolls his eyes, stretching his arm out, opening a spot for Nikolai to lay in.

Of course, he takes the offer immediately, wiping his mouth of spit before laying on Fyodor’s chest.

They used to be somewhat good friends with Chuuya, yes. But then he went ahead and told Nikolai he’d go to hell - and more or less called him sinful, with a very disturbed face - and it’s not that he’s not used to it, or that he’s ever cared. He doesn’t get hurt, if he did, he would not be in a relationship with the coldest human alive in this century, but of course he doesn’t have a direct desire to associate himself with homophobic assholes, even if it’s because they’re gay themselves.

And Sigma would never allow it. He doesn’t show care easily, but being protective is essentially his main way of doing so.

“It’s been months. How long are you going to be upset about this?” Fyodor sighs, annoyed.

Nikolai shrugs once more, “Until Osamu fucks him over enough for him to turn right back to his dear god, and live knowing he’ll never go to heaven.” He scoffs loudly.

He sits up, knowing Fyodor will have a reply in just a second.

As assumed, the other stares at him. “You don’t believe in heaven, My Kolya.”

He has the ability to be caring, sometimes. Whether it be through words or actions, even if not occasional, it’s something that happens enough for Nikolai to only see that part of him.

Or he’s simply a masochist, which is also a very real option.

He circles his arms around Fyodor’s neck. “I don’t. But he does, that’s enough..” He kisses him, hoping to get some extra attention before Sigma comes.

He has a habit of coming over whenever afternoon comes around. Neither of the boys mind it, and it’s become a daily routine, so they don’t feel a need to ask him not to do it either. It’s only a bothersome if they’re fighting, but to be honest Sigma is the best one at breaking their fights apart, so bothersome or not, it’s for the better.

“Mmhm..” Nikolai smiles, finally getting the attention he craves every second of the day. Fyodor’s hands grab onto his waist, “We don’t have the time.” He says, gently kissing Nikolai’s pale neck, leaving small bite marks between each kiss.

He groans once more, “Can’t we just kick him out, please Fedya?” He tries convincing him by touching his hair, pleading for some alone time.

But, as mentioned, they’ve simply turned this into routine.

“We can continue when he leaves to go home, yes?”

Nikolai is about to answer when-

“I mean, I don’t really care. You guys do you, but I don’t know how into being watched you are.. though now that I’m saying it out loud it wouldn’t be sur-”

“How the fuck did you get in? and.. when?” Nikolai asks, annoyed and slightly confused as he gets up from Fyodor’s lap.

Sigma shrugs, looking through their fridge. Perhaps he’d be great friends with Atsushi, if you were to think about it. He looks over at the two when he finds something worthy of eating, walking over to sit in the chair beside the couch they were just laying on.

He takes a bite, “I have a spare key, you were laying on Fyodor’s chest.” He explains. The other two appreciate he didn’t see Nikolai devouring his boyfriends dick a mere 5 minutes ago.

The three are so used to one another that this isn’t something that’s awkward or unusual to them, far from it, truly.

“Also,” He continues, “Nakahara and Osamu. I heard you mentioning the matter, have they been bothering you?” There it is.

Sigma gets protective when it gets to Nikolai, he doesn’t need to as much when it comes to Fyodor since no one really wishes to bother him and even if they did he would deal with it himself. The only other one he gets this with is their freshman, Bram. Though he barely comes to school, he’s a night owl if you’ve ever seen one, and ends up sleeping the days away.

Nikolai falls to the couch dramatically, “Yes.. they have, must you ask?” He sighs, like a damsel in distress.

Fyodor rolls his eyes beside him, “They-”

“They’ve been harassing me, dear. Can you kill them for me?” He asks, stars in his eyes.

Sigma chuckles, “Of course.” He tilts his head. “Seriously, though. What’s the problem? You seem to be in actual distress over this.”

Fyodor looks at both of them, “My Kolya is being dramatic. He’s upset that they’re having sex-”

“I’m upset he’s a homophobic asshole, who takes it up the ass! It’s okay when it’s him, but not when it’s me? Why, forgive me father, for have I sinned. Well guess what, I don’t give a single fuck about him, or his stupid homophobic god. I’ll suck dick just as much as I like, or I’ll go out and fuck some guy with aids raw, then slit my wrist infront of the eyes of the prick, and he can feel the actual horrors of being a fag.” He yells, frustrated. “He’s whining about being condemned to hell, when some of us already are! What a fucking guy.. I hope he gets fucking sh-”

 

“Kolya.”

“What? You usually don’t care when I wish death upon people.” He crosses his arms, annoyed at Fyodor this time.

Sigma scoffs out a cough, “You are yelling very loudly, Nikolai. It is late, people might hear.”

All three stare at each other, in silence.

Nikolai pouts, “Whatever.”

__________________

Dazai once again sleeps over, which Chuuya wants to not complain about, but of course he can’t help being bothered.

He wants to simply enjoy the warmth, and appreciate the comfort without caring much for it at all, let it just be a bonus to another worthless night.

But he’s holding him so gently, letting his thumb go in soothing circles on his shoulder, and he’s still meant to lay here, and simply take it as a platonic and non-mattering thing.

He knows.

More than anything, Chuuya knows he should not fall in love with Dazai.

While part of it is because of his devotion to God, it is also out of self-respect. Anyone with even the tiniest bit of love for existence would never dare come near Dazai, much less allow themselves to fall for him.

It’s nothing but suicide.

Slow, painful, burning suicide.

He’s risking going to hell, for Dazai. But he knows better than anyone, that falling in love with said man, might as well be hell itself.

It’s all a never-ending cycle, though. Not being with Dazai feels tormenting, falling in love with Dazai will be tormenting, going to hell for simply kissing him is torment itself. Either way, he’s screwed. Utterly, screwed.

His best option would be to continue this arrangement and force himself to never feel a single feeling for him. To never allow his heart an extra beat, neither to skip one. To never allow his breath to get catched in his throat, or for his thoughts to wander, to never allow himself to love.

He wishes he could. So badly.

He wishes to his own God, to his own beliefs, to everything he has ever known, that he can keep himself from falling in love with Dazai without forcing himself to endure the pain of not seeing him at all.

But.. truth be told, it may already be too late.

Perhaps it’s always been. Maybe there was always a part of him that loved Dazai, had it been the smallest hidden away part of himself or not, the chance is there. He can’t pinpoint a time he started feeling differently, he doesn’t know when the transition happened, so who is he to assume it ever had to happen?

That’s not to say he loves Dazai.

He would never, ever admit to such a thing, be it true or not.

Because everyone knows, that loving Osamu Dazai, is nothing but suicide.

Chapter Text

Chuuya wakes up covered in a scent of honey-scented shampoo, and a breath of fresh air.

It doesn’t happen often that Chuuya Nakahara gets to wake up peacefully. On most mornings, he’ll wake up gasping for lost air, his body drenched in sweat reacting to whatever nightmare he’s had this time. When he’s lucky, he wakes up somewhat neutral, in the sense of not having a nightmare at least, but he never feels truly rested.

Though right now, he feels as if he’s slept for a thousand years.

He’s gotten used to Dazai waking up first whenever they engage in sleeping together, but he still seems to be sound asleep besides him.

You can hear his calm, effortless breathing, which is oddly different from his usual rhythm and pace.

Chuuya almost considers resting his head completely on his chest again to notice the pace of his heart, so that the next time he gets to hear it, he can hear if there’s a big difference there as well.

He takes this opportunity to just.. look at him, really.

To finally steal a moment to himself where he’s allowed to just observe, to notice the things he hasn’t in the past, though he’s not sure any of such exist.

Considering the years he’s spent observing him, he’s had trouble finding anything new to look at.

He stretches out his arm and leans on his elbow to get a better view, and he can’t help but reach out a hand and feel Dazai’s newly washed soft hair, especially now that it’s become so long.

Looking at him laying asleep, so utterly peaceful, sends Chuuya into a realization.

He’s the furthest thing from the Devil.

He’s either an angel, or God himself.

Because he’s so, fucking, beautiful. Not only that, but if you saw him just like this, you’d never assume this man has any sense of evil in his body. When his eyes are closed and he isn’t putting on a sarcastic front, he looks like the type of man who’d help an old lady across a street, or help a kid find their parents on a playground.

Those are rather average actions to do, but based on how society is nowadays, people are too bothered. Dazai? He’ll notice, but he won’t care.

Most people simply don’t notice the world around them, the woman asking for help, or the child crying searching for any reasonable adult, though if they were to notice, most people would take a second to help.

Not Dazai.

He’d notice faster than anybody else, and he’d stare as they figured out how to do it themselves, smiling in some sort of deranged apathetic pity.

But right now, he looks the furthest thing from that.

“Mhm..” He grunts, his fingers twitching slightly.

Chuuya smiles and gets out of bed, his time to swoon being over faster than he had hoped. “Do you want breakfast?” He asks, waiting for the other to wake up enough to process what he was just asked.

He assumes Dazai has no problem sleeping what-so-ever, since every night they’ve spent together he sleeps weirdly soundless and peaceful, as if no nightmares has ever haunted him. That is, of course, only based on the two-or-something encounters they’ve had with sharing a bed.

He stretches out his arms, like a cat waking up.

It’s adorable.

“No I.. I got somewhere to be. Coffee?” He asks, the words getting blurred in between a yawn.

Chuuya looks at him, tilting his head. Somewhere to be? He wonders wherever that could be. If he simply needed to go back to the dorm, surely he wouldn’t be in a rush, nor would he phrase it that way.

Is it stepping over the line to ask where he’s going?

He smiles once more, and nods. “I’ll make coffee.”

Dazai nods in appreciation before standing up as well, getting dressed almost immediately.

Whatever could he be in such a rush for?

He sighs, it’s none of his business. He knows that, of course, and it’s not necessarily a problem that he’s going anywhere, he’s not that possessive nor does he have any reason to be, but it’s that clear barrier between him that refrains him from asking that’s bothering.

Even if they’re just having sex, he should be able to ask a question as simple as ‘where are you going?’, he could even ask out of pure curiosity rather than jealousy or annoyance that he’s leaving, but every time he considers it his throat closes up, not allowing him to.

He knows Dazai likes his coffee almost black, but not completely. It’s one of the things he’s observed over the years whenever they’d run into each other at cafes or Dazai insisted on buying him something and he’d notice his order as well.

“You are aware how self-destructive this is, no?” Dazai smiles, sitting down on the bed again, leaning back on his palms as he waits for the coffee.

Chuuya flinches at the word, but instantly turns around.

He smiles back, “What, having sex with you?”

Dazai shrugs, “Essentially, yeah.”

His smile fades slightly as he ponders for a second, but it results in a lazy shrug back at the other. “Of course. But I’ve realised I can’t get an out when it comes to you, and when’s a little self destruction ever hurt anybody?”

Truly, there is no solution in which Chuuya ends up happy and satisfied in this situation.

Either he leaves, and has to deal with being miserable for what might end up being years, even if he hates to admit it. Sure, he’ll move on one day, but the damage is already done, so why not drag it out a little?

Being with Dazai like this is a breath of fresh air, even if he needs to make silent prayers every once in a while. He knows better than anyone that they’ll separate one way or another, and that he’ll be hurt horribly once more, but if that’s unavoidable, he might as well get his share in first.

Either way, Dazai more or less confirmed for him that there is something.

He’s not the only one with these confusing feelings, else he wouldn’t have called him ‘different’ in the way he did.

Though Chuuya hasn’t mentioned it, it’s been on his mind for sure. The thing is just that he doesn’t want to bring it up, both out of respect and also for some selfish reasons. He can’t help but wish Dazai would tell it to him sober, and he doesn’t wanna push him to do it.. he wants it to be genuine, and real.

Even if that’s unrealistic.

He finishes making the coffee and hands it over, finally getting a stretch in as he does.

“Got any plans for today?” Dazai asks as he gulps it down as if it were nothing but water.

Chuuya shakes his head, “I have to go to the supermarket, gonna ask Akutagawa if he wants to come along.. you?” He asks sneakingly, hoping he can get an answer to wherever he might be going.

But of course, he doesn’t budge. If Dazai wants to keep something a secret, he’ll manage just fine at doing that.

“Need’a talk to someone, is all.” He smiles, putting the coffee mug down at once. He gets up and puts on the coat Chuuya peeled off him yesterday.

He sighs in defeat, giving a last nod of ‘goodbye’, which feels oddly close to reality.

He hopes he’ll see him again soon.

He hopes he’ll never come back at all.

______________________________

Fyodor stands by the kitchen, trying to keep his focus on brewing tea for his guest, despite the other man living in the dorm having a great time trying to steal his attention away.

“Fedya.. why do you have to invite other people over? Isn’t living with me enough?” Nikolai pouts, resting his head upon Fyodor’s shoulder, his arms wrapping around his waist.

He’s making mint-lemon tea, of all things.

Now, Nikolai doesn’t really like any sort of tea, but he for sure doesn’t like mint, so this almost feels like a ‘screw off, I’m gonna be sucking other men’s dicks while you’re gone’ in his head, whether that’s due to any past experience or his deranged mind in general, no one could tell you.

Fyodor sighs, “I didn’t invite him over, Nikolai. He said he needed my advice, and you know how it is.” He replies coldly, despite the reassuring intention.

Dazai texted him yesterday night, rather late at that, asking if he could come by and ask for some advice. Fyodor has a thing for feeling wise, and more intelligent than people, especially Dazai, so he didn’t have it in him to decline.

“Kiss?” Nikolai pouts once more, this time from being called by his name.

Fyodor looks at him, “I’m busy, Kolya.”

…

He gives him a quick kiss before turning back to his tea, and Nikolai almost has enough time to squeal before the door knocks twice.

Way to ruin the moment.

He groans loudly as he walks toward it fast with heavy steps, opening since Fyodor is still making that god-forsaken tea.

He opens the door, not feeling anything close to pleased seeing Dazai’s face. Nikolai is very aware of the situation between him and Chuuya, and he doesn’t want Fyodor to give advice because maybe then they’ll work out, and Chuuya won’t have to deal with heart break as he had wished.

Nikolai stares at the bewildered look in Dazai’s eyes as he’s met with an unexpected face.

Well, surely not that unexpected, considering how they live together, and either way he fixes his face too quickly for anyone else to have ever noticed.

“You’re not welcome in my home.” Nikolai crosses his arms, immediately flinching at the sudden "Kolya!" yell from the kitchen.

He sighs, “Yeah yeah, whatever. Come in, cock-sucker.”

Dazai scoffs out a smile, walking inside as welcomed.

Fyodor turns around, an insincere smile plastering his face. The two truly are alike, anyone could see such a fact.

“Take a seat, I’m almost finished making tea.” He speaks politely, as if this was some sort of business meeting. It puts Nikolai on edge, but at the same time it forces him to appreciate the difference in how Fyodor talks to him, as if he’s an actual person rather than a coworker or business-partner.

Dazai does as told, taking a seat.

Nikolai observes once again, how Dazai seems to be the exact same as Fyodor. He sits on the couch as if it were a waitingroom, and he was waiting to meet with the leader of an organization he was trying to win over.

It’s odd how Nikolai is ever so in love with Fyodor, while looking at someone who’s his almost exact copy personality wise, does absolutely nothing for him.

He’s sure, of course, that Dazai doesn’t act like this in private, just like how there’s a difference to how his own boyfriend switches between this facade and his rather real self, and he’s not necessarily a fan of this mode he’s on at the moment, which could easily be the reason behind this train of thought.

Fyodor grabs the two mugs and walks over, sitting on a chair that gives him the ability to sit face to face with the other, as if playing a game of chess.

“So.. Osamu.” He hands over the tea, “What form of advice could you possibly be needing?” He asks, ending his question by taking a sip from his own.

It slightly feels like he’s interrogating him, but Dazai really doesn’t mind all that much.

He grabs a hold of the mug, trying to ignore the eyes from behind Fyodor that’s drilling holes into his, observing his every move. Oh well, that’s just how Gogol is, really. Nothing to dwell over.

He lets a sigh pass by his lips, his fingers gently tapping on the warm mug.

Dazai is attempting to figure out where to start, what he truly needs advice on, and if he should even really be here at all. But he does know he needs advice, now more than ever, and if anyone can give it to him.. it’s Fyodor Dostoevsky.

Be it now, be it relevant or not, he might as well get it over with.

“I’ve recently become aware of the fact Nakahara seems to be in love with me.”

Fyodor looks at him over his mug hiding half his face, crooking an eyebrow of doubt.

Nikolai, however, scoffs. “Uh, duh? Fork found in kitchen. Wake up Osamu, obviously he’s in love with you. Gee, I thought you were meant to be smart..”

Fyodor hesitates to stop Nikolai from rambling, but lets it go when he lets the sarcastic insult fade away on its own.

Chuuya Nakahara, In love with Dazai Osamu?

Well, yes.

It’s as Nikolai says, a lot of observant people would be aware of Chuuya and his long-lasting desire for Dazai, be it love or not.

Though Fyodor never pegged it as quite that, more just a bundle of sexual fantasies driven to obsession by the religious barrier keeping them apart.

Love? That’s not quite what he thought.

Before asking what sort of advice he needs in this situation, he lets curiosity take over. “What led you to believe such a thing?” He makes a great attempt at ignoring the pouting man beside him, who got ignored. It’s a practiced act at this point, after all.
Instead, he lets his hand fall to his side and gently caresses Nikolai’s, to give him some attention so he won’t end up too angry and throw a tantrum, again.

Dazai tilts his head in wonder, going over the exact points of which made him believe this. “He said he didn’t mind being sick due to me, while high off of Nikolai’s drugs.”

Nikolai sulks again, annoyed that him punishing Chuuya might’ve led to his happiness down the road somehow.

“He uses me as a comfort zone.” He continues, “And he looks at me in a way I find distant, and that I can’t figure out. If there’s one feeling I’m not familiar with..”

“It’s love.” Fyodor ends the sentence for him. Dazai gives him a nod, waiting for his turn to speak.

Silence chokes the space between the two of them for just a little while, whether Nikolai is bothered by it is not to say. He’s too busy sulking in a corner over his quote on quote ‘master plan’ which wasn’t ever really a plan but more an impulsive act caused by resentment and too much alcohol in his blood.

Though ever since it happened, he acted as if he was real proud about it.

Fyodor shifts slightly in his seat, placing his tea silently on the table. “So, what advice are you searching? How to get rid of him? How to make him stop being in love?”

Dazai shakes his head uncomfortably, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

He sighs once more, annoyed by the course of this conversation. “No I.. I want you to explain how love feels for you.”

Fyodor instantly picks up on the intention for this statement.

As mentioned many times before, these two are much alike, apathetic and unemotional. Dazai has always related their feelings to one another, assuming things left and right, like assuming Fyodor could not be in love, since Dazai couldn’t. They share the same level of emotions, therefore they should both be unaware of what love is.

But then Nikolai and Fyodor got together, which always seemed rather far from right, in Dazai’s eyes.

How come Fyodor gets to experience something as deep as loving another person, but Dazai doesn’t?

He later on came to the conclusion that it wasn’t love. It was obsession on Nikolai’s side, and tolerance on Fyodor’s. Perhaps he enjoyed the attention, and having another person need him so earnestly, sincerely, that he decided to keep him around.

Dazai could see himself doing that.

He doesn’t care to rethink how he’s lived life up to now, where he’s been the dog begging for attention all along, while Chuuya turned a blind eye.

Nor did he ever think that maybe his hypothesis was indeed correct, of him and Fyodor sharing the same emotional balance, but he simply hadn’t experienced love yet. That it wasn’t Fyodor who wasn’t in love, but Dazai who had not yet met it.

That maybe, he’s been capable of love all along.

It’s only come around recently, he can’t quite pinpoint when, but at some point, Chuuya seemed different from everyone else.

He would never label an emotion formed from deep within his soul, as love.

Obsession, interest, fascination, sure. But never love, it’s a word he’s avoided since the man who taught him the very term left the earth.

Love doesn’t keep someone in place.

It doesn’t automatically make them stick with you, nor does it keep them alive. So, does it even really exist at all?

He had assumed he loved his brother when he was still around. Now he believes it was something else, something closer to codependency and safety, rather than anything close to love. Odasaku taught him what love was, ‘An emotion that binds two people together, forever.’ he said.

So when he said ‘I love you, kid.’

Dazai replied in a smile, ‘I love you.’

But clearly, whatever Odasaku had thought love was, was the furthest thing from the truth. It does not bind two people together at all, and most definitely not forever. If it did, he would still be here, and Dazai would still believe love was real.

Fyodor squeezes Nikolai’s hand.

“Love, for me, is longing.”

He clears his throat, ready to explain.

“I have never once felt a genuine want for someone to stay, except for Nikolai.” He smiles ever so slightly. “If anyone else were to leave, I’d get over it as if they were never there. I have a hard time believing I’d be miserable forever even if Kolya was to leave, but truth be told, he’d linger in the back of my mind for far longer than I ever thought was possible.”

He rubs his temple, “Love can be possessive, limerence, and toxic. Though that does not mean it shall always be as such. Sometimes, it’s calm and safe. I know I love Nikolai, because I want him to stay.” He ends his explanation, observing Dazai’s reaction.

His eyes dart to the other man in the room, who seems to have gotten his focus stolen far away from what he was sulking about earlier.

Nikolai smiles, happy to have gotten reassurance without having even asked for it.

“People like to pretend love needs to be explosive, but sometimes it’s just a feeling of safety. You don’t need to feel obsessive, or deeply head over heels for it to be real, Dazai.” Fyodor gives him one last piece of advice, now waiting for whatever he could reply.

But he doesn’t.

Dazai’s eyes return to Fyodor, giving him a quick nod of appreciation for his time, and he leaves the room as if he could not get out fast enough.

He shrugs, “I wonder if those two will ever work out.”

Nikolai jumps in front of Fyodor to kiss him, “Does it matter? As long as I stay, right?” He grins teasingly.

Fyodor can’t help but let a scoffed laugh out, “Whatever you say, My Kolya.”
______________________________

“Can you go find me soda? I need to stock up.” Chuuya asks Akutagawa, walking around with the cart.

Akutagawa stretches his neck once, twice. “Sure thing.”

Chuuya watches him walk over to find it while he himself searching for tonight's dinner, going over his choices as someone who’s relatively texture avoidant.
He’s truly just happy he gets to spend some time with Akutagawa again.

It’s not that he hasn’t seen him at all, of course. They still sit together at lunch, as if some sort of tradition, and he speaks to him every chance he gets when their classes align, but despite all that he’s been very busy with Atsushi.

Chuuya doesn’t blame him for that, considering his own situation with a certain someone.

But either way, this is the first time in a while they’ve hung out just the two of them out of school hours. It’s not exactly a proper hang-out, considering the fact they’re grocery shopping, of all things to be doing, but it’s enough for now.

When Akutagawa comes back, Chuuya proposes a question.

“Aku, what’s your opinion on Dazai?”

The other seems rather shocked by the question. Not due to Dazai being brought up, not at all, but more the fact that his opinion was asked rather than Chuuya just rambling off nonsense as he does most days.

On most occasions he’ll start talking, acting as if Dazai is a saint come blessed from the heavens, and end it like he’s nothing but a curse forged from evil.

He’ll say stuff such as ‘He can be so sweet’ and ‘I wish he’d go die in a ditch’ all in the same sentence, and somehow manage to make it make sense.

You can tell Dazai occupies his thoughts enough for him to be unable to ever really think about anything else. It’s always been like that, due to the years of torment he’s endured, though a year ago he’d only ever speak badly about him.

He’d wish for his death as he does now, but he’d never add in a ‘I don’t think I’d survive if that happened, though.’ as he has accidentally let slip by him once or twice.

All in all, their relationship changed somewhere.

Where was it?

The obvious suggestion would be the party, but it was much earlier than that. Was it when Dazai got drunk and told Chuuya he’s different from others, or when they fought and didn't speak to each other for god knows how long, or maybe it was that night. The night Chuuya refuses to acknowledge ever happened, despite his friends’ many attempts.

He shrugs, “I despise him.”

Chuuya turns his head shocked by the honesty, though not entirely shocked by the feeling itself.

He waits for him to elaborate, not wanting to push him to do it himself.
“I used to seek his approval more than anything, as you know.” He says, putting the sodas that are slowly straining his arms in the cart. “Whenever he’d ignore me, or tell me I wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t for him.. it felt as if I was being crushed.”

Chuuya’s chest tightens, ashamed of the relationship he has with a man who’s hurt his best friend so.

He smiles slightly, sincerely. “I’ve come to realise he’d never accept me, I was just another pawn to him needing power. Most of my time I fear he’s doing the same to Jinko.. though it seems far from it. Which leads me to believe he’s also changed around you, therefore I don’t blame you at all, I hope you know that.”

He speaks of it so lightly, that it makes Chuuya believe it truly is okay, and he’s not to blame at all.

That being in love with Dazai is neutral, and not against anyone or anything.

He doesn’t want to be in love with Dazai, of course he doesn’t.

He finds himself admitting it and going right back to denying it quite often. One night he’ll say he’ll hold Dazai’s hand just until he can go back to pretending he is not in love, and he supposes that’s what he’s been doing.

It must be frustrating for everyone to watch him go around in this neverending circle of ‘I truly do love him’ to ‘I just enjoy having sex with him’.

But that’s for him to deal with, and no one else.

He smiles at Akutagawa, “Thank you.”

The other nods kindly, leaving the topic behind for now as they continue to walk the aisle, once again searching for what Chuuya could enjoy for dinner tonight. He wonders if he’ll sit alone in his bed, eating and scrolling as usual, or if someone will be there to keep him company. Whatever he buys, he should buy extra, just in case.

His mind scans over a lot of options, all of which are too complicated, and he doesn’t get to reach an answer before his phone rings.

For a second, he smiles, believing he’s getting his answer early.

Instead, he’s met with three letters he had not expected to see, and that he’s not at all appreciating being surprised with.

Akutagawa quickly notices the change in atmosphere, “Your mom?” He asks, knowing Chuuya well enough to recognize such reactions quickly.

He sighs, annoyed that his rather calm day has to be ruined by something as simple as a phone call.
He picks up, simply out of the knowledge that if he does not, he’ll get shit for it later.

“Hey, mom. I’m out for groceries right now, can you wait unt-”

“Hi Dear, this will only take a minute. I just wanted to ask if you had figured out when you wanna come back home. Surely you’re not avoiding us on purpose?” You can hear her cracked insincere smile through the line.

‘Are you staying away because you gained weight, and don’t want me to find out?’
‘Have you been fooling around with a boy, and he’s stealing your attention?’
‘Are you cutting yourself ag-’

He interrupts his own thoughts, “I’ll come home in about two weeks, sound good?” He rubs in between his eyes, a headache slowly approaching behind him.

He hasn’t been home in quite a while now, whether because his attention has indeed been occupied, or because he’s truly just avoiding his parents by all means, he’s not sure. Though he’s painfully aware he can’t avoid them forever, and the sooner he sees them, the sooner it’ll be over with.

“Great to hear, love. You’re out for groceries? Make sure to have a small dinner, my dear.”

He wonders if a day where he doesn’t have to deal with this will ever really come around, or if this is how he has to spend eternity.

“Sure, mom.”
_______________________________

Chuuya stands by the stove, wondering if he should make dinner now or wait an additional ten minutes, for no reason what so-ever.

None other than his ever so faint, yet very bright, hope that Dazai will walk in and accompany him for the night.

He’d ruin his body over and over to get to feel him forever.

He’d have his guts permanently rearranged, his stomach ripped apart, his fleshy wounds reopened, his mouth left sore for days, all for the sake of getting to see Dazai so close and vulnerable.

He’s a different person when they’re intimate.

He can’t quite figure out why, though. Obviously being horny makes you react in deranged ways, but it’s like a complete switch in who he is, and sometimes Chuuya struggles with being able to tell which one is the real one.

Is it the vulnerable, talkative and undoubtedly adorable desperate person he becomes when all he wants is to please Chuuya?

When he goes to such lengths solely to make sure that he’s okay and won’t get hurt.

When he looks at him as if he would give him the word if he simply asked, even if he had to die to succeed.

Or is it the version of him that seems to drive on hurting Chuuya, as if that was his only fuel at all?

When he rejects him of all warmth and comfort, despite having proved he wishes to give it if in a sexual situation.

When he insults him but hides it behind odd remarks and sarcastic comments, or when he speaks words such as ‘self-destructing’ simply because they’re having sex, as if he’s completely aware of the harm he does.

Does Dazai wish to protect him from harm, or be the harm himself?

He can’t help but swallow the nausea arising in his throat when he realises that by now, he’d allow him to become that harm.

He’d allow him to strip him of all humanity and self-dignity he has left, and he can only hope it won’t come to that. He doesn’t have it in him to push Dazai away after all this, nor does he believe he even wants to anymore.

Part of him knows he’s allowed Dazai to hurt him for years now, and when he finally had it in him to push him away, to stand up for himself and give up on them, he got stolen right back into his arms.

When did it become so difficult to love?

The answer is: when you choose to love Dazai Osamu.

Behind his door comes one singular knock, followed by the creaking sound of it opening. He turns around, pleased to be met with none other than the very man that Chuuya Nakahara.. loves.

The very man that does not love him back.

“You had dinner yet?” He asks, not even bothering with a ‘hi’ or ‘how was your day?’.

Asshole.

He leans against the wall before pushing himself back up, approaching Chuuya. “Hm?” His arms wrap around the waist he’s pettifully not turned around yet, sulking over being kept in the dark. Since Dazai won’t tell him about the stuff he’s up to, why should he?

“Maybe.” He shrugs, his attention falling to the gentle kisses by his neck. “Why do you care?”

He pretends to be sulking. While he is definitely upset about the fact Dazai refuses to tell him anything, he can’t help but fall into the trap, leaning his head to the side and moving his hair to the opposite shoulder, allowing him more space.

“I wanted to have dinner with you.” He kisses.

Chuuya attempts to keep the smile in, he really does, and he’s truly ashamed of how badly he fails at doing that.

He doesn’t even want to turn around to look at the other’s face, because he’s basking in this kind affectionate attention he’s getting. One point to the version of Dazai who wishes to protect him from harm.

“..I haven’t eaten yet. I was waiting.” There’s a slight pause in Dazai’s movement, unsure and uncertain, for a reason Chuuya can’t figure out.

He smiles, “For me?”

He nods, embarrassed.

____

Dazai can’t help but appreciate how good Chuuya seems to be at cooking.

While it’s a below average dinner, he somehow manages to make it taste as if it was restaurant quality.

Is that truth, or delusion speaking? He doesn’t care.

That being said, it doesn’t go unnoticed how small a portion Chuuya takes, and how his head fades away with every bite, like he’s counting each and every time it gets bitten between his teeth.

Not because he cares for the flavor erupting in his mouth, or the texture upon his tongue, but as if he’s deeply afraid of swallowing every piece.

He would ask.

He would tell him to eat more, that it’s not healthy to be eating so little.

But Dazai can not.

If he followed all he wanted to do all the time, he has no idea where he would stand with Chuuya today. He could be dead, that referring to either one of them, honestly. Maybe, they’d be in a fully dedicated relationship, or they’d be countries apart. There’s no telling.

If he did what he wanted to do, he’d lick Chuuya’s wounds clean whenever he tore his flesh apart, and then he’d hold him as he cried right after.

If he did what he wanted to, he’d live in this bed, never allowing Chuuya to leave it either.

If he did what he wanted to, he’d kill Chuuya with his own bare hands.

So Dazai has learnt that in certain situations, self control is the optimal choice.

Today, he’ll show Chuuya the most affection he’s able to, whether it be misunderstood or not. He will not show verbal reassurance, for that is to be misunderstood in an instant.
He can’t keep doing this, really.. he really can’t.

Because today, he learned something.

Something that has changed him in ways he’s unsure of, but he knows what must be done.

“Dazai.” Chuuya speaks up, having finished the little plate he gave himself.

Any average man would’ve eaten it in a minute or two, yet it took him a complete 10 minutes to swallow every bite.

“Yes?” He asks back, leaning slightly forward to listen, his plate being halfway done.

Chuuya tilts his head, studying the other’s expression, as if reading him was the single most hardest thing in the world right now. Well, it always seems to be, really. “I wanna kiss.”

Dazai is slightly caught off guard, Chuuya is usually never this straight forward, nor does he usually initiate things. He did last night, sure, but before that it was only Dazai. Has he learnt some kind of confidence now?

He smiles gently, sincerely, maybe.

“Yeah?”

Chuuya nods, standing up and instantly walking over to the man he longs for every minute. Longing.

He silently and slowly reaches down, giving Dazai enough time to pull away if this isn’t what he wants. But if there’s one thing Dazai Osamu can not resist, it’s kissing Chuuya. He does not believe in heaven, not even close to, but he does believe this is the closest he’ll ever get to it.

Right now, Dazai looks at Chuuya with all the affection in the world.

Because it’s all to be stripped away at one point or another.

Whether it be today, tomorrow, or in 10 months.

So for now, he’s gonna appreciate the heavenly softness upon Chuuya’s lips.
The twitching reactions beneath his touch.
His hips moving on their own when they’re pressed close against one another.
Chuuya’s sounds of pleasure when they’re as close as possible.

For now, Dazai will appreciate and bask in Chuuya’s love.

____________________

Kunikida wakes up with a headache.

Not the throbbing nausea-inducing kind, just the one that’s rather bothersome and still forces him to swallow a painkiller or two before heading out.

He doesn’t enjoy how much Dazai has been out lately.

Mostly because he gets worried all the time, and has caught himself about to text Chuuya if everything is okay from time to time, though also because the dorm gets lonely when you’re the only one living in it.

Usually he’d at the very least sleep at home, which helped Kunikida calm down a little, but the last two nights in a row, he’s not only slept at Chuuya’s dorm, he’s barely been home at all.

He’s left to eat dinner alone, watch tv alone, and go to bed without a roommate to say goodnight to, including a roommate to say goodmorning to. It’s quite lonely, he’ll admit.

Atsushi still comes over most mornings, which is a great help to Kunikida’s schedule, so at the very least he appreciates that.

Such as right now, when he’s busy listening to Atsushi rant off about something completely useless once again, like the latest album drop from whatever band he’s fixating on now. He enjoys it, though. It makes the silence stay away for a much longer time, even if sometimes he wishes it was Dazai rambling instead.

Even if he usually gets annoyed with the topics and nonsense being spouted to him, he can’t help but miss it when it’s gone.

Loving Dazai might be horrible, but that’s also due to the empty space he leaves behind.

Most people would assume it’s because he’s horrible to be around, which Kunikida is sure that some would definitely argue is correct, though everyone in Dazai’s closest circle agrees that the worst part is that he’s incapable of staying.

He has issues due to Odasaku’s death, they know that.

They know that he’s scared of staying, because he’ll end up being the one that’s left alone in the end, so they try their best at giving small hints of reassurance that they don’t plan on leaving, so he shouldn’t either. They can never really tell how well it works, though.

He misses Dazai, shamefully but truthfully admitted

Kunikida however, either has the greatest luck in the universe, or he’s really good at predicting the future, because just as his thought ends, Dazai comes in, tired.

He looks as if he didn’t get a wink of sleep.

“Where have you been?” Kunikida asks instantly, suddenly much more worried than before, seeing the state of Dazai.

Partly worried he’s been drinking again. Ever since the incident, he’s been much more worried than normal, because drinking is the one thing he was sure Dazai would never resort to, so now he can’t help but play into the role of a scolding mother every once in a while.

“Chuuya’s..” He responds exhausted, flopping onto the couch.

Kunikida sighs a breath of relief. Right, he didn’t get a wink of sleep because he was busy pounding Chuuya. And here he was, worrying for nothing, like usual.
Though even now, he doesn’t seem to be doing amazing, so it’s worth it to keep an eye out.

Atsushi and Kunikida look at each other, both shrugging, questioning what to do.

Dazai, however, takes the first step. “Do you guys love me?” He asks, which is a most unusual question coming from this man of all people.

Though, of course, they do.

They both nod, unsure of what he’s thinking right now. To their luck, Dazai seems to be rather communicative today.

“Would you do anything to protect me?”

Kunikida crosses his arms, “Of course, Dazai. You should be aware of this.”

He smiles back at them, seemingly satisfied with that answer.

He’s unpredictable, really. You never know what he’s thinking, or what he’s gonna do next. So you learn to not be surprised with his actions, yet you keep being caught off guard, because even if you try, you never really learn what goes on inside his head.

Dazai, whatever could be on your mind?

Chapter Text

Whenever Chuuya gets around to falling asleep, he thinks of how most people use the night as their resting time.

They’ll close their eyes, ready to let the night take them and excited to wake up feeling well rested, or to meet something nice, deep within the depths of their souls in their dreams.

People use dreams as an escape.

They’ll fly, use magic, meet fairies or love or just something that comforts them for the night, something that helps them be okay when they wake up.

He can’t recall the last time he had a dream that didn’t turn into a nightmare, or that wasn’t from the very beginning.

He’s deeply envious of people who are able to just.. rest.

Who don’t feel terrified when night comes, and don’t try to stretch out the hours as much as possible because sleeping feels like entering a world of agony that was made specifically for them.

People who don’t dread closing their eyes every night.

Resting has never come easy to him, to say the least.

He closes his eyes with anxiety, making his body tremble until he’s exhausted enough to fall asleep on his own, but each and every time he’s met with nothing but utter terror and despair, as if it sits around during the day, waiting to greet him.

Tonight, he’s met with his own anger.

A person, or a clone of a sort. Not one he recognizes, despite the face being the same one he sees in every reflection he does his best to avoid. It’s not him, but more likely an embodiment of the voice ringing in his head, all the time.

The voice that hates Dazai.

It whispers in a soft tone, hidden behind the resentful intentions, that Chuuya doesn’t need Dazai in his life. That he’ll leave sooner or later, and the time is arriving soon, and Chuuya needs to be ready to push him away when the time comes.

He can’t beg, or scream or cry or even as much as ask; if Dazai can just stay.

Because he won’t.

Even if Chuuya claws to his skin, holding him with the strongest grip he can manage, even if he did scream or beg, Dazai would leave him nonetheless.

Another voice rings behind him, a series of sentences pulling his focus away from his own deep rooted thoughts.

It repeats every single thing Dazai has ever said.

All the teasing remarks, the insults, the desperation for attention.

But Chuuya can’t be fooled, because he notices the difference, the wrong tone match in between the words. It speaks the remarks as if it wants Chuuya to be mad, and the insults to hurt him, but he’s deeply aware that wasn’t ever Dazai’s intentions.

He wanted to rile him up, for sure, but he never wanted outrightly to make him mad, or to hurt him. If he ended up also getting that result, he wouldn’t complain or apologize, but his only intention was to get Chuuya’s gaze for a second more.

All Dazai ever wanted was for Chuuya to look at him.

Then, the voice speaks something he hasn’t heard quite before. ‘I can’t help you, Chuuya.’

This time, the voice replicates him perfectly. The soft, unspoken words, that seem so real nonetheless.

He almost turns around, his feet are ready to spin and his eyes are a new place, but he can’t ignore the sudden hands keeping in where he is, and the desperate look upon his own face staring back at him. ‘He’s no good for you.’ He begs, desperately, trying to keep Chuuya from giving in.

But he gave in already, a long time ago, didn’t he?

‘I know.’
__

He wakes up in a cold sweat, not necessarily terrified or fearing for his life, but anxious either way.

His hands are moving on their own, faster than he can digest himself. He has enough time to process that he’s frantically searching for something, though he’s too out of it to really know what it could be.

There’s 2 options, though.

His only two solutions, his only form of comfort.

His body is seeking either relief or help, and he knows the answer when he feels himself dragging his heavy hand to his ear, a ringing noise banging into his cranium.

click

‘Chuuya? It’s late. Are you calling because I didn’t come by to- why are you breathing like that?’

He swallows his dignity, the one he never had in the first place.

“Can- can you.. can you come over? Can’t sleep..” He manages to speak through the heavy gasps for air.

The silence hanging between the long line of distance only makes him that more anxious.

Recently, he’s experienced Dazai coming at his every call for help. Even if he felt pathetic for it, he truly had started to believe this meant he cared, at least enough to be there when nights got rough, right?

After all, isn’t Chuuya meant to be different?

Dazai said so himself. Even if he doesn’t remember, that doesn’t mean it’s fair for him to take his words back, and make Chuuya feel like every other person Dazai never cared to spare a glance.

There’s a deep breath in, followed by a sigh that only causes shivers down his spine.

Then, words he suddenly recognizes better than any, are spoken with such an utterly cold and apathetic voice, that he almost mistakes it for a dream again.

‘I can’t help you, Chuuya.’

The whisper manages to be soft due to the low tone, but his heart doesn’t break any less just because of that.

He feels his hand tremble more than it did before, and for a second he regrets waking up. Maybe, dreaming was far better than this. Because at least then, the words weren’t true, and neither was the rejection.

Maybe, his dream was indeed an escape from reality, and he took it for granted.

He swallows harshly, his throat closing up and his mouth watering. “Just.. this once..” he clenches his fist, the nails digging into his palm, “Please?”

All of him wants to believe he’s merely dreaming, that this is some form of double nightmare and he’ll wake up with the same solution, but this time Dazai will hang up before even getting asked to come over, and he’ll open the door and throw himself into bed before Chuuya has time to process what his dream was even about.

He’ll hold him as he’s done before, allowing him to rest upon his heart.

And Chuuya will be okay.

He is more than aware Dazai will leave him, so he’s said. Multiple times, too, and part of him can’t really blame him at all, because wasn’t Chuuya the first one to leave?

He screamed at him to get out, and to never show his face again, yet now he’s the one begging for him to stay?

It’s pathetic.

But Chuuya Nakahara has always been nothing more than that.

Utterly, disgustingly, pathetic.

The only thing he can wonder is, why?

When he left, when he begged Dazai to leave just as well, it was because he was getting hurt left and right. He’d open his eyes in pain every morning, closing them in agony once more every night.

Does he cause Dazai pain, somehow?

He doesn’t have any memory of doing so, none at all, so where could all of this possibly be coming from?

Maybe he’s overthinking it, and he’s just busy right now. Despite the clock and the intention behind the clear use of tone, Chuuya decides to wait for an answer, that maybe everything is still okay and he’s paranoid because of his dream.

… “I’m not gonna give you false hope. I’m not your friend.”

He barely has time to register what was said before the second ‘click’ sound repeats, and his phone is no longer connected to another.

The line between them snapping feels symbolic for the nausea rolling up his throat.

His hand blocks his mouth as his legs rush to the toilet, phone in hand, ready to call Yosano and Akutagawa the second he’s done, or at least get a break between the waves.

___________________

“I think you’re being stupid.” Kunikida says, not sparing the pacing Dazai a glance as he adjusts his glasses, trying to succeed in reading his book done before bed.

He’s managed to read 20 pages in the last hour, because he keeps having to reply to the utter nonsense his roommate keeps spouting, though the phone call gave him enough time to get through a page without break.

Dazai stands still for a second, “I know you think that.” He sighs, sitting down in the chair beside the coach Kunikida is spread over.

He peeks up from his book open on page 341, and closes it.

He isn’t stupid, Kunikida knows very well that he won’t get that damn book read today, so he might as well give up now and listen to whatever Dazai has to say now.

“Do you agree?” He asks, waiting for an honest reply, unsure of if he’ll get it.

He’ll know, of course, but he never pushes Dazai to say something he doesn’t want to even if he knows he’s lying through his teeth.

You learn how to observe him over the years, because you kind of need to if you wanna survive him being your friend, due to the kind of person Dazai Osamu is.

Kunikida has specific survival tactics he’s built since he met them, the main one being not to drink any alcohol, for example.

He also knows not to give advice when Dazai is ranting his heart out, because usually he just wants to be dramatic and complain rather than actually finding a solution, though right now they both seem to be confused if that’s the current situation.

“No. I have my reasons, Kunikida. I care enough-..too much.”

This, he is quite surprised by.

One thing his roommate, best friend and essentially ‘little brother’ does not do, is care.

Yet here he is, admitting to care so much that he, that he what? Is scared of hurting Chuuya?

Well, this is new.

It seems like Dazai might be developing, but as mentioned, nobody knows if that’s for better or for worse.

“Dazai..” Kunikida sighs, grunting as he lifts himself up to sit.

He looks at the other, “You’ve never cared for anyone else. Couldn’t this be a sign?”

He shakes his head, defending himself behind a barrier Kunikida isn’t used to.

“I’ve cared before.”

Truth, he has.

Dazai cared when his brother picked him up from school with a smile on his face, lifting him in his arms and waving bye to the teachers, and part of him felt superior to the other kids for having such a good brother.

He knows now they were superior, because their siblings didn’t have to pick them up.

He cared when he first saw Odasaku pick up a glass of alcohol after a fight with their parents.

He cared when he thought he was cool for the way he’d go through a package of cigarettes in one day.

Dazai cared a lot, actually.

He cared when a woman looked at him worried when Oda gave him a glass of whiskey, despite his young age, and he came to his defense faster than anyone had expected.

He cared when the ambulance was called, and the church bells rang, and as he got a last look at his brother while the only person he’s learned to care for since held his hand.

So, yes, Dazai has cared before, much more than anyone really brings themselves to learn.

The problem is that he thought he couldn’t care anymore, that it was an emotion that was buried alongside his brother.

But right now, he’s feeling that same disgusting familiar feeling that makes his body tremble, the uncontrollable urge to do something to protect someone he knows he can’t really protect at all.

Though maybe, just maybe he can this time.

He lowers his head, “Nothing good comes out of loving me, Kunikida.”

His fists clenches in on each other, but his attention is stolen away by the sudden man in front of him, crouching down to get an actual look on him.

Sometimes, Dazai thinks Kunikida knows him better than anyone else in this world.

Most people would describe his eyes as distant, a place one can’t reach, but to Kunikida, it’s the easiest place to find in his world.

Kunikida can break through a barrier that was designed to protect Dazai, but he doesn’t feel alarmed or on guard when it happens.

Kunikida makes Dazai feel seen.

“That’s not true, Dazai. If nothing good came out of loving you, why the hell would any of us still be here? Why would I be living with you? Why would Nakahara give up what he’s lived for his whole life, for you?” There’s a hand silently and gently rubbing Dazai’s knee, and right now he remembers why he lives with this man.

He sighs, “I don’t want to hurt him anymore.”

_______________________________

“Chuuya?” Akutagawa yells as he opens the front door, praying Yosano will show up sooner than later.

Though part of him is also afraid she’ll break the speed limit and get held back by police, knowing how worried she gets.

He doesn’t need to guess where Chuuya is.

He looks toward the hallway pointing down to the toilet, already knowing he’ll be hunched over the toilet due to past experience.

Not only did he hear him gag over the phone, but whenever it gets real bad, he always ends up throwing up, so he’s been found in the bathroom more times than not.

He takes a few slow steps, approaching, his phone screen brightening up and revealing a 20 second call from their group chat half a minute ago and a message from Yosano saying she’ll be there in five.

He types out a quick ‘be careful.’ to her before closing his phone again, worrying this time she’ll actually crash.

Atsushi is still in his room, they weren’t really doing anything anyway and when he hung up the phone he warned him there’s a chance he’ll have to sleep at Chuuya’s if it’s really bad.

Chuuya does not call them often, it’s usually short texts and replies they’ll receive, but whenever something is really wrong he resorts to calling the group chat so they’ll both be notified at the same time.

They heard a few sobs and a singular gag before both asking where he was and saying they’ll be on their way.

They wouldn’t call this a common occurrence, but it’s far from rare.

The thing they worry most about is that when they arrive he’ll have cut himself into pieces, and when it actually happened to Yosano, it has only made their worry that much worse since.

He gently pushes the door open, almost afraid to see the sight of whatever state Chuuya is in this time, and how long he’ll be like it, but most of all he’s afraid to find out what the cause was this time.

Usually, the answer will be something related to either his mom, or Dazai, and due to the phone call the other day, he’s unsure of which one it could be.

When the light from the bathroom peeks through the door and lightens up the dark hallway he had walked through, Akutagawa is met with a mess.

A running tap, as if to drown out the sobbing noise despite the clear failure; vomit not only in the toilet, but a few splatters in the sink and on the floor. The one thing Akutagawa searches for however, is any trail or drops of blood, and he’s rather relieved to not find any.

Then his eyes fall to the man.

The man who is the furthest thing from that, really, he’s just a child.

Chuuya is hunched in a fetal position, hugging his own legs as if terrified to let himself unravel.

His cries aren’t loud and unbearable, they’re not silent at all but the desperate attempt at keeping them muffled is more than obvious, along with the uncontrollable shaking likely caused by the nausea and panic.

Right, so Akutagawa’s mission now is to get over to Chuuya without getting covered in vomit, and also figure out how he’d react to touch in this current situation.

He crouches down by the door, “Chuu.”

The other opens his eyes that are still leaking tears, getting a view of Akutagawa sitting and watching him.

Chuuya wants more than anything to somehow crawl over there, but he’s afraid if he leaves his current state he’ll just cry until he passes out.

Why is he reacting this way?

Didn’t he just agree with himself that he should be ready for Dazai to leave him?

And he hasn’t even really left him yet, and he’s still here crying his eyes out and spilling his guts all over the floor, what’s he gonna do when Dazai decides he no longer wants to see him at all?

Chuuya is starting to believe he was born to exist in pain.

He’s been punished his whole life, and the only good thing he’s experienced has been bound to leave him since they met, and that seems to be the biggest punishment he’ll ever come to get.

“Can you come here?” Akutagawa whispers, hoping to break through the thoughts filling Chuuya’s head.

He wonders how it’ll go down when it happens.

If Dazai will tell him he knows he’s in love with him, and all he wanted was a fuck buddy with no strings attached.

But this is all his fault.

It’s his fault because he came when Chuuya called, because he’d hold his hands in place to make sure he wouldn’t hurt himself, because he’d look at him as if he was his first ounce of hope and belief in a world where he’s never had that before.

Dazai looked at Chuuya as if he loved him.

Sometimes, at least.

Some days he’d look at him as if he was silently cursing upon the world for bringing him into existence in the first place, but all of that is blocked by the memory of him gently wrapping his arms around Chuuya, nudging his head against his neck as a puppy demanding attention.

Chuuya remembers the Dazai he loves.

He remembers the Dazai that loves him back.

He remembers the hand that squeezed his tightly when Odasaku was no longer around, and he remembers the pain and confusion he denied he had gone through when Dazai tried to follow behind.

He remembers the night Dazai told him he was different.

What changed?

Just two days ago he felt as if they were fine, he was held with so much love and adoration, but now he claims to not wanna give him ‘false hope’?

Well, too fucking late.

He takes a deep breath in, and does his best in an attempt to sit up, hoping to not activate any form of nausea from his already empty stomach.

“I-” He coughs as the word comes out, his throat damaged from the sobbing and vomiting.

Akutagawa smiles relieved, taking a quick look at his phone to see if Yosano will be here soon.

“.. Hug?” He asks, not sure how else to be comforting, as he’s too afraid to ask what happened and set off a trigger again.

Chuuya lets out a small laugh, seeing right through him, “Yeah.”

_______________

Bonus.

(In the meantime, at the dorm of Fyodor and Nikolai.)

“What could you possibly be talking about Kolya?” Fyodor asks, petting the hair ruffled around in his lap.

It’s usually braided, but when the white hair is let down and unraveled it’s undeniably beautiful, he looks a lot more soft and gentle.

Nikolai’s hair was actually what first caught Fyodor’s attention.

Then he of course came around to realise the man he had started talking to was not only batshit insane, but quite adorable indeed, though he may be the only one who thinks that.

He can’t help but be pleased about that.

Because Fyodor is a very possessive boyfriend, even if he never really shows it, so this topic coming up surprised him a great deal.

Nikolai looks up, happily, “Why not? I’m into him.”

He is, of course, talking about their best friend, Sigma.

Who is, also, sitting right beside them.

Sigma looks up from his phone, annoyed and slightly flattered, “Do you have to talk about making me an addition to your relationship, not only right in front of me, but without asking for my opinion?”

He doesn’t sound annoyed about the topic of conversation, really, but just that it has to go down in front of him when he just wanted to come by for some extra food.

The one laying down purring as a cat sits up, surprised.

Fyodor sighs, “It doesn’t seem like Sigma would be interested in such an arrangement.”

Okay, how did this even start?

Right, Nikolai came home and addressed one figure in the room with a dearly tone, ‘Fedya’, as he always does when he gets the pleasure of seeing his boyfriend. Then he went on to address the other as ‘babe’, rather than the usual friendly ‘hun’ he’s fond of using.

Sigma simply nodded a hello back, assuming it was merely another nickname, however Fyodor asked in to it, and here we are.

“I never said that, I would just appreciate being asked first.” He closes his phone down, putting it beside him.

This is quite the unhinged conversation, really, but it isn’t unexpected of these three.

Nikolai sighs, seemingly annoyed by not being able to control everyone's opinions and moves.

As he always is.

“Sigma, dear, would you wanna join usss?~”

Fyodor, this time, is the one to laugh endearingly.

“Surely you’d have to ask me too, Kolya.”

He groans loudly, deciding to leave the topic, being wildly annoyed by the sudden power imbalance.

Said power imbalance being equality.

“Whatever, I was joking anyway. Let’s go get ice cream.” He jumps up from the couch, more than ready to leave the house.

Fyodor and Sigma follow along silently, giving each other a knowing look before smiling.

At least for some people, love seems to come relatively easily.

_________________

Yosano pouts, “Why not?”

Chuuya looks at her, his eye possibly be twitching. “You think I’m in the mood to watch a sad romance story right now, ‘Sano?” He smiles, hoping it hides his very obvious infuriation, failing more than he wants to admit.

Akutagawa smiles at their bickering, being in charge of the remote.

When Yosano came, she was met with the boys hugging silently, and she was just relieved that Chuuya wasn’t freaking out any longer.

After that, she did muster up the courage to ask what had happened, and despite Chuuya’s hesitation, he explained, though it was clear he felt pathetic for freaking out over such a meaningless sentence.

When he was done explaining, they all decided to have a chill night and watch a movie together, hoping it could take his mind off of everything for just a little.

“How ‘bout a horror?” Akutagawa asks the blanket-wrapped man, allowing him to choose the movie for the night.

They figured he’d be cold after freaking out on the bathroom floor, rolled him in a blanket and fed him the snacks they save for vomit-induced emergencies.

He shakes his head, “Can’t it be a comedy?”

The two groan in sync, knowing that this time they’re obligated to say yes.

Every single movie night, Chuuya suggests watching comedy.

It’s horrific, and some days they’ll agree to watch a rom-com.

Actually they usually watch rom-coms, they’re just embarrassed to admit that.

“Can’t it be a rom-”

“I don’t wanna watch people be all lovey-dovey, it’s annoying.” Chuuya scoffs, just wanting to watch a funny movie and fall asleep cuddled up with his friends, and hopefully not have a nightmare again.

Akutagawa rolls his eyes, “Fine, comedy it is.”

They spend an entirety of twenty minutes attempting to find one that looks interesting, while also looking funny enough to be enjoyable.

When they finally settle on a movie, it takes Chuuya nothing more than 30 minutes to fall into a deep sleep once more, exhausted from the crying and puking.

Akutagawa looks over at Yosano, whose lap is being used as tonight's pillow.

“So.. what’s your opinion in all of this?” He asks, reaching for the almost finished bowl of crisps.

She sighs, gently running her fingers through Chuuya’s hair, slightly scared he isn’t actually asleep despite the obvious snoring.

“I..” She starts, “want to gut Dazai.”

Akutagawa laughs at the aggressive honesty, agreeing completely.

She smiles, though it fades as she takes another deep breath. “We knew this was coming. I just think we have to help him move on.” She says, looking at him ever so endearingly.

The other man nods, agreeing once more.

“Are you scared?” He asks, chewing on the last crisp from the bowl.

She nods, “Of course I am. I just hope neither of them does anything stupid.”
_______________

Dazai sits down on the wet grass, being met with sunlight peaking through the trees hiding him away from the world.

It had rained just earlier, while he was on the train on his way here.

He was slightly afraid a storm was coming upon, but luckily that wasn’t the case, and he’s sure if he looked a little harder he could find a rainbow somewhere, but the sound of the squeaking birds singing is too distracting for that.

The weather has been real unpredictable these days, it’s a bit infuriating, really.

He takes his jacket off, no longer needing it since the weather is clearing up completely, and he doesn’t want to sit here sweating.

He decided that if he needs advice, he should talk to the one person who has shaped him to be the person he is today.

So, his eyes linger upon the grey stone, spelling out the name of his older brother, the letters too spaced out for his liking. He notices the flowers beside it, the exact ones his mom leaves every time she visits.

They look new, so surely she was here recently.

He wonders if dad came along.

He hasn’t visited Odasaku’s grave in a few months, because part of him just considers it torture, and another part of him hates knowing that every time he comes here, he’s accepting that his brother is gone.

“Hey.”

But most of all, he hates that he’ll never get a response back.

“Mom got you flowers, huh?” He lays down, using his jacket as a blanket barrier between the grass and himself.

He sighs, looking at the small pieces of sky he can see between the trees, the clouds still swirling around since the rain.

Sometimes, Dazai likes to delude himself into believing Odasaku can still hear him, but is just incapable of answering.

That despite him being buried deep beneath the ground, being eaten away by the earth itself, his body and mind empty, he’s still right here, listening to every one of Dazai’s worries.

That being said, that thought isn’t always that comforting, because then he starts feeling guilty for not visiting more often, and the idea of his brother being stuck here unable to leave the graveyard, waiting for someone to visit and talk to him sends shudders down his body and leaves him feeling sick.

“I uh..” He breathes in, “I have to tell you something.”

Where does one start this conversation? Where can he possibly find the words he needs to explain what’s going on inside his head?

“When you died..”

Perhaps, from the start.

________

The Funeral. - 2 Years Ago.

“Hey, focus.” His dad sighed, fixing the tie he hadn’t cared to make sure looked fine.

He doesn’t really remember the morning all that well, neither if he wore an actual suit or if the tie is coincidental and he looked completely stupid, but he feels safe assuming he did wear a suit.

He does remember when he looked in the mirror, and he couldn’t look at his own eyes because that’s always been the one thing that connects him to his brother, as they both got their mother’s eyes, and that was usually what made people able to tell.

He tilted his head up, trying to catch onto whatever emotion his father could be feeling in this moment, angry that he was treating this as a business meeting.

That he wanted everyone to be polite, normal, even.

That no one was supposed to show emotion.

But when he crouched down silently, looking up at Dazai now, he whispered words he’d rather have never heard. “I know it’s hard, kid, but you can’t let it show. Your brother wouldn’t want you to be sad now would he?”

Dazai closed his eyes and shook his head, because his dad was right. Oda always said to never be sad on his behalf, and his only happiness comes from seeing Dazai smile, so he is to always do just that.

“Dazai!” Kunikida yelled from the other side of the venue, finally finding him after Dazai’s mom had asked him to help put flowers up.

Kunikida had stayed at his house the whole week, being the one to help set the funeral up and withholding the devastating details from Dazai.

Kunikida was his parent after Odasaku died.

Dazai’s father smiled as he saw the blonde kid approaching, “I’ll go find your mother. Smile, Dazai.”

He took a slow breath in, smiling at his dad as he left.

Kunikida caught up to him, sweating from carrying the heavy flower filled vases.

“How you doing?” He asked, his hand immediately finding Dazai’s shoulder.

He replied in a smile, keeping his fathers words as close as possible, “I’m okay. Is Ranpo here yet?”

His best friend seemed far from convinced, but also didn’t want to push, so he smiled back. He said something about Ranpo arriving soon, but Dazai doesn’t remember it too well, his memory started getting hazy about here.

__

 

He doesn’t remember what words his mom said when she stood in front of all their relatives and friends, standing in front of the open casket, hoping her sweet words would reach Odasaku’s ears one last time.

He faintly remembers when his dad nudged his shoulder and nodded towards the stage, and how his legs felt weak as he walked up, trying to find the prepared speech he had written down the day before, hoping he didn’t look unprepared as his hands fumbled in his pockets.

What he remembers best is how he froze when he saw Oda in the casket.

How his eyes were closed, and he somehow looked more alive than when his body felt cold and his skin was turning blue.

Dazai knew that skin was hiding under the suit, that he was wearing a mask of makeup, hiding the truth.

Somehow, it angered him.

Everyone was ignoring the truth, they said the sweetest words about him, ignoring his tantrums of anger, his month of rehab where the withdrawals drove him to the edge, no one would dare mention the time he hit their mom, and Dazai for the first time in his life felt scared of his brother.

They had painted his face with a humane color, closing his eyes to hide the soulless body.

Everyone was pretending.

And now Dazai had to do so too, because that’s what Odasaku would’ve wanted?

What a load of bullshit.

He remembers turning around, looking at the crowd of people waiting for another speech of sweet words, and he felt guilt rising in his throat as he didn’t pull out his speech he had spent so long preparing, only mentioning every good thing that has ever happened.

“A few months ago, Odasaku handed me a glass.” He started, and he couldn’t ignore the silent gasps roaming the room.

He searched for the eyes of Kunikida, then Ranpo, then Ch-

Chuuya Nakahara.

Whatever could he be doing here..?

They hadn’t talked since a recent argument, Dazai thought he was completely done with him, really.

“The truth is, I begged him to let me taste for weeks. He said no every single time, until one night, I’m unsure if he was tired of me asking, or if he had given up on me already.” He sighed, “I took one swallow and made a stupid face, it didn’t taste very good, but I remember how it was the first time I saw him laugh in days, so I had hoped that every time I lifted the glass, he’d laugh just a little longer than last time.”

He ignored the look of his mother, who looked almost terrified to be hearing what she was listening to, and his father holding her arm as if telling her to calm down.

“A woman saw me drinking, and pulled me to the side while Oda was talking to the bartender. I don’t even remember how he kept sneaking me in, I don’t know why he agreed to do it in the first place.” He smiled, trying to get back memories his own head was stealing from him.

“She asked me if the man I was with was- was forcing me to do anything.”

The silence in the room was almost nauseating, but most of all he felt sick by the look Chuuya Nakahara was giving him.

Every other eye in this room was filled with pity, but his was glinting with worry.

He remembers Chuuya being worried for his sake.

“I, of course, yelled at her in rage. How dare she accuse my brother of anything? After she realised that we were related, she asked me if he had a problem.” He tried to not look upon the casket, to not look Oda in his closed eyes as he would be the first to admit the truth.

“I said, no. My brother is completely fine. He would never put himself in danger, because he wouldn’t do that to me.”

…

“I believed Odasaku was okay, or that he at least would be, because when you have someone who loves you so much, and that you love too, you wouldn’t wanna do anything to hurt them.” His breath was getting shaky, and his throat was closing up on him, but Dazai could not cry.

“.. I regret not telling her “yes, I think he does.”, not because I really believe she could do anything, but because if I had admitted it, maybe he could’ve too.”

He took one last breath, looked at his brother, and left the stage.

Dazai Osamu didn’t tell the world that he loved his brother, because his brother was dead.

And so was his love.

_________

Dazai didn’t cry when an ambulance was driving Odasaku to the hospital.

Dazai didn’t cry when the doctors told them Odasaku was dead.

Dazai didn’t cry when he told everyone Odasaku was an alcoholic.

Dazai still did not cry when the now closed casket was being lowered into the ground, but this time he had a hand to squeeze into.

Dazai didn’t cry, but a head resting on his shoulder, one hand holding his, the other gently rubbing his arm, was enough to survive the day.
______________

“The thing I remember most about your funeral, is Chuuya Nakahara.” He speaks, hoping someone is listening to his troubles, just for now, just to let him get it out.

That they’ll reach someone’s ears, and he won’t have to be the only one carrying it anymore.

He hopes his words won’t turn into the air he exhales, that he’ll inhale again in just a second.

He rolls over, resting his chin on the grass, staring at the date of death in front of his face.

“I don’t know if you remember him. I told you about him, but you weren’t exactly a good listener during those months, haha.” He laughs, “We’ve been… close, recently.”

He hasn’t really spoken these words before, to this extent at least, so he won’t lie and say he’s not uncomfortable at all, but right now part of him feels relieved in the doubt that someone’s listening.

“I think- I know he’s in love with me.”

…

“I’ve hurt him a lot in the past.. in the present too.” He sighs, rubbing between his eyes. “I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t wanna be the reason he doesn’t see a point in living.”

He sits up, still looking at the unresponsive stone.

“I don’t know what to do, Oda. Help me.”

Chapter Text

Chuuya drowns in the attention Dazai will allow himself to give him.

He soaks in every word of acknowledgement he receives, he devours every kiss that gets placed upon him, and he takes in every look he manages to get.

Both of them know that, nobody is oblivious to the way he flinches and reacts immediately whenever Dazai speaks first, the way he instantly grips on for dear life when he kisses him, or the way he’ll stare until Dazai is forced to look back at him.

Recently, they’ve been weird.

No.. not quite.

Weird, strange, odd.. none of those words fits the description Chuuya needs, they’ve been distant.

Not as distant as they’ve once been, though. Not at all, considering that if he catches him at the right moment, Dazai will still kiss him.

He’ll still touch him, and he’ll still love him.

But somehow, that still feels more distant than when he was the one begging for attention, when Chuuya could turn a blind eye to the puppy asking for his gaze every second of every day.

Is that what this is? Have they just done a complete role reversal, because honestly, it feels like that.

Chuuya can’t deny that this situation is messing with his head though, because he knows one of them is a facade, and he can only guess which one.

There’s this one, the one that treats every bit of attention as if he has to force himself to give it, as if none of it is done out of pure will but solely due to the one asking for it. The one that doesn’t look at Chuuya at all, as if he hates him just as he did years ago, and that he maybe never stopped with at all.

Then there’s the other one, the one who looks at him as if he’s his whole world, his light and his heaven.

When he looks at him like that, it’s as if he sees him as a God.

Not an unreachable one, but one that’s nothing but pure bliss and hope, despite Chuuya being the exact opposite.

He looks at him like he’s about to mutter the three words that Chuuya himself has to swallow every day while they attempt to escape the tip of his tongue. The one that would never dare utter a single hurtful thing to him, as if protecting him was the only thing that mattered.

This is a loop, isn’t it?

The two-sided face of Dazai Osamu.

The one who protects him, and the one he needs to be protected from.

Though Chuuya is only capable of placing hit bet on the facade being the one who hurts him, not because he believes he loves him but because the second they get close enough, the second he has a chance to have him in his grip, the moment he has him beneath him in bed, he couldn’t pretend to hate him if his life was on the line.

Like yesterday, for example.

________________

YESTERDAY - 9 PM.

Dazai truly wishes he could find it in himself to resist, to break free from this desperate grip Chuuya has on him.

That when he escapes, he won’t look at the claw marks in sorrow and regret.

That’s a wish he’s made to himself many, many times, and it’s never worked, but despite that he still finds himself wishing it once more whenever it proves to have not worked last time.

Like right now, as recent as yesterday he went to sleep hoping he’d have self restraint when he woke up, yet here he is, begging for the same thing once more.

Something as simple as a kiss completely traps him in, closing the doors behind him while the walls sink, and all he has left is need.

Complete, and utter need.

“We have school tomorrow..” He tries, knowing that won’t be enough to stop him anyway but he’ll feel less bad knowing he made an effort somewhat, somewhere.

An effort he also the majority of the time hopes doesn’t work, considering the beautiful sight in front of him.

“So? Why are you thinking about that right now?” Chuuya asks annoyedly, hunched over the other, one arm supporting himself, another leading down to the fingers he’s so generously put inside himself, speaking about some ‘I’ll save you the trouble’.

He doesn’t know Dazai never considers touching Chuuya trouble, no matter how long it takes or how fast it’s over, he’ll bask in it until he’s back on ground.

Sometimes, he thinks he understands.

He’s caught himself now multiple times doubting his disbelief in God, solely due to the fact he can’t understand how someone so heavenly walks earth as if it was nothing.

How someone who feels like nothing further than an Angel, is not sculpted by the hands of heaven.

The reason he knows he doesn’t exist, is that a sinner like Dazai would never deserve the privilege of getting to hold heaven so close, he doesn’t believe a God would willingly give up one of his angels for a person such as him.

For someone who only comes him in harm's way.

Dazai Osamu has never once believed in heaven, but he’s learnt to believe in Angels.
An Angel, at least.

His Angel.

“What trouble?” He smiles, kissing Chuuya who’s silently twitching at the way Dazai lets his hand slide down his spine.

Touching Chuuya is the only thing he’s ever known when they’re here.

Away from the reality of their situation, from the truth lingering deep inside him, and the dread both of their eyes reveal.

When they’re here, alone, and get to just be.

Saying he loves touching him feels vulgar, but he means it as innocently as he possibly can.

Maybe not as innocently as possible, since if he was to look down he’s sure his cock would be dripping already, but that’s not the point.

Though he hates the way he can feel his ribs when he attempts to touch his chest, and he has to grit his teeth not to change topic and tell him to eat more because he knows how he would react to that.

It happens when he touches his hips too, or when he latches onto his collarbones.

But enough of that talk.

Dazai’s favorite thing on Chuuya’s body is his thighs, undeniably.

That started long ago though, when the sexual desire had first started to creep up on him, and he couldn’t help imagining the wounds Chuuya inflicted upon himself.

He can’t argue that he doesn’t still love them, stare at them and bask in how beautiful they are, but ever since he first started to feel that change.. whenever it was, he also looks at them with worry.

He feels relief whenever he takes his pants off, and there aren’t any new ones.

Though he clearly remembers a time where he was thrilled to learn he had been up parting his flesh, and he hates himself for having ever thought that way. He hates that he once considered anything harmful on such an Angel positive.

The old ones still drive him out, from habit, and he won’t say he wouldn’t get a tiny bit of the past thrill if he were to catch him doing it again, but he would be feeling much other stuff than that, and that would take priority.

Of course, he’s aware of what points on him are Chuuya’s favorites just as well.

He likes his long legs, but he also seems to really like Dazai having long hair.

He himself does not care much for it, and has even considered cutting it off, but the compliments that slip past the lips he wishes to kiss every second sound so teeth-rotting sweet in his head he can’t help but wish to never cut it at all.

“Mngh.. think I’m ready now.” Chuuya gasps as he retreats his hand, feeling a bit empty and suddenly missing the pressure.

If Dazai could pick a moment to stay in forever, it might be this one.

“You sure?” He kisses the neck that’s offered in front of him, marking it just in case it’ll be the last time he ever gets to taste the skin he considers the sweetest taste he’s ever had, leaving proof he had it once.

He hopes every time he latches on, sinking his teeth ever so slightly into right above where he feels a pulse, a proof of his Angel being alive, and being right here with him, that he’ll remember the sensation.

But every time he retreats, his mouth feels numb, deprived of the only thing he wishes for, and he finds himself going right back; desperate to taste him just once more.

“You’re leaving marks..” Chuuya chuckles, not really complaining at all but needing to state the obvious fact nonetheless.

He sounds beautiful.

Dazai gently allows his hands to glide down Chuuya’s waist, grabbing firmly onto the hips his hands have touched ever so many times.

He goes slow with pushing him down, but the pressure when he grabs onto his dick and doesn’t even bother hesitating with rubbing the tip against his rim, is nothing less than utter bliss.

“Ah, careful.” He tries, but now Chuuya is the stubborn one, which he might in all honesty always be.

Dazai hasn’t apologized yet, and he’s not going to.

He can tell that Chuuya thinks about it, whenever his mind wanders and he suddenly seems more upset than a few seconds ago, Dazai is more than aware it’s because he’s still waiting for an apology.

But he can’t give that to him.

For the exact same reason he said what he said, he can’t apologize for saying it.

That’s not to say he isn’t the biggest hypocrite in town, considering he claims to ‘not wanna give Chuuya false hope’ but here he is, sticking his dick inside him as soon as he gets the chance. He’s an asshole, he knows that, and he’s already decided this can’t happen again, so he takes in every single second he can.

Dazai twitches when he feels the walls press against him, slowly devouring him. “You- you’re still tight..” He gasps, ignoring the tiny ounce of pain for the pleasure crowding him.

He doesn’t think he can have sex again, seriously.

No one else can possibly feel this good, it’s just not possible.

When you’ve felt heaven, you’ll never really feel satisfied with going back to the average, so there’s no point in even considering it.

“Mngh..” Chuuya whimpers when he’s finally lowered himself down enough, being full enough to know if they switched position Dazai would be so deep inside him that his belly bulge would be more than obvious.

He doesn’t hate that, really.

He enjoys getting overstimulated, when it’s so deep that for a moment it’s as if everything else disappears, and he gets to lose his body to pleasure.

“Do you want me to move yet?” Dazai asks, his breath out of control, and his hands digging into the waist he’s holding onto, as if keeping Chuuya in place will help him not lose control himself and pound him.

He doesn’t reply, he just buries his head into Dazai’s chest and then..

He lifts his body slowly, his arms wrapping around the other's neck so he has extra support, and then as if falling, he lowers himself and feels it fill him out once more.

“Ah-” He reacts out of surprise to how he seems to have already found an angle of which Dazai’s stupidly perfect cock hits him the right spot inside.

“There?”

“Mhm, yes- shit, right there..”

Dazai can feel himself twitch inside Chuuya whenever he gets any form of acknowledgement, pleased that he’s making him feel good, even if he was essentially the one to find the angle himself.

He lifts his legs up, both to help him create motion but to reach inside him even deeper, desperate to hear whatever vulgar noises that’ll reach his ears.

“Oh fuck, that’s..” He moans, “so deep..”

For that split second, he’s afraid he might come already.

How has anything or anyone ever been attractive to him before, when this is what he could’ve been listening to?

The sight too.

Whenever he looks up, gasping from a sudden thrust and Dazai catches a glimpse of his eyes rolling up and the small ounce of drool running from his mouth to his chin, it makes his head spin.

It takes him a few attempts before he finds the right pace, both for him and Chuuya, but when he does it’s such a bliss he can barely care about anything that goes on outside this room, outside them.

“You feel so good.” Dazai whispers without even realizing it at all, but he isn’t lying so nothing to dwell in there.

“So do- ah- mngh..” Chuuya loses his words in his whimpers, “Deeper..”

He follows command and pushes Chuuya deeper onto his dick, his hips lifting up just as well.

The other squeals, “Fuck, yes.. just like tha-ah-t”

The next series of words are inaudible for Dazai and he can’t make out anything Chuuya says even if he wanted to, because the noises of pleasurable sobs and whimpers out-do the words that are probably just begging for more anyway.

He’ll give him more, he’ll give him anything he asks for.

At least in this very moment, he will.

He can feel himself getting close, and he curses at that fact because he’ll rather have this moment never end, so he’ll have to pull through.

“I’m- ngh, I’m gonn-ah- gonna cu-”

Chuuya almost goes insane when Dazai grips onto the dick pressured between their stomachs, blocking him from release.

His body still reacts so intensely he for a second wonders if it resorted to a dry orgasm, but his remaining urge to come and the leak running down Dazai’s hand leads him to thinking that probably isn’t right.

“Fuck you..” He whispers, trying to thrust himself into the hand blocking him, but a sudden squeeze is forced upon his throbbing warmth between his and Dazai’s stomachs, and his legs tremble in need.

He feels a tiny thrust into him and he’s instantly pushed to begging, “Let-let me come, please-”

“Not yet.” The other stands his ground, keeping his hand where it is as he finds the right pace again.

Chuuya cries in desperation, unable to withstand the torture, part of him considers choking Dazai to death right here and now while continuing to ride himself to finish.

That’s a little special, but honestly he would do anything to come right now.

“Why not?” He squeals as another thrust hits him so deep in the stomach he would’ve come a second time if he was allowed in the first place.
Dazai sighs beneath him, “I wanna keep going..”

Maybe the desperate one isn’t Chuuya after all.

“I can go more times, Dazai..”

“Promise?”

“I promise.. so please just let me fucking co- aahngh!” He moans as the grip on his cock is released and his belly bulges out from how deep he is inside of him, “Faster, come on, ngh fuck..”

 

Dazai does as told yet again, speeding up and considering letting himself finish as well, knowing they’ll go more than once anyway.

He could go forever, really.

“Yes, yes, more, oh God..”

 

He drowns in the words and noises filling the room, hoping to never leave it.

“I’m- yes, keep going, I’m gonna come, shit-”

“Me-ah too.. fuck”
______________________

So, Chuuya assumes something is wrong.

He knows something is wrong, but he just can’t figure out what it could possibly be.

Sure, Dazai claims to not wanna give him false hope, but he also fucks him out of his mind while kissing him and looking at him as if he’s his whole world, so he clearly doesn’t stand by his words.

"What’cha looking at?” Dazai tilts his head, resting it on the hand that’s holding him up by the elbow placed on the table.

Class is insufferable.
“You.”

He wants to get on his dick right here and now, and he wants to cry in his arms until there’s nothing left in him, and he wants to ask him what’s going on with them.

He wants to ask what they are.

But clearly, they’re nothing at all.

“I hate Mori’s class.” Dazai whispers, annoyed as he looks at his undone math that he’ll probably finish without problem by the end of the day anyway while Chuuya has to make an actual attempt at studying.

Fuck this guy for being smart.

Fuck him for making Chuuya fall so in love with him.

“It’s better than social studies..” He sighs, despite hating the class just as well.

The only class anyone really likes is Philosophy, but not because it’s philosophy, everyone just kind of loves Fukuzawa for some reason.

Whatever it may be.

Not because he’s kind, that’s for sure. He’s brutally honest and way too aggressive when it comes to helping, but at the same time he’s a great teacher and he has a way of proving he understands when students actually have problems and where they lay, so everyone feels comfortable with him nonetheless.

Anyway, that’s not where his thoughts should be right now.

He should be figuring out why Dazai is acting weird, and how he can prevent it all from escalating, even if he has to lie through his teeth.

If he has to tell Dazai he doesn’t love him to keep him closer for just a little, for just a day or for just another kiss, he’d do it without a doubt.

He’d live in forever unrequited love if he got to simply look at him, to have him close enough to reach.

___________

Dazai walks to his next class besides Kunikida, who’s going on a tangent about their current assignment for said class, and how despite his hours of research there’s one specific talking-point in his presentation he can’t figure out, but it feels too important to cut out.

This happens in every presentation, Kunikida will have one point he can’t figure out, rant about it, and wait for a solution to present itself.

Dazai doesn’t care much, to be fair.

His head is filled with everything else it could be, and he desperately wishes to just go back to bed and sleep all his feelings away.

He doesn’t usually have this many feelings at all, so it’s way too overwhelming, and if something else had happened he’d spend hours trying to figure out the root cause of why this is happening to him, but his problem might be that he already knows the root cause.

Dazai is this way because he lov-

“Have you finished it yet?” Kunikida asks the other person beside them who’s been quiet this whole time, listening to said tangent.

“Of course~” Ranpo smiles, now following the conversation up with the solution to Kunikida’s problem.

This also happens every time.

The solution does indeed present itself, right from Ranpo’s mouth.

These three guys might be some of the smartest people in their year, but that’s not to say they’re the most hardworking. If anyone, perhaps Kunikida, since it comes naturally to both Ranpo and Dazai, so they couldn’t be considered ‘hard-working’ no matter how good a score they get.

The few times something is hard enough they can sit down for an hour and study, they do it together, since they’re able to help each other with their weak points.

Dazai gets caught off guard when he notices the bright orange hair he’d recognize anywhere in the end of the hallway, almost as if he’s waiting for him there.

Though that’s quite odd, considering this is one of their only classes apart, so Chuuya shouldn’t be in this wing of the school right now. This class is in the south wing, while his current class - art - is in the north, so what is he doing here?

As they approach, he stands still, waiting for them to be face to face.

Dazai feels a drop of sweat running down his face, like a husband approaching an angry wife, which feels much in character now that it’s mentioned.

“Hey..” He smiles when they’re in front of each other.

Kunikida and Ranpo take a look at them, then at each other and simultaneously greet Chuuya. “Hi, Chuuya! Did you change classes? Haven’t seen you in this one before.” Kunikida smiles happily, but they barely get a glance back.

“No, not quite. You, come with me.” He grabs onto Dazai’s hand and drags him away, and despite his want to, he doesn’t fight back.

The two look at each other as their friend gets pulled down the hallway, far away from the class that starts in less than 2 minutes.

___

“Where are we-”

“Quiet.”

Wow, someone’s awfully bossy today.

Dazai looks at the empty halls they pass and turn between as he continues to let himself be dragged away, knowing Kunikida will probably ask about it later due to obvious reasons.

He always does, and he always asks stupid questions.

That’s not to say he doesn’t like talking with Kunikida, he just doesn’t like getting asked things he doesn’t have an answer to, isn’t that a given? Surely nobody would enjoy that.

He can feel a headache is going to hit him later, and he’s already now trying to remember if he has any painkillers left, though his focus is ripped away by the sudden door closing and his realization to his surroundings.

Bathroom.

Right.. okay.

“Chuuya, I don’t..” He sighs.

“I didn’t drag you here to screw you, asshole.” The other man replies, and suddenly Dazai is very confused as to why he was then dragged here, to a closed bathroom.
He tries to observe the way he paces the room for a quick second, but right now, he can’t read him at all.

Usually he can, so this is rather uncomfortable, and he’s scared Chuuya will start asking questions as to why he’s been as weird as he has, ignoring him and rejecting him, but truth be told Dazai really can’t handle that right n-

Chuuya wraps his arms around the waist in front of him, using the same chest he’s used in the past to rest upon for comfort.

A hug.. huh, okay.

“What’s this?” Dazai asks, not sure if he should be hugging back or asking what’s wrong, he’s not sure he wants to know what’s wrong.

There’s a warmth in his body he wishes he could reject, the sudden feeling of comfort heaving over him and he thinks he can feel his heart calm down in real time, and God, he hates it so much.

He sighs again, “Chu-”

“Don’t be distant right now. It’s okay, I promise. Just hold me for a second.”

…

His arms find their own way to hug him back, to soak in this utter warmth he mistakes as having always been in.

Chuuya Nakahara is an Angel.

Chuuya is his Angel.

His hope, his belief, and his light.

But Dazai has never once deserved any of those things, has he?

He lets his hand grab under Chuuya’s chin, lifting him so he can see his face and.. he knows he can’t say anything, because nothing else but the last thing he wishes to say would come out.

The eyes staring up at him with their last shred of hope, and oh how he wants to give them that hope.

How he wants to love.

He leans down and allows himself to steal a last kiss from his angel, one last touch of heaven.
______________________
“.. you’re an idiot.” Fyodor says matter-of-factly, as if stating a statement rather than sharing his opinion.

Something that he does way too often.

Fyodor talks about all his opinions like they’re factual, he could say something as simple as, “Hibiscus tea is the best one.” and it would be spoken of as if it was written in every news article ever that that specific tea is objectively the best one.

Dazai groans, having once again come to the most honest man on the planet for advice.

Well, not really, he’s actually just venting, but he doesn’t like saying that, it sounds too emotional for what he essentially considers ‘voicing-his-dilemma’s’.

The reason Fyodor is nice to talk to is he doesn’t ask unnecessary questions, like why he left last time, and Dazai really hates having to answer unnecessary questions, because either he doesn’t have an answer or he hates the one he has.

Which is exactly why he’s been coming to Fyodor rather than Kunikida recently.

“I KNOW!” He yells back at the rather calm man who’s now being subjected to yelling, though he doesn’t seem to mind.

Fyodor is very, very used to being yelled at. That’s to be expected when you get into a long-term relationship with an angry horny drug addict, there’s gonna be yelling, and you’re gonna learn how to deal with it.

Dazai sits down in a loud sigh, hoping the day will end soon already.

He also hopes tonight never comes, that he never has to make that phone call and he never has to tell Chuuya anything.

He decides to stride away from this topic now, since he has nothing more to say or he’ll speak forever, and his head can’t handle this anymore. “Where’s Nikolai anyway?” He asks, taking a sip from the tea that’s gone cold by now.

Another thing that’s nice about Fyodor, is that he doesn’t have that many opinions. So when Dazai rants, he doesn’t get too awfully judged, he says this despite having just been called an idiot, but it was also the only time in a 30 minute long conversation, so his point stands.

Fyodor shrugs as he stands up, “He’s on his way home from a date.”

Dazai looks through almost closed eyes trying to find out if he’s getting played a joke upon, but this man isn’t one to ‘joke’, so he assumes not.

“Did you guys break up?” He asks, not with worry or care but pure curiosity, his tone in the same monotune Fyodor usually speaks in.

He shakes his head, “No, he’s out with Sigma. We’re..” He looks for the words, “Trying something new, I suppose.”

He’s unsure whether he should pry or not, because he definitely wants to, but it also seems rather rude and he doesn’t quite have that intention.

Though, speaking of the devil, the door opens abruptly, a happy Nikolai coming inside.

“Welcome home, Kolya. Did you have fun?” Fyodor asks, placing down something he seemed to have been fidgeting with, now focused on his lover.

Lover.

How lucky they are to be like this, and just be happy.

How lucky they are to just be.

Nikolai runs in with a squeal, wrapping his arms around Fyodor’s neck.
“Very, he’s such a good kisser too, Fedya~ don’t you wanna find out?” He smiles, teasingly.

He doesn’t seem to have noticed Dazai’s very real and current presence in the room, and Fyodor doesn’t seem to care with the way he silently smiles and places his hands upon Nikolai’s hips.

“Better than me?”

“Hmm, that’s for me to decide isn't it?” Nikolai almost kisses Fyodor before he notices the disturbance in the room.

His head turns ever so slightly, as if already pissed off and he hasn’t even met the face yet.

When he makes eye contact with Dazai, he groans loudly.

“Why are you here?” He retreats himself from the arms of his boyfriend, walking towards the kitchen to occupy his mouth with something now that it’s been deprived of another.

These two simply seem so comfortable with each other, like their relationship is just their everyday life; which considering the fact they’re long-term and also roommates, it probably is by now.

“I needed advice.” Dazai answers, lying through his teeth, since he actually just came to be a bitch about a situation he’s causing for himself, and not to gain any real advice.

Nikolai turns around, food in hand, and a very determined face.

“Okay, here’s some advice, talk to the fucking guy. You come here bitching about your problems, but have you tried - I don’t know, talking to him?” He flails his arms in the air to exaggerate his point, and what sucks is that Dazai is more than aware he’s right, which is also why he didn’t come here for advice.

He crosses his arms, “I’ve already decided to do so, but thank you for your graceful advice.”

Nikolai nods happily, “Great! Now get the fuck out so I can get dick in me, I’m not waiting another second Osamu.”

Ah, what a guy.

__________________

Wind flows in Chuuya’s hair, cold enough for him to guess which season is arriving soon.

He looks up at the clouds, grey and full.

Somewhat like him, he thinks.

Though that seems kinda corny to be saying, but honestly he couldn’t care less right now given the circumstances.

Dazai called him 10 minutes ago and asked to talk, and he knows what’s about to come.

Either, this is the start, or this is the end.

Considering their current status, he has a feeling it’s the latter. So, Chuuya is now walking to the park he agreed to ‘take a walk’ with Dazai in, and it feels like he’s approaching his own heartbreak rather than the man he loves.

This was a given from the start.

This is him paying for committing the sin of none other than love.

His hair is down, he didn’t care enough to put it up, neither did he care to dress up, so here is Chuuya Nakahara in jeans, a t-shirt, and a stupid fucking beanie.

He keeps wondering if that was a stupid choice, why would he wear a beanie? But then wind passes him again causing his arms to shiver and he remembers how cold his ears get and goes back on his regret.

Chuuya regrets a lot of things.

He regrets meeting Dazai Osamu, and he regrets falling in love with him.

Despite that, he doesn’t regret any moment they’ve spent together, because Chuuya has experienced happiness, and he can’t be nothing but grateful for that, even if what’s to come might make it all unworthy.

Even if he’s about to be broken through and through, he got to experience love.

Sure, maybe it was unrequited, and still is, but it’s genuine, and it’s real, and that’s enough.

He wonders when he fell in love, if he always was or if maybe.. if maybe he’s not. And this has all been him deluding himself, and when Dazai leaves him he’ll get over it, because he didn’t love him.

Sadly, that’s the furthest thing from the truth.

He loves him.

He loves the man who made his life hell, and who he still accepted as a friend.

He loves the man that purposely made him jealous, and used that as a chance to get in his pants.

But he also loves the man that came when he called and held him through the night, and he loves the man who looked at him worryingly whenever they ate together.

Chuuya loves the Dazai who hates him.

And he loves the Dazai that loves him back.

Is this where it all ends?

His small ounce of happiness, for what may be eternity of longing?

Maybe.

And maybe that’s okay.

He looks up from the ground when he reaches the park, and his eyes instantly find love.

That’s all it is.

Dazai Osamu is the embodiment of Chuuya’s love.

“Hey.” He nods, and it feels so strange.

They feel so far apart, but they’ve never been that close to begin with, have they? They’ve been, physically, but has he ever reached Dazai’s heart the way he has his? Has Dazai ever even thought of the word love, or has his eyes been lying just as well as him this whole time?

“.. hey.” Dazai stands up, using his hand to suggest they start walking.

The weather is cold and dark, but in all truth, Chuuya thinks he’d be feeling cold no matter how hot it could possibly be.

He reaches into his pocket and finds his pack, hoping the nicotine will at least keep him from breaking here and now, and he tries not to overthink the way Dazai holds out a lighter for him, knowing he forgot his own.

He notices him, he observes him, but he doesn’t love him.

“So..” He inhales the toxic air that feels sweet in comparison to the situation. “You wanted to talk.”

Dazai nods, his breath when he exhales showing up white, proving just how cold the night truly is.

“Yeah.”

Every second this conversation stretches out is another break upon Chuuya’s heart. Here he is, about to be abandoned, and he has to be patient as well because Dazai can’t fucking communicate.

He wishes he could ask the question of where everything went wrong, but nothing did.

It was always meant to turn out this way, that’s how it goes, it’s how they go.

Maybe, they just can’t be together.

Every time they try, every time they get close, one of them rejects the other and pushes them far away enough to keep them out of their thoughts, so he’s wrong for ever assuming things had a chance of being okay.

He’s wrong for assuming they could be okay.

The park is empty, considering the hour they’re outside at, and Chuuya tries to distract himself by looking at their surroundings.

His lungs fill with smoke as he looks towards the benches, remembering a picnic he was forced to come along to by Yosano and Akutagawa once, the thought makes him smile but he’s far from happy.

“I think we should stop this.”

Ah, there it is.

The monotone voice he’s gotten so used to being warm, though now it just feels empty.

The words don’t hit him like a truck, and his heart doesn’t break into pieces. All of that happened when Dazai hung up on him and he puked every ounce of love up, only to swallow all of it again the second he had a chance at kissing him.

He wants to kiss him right now.

He wants to kiss Dazai and forget all of this, forget that he ever fell in love, and forget that now he’s meant to live without it once more.

“.. okay.”

Dazai doesn’t look at him as he brings the cigarette to his lips again, and now it tastes as sweet as candy, as sweet as all the times he got the privilege of kissing him.

He hopes he’s done talking, and he hopes he isn’t.

Because if he hears another word, he believes he’ll never have it in him to wake up again, but he’s afraid of living without an explanation; Even if he knows the root cause, he wants to hear it from Dazai himself.

He looks up as he feels a droplet of water hit him on the nose, and part of him wishes he had taken an umbrella with him, while the other, and bigger part couldn’t care less.

“It..” Dazai starts, and Chuuya feels afraid.

He feels genuinely, truly scared.

As if this is the psychological twist of a horror he doesn’t want to watch, or the drop in a rollercoaster he was forced to go in.

“It doesn’t work if there’s romantic feelings involved-”

“I’m not in love with you!” Chuuya interrupts him, lying through his teeth.

He knows he’s lying.

He knows that Dazai knows he’s lying.

The tears welling up in his eyes is enough to give away that fact alone, but the weeks leading up to this moment is also more than direct proof of all of this.

His cigarette dims in his hand when the rain becomes stronger, and his hair starts getting humid despite the beanie covering it.

Dazai doesn't look at him.

Of course he doesn’t.

“Well maybe I’m in love with you.”

…

The rain almost deafens the weak whisper, so much that you can even see upon Dazai’s face that he has slight hope it did.

That Chuuya didn’t hear what he just said, and that he won’t have to repeat himself either.

But that’s a hope long gone, because Chuuya hears everything Dazai says.

He hears his heartbeat when he lays on his chest during nights he can’t sleep, he hears his breath when they’re so close to one another and binding their souls, he hears his regret when he isn’t mean, and his regret when he is.

Chuuya Nakahara hears Dazai Osamu.

And Dazai Osamu is in love with Chuuya Nakahara.

But that doesn’t matter, because here he is, leaving him anyway.

“Then.. why are you..” His throat swallows his words.

There’s no point, he knows that. He knows he won’t get any more than that, that he won’t get any reassurance, that it won’t matter if he begs and screams, because Dazai loves him.

And Dazai doesn’t understand love.
_____________

Kunikida paces their living room, more worried than not when the rain gets worse by the minute and Dazai has still not come home.

He worries as the rain gets heavier once more and he can barely make out what the outside looks like, and he worries as the rumble in the sky becomes obvious.

He knows what’s going down.

Dazai told him he was going to end things with Chuuya, but he refused to elaborate, so here they are.

Kunikida tried asking, once or twice, but he could tell he wasn’t going to get a reply so he gave up rather quickly, though he remembers giving Dazai a sweater and a coat since he had seen the weather forecast and didn’t want him to catch a cold.

Will he come home sad?

Usually when he isn’t feeling well, he’ll ignore Kunikida’s presence and soak in his room, drowning in darkness until he feels okay enough to eat whatever his roommate tries to make him, and then he becomes a bit more talkative.

One time it took a week, and Kunikida couldn’t get a single word out of him, it had started on Odasaku’s birthday.

Will this be another week?

Will he even be upset at all?

The door clicks open and he instantly turns around, having been staring out the window trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of Dazai entering school grounds, though he somehow missed him.

He’s met with what might as well be described as a wet puppy.

Dazai’s head hangs low, and his hair is dripping all over their floor.

Kunikida can’t catch a glimpse of his eyes, but he makes a silent wish none of the droplets he can see are coming from Dazai himself.

He approaches slowly, trying to figure out what kinda situation this is, and what exactly he needs him to do, but he’s almost unresponsive to the movement.

He closes the door behind him and tries to just.. look at him for a second.

Nothing.

Not an ounce of will, not an ounce of existence.

Kunikida grabs onto his shoulders gently, trying to see how he reacts to the touch, and the fact he doesn’t flinch makes him confident enough to silently peel off the wet jacket.

“Come on.. let me start you a bath, yeah?”

__

He watches his best friend hugging his own knees, soaking up in the warm water, and he wonders if he even feels it at all.

If he feels the warmth of the almost boiling water, or if he feels cold even now.

If he feels the hands on his head, if he feels his own pulse.

Kunikida kneads the shampoo into the soft long hair in front of him, being familiar with the feeling considering all the depressive episodes Dazai has gone through.

He can deal with it.

He’s okay with making sure he eats, even if he has to feed him, and he’s okay with helping him clean, as long as it doesn’t result in the same of which it once did.

As long as Dazai is alive.

After he manages to get him through the whole bath, and getting him out and dressed, Kunikida sits and dries Dazai’s hair.

He understands that sometimes, he can’t break through to him, and while that hurts him he knows that he wouldn’t allow anyone else to take care of them like this, so in a way, this is how he says thank you.

This is how he shows Kunikida that he does care.

Even if he refuses to admit it.

“There we go. Do you want something to eat?” Kunikida stands up, but before he has a chance of leaving, a hand grips tightly onto his wrist.

He turns around, and Dazai is still not looking at him, but his shaking arm is desperately gripping onto him and that says more than enough.

He slowly crouches down, this time face to face with the shaking cold boy.

He tilts his head slightly, unsure of what this is, but he goes with the first thing that comes to mind, and opens his arms.

Dazai doesn’t hesitate, he’s quick to allow himself into the open arms and embrace what little love he has left in this world.

None of them know how much time passes, and it doesn’t matter either. Dazai stays in Kunikida’s warmth until he feels like he can breathe again, and Kunikida holds him until he has to.

Kunikida saves Dazai from feeling cold, and from feeling unloved.

At least, he saves him as much as he can.

But how much can you really save someone who’s lost their hope, belief and light?

Can someone who’s lost their love be saved?

Last time Dazai lost the one person he loved, he almost couldn't.

Chapter Text

1 YEAR, 2 MONTHS, 15 DAYS - Since the confession.

The sun shines through the clouds covering decades of secrets and confessions that the stars and moon have heard, shared and kept.

Centuries and millennia of whispers, everything in between ‘I love you’, ‘I don’t love you anymore’, and ‘I wish I didn’t.’, maybe the moon also carries confessions of much more grotesque and brutal truths, those of sins beyond our wildest imagination.

The stars each carry an ‘I miss you’ from every opened mouth upon earth, holding on to what was once present, what is now absent in void of death or forgotten through the hurried years.

They hold on to the hope people have bestowed them, and the sky stands straight with every prayer thrown to it, protecting its believers from the burning sun and flames of what humans have deluded themselves to be ever so afraid of.

Maybe the sun is who catches the wonders, the silent questions asked in night that never gets replied when awoken, those of which may very well be forgotten as the light beams through the closed windows and greets one to a day of peace.

The earth spins to keep us grounded, to keep chaos from reaching our ears and to keep the sun burning our wonders, the stars carrying our unspoken words and the moon allowing us the comfort of night.

Life goes on, because if it did not, there would be no such a thing as belief or hope, and that is the very cause of existence upon of who we are today.

“Chuu!” Yosano yells from the bathroom as Chuuya roams his closet from every piece of clothing he’s ever bought.

He can’t for the life of him find a specific band t-shirt he wore nothing less than a week ago, and now his best friend is forcing him to go out clubbing, of all things.

Parties aren’t his favorite things, despite his chances of getting drunk which he can’t really bring himself to do anymore, though clubbing is significantly better even if not good in itself.

Usually parties roam with people he knows, faces he would rather not see and ears who have heard truths he wishes they hadn’t, but clubs fill to the brim with unknown voices, memories that he has never once heard of, and stories he isn’t part of.

Therefore, they’re a much better escape than parties could ever be.

“Yes?” He replies, now crouching down to look through the pile on the floor in case he missed it.

It’s been over a year, and Chuuya hasn’t talked to Dazai since then.

With the exception of accidents, the two barely look at each other anymore.

He doesn’t remember when he last heard his voice spoken to him, where he hadn’t stood around a corner listening to a conversation he shouldn’t just to experience the voice that was once reserved for his ears.

Yosano thinks he’s moved on, Akutagawa probably knows he hasn’t, but nobody knows what truly goes through his head every day.

Nobody knows how he goes to sleep early with hope of seeing Dazai’s face again, or how he goes through their messages late at night when he’s incapable of sleeping at all.

They don’t know how night has managed to turn to the escape he prayed for years for it to be, and how sometimes it’s still the same nightmare he’s always known.

They don’t know how he finds his face and his voice in every place he can.

That whenever he picks up a phone call, part of him wishes for a soft ‘Chuuya’ to be spoken from the other line, in sweet hope it’s possible or will one day be. Nor do they know that he takes a second look at anything that has the color of Dazai’s eyes, or that he repeats voice messages he had once received when it gets really bad.

Nobody knows that Chuuya is still as in love with Dazai as he’s been the whole time.

He hasn’t seen his eyes up close, or even really, since the day of the split up, when he had hugged him in the bathroom asking for one last moment of peace before the storm, but Chuuya still remembers his eye color perfectly, and he’s sure he could replicate it anywhere if he wished to.

The soft color has never left his head, and he could explain it better than anyone, that he’s sure of.

He still remembers his hair, and the softness of it, and he can’t help but let a smile pass him every time he sees that he still hasn’t bothered to trim it.

Dazai’s hair goes him to the waist now, but he has a tendency of putting it up in a ponytail, which Chuuya honestly thinks is adorable, though he tries not to think of him sitting silently in his room putting his hair up, because it causes all the nausea to come back.

He tries not to think about Dazai as more than a figment of his imagination.

Because whenever he thinks of the first two weeks where he didn’t enter classes a single time, and his mind wanders to their past troubles, he feels just as in love as whenever he got to kiss him.

Nobody knows how badly he misses kissing him.

How tender his touch was, or how gentle his tone could be, everyone knows the Dazai that is nothing but a prick to anyone he passes, though nobody knows him as the one who loves him does.

Yosano is aware that he hasn’t gone out much though, and neither has he interacted with new people in hope of getting laid or perhaps see a date in the future, and that has her suspicious of him, so he’s finally agreed to go out with her.

He doesn’t want to have sex with anybody, and God knows he doesn’t want to date anybody.

All in all, nobody even looks attractive anymore, because they don’t have the soft color of Dazai’s skin, or the long slender legs, or the voice he’s learned to understand.

Nobody is Dazai.

Nobody is his.

But he doesn’t want Yosano to think he’s still hopelessly in love, and utterly depressed, so if this’ll help her believe he’s okay, he can do it.

Sometimes, he almost slips up, saying something along the lines of, ‘this reminds me of him’ or, ‘He wouldn’t like it’ when he’s handed a glass of alcohol.

Akutagawa gives him knowing looks, so he’s sure he knows, but isn’t telling Yosano out of understanding as to why he’s hiding it in the first place.

“Can I borrow your eyeliner?” She comes out, looking through his drawers in hope of finding it, despite having not gotten an answer to her question.

He gives a quick nod as he finally finds the shirt he’s pulled his closet apart to find, sighing in relief.

Last time they parted, it was only for two months, and now it’s been over a year. Though Chuuya can confidently say that despite it being so much worse this time, despite the nights he spent in Yosano’s arms or hunched over the toilet, or the single hospital visit because of an accident that wasn’t all that bad but Akutagawa insisted he had to get stitched, it gets easier.

Not better, not at all, but easier.

Because now, he knows how to swallow when his throat closes up, and he knows how to not put too much pressure when he needs to feel the pain Dazai seemed to love so much.

Chuuya has learnt to live without Dazai, but that’s not to say he likes it.

He doesn’t like hearing from Akutagawa who heard from Atsushi that he still has trouble eating, and getting out of bed some days.

He doesn’t like wondering if that’s why he hasn’t cut his hair, or if it’s because he knows how much Chuuya loved the long look of it, and it’s his way of saying ‘I still love you.’

Has he learnt to live without him?

Part of Chuuya hopes he has, and another part of him hopes he never finds peace. He was the one to decide they should part, so he hopes he hurts just as much as he does.

He doesn’t know Dazai hurts significantly more than him, and if he did, would it change anything at all?

If Dazai was to ask, would he take him back?

He’s wondered this more nights than he can count, and every time he comes to a different answer, because on those where he hugs his knees, rubbing his thumb along his shoulders and staring at his phone in anticipation for a call that won’t ever come, he would.

But on days where he’s okay, where he can breathe for the time being, he wouldn’t.

It’s not that he doesn’t miss him more than earth herself could describe, or that the moon and stars doesn’t hold onto his whispers and prayers for him to come back, but despite all of that.. would he truly be able to go through loving Dazai once more, when the chance of him leaving is a possibility?

“Chuu. Get out of your head, we’re driving in half an hour.” Yosano sighs, seeing him fall into a void of existence as he puts on the shirt, forgetting to care for the seconds passing him by.

Life has simply been like that recently.

Hours went by, then days, weeks and months, and suddenly he hadn’t kissed his love for a year.

He snatches the used eyeliner from her hands and uses it on himself, not replying to her comment. Not really wanting to. Most of all, he simply wants to fall into his head, his dreams and his escape, where he and Dazai are still in each other's embrace.

Where they’re still each others.

The woman beside him clears her throat, as if preparing.

Recently, Yosano has been wanting to know something.

She didn’t ask about it when it happened, nor did she for many months when Chuuya still couldn’t hide his nausea from the world, but now that he knows how to, she’s found it in herself to ask.

Not asking, really, she hints at it and brings it up without directly asking, so he’s usually able to play it off and change topic, and today she takes her chances again.

“You know..” She leans on the desk he hunches over to see his eyes better in the mirror, “You never told me what you replied when he told you he was in love with you.”

He smiles in a scoff, knowing it was coming at one point or another.

It’s the truth, he hasn’t told anyone, not a single soul except for the one who heard it first.

Missing Dazai.. is what he’s become of.

Chuuya Nakahara is a man of many emotions, a man of much depth, and a man of much love. But if there’s one thing that’s consumed his life since he can remember, it’s Dazai Osamu, and if there was anything he learned from last time, it’s that his absence is much worse than his presence.

He’s only ever cold, he barely remembers if there was any warmth in his embrace, or if he thought it only because he’s never touched fire before.

“It was for his ears only.”

_________________

“Clubbing? CLUBBING?” Dazai yells dramatically, laying on the couch he’s been laying in for two days, sinking into the agony the past year has been soaking him in.

The cushions are actually much softer than the ones at their dorm, so they have kind of swallowed him as much as possible by now.

Ranpo doesn’t exactly mind his couch being occupied, since Dazai’s presence includes his two other friends as well, though he’s not as sure about his father.

Atsushi shrugs, eating cold leftovers from yesterday's dinner, where Fukuzawa had to make extra amounts because of the three additional people in his house. The boy eating the cold food was the one to deliver the news, having gotten them from his boyfriend.

Essentially, he and Akutagawa are the news bringers to this chaotic situation and have been for the past year.

They don’t complain about it that much, considering it gives them the opportunity to gossip with as much information as possible, but they also can’t deny that they’re both worried for their best friends.

“I mean, is he trying to get laid? Is he moving on, seriously? What if he has sex with another man, oh god, what if he-”

“You’re being over dramatic, Dazai.” Kunikida sighs, cracking his neck, having definitely not slept well on the floor, the past two days.

The three all decided that if Dazai has to continue being depressed, he can at least do it in a new place just to experience a difference in environment, though that also included in them having to sleep on the floor, couch, and chair.

It makes their bodies ache, bones and nerves cracking left and right every time they stand up, which is quite annoying..

Though nobody complains about Fukuzawa’s cooking.

Ever since the ‘break up’, that wasn’t really that, Dazai has been.. worse, to say the least.

At first, Kunikida had to feed him, shower him, and take care of him for a good week, and it gave him all too many flashbacks of the week of Odasaku’s death, but he ended up finally getting him to talk.

His voice was raspy and dry, and the only thing he could really say was that he missed Chuuya.

Then he’d say he hated him, or that he loved him, and it was a continuous loop nobody could escape for five months.

Now for the past seven, he’s been more comedic about it, making fun of his own suffering, which at least leads them to believe he’s getting better, even if slowly.

“Over dramatic? My-”

“Not yours.” Atsushi interrupts him.

It’s not done out of ill intent, but they’ve all agreed that feeding any delusions he may have will be for the worse, so they have to be a little harsh sometimes.

There’s a few exceptions, like when he’ll explain the split as a ‘break up’ despite them never being together, and everyone decides to play along so they won’t get beheaded right there and then. Perhaps also when he asks ‘did he ever love me?’ which is the dumbest question ever and saying ‘yes’ is not feeding any delusions considering it’s the truth, but then he turns it around to ‘does he still miss me?’ and they have to backtrack.

Dazai sighs, being done with being interrupted, and back to sulking.

He pouts every time it happens, though a few times he has lashed out and actually screamed at them but due to something along the lines of ‘character development’ (Atsushi’s words), he’s experienced an ounce of guilt whenever it results in that.

The entrance door clicks open, and Ranpo turns happily around to greet his father, Atsushi following behind.

There’s a talk going on now that Dazai decides to block out, not caring for what anyone really has to say at this moment given that they don’t seem to validate his frustration for this situation.

They don’t understand what this means at all.

Nobody seems to understand that Chuuya moving on is a sign of the end, a sign of what they’ve both unknowingly been dreading this whole time, wishing to simply come back to one another instead of keeping their glances to themselves.

If he gets to experience the warmth of another, a warmth that isn’t the burning flames from beneath the ground, but one that replicates the long awaited summer after a cold spring, whereas the birds finally sing and the sun rays beam through the few clouds allowing themselves upon the sky.. Chuuya will come to realise Dazai was never warm at all.

His hands were cold all along, and so was his heart, but the man he loves has never experienced the feeling of being gently hold, of being looked at as if he was the only one to exist, so he blocked out everything Dazai had done to prove what kind of person he was, and therefore felt the toxic heat as nothing more than a comforting flame.

Will Dazai be left to yearn forever, alone in winter, while his light and hope finds someone who will never burn him the way he did?

Maybe, it's for the better.

He left because he wants him to be happy, even if he is not the sole purpose or anchor of said happiness, even if he is not the body Chuuya entangles himself with, or the voice he drowns in, the eyes he searches for or the smile he knows the reason behind, he deserves to be happy.

“Does love only work between those who have always known it?” He stares at the ceiling that catches his thoughts for him, keeping them inside the walls of the house.

Kunikida sighs, turning his head to his best friend, despite not having an answer to the question proposed.

“Love works between only those willing to fight for it.” Fukuzawa whispers firmly from the corner of the room, not sparing a glance to the commotion coming from the kitchen the rest of his - not - children are in.

Dazai feels a weak twitch in his heart, the strings pulling for an extra beat, an understanding he’s attempted to get a hold of since Chuuya replied what he did, since he set himself a goal he was forced upon yet not hesitant to grab onto.

He inhales air he’s never remembered feeling refreshing, only ever bitter and sour, never as sweet as the lips he wishes to taste.

And so he turns his head, facing a man who’s spent ever so many years teaching the kids in this house philosophies from around the world, theories and things beyond average understanding, it is such unfortune that love happens to be one of them.

Love is what binds one to another, it should be the most simple feeling in this world, yet no one seems to grasp what it truly is.

Dazai thought love had vanished from him when his brother had, but he had just not come around to realising love was the hand holding onto his, that he’s capable of love just as any other, even if different.

“I’m willing to fight for his happiness, and his happiness comes from my absence.”

There was once a time where Dazai had mocked Fukuzawa to his face, saying he had such a belief of knowing everything, as if he could unravel the world's mysteries and secrets with nothing but a single touch.

Back then he still didn’t have an ounce of belief in the word of ‘love’, and so he had asked the older man that part of him finds a father in ‘If you can explain everything, why don’t you explain love to me?’

Though it had been an insult covering the faith of his deceased wife, Fukuzawa did just that.

Or, not really, at least he didn’t think so at the time.

He looked at Dazai, not with hope or with understanding, but with reality.

‘If you don’t believe in love, Osamu, then I can not convert you to understanding the feeling of it. There’s no point in dwelling of which you don’t believe in, it is like asking an atheist to believe in a God he has never once thought twice of.

Love is not one objective societal feeling, it is not only subjective, but it is vastly different from person to person. To some, love is security, to others it’s understanding, to me, it’s home. It can be ever so many things, therefore I don’t have the capability of explaining it to you.

You must understand, however, that you do not need to see, to hold or to touch love for it to exist, if you feel it deep within you, that is enough to believe.’

He hadn’t gone over the words back then, as he took it as a scolding rather than an actual lesson, yet he’s now sitting here drowning in the words and wishing he had believed in them far earlier.

“Did he tell you that, Dazai?” Fukuzawa asks, doubtful.

“Well- yeah! Basically, he- he said..” He swallows his own words, not wanting to elaborate, despite wanting to defend his standing.

The older man and his best friend sighs simultaneously, both silently giving up on this year-long chaos.

Is there an end to this, or has the end already happened and this is all the outcome that might never come around to being peaceful?

Will Dazai be able to find peace in a life in which he does not hold Chuuya in his arms?

____

1 YEAR, 2 MONTHS, 21 DAYS - After the confession.

Chuuya looks at the moving landscape driving him home, silently wishing upon the train crashing or an earthquake to arrive before he can.

The chances are low, but maybe he can find an escape and simply jump out of the vehicle, that’d at the very least be better than the fate he’s meeting in less than an hour.

Going home is like taking a weekend-trip to the hell he’s prepared himself for since the first time he had a chance of kissing Dazai.

It’s on days like these where he misses him just a tad more than usual, when he thinks back to the night a few days ago where a significant amount of girls and a few guys had come up to him offering a dance, not taking their eyes off of his lips once, and whereas he had rejected every single one.

He’s partly sure that if Yosano hadn’t drank as much as she did, he would’ve been found out, but the next morning he used the excuse that no one appealing approached him, which is essentially the truth.

He looks down at his glowing screen, the letters of the current song playing in his ears catching his eyes for a second along with the bright red cover hurting his senses ever so slightly.

‘To the tempo of your uptight, is the flicker of a streetlight. You know this moment, don’t you?’

The lyrics softly play into his head.

He leans his head against the window behind him, the one in front revealing the glow of the sun behind the horizon, the morning greeting him as it has done many times before, though never with kindness.

Maybe with understanding, but the rough and brutal kind that reminds him of what his reality is.

The sun and moon’s never ending cycle is a reminder that this may never end, that perhaps one or multiple times through the year they’ll catch a glimpse of each other, face to face, an eclipse covering the sky, and thus they part again, the cycle continuing for eternity.

‘And time is strangely calm now, ‘Cause everybody’s gone, it’s just you and your anger.’

The trees sway in the wind, but he doesn’t have enough time to really catch onto that until the train has already moved several feet ahead.

Chuuya wonders if the empty space inside him will ever be filled, or if it’s a space that Dazai carved with his own hands and he’s the only one capable of filling it out with his words that were never really that sweet, or his voice that was never as soft as Chuuya has taught himself to believe.

He wonders if the warmth he felt is like the light coming from the moon, all a reflection of what could be real but is far from.

Many people grow up assuming the moon itself shines, despite the matte grey filling the sky, never coming to the realisation that it’s simply reflecting the sun’s everlasting light back to us, but then again some people also grow up assuming the moon is made of cheese, so what’s the point in metaphors.

‘Oh, golden boy, don’t act like you were kind. You were mine, but you were awful every time.’

His chest tightens, his finger tips urging to skip to the next song.

He thinks about all the things he’s accomplished since letting go of his desperate hold on a man he wishes he had never fallen in love with.

Graduation is coming closer than it’s ever been, even if still undeniably far away, and in the past year his grades have improved significantly. He can’t help but let habits take over and sneak a peak at the scores in hope of having reached higher than who he wishes to hold.

He remembers a time where Dazai was someone he wished to be better than, someone who was a goal line printed in a bright blinding yellow, someone who hadn’t touched his body nor his heart.

A time where Dazai was just that, a man with a name he knew, instead of a name he prays to see on his phone whenever he wakes up.

‘So don’t tell them what you told me’ his heart cracks, ‘Don’t hold me like you know me.’

He breathes in, tugging at his hood and pulling it over his head, not wanting anyone to see the eyebags that have formed under his eyes, nor the sorrowful look upon his face.

He misses the painful nights, the ones where Dazai would whisper to him that he shouldn’t fall in love, the ones where he got drunk and admitted he was different, the ones where he was just in love as Chuuya was.

Is this his way of keeping his promise, the one that Chuuya still refuses to tell Yosano about because she can’t know of his hope lingering in his chest?

Is his absence what he thinks will accomplish Chuuya’s wish?

And is it?

‘I would rather burn forever.’
___

bonus
(At the dorm of Akutagawa and Atsushi.)

 

“Baby?” Akutagawa asks, needing help with carrying boxes to his new dorm.

Their new dorm.

A few months ago he and Atsushi agreed on moving in together on campus, and talked to the dorm owners about getting a room together which they’ve finally been greenlit for.

It’s not that they haven’t basically been living together anyway, but it being official seems a little more special, kind of like their first few months of dating.

He doesn’t remember what’s packed in the boxes, but for some reason they’re a lot heavier than he had expected and he’s not exactly.. strong. So now he’s awkwardly swaying in the hallway, trying not to drop what could be anything from his boyfriends very valued vinyls or the kitchen knives that could drop on his foot if he isn’t careful.

“Yes?” Atsushi asks, coming out of the dorm that he is also moving into, instantly noticing Akutagawa’s struggle with the two heavy boxes in his arms, “Ah! Let me help you with that..” He laughs awkwardly, reaching for the bottom box instead of only the top one, taking over both of them with no issue what-so-ever.

Akutagawa smiles, “Flexing your strength on me I see..”

The other puts down the boxes in the new shared kitchen - which causes the weaker one of the two to let out a sigh of relief that he indeed did not drop a knife into his toe in the middle of a packed hallway -, the open windows allowing the light to reach in and grace him softly, which steals all attention Akutagawa previously had on anything else, with a slight exception of a tingling relief in his foot.

“Can’t help but wanna impress my boyfriend, no?” He kisses his cheek, “Anything else we need to move before getting to the furniture?”

Atsushi is definitely not excited to start moving the beds, and he almost considers that he should call for someone else to help because his boyfriend is rather incapable of carrying anything heavier than 5Kg.

Akutagawa nods, “A few, I’ll get those.” He smiles, though before he has a chance of leaving to go get the rest, they’re met with a familiar face.

“How’s the move going?” Sigma rests on the open door.

His hair is let down, the purple a lot more obvious than usual when he has it packed away under hoodies or beanies, though it is quite the beautiful sight.

Atsushi’s face lits up, happy to be seeing his friend after a few busy days, “Sigma!”

He doesn’t even really remember how they met nor how they became friends, in some alternative world it might as well have been something as grotesque as a suicide considering how weirdly depressed Sigma was when they met, which is all Atsushi remembers.

He smiles, imagining himself as some stupid hero saving a falling man, which shouldn’t be a positive thought but truth be told this man has a very real savior complex.

__

“So, where your boyfriends at?” Akutagawa asks, searching their fridge for anything to drink.

He isn’t himself that close with the older between the three, but due to him and Atsushi’s friendship he’s been around him enough to feel comfortable with casual speech.

He laughs, sitting down on the couch - and only real furniture in the dorm - as offered.

“All over each other, as usual.”

They don’t remember a time where that wasn’t the usual, though they do remember a time where Sigma was not part of the relationship.

Ever since the three got together, they’ve been a lot more isolated than they were before, which should be almost impossible, but Atsushi assumes it’s because the recent-not-so-recent addition has been sucked into the sexual libido of a drug addict and his introvert boyfriend.

He doesn’t enjoy admitting that he knows what those two get up to, but being friends with the man who used to be a virgin and then fell in love with the single two most horniest people on earth alone, he gets to hear quite a lot.

Sometimes he’s able to escape for a day or two, but he does seem to enjoy the arrangement nonetheless, so nobody is worried for him in any shape or form.

“Aren’t you spending the next week alone with Fyodor? I heard Nikolai is going abroad, no?” Atsushi asks, sitting down on the floor.

Sigma nods, “He’s leaving tomorrow, I’m gonna go back to spend time with both of them in a bit before he leaves. Just wanted to check in on you guys and see how the move is coming along.

Akutagawa hands over the Coke he managed to find, handing another to Atsushi as well, “It’s going good, we’re almost finished. Though then we need to unpack..”

His boyfriend groans, splashing himself out on the floor, “Don’t remind me..”
___

Chuuya uses his fork to silently move around the food on his plate, knowing he won’t get any angry ‘eat what I give you’ or ‘don’t play with your food’ from his mother anyway, and he isn’t feeling that hungry given the circumstances of being in a house where the air itself is filling enough.

He thinks about all the times his mother fed him food she knew he didn’t like so she couldn’t possibly be accused of starving her son, despite knowing he wasn’t gonna eat.

His father clears his throat, gulping down the glass of water beside him, “You know, I heard your grades have improved a lot. Your mother and I are very proud of you.”

He’s sure that in a different timeline or maybe just the past in general, before he found himself sinning and despising those who taught him not to, he would’ve smiled sincerely at the kind words from his dads mouth, taking in the praise and acknowledgement for what is undeniably result of hard work,

but now he straightens his back, closes his eyes so the smile that’s a yearly practiced act reaches his whole face in hope it’ll be convincing enough.

“Thank you, Dad.”

He nods in acknowledgement once more, and Chuuya dreads whatever sentence may come next, since no one has asked him anything anxiety enforcing yet, which is enough to surface the anxiety on its own.

Usually, his mom will ask questions such as ‘How much do you eat daily?’ or she’ll look at any covered part of his body, crooking an eyebrow and almost letting the question pass her lips, and he wonders what it will be today.

Perhaps, she’ll finally ask if he’s been quote on quote ‘fooling around with a boy’

And part of him wishes he could say yes, and it being the current truth. He wishes that it wasn’t something only the past held close, stripping it from his hands with every passing second he endures.

Chuuya wishes for a world where he wouldn’t have to lie, or one in which he could speak the truth and the beatings would be worth it because he could come home to open arms, kind words and tender kisses.

A world where he could tell his parents, ‘He’s worth burning for, I love him.’ and they wouldn’t be able to say, ‘He’s already left you, how can someone like that be worth accepting hell for?’ and possibly being right.

Though, they’re not.

Chuuya has rejected God, accepted the Devil, all with a simple touch of love, and it was worth it even if only once.

The food on his plate is being mixed to a mud he no longer recognizes.

The color having left its origin, and the texture being a chaos of unspeakable sensory.

“Have you gotten a girlfriend yet, Dear? You’re really coming to that age where you should put yourself on the market more if you wanna get married before 25 like your father and I.” His mother laughs innocently.

How badly he wishes it was as innocent as it sounds.

That she was asking out of care, and not as the same warning she’s given him since the first time he laid eyes on a man on a television show that was stripped from his reach all because he spoke the word ‘pretty’.

“No.. not yet.” He sighs, hoping it’s low enough to not reach their ears.

He believes in a world where he could bring home his boyfriend, smiling to his parents while introducing him, and they’d be overjoyed with such a handsome son-in-law, making a cheeky joke about grandchildren.

In one where he could come home and Dazai would be chatting up his mom in the kitchen, and she’d make jokes about how he’s her second son and she loves him more than her own, and Chuuya would laugh, pretending to be offended.

In one where his father calls, asking to go see sport together, or something that dads usually do with their sons, and he’d snicker ‘bring that boy too, he understands it better than you do.’

In a world where he could love Dazai, and his parents would as well.

“Not at all? I remember you being quite distracted a year ago, love. I always assumed you had found a sweet girl so I’ve been waiting for you to bring her home..”

Oh, how surprised they would be if he did.

“I didn’t find a girl, mom.”

There’s a quick breath of silence around the table, and then it stretches out to seconds.

Seconds passing him by as they always have, as he’s always wished for them to never do.

…

“A boy, then?”

Sometimes, you have to be careful what you wish for.

Wishing for time to stop, to take a break and let you catch up, is not always ideal.

Because Chuuya is now sitting on a cold wooden chair in what’s supposed to be his home, a home where the air is thick enough to make him choke, and his bed emptier than the night he had gone home soaked, crying his eyes out and believing he’d never stop.

A home in which he’s supposed to hug his parents, smiling as they greet their son, reminding him of how much they love him, and accept him as he is.

A home, that’s supposed to be a home.

Not a cold empty cell that he’s mistaken as the norm his whole life, not a closed space where he was taught God would deem him to eternity in hell for living as who he is, for loving as he did. Not a room where tables have been turned, plates thrown, and words spoken that never got apologized for, and never got taken back, even if there was no hope they could be.

He doesn’t appreciate the soft tone leaving his mothers mouth, forcing him to flinch in hope that maybe, just maybe, it’ll be okay.

He always thinks it’ll be okay.

But even if it’s not going to be, even if he gets thrown out of a house that’s never been home, and he gets cut off from people that were never family, Chuuya realised that running from reality is hopeless.

So, he’s going to accept reality as it is, and so are they.

They’re gonna have to.

“Yeah.”

_

Chuuya’s head is a blur when the silence breaks, when words are spoken that he can’t make out. He doesn’t make a great attempt at understanding them, so maybe the blame is on him for that one.

His head is a blur when the words of confusion and disbelief turn to yells of rage and denial, his eyes block out the looks his parents have upon their faces, and he’s not sure he can even tell their voices apart. Words are being spat, sentences being slurred and he can’t make out who says what, and what words are directed at him and which at God, which at Satan.

His head is a blur when he feels the piece of clothing covering his arm getting rolled up, and when the yells turn to disappointment. When he takes a silent look at the arm he had been staring at two days ago, mad at himself for letting the urges take over when he was going home so soon, and he made a prayer his mom wouldn’t find out. But when has his prayers ever worked anyway?

His head is a blur when he recognizes the only word he possibly could in this situation, the name ‘Dazai’ leaving what he assumes is his mothers throat, a choked out scoff as he almost catches on to the slur falling in the room, and the disrespect put on a grave of who he knows.

His head is a blur when he doesn’t fully notice his mother saying ‘That boy, he’s probably influenced him. Ever since his incompetent brother died he’s always seemed much too.. sinful, I knew it was best to not let our son close to him, so how did this happen?’

His head is a blur when his father asks if it truly is the boy he knows and loves that’s turned him into one of the devils worshippers.

His head is a blur when his head nods without him granting it permission, and when a harsh heat falls forcefully on his face.

His head is a blur when he considers not fighting back, and taking the beating because he’s grown up believing that’s what he deserves for loving a man.

Chuuya’s face is sore, and his ears blocked away from the world when he recognizes the soft blanket he’s wrapped himself in ever so many times, wishing to disappear from this house or praying not to be sick anymore, being right beneath him.

His eyes blur out reality when his mom gently rubs his shoulder, suggesting therapy, saying it’s worked for a lot of kids.

His head clears when he stands up, yelling at her that he’s tried everything.

When he screams the words ‘I love him’ his head blurs once more, because Chuuya has never spoken those words out loud in full consciousness, and the world still refuses to let him.

His head clears once more when he speaks the truth, that he doesn’t care if he goes to hell anymore, and he doesn’t feel the tears rolling off his face when his mother asks ‘did he touch you?’ and he screams out yes, when he screams out the reality that he loved it, that Dazai felt more safe than any hug she’s ever given him.

Chuuya’s head is clear when his mother leaves his room and he notices the way she hesitates when slamming the door, and how she almost allows herself to look at her son, but he can’t tell if she resists doing so because she wants to see the son she thought she knew, and she’s aware she won’t, or if it’s because she can’t bring herself to look at him at all.

_

“Oh my god, Chuu. I’m so sorry.” Yosano speaks, her voice cackling slightly due to the bad connection.
He called her the second he could, hoping her voice and words would stop him from whatever may 've happened had he not called.

Chuuya breathes in the toxic flavor on his lips, staring into the night sky that holds so many secrets he’s never spoken aloud before.

There's a moon on the sky, and he thinks of how it’s the same one every human has ever seen, the same one that carries every confession spoken, the same one that’s watched decades of love, spoken or unspoken.

Does the moon carry the burden of souls heavy, or does it hold on to them because it’s capable of sparing them the pain?

Maybe, Dazai is sitting under the same moon right now, or maybe he’s not sparing a single glance at all.

Maybe he’s confessing his worries, his love and his truths just as well.

“It’s stupid. I’m going home tomorrow afternoon anyway, I shouldn’t have said anything.” He sighs, the bittersweet taste escaping from his mouth, mixing with the clean air.

He can practically hear Yosano’s disagreement over the phone, despite not being able to see her.

“I’m proud of you, Chuuya.”

He wishes it made him feel better, that he could soak in the words for just the moment they were spoken, even linger in them for a few seconds more, but his heart doesn’t break any less than it already has.

Chuuya has never once believed his parents would accept a world where their son is a sinner, so he’s not surprised by the outcome of this situation, but obviously that doesn’t heal him.

He’s unsure if anything could truly heal him.

When he was younger, he believed a life of success would do the job, and a year ago he believed Dazai could. Now, he can’t find an outcome where he’ll be happy.

“It’s insane they’d treat their own son that way..” Yosano sighs, and he wonders if she’s hunched over a railing as well, and their connection isn’t only through the phone but the shared view of the moon.

If they’re both tasting the same awful taste right now, and if one likes it more than the other.

“Honestly?” He inhales, appreciating the fact that it allows him to relax even if only for a little, then he exhales once more. “I don’t really care.”

He isn’t exactly lying, not to say he’s fully speaking the truth either, but truth be told he’s too out of it to actually really care in this current moment.

“I spent years suppressing it, you know?” He sighs, staring at the cigarette in his hand, “I always thought if I ignored it, or if I disgusted myself enough that-.. that maybe it wasn’t true.”

Yosano listens quietly, not giving advice or encouragement, she’s simply there, helping him carry his soul for just a second.

“I think my parents always knew. Mom, especially.” He wonders how many of the stars are still current, or if the whole sky in front of him exploded years ago. “She always reacted fast if I said anything out of line, and she was so.. suspicious of me. As if It could happen at any point, honestly I think she would rather have me be fat than-”

“Chuu.”

“Sorry.” He sighs, “It’s just.. I don’t know. I’m not trying to make myself seem like a victim, some people go through so much worse than me but- but that doesn’t mean I deserve this, do I?” He groans, starting to get annoyed with the way his brain malfunctions.

“I always thought that if I admitted to being gay, then that would be it. That’s the worst thing that could happen, I’d get fucking disowned or whatever and I’d set myself up for hell, and that’s that. So why- why..” He stops himself, but once again, Chuuya comes to the realization that there’s no point hiding reality, from himself or anyone else.

“So why, even now, when what’s supposed to be the ‘worst thing possible’ has happened, what I’m really thinking about is how much I miss him?”

He clenches his fist, turning the cigarette off in the process and ignoring the small burn that lands on him.

The silence from Yosano doesn’t worry him in the way he had expected it to. Actually, it gives him another moment to breathe. To accept reality as it is, here and now.

“Would..”

Yosano inhales shakingly, “Would you take him back, Chuuya?”

She asks as if she’s scared of his answer, that there’s even the slightest chance he’ll whisper a silent ‘yes’, so tiny the connection almost loses it in the wind passing by, and she won’t have any proof of it.

 

He smiles, not at the question, really.

Just the thought in itself, a world where Dazai comes back to him, lovingly and kindly. In which he’ll hold him, and he’ll whisper him the same sweet nothings he’s done so many times before, only this time it won’t be nothing. It’ll be the truth, coming directly from the heart that beats for Chuuya.

The heart that skips a beat when they catch each other's eye, and the heart that beats faster when they kiss.

“It depends. If he keeps our promise.. maybe.” He smiles, sighing into the night sky. “But let’s be real, what’s the chances of that?”

___

1 YEAR, 2 MONTHS, 22 DAYS - After the confession.

Dazai stands at the empty trainstation, not bothered by the wind that reminds him too much of the night he let go, not bothered by how much of a different person he is today.

Not bothered by the outcome he’s aware will happen from what he’s planning to do.

Nor the sun slowly reaching the far horizon that feels much closer than it has any possibility of being. So close, yet so out of reach.

He’s thought about this the past few days, and he regrets not coming to this solution far sooner, considering the simple fact that this was always how things were supposed to go.

Dazai Osamu shall not live in a world in which he does not get to love Chuuya, in a world where he only hurts him.

He remembers the past instances that remind him of this moment, all going in different directions, none ending somewhere he likes. He feels rather at peace, though, there’s nothing to say there.

The memories of every night he’s spent loving Chuuya, the ones of all the nights he didn’t, all of them fill his head with the face of his lover, or more precisely the one who never was.

So, here he is.

The wind is cold, much more than he had expected, but he appreciates not feeling rain soaking him, or snow leaving him stranded here.

The wind isn’t horrible, it’s cold surely but it’s comforting in the way it reminds him that he’s here, and of what is real. It grounds him for the time being.

He thinks of all the times he’s looked Chuuya in the eyes, and how almost all of those times he had the chance of kissing him, and god.. he did not abuse that power well enough.

He regrets every second he hasn’t listened to his voice, to every confession he’s denied existed, every look he didn't reciprocate, every kiss he didn’t go in for.

Dazai regrets every second he didn’t love Chuuya.

He turns his head when the wind gets stronger, and the train finally shows up far in the distance. He wonders if it’s warmer inside the train, or if it’s just as cold and soulless as this afternoon happens to be.

He wonders if for at least the past year, he’s kept his promise.

He wonders if he’ll finally accomplish everything he’s ever wanted.

That’s the goal of this week, he’s going to make up for everything that’s ever happened, and everyone will finally be happy.

The train approaches rapidly, leaving him more nervous than he had expected when he decided to come here, but when it slows down.. and the doors open, the murmuring happening all around him, Dazai is not nervous anymore.

How could he be?

Because there he is.

Chuuya steps out of the train, his hood over his head, covering the headphones he always wears when he’s in crowded spaces and public transport.

It doesn’t take him less than a second to notice Dazai.

Of course it doesn’t, in what world would these two not notice each other the second they’re in eyesight?

The train picks up again, and the station clears out for the people, all the while the two don't dare take their eyes off of each other for even a second.

Dazai considers dropping the whole plan and simply rushing to him, kissing him enough to make up for the year he’s spent not doing that, and Chuuya considers letting go of every emotion he’s had for the past year and allow himself to feel the one thing he’s craved every second of every day.

There’s nothing the two want more than to give in and feel one another.

But they can’t.

Chuuya peels off his headphones, staring at the only man he’s ever loved, slightly terrified of what he’s gonna say, slightly hoping he’ll come and kiss him right now.

Dazai has to say what he’s spent hours preparing, or he’s gonna do just that.

He’s gonna forget every word he’s meant to say, every confession lingering deep within his burning body, closing in on itself with every thought that passes by him, and he’s gonna kiss Chuuya, he’s gonna love him and he’s gonna feel him.

He’s gonna forget their promise, and he’s gonna drag him home.

So, it has to be now or never.

“I-” Dazai tries, but his voice cracks in an instant, suddenly feeling unsure.

He breathes in, “I don’t know what love is, Chuuya.”

Chuuya looks at him, and the words don’t hurt him at all, how could one be hurt when they’re staring at such beauty? He’s looking at heaven itself and and he’s supposed to feel hurt?

What a joke.

“I know.”

 

“But you’re different.”

“I know.”

 

Dazai flinches at the repeating words, suddenly realising there’s a missing piece, a hole in the story that he can’t completely pull together.

As if the north star had gone missing, or the shine upon the moon had disappeared, something is wrong.

“You.. know?”

Chuuya finally pulls down his hood, now also realising just how windy it seems to be, and Dazai is truly caught off by the look of him.

He looks like he’s been crying, but he’s been on the train this whole time, so how come?

Did something happen when he was home?

“Did-”

“On the night before Odasaku’s death anniversary, last year..” Chuuya sighs, finally admitting to what he’s never told Dazai before.

To the secret that isn’t truly a secret anymore considering Dazai has already confessed, even if it was during the circumstances of a split, he did it nonetheless, so this has already been spoken into existence.

Yet Chuuya feels it’s time to tell him.

“You told me I had confessed to you.”

…

Dazai doesn’t break eye contact, not even for a second, but Chuuya does notice how they once again fall distant in the ways they have so many times before.

How he realises he had picked up enough alcohol to not only reveal his secret, but enough to forget all about it.

He sees the slight hint of panic in his eyes when he tries to remember picking up beer, drinking it by himself, and deluding himself into believing his brother had never died.

Chuuya did worry when the anniversary passed once more, but he secretly texted Kunikida to ask if everything was okay, and it wasn’t.. great, but it was good enough for him to keep their distance.

“So, I know you’ve known all this time. ‘That you make me sick’.” He laughs at himself. “That you’ve made me like this. Pathetic and..” He stops himself, continuing his original point. “After that, you told me I was different.”

Silence.

Nothing except the deafening wind forcing their hair in the same direction, the noise from a distant conversation on the other side of the station, and both of their hearts beating much faster than they should.

Chuuya wants to kiss him.

He wants to not say the words he has to say, to not do what has to be done, to give it all up and give into his desires just as he did at the party.

But he can’t.

“So there you have it. You know I’m in-.. You know I’m in love with you, and I know you’re in love with me. Which is stupid, you confessed anyway, didn’t you? But I’m sorry, I knew long before that.” Dazai almost does it, he almost interrupts him and lets himself go, god.. why is this where they are?

How did they ever get here?

When did they fall so in love with each other, and when did they realise they could never be together?

“But your version of love is deranged. You leave me, again and again, I don’t know if you’re sadistic, masochistic or just.. I don’t- I don’t want to anymore, Dazai. We agreed, okay? You made a promise, so for the love of God, keep it. Don’t come here, admitting and confessing what I already know if you’re planning on leaving me again. So, this is it, I’m over it.”

“I know!” Dazai yells, “Chuuya I’m not trying- I’m not.. I’m..” He gives up on whatever point he was trying to make.

In this moment, both of them reflect on their past mistakes, Dazai undeniably having more than the other.

“You’re what?”

He keeps his eye on Chuuya, because Dazai wants to allow himself one final sight of his Angel.

He’s had his final touch, his final kiss, and here is his final look.

“I just wanted you to know. I wanted to apologize.” He smiles, sincerely.

Chuuya almost gets caught off guard, the smile enough for him to take back everything he just said.

But that’s not how this is meant to go.

“Apology accepted, but I can’t-”

“It’s okay. This is it, yeah?”

“.. yeah.”

Despite what it sounds like, despite how Chuuya worded it, he was not telling Dazai to go away.

He wonders if anyone else would be able to understand their conversation as he did, or if it’s just another sense of miscommunication for them, so he walks over it in his head.

‘Don’t confess to me if you’re planning to leave me.’ He said, even if he threw in words that were much more rude than what he was meant to say, but he can’t be blamed for that, he had no Idea he would be met with heaven the second he stepped outside the train.

Dazai didn’t say much, but Chuuya understood. ‘I am gonna leave you. I just wanted you to know that I still love you.’

Chapter Text

1 YEAR, 2 MONTHS, 23 DAYS - After the confession.

In late seasons, heated days are rare and therefore a lot more appreciated than cold days in early seasons.

The sun is a star that shines only during the day, despite its presence always being known due to the shine it leaves upon the moon, but even then everybody seems to love when it’s out and about, not being hidden behind full clouds.

Chuuya breathes in the fresh air, appreciating the day being above-average hot.

He steps into the contrasting cold water, the soggy sand leaving footprints that are instantly filled once he takes another step.

The sun would let its rays beam through the clouds if there had been any to cover up the blinding fire in the sky.

The beach this time around of the year is usually empty, other than the absolute mind-fucked people who torture themselves with “winter-bathing” and use the excuse of ‘the adrenaline is good for your body’, as if.

Mind-fucked people being Yosano, by the way.

Fuckass medical major students believing they know everything about the body, and then she has the absolute audacity to bring him as well insisting it’ll be a ‘nice rush’ in which he replied he’d rather take another line of cocaine, safe to say she didn’t appreciate that joke.

That was last month, so when Akutagawa suggested they go to the beach when Chuuya had asked to hang out and talk he was truly afraid this was another torturous round of self-inflicted-drowning, but he swore it was a hot day out which Chuuya hadn’t yet come around to realise as he was wrapped up in his bed.

“I’m just saying, you guys make it a lot more complicated than it has to be.” Akutagawa speaks, crouching down to dig up a stone in the wet sand.

Chuuya needed to speak to someone to know about what had happened, and considering Akutagawa has known all along that nothing had truly changed while in comparison Yosano had only just now found out, Akutagawa was definitely the better pick.

The case also being that Akutagawa has experience in conflicted love, while the last part of the trio is mostly into hookups since she believes relationships will distract her from studying and passing exams.

Either way, he’d just understand his situation a lot better than she would.

But now that they’re here, he doesn’t really feel like talking about it anymore.

He crouches down as well, lightly splashing water onto his focused friend, chuckling as he looks distressed when the water accidentally hits him in the eye and Chuuya gets a chance at running away from the reciprocated act.

The day isn’t as cold as all the other ones have been, which is somehow both oddly comforting and wildly upsetting.

He takes comfort in the days of which takes him back to the day he had finally heard Dazai say he was in love with him, it reminds him that they were real, that their love had once been present even if now absorbed in the endless cycle of time.

Some days he believes that remembering is enough.

That the fact they existed is enough to keep him going, and then other days he sobs and clenches his phone in his fist, desperately wanting to call the man who’s the cause of all of this.

Chuuya laughs loudly when Akutagawa grabs ahold of his shoulders and drags them both into the water, which results in choking enough down to have a sore throat tomorrow, but neither of them minds.

The beach isn’t filled or crowded, definitely not empty but not even close to enough people for Chuuya to be hesitant and on guard. Overall, today seems to be a good day.

He’s been ignoring the continuous calls and texts from his mom, and the one singular one from his dad, but that’s not to say he hasn’t been thinking about it constantly, so he truly appreciates a moment of just being able to let go.

To not care about his parents, himself, or Dazai.

“Oh my god, Chuuya- can’t brea-mgh” Akutagawa gets his head dipped under water again, and he gasps loudly for air when he comes up, giving his friend what may be the most vengeful look anyone has ever seen.

But even then, he takes in the sight of him laughing, genuinely and sincerely, as if every worry has left his head for now, and maybe choking a bit of water isn’t that big a price to pay for this.

Though Akutagawa is indeed, absolutely, vengeful.

Chuuya goes from utter laughter to quick and immediate panic when he sees the younger one stand up, water dripping down from every angle.

“Hold- hold on..” He backs away as the water-blocked steps approaches, and he almost makes a run for it - which he would have, if he wasn’t idiotic and stepped directly into a much too sharp rock. He falls backwards and despite going under water once more, he can’t help feeling grateful that it essentially blocks the fall and helps him not crack his skull open - on a rock or something. You can totally break your cranium in sand, it’s just.. whatever, not the point - so he closes his mouth and eyes, not daring to actually drown today.

This time Akutagawa is the one to break into laughter, following the fall.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” He laughs, catching a glimpse of a soaked Chuuya pouting over being the fool this time around.

“Yeah yeah…” He sighs, biting back the laughter swelling in his chest so he can keep pretending to be petty, the embarrassment of the fall lingering comfortably.

__

 

“So,” Akutagawa sits down on the wet bench, pulling his knees up to himself to hold onto, handing over the vanilla flavored ice cream to Chuuya who’s extremely sensitive to artificial flavoring, therefore always picks base-flavors. “Are you gonna get back together?” He asks, his own ice cream dripping down his hands.

Chuuya groans loudly, “It’s not that simple, Aku.”

He takes a lick of the soft ice cream, the taste much sweeter than he had expected, the surprise pleasant.

“We were never really together anyway. If-..” He sighs, “If he learns how to love, if he learns how to stay, then I’d take him back in a heartbeat, you know that.”

Akutagawa nods, understanding.

He does indeed know that, and he has the whole time.

He’s never failed to catch the way Chuuya would resist from taking an extra peek whenever they passed each other in the hallways, or how worried he looked during the weeks Dazai didn’t come to classes; neither did he fail to notice Chuuya’s voice being hoarse and his face puffy on occasional nights, but he never mentioned it.

If he did, he knows it would’ve been denied anyway, and he knew at one point he would either move on or admit defeat, so he decided that waiting would be the best option instead of pressuring him into talking.

“I don’t know if he’s capable of that.” Chuuya adds, which his best friend quickly latches on to.

Chuuya and Dazai remind Akutagawa of himself and Atsushi back in the days, which is rather ironic considering the other two are older and should therefore be more wise and mature.

He rests his head on his knees, looking at the boy deep in thought. “When I fell in love with Atsushi, I thought we couldn’t be together.” He says, forcing Chuuya out of his endless thoughtful misery. “Because I had been aggressive with him in the past, so I assumed that was just who I was, and he’d never be happy with me.”

He looks out to the trees swaying in the wind, behind them revealing a beach followed by the glistering blue ocean. “I don’t know exactly when it was, but being in love with him changed the part of myself I hated the most. So, even if you think Osamu is incapable of change, just know I thought I was too.”

Maybe, change is easier when your facade doesn't come from a place rooted in sorrow and grief, or maybe change is harder when it’s just who you are, but either way, Akutagawa has proved it's possible nonetheless.

Chuuya follows his gaze, “Have you hurt him since?” He asks softly, afraid it might be a touchy subject.

Akutagawa scoffs out a laugh, reminiscing about his past year with the love of his life.

“In relationships, you’re gonna hurt each other. No relationship is perfect because no one is, everyone has flaws, so of course that’ll cause some stir.. but I’ve never done it intentionally, and I’ve never laid a hand on him. Couldn’t dream of it, and you bet I apologized for every time I as much as looked at him wrongly.”

He speaks as if being with Atsushi is his escape, or more likely that being with him used to be his escape from reality until he became his reality.

Now he lives a life where love is the norm, a part of his day to day life.

Hell, they even live together.

“I don’t even know if me and Dazai are compatible at all.” Chuuya mouths the round base of the ice cream once more.

Akutagawa finally lets his legs go, leaning back on the bench. “If you weren’t, I doubt you’d both still be in love with each other now.”
___________________

Dazai recoils by the mere thought of getting out of bed, so Kunikida leaning against his opened doorframe, telling him he needs to eat breakfast is nauseating.

It’s been like this for the past 14 fucking months.

The second his eyes are forced open, he’s met with that scolding voice, one that he knows comes from worry and care but that he can’t help wanting to scream at anyway.

It’s surprising that he hasn’t done so yet.

Today, he should engage with it. He knows that, and he knows he needs to take every moment with Kunikida precious, to really thoroughly enjoy his day to day life with the man who’s been more of a parent than anyone else ever has.

But it’s hard to pretend everything is normal when it’s so far from, and yet maybe this is the most normal he’s felt in a long time, who knows? Dazai sure as hell doesn’t.

He sits up in a groan, his hair messily portrayed all over the bed.

Hell, he could hang himself in it by now.

It’s just so long, and honestly some days it bothers him, but he doesn’t dare cut it because he knows that Chuuya likes the long hair. It’s the first thing he looks at every time they manage to steal a glance at each other, as if he uses Dazai’s hair length to measure how long it’s been since the last time he got to look at him.

He yawns,

“Kida..” He mumbles, not fully awake yet, holding out his hand and waiting for the other to reciprocate so he has some support to hold onto.

Kunikida sighs in a smile, “Yeah, yeah.. I know.”

____

“This is good.” Dazai mumbles, stuffing his face with the eggs Kunikida prepared while he was asleep. They’re full and have a perfect mix between dry and wet, they’re not soggy and mushy but also not throat-coughingly dry.

Odasaku used to make eggs like that, and then Dazai finally found it in himself to complain about how dry they were, which resulted in the next day eating what may as well have been soup.

That’s a little over-dramatic, but let the boy be.

Kunikida smiles, acknowledging the praise with a nod.

Days blend in together, they have for a long time now. But it doesn’t go unnoticed how at one point or another, Dazai changed.

Not as if he had set himself a new goal, or given up on a previous one, but as if he had finally decided to commit himself to one that has been lingering in the back of his mind, So Kunikida assumes he’s finally gonna try winning Chuuya back.

He can’t imagine what else it could be for Dazai to seem this.. normal?

He seems determined, which is a great sight, considering he isn’t a very determined man in general.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks, slowly picking apart another spoon-full of eggs with his fork.

Kunikida nods, looking up from his food, considering reaching for his glasses so he’s able to see Dazai’s expression better, but deciding against it because he’s admittedly too lazy to do so.

“When did I change? Like.. when did you notice that I loved Chuuya?”

It’s a real question, maybe a bit of a stupid one since it’s obvious to most people and should definitely be obvious to the one asking the question himself, but either way.

He asks as if he’s defeated, not even really expecting the older one between them to have an answer at all.

But to his surprise, Kunikida clears his throat, the answer firmly lingering on the tip of his tongue. “The party.”

…

“Which one?”

“Gogol’s.”

Dazai chuckles, “You weren’t even there.”

He nods, confirming the statement, thinking back to the day Dazai has come home after spending the night out.

He mostly remembers being worried, as he always seems to be when it comes to this boy.

But he remembers the change in tone, in demeanor and expressions, a change he’d never seen before.

“I know. But I noticed the change nonetheless, you spoke differently about him, it was faint, but it was present. I believe that’s when it started.” He admits, now finally reaching for his glasses.

He’s met with an unexpected expression, to say the least.

Dazai has his head held low, his hair almost covering everything, only the smallest parts of his eyes visible. Even then, Kunikida can see the faint smile placed on his lips, not the big arrogant one he keeps because he believes it’s what he needs to do, not the insincere one he delivers after a sarcastic comment, but a small genuine one.

As if the thought of falling in love with Chuuya is no longer as scary as he always felt it was.

“You know, he told me about the night I confessed to him for the first time. Where I got drunk, apparently..” He laughs, embarrassed and slightly terrified over his own actions. His words come out silently, almost a whisper, but Kunikida knows how to catch them anyway.

He flinches at the admission, his head shooting up once more, this time fast enough to crack his neck.

“Did I do anything else embarrassing?” He scratches the back of his neck, knowing realistically the answer will be yes, and knowing there's a chance Kunikida will say ‘no, nothing at all’.

He doesn’t exactly want to tell him that not only did he talk about his brother as if he were still alive, but he also desperately clung to Kunikida while sobbing his eyes out and begging to just be held.

He doesn’t want him to be embarrassed over something he didn’t mind.

Even though he’s never been one for touch, it’s a different situation when it comes to his best friend. For whatever reason that may be. But he also knows exactly which things make Dazai feel regret, and it’s not a lot, but feeling pathetic is definitely one of them.

He almost shakes his head, but Dazai crooking an eyebrow disbelievingly at him is already enough to make him sigh in utter defeat.

“You cried a little, wanted me to hug you, is all.”

Dazai groans, letting his head fly back, “Ugh, that’s embarrassing alright. Guess it’s fine though.”

‘Be glad I didn’t tell you the whole truth, dumbass.’
“Yeah?” Kunikida asks, Dazai instantly replies in a non-committed hum.

“‘Suppose there’s not a lot to do about it now, is there?” He shrugs, standing up with his almost full despite how he had just seemed to be eating much for his usual. “You mean a lot to me, Kunikida.” He says, staring at the trashcan as he empties the plate.

There’s a shock of silence from the older one, unsure of what to do with these words he’s never heard before even if he knew of their existence.

Dazai proves through very specific things that he appreciates Kunikida, things that no one else would notice but that he does because he knows him well enough to understand what’s done out of intention.

But even with all that, Dazai isn’t the type of person who just says something like that, hell they’ve been friends for over five years now, Kunikida has been there through everything, through Oda’s death, Dazai’s attempt, through all his episodes and endless suffering but even then he’s never had it in him to mutter a simple ‘thank you’, so this is unusually out of character for him.

“I..” Kunikida stumbles over what words he’s meant to say, “You mean a lot to me too, Dazai.”

He turns around, smiling.

There it is again, the smile that seems too sincere for the kind of person he is, and has always been.

“I know.”
__________________

31 SECONDS - After the confession.

“.. No, you’re not.” Chuuya looks away, not believing the words just spoken to him.

How, in what world, in what deranged and completely unreal world should he believe those words?

He says it as if it’s a statement, that Dazai is confused and he’s either lying to Chuuya or himself and he doesn’t wanna hear it.

He hisses in a breath, and he’s almost about to scold him for the false confession, but that’s until he finally looks at him.

The eyes that haven't reached him even once during this whole interaction, glistening with wet tears.

His body reacts on instinct, reaching out, but he’s quick to bite it back in himself. He looks at the unbelievable sight as one of the thick tears fall all the way down to his chin, and Chuuya thinks for just a second that he looks beautiful even when crying.

He’s seen it before, though that time Dazai was also drunk and snot-covered, so it doesn’t completely count, he defends himself.

It’s almost not visible, considering the heavy rain around them, but he sees it as he sees the sun in early seasons, he sees it clear as day.

He hates to admit it, but he almost loves it.

He can’t help but keen at the fact Dazai is the one crying for him, he’s the one shedding tears, he’s the one looking with nothing but need and yearning.

“You don’t get to say that. If I tell you I’m in-” He bites his lip, keeping the word to himself, embarrassed over the rejection despite being the one to end things. “You can’t deny my feelings. That’s not for you to do.”

Chuuya scoffs, almost wishing to laugh.

He ignores the part that wants to kiss Dazai, for now.

“You’re in love with me?” He asks mockingly, as if it was the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. Because truth be told, it might just be.

Dazai tilts his head, staring in shock at the tone used at him.

And this time Chuuya wants to kill him, how dare he look as if he’s the villain in this situation? Sue him for being skeptical, call the cops on him for doubting that the very man who himself said ‘don’t fall in love with me’ went ahead and did just that, and is now upset about it?

But even then, a small part of him wants it to be true.

A big part of him.

All of him.

“If you’re in love with me, then why are you pushing me away?”

Dazai sighs, rubbing his wet face in his equally wet hands.

Chuuya never seems to understand his intentions, it’s upsetting, but he knows it’s not his fault.

“Because I- you- fuck, I hurt you, so many times. You know I don’t want to do that!” He yells the words, letting them pass by the rain, the soft rumble approaching from far away.

Him yelling, him having the audacity to not only scream, but to scream the words ‘You know’ is more than enough for Chuuya to forget every ounce of love he’s felt in the past weeks, months, years.

That’s not true, he knows that, but he allows the anger to take over for just a moment, he allows himself to be petty. To be greedy.

“No, I DON’T know that! You’ve never apologized, you’ve never tried to NOT hurt me! How can you expect me to just- to just know things, Dazai? You’re not predictable, or easy to read, I never understand anything you fucking do and I assumed- God I thought it was absolutely impossible for you to even imagine a world where you loved me, and now you’re telling me you are?”

“Yes!-”

“Okay! Okay- fine. Fine..” He sighs, taking a deep breath in.

…

He accepts defeat faster than he had hoped, despite knowing it would come all along.

Though it may not be as much defeat as he feels it is.

“Promise you’ll stop hurting me. Stop doing things that confuse me, just.. stop. Create a world where I don’t feel hurt by your presence, where loving you doesn’t hurt. Then, I’ll come running, I’ll- fuck, of course I will. It’s so.. stupid. You’re worried about hurting me? Stop it, and then we can-”

“You know I can't just-”

“Promise me.”

The silence between them hurts.

It's gut-wrenching, and Chuuya can already feel he won’t get an ounce of sleep tonight, he feels every piece of food he’s consumed in the last 24 hours ready to be spilled over his bathroom.

Dazai looks at him, gritting his teeth desperately to not lash out, tears silently spilling from his eyes and Chuuya wants to kiss him.

He always wants to kiss him.

He wants to tell him it's okay, that he can take it, that he’d let him beat him to blood and he’d still kiss him and love him.

And he hates knowing part of it is true.

He wants to hug him, and pretend nothing bad has ever happened.

“Okay. I promise.”

He sighs in relief.

“But it won’t be fast. I’ll.. I’ll figure it out. One day, I’ll give you a world in which I don’t hurt you.”
________________________

1 YEAR, 2 MONTHS, 23 DAYS - Since the confession.

Ranpo bashes his head into the cafe table in front of him, groaning loudly enough for other customers to look shockingly over, looking away again when Poe awkwardly smiles and gives a thumbs up.

For the past twenty minutes, he’s been complaining about a very specific matter.

One that Poe has indeed heard about many, many times before, and is therefore not at all surprised by the fact it’s brought up once more.

“They’re so.. so stupid!” Ranpo yells, which results in his friend in front of him shushing him, using his arms to visually remind him they’re in public.

Ranpo has spent a year - a goddamn year - listening to Dazai ramble on and off about Chuuya this, Chuuya that, and he’s had enough.

It’s not that he doesn’t care for his friends' worries and sorrows, it’s precisely because he does care that he’s this tired.

Surely at one point it must end, one of them has to move on and stop this fucking cycle or they’ll have to kiss and make up, he frankly doesn’t care, he’s just exhausted from watching Dazai painfully talk about everything and still refuse to actually do something about it.

Everyone - and truly everyone - tries to help in any way possible, whether it be through scolding, care taking, spending time together, offering personal space, no matter what it is, everyone is there for Dazai.

Ranpo can’t help feeling slight resentment at the situation, he hates to see his friend upset, but he also despises the very known factor that Dazai hasn’t exactly taken matters into his own hands.

Atsushi and Kunikida are there for him, pretending they don’t feed into his delusions despite slipping up constantly, and Ranpo has simply had enough.

It’s too much.

Even his father is indulging now, so this time he’s a lot more irritated than he’s been the past times of ranting.

“It’s embarrassing, really! Everyone knows they love each other, but for some reason they just.. ugh.” He accepts defeat mid sentence and sips the chocolate milkshake in front of him. It has small chocolate chips he can bite into once before swallowing which is a nice sensation, the coldness also helps keep his head calm from frustration.

He looks down at the cookie beside him, eyeing it as men eye women, though still annoyed with his situation.

He does want that cookie, however.

Should he eat it now, or should he drink a little more of his milkshake so it’ll line u-
“Ranpo.”

Poe rests his chin on his hand, “You’re overthinking this.” He states, using his hand to point out the obvious, “If you know they’ll end up together, then surely they will, right?”

Ranpo nods annoyedly, sometimes hating that his friend is so good at keeping him from crashing out, in public nonetheless.

“Well, sure, but..” He sips up an extra amount, the whipped cream now mixing with the chocolate taste. “The storm hasn’t even hit yet.”
_______________

Kunikida shakes his head, “No, that’s stupid. If the live action was even remotely as good as the original, sure, but it’s just not.”

He’s clearly very confident in his statement, as if his opinion is nothing but obviously the objectively correct one, which is bullshit.

At least if you ask who he’s talking to.

Atsushi twists his head offended beside him, holding the cold iced coffee in hand.
“Okay, the original is definitely better, but the live action was good! The casting-”

 

“Oh don’t even get me started on the casting.” Kunikida groans, thinking back to the awful movie Atsushi forced him to watch just 2 hours ago, in the cinema too. He had to pay to watch such a piece of garbage, which is a disappointment considering how perfect the original is.

Live actions are always such.. useless.

There’s a very few that have managed to make it work, sure, but not nearly enough to have an overall positive rating on live actions as a category, in general at all.

Atsushi scoffs, but even then he bursts into laughter, appreciating that Kunikida went with him even though he already had expected the movie to be bad.

It wasn’t.. great, but it was tolerable!

He finally catches his breath, Kunikida himself also lightly chuckling, sipping onto his own drink to keep himself from showing his entertainment.

He gasps slowly, taking deep breaths in over something that wasn’t even funny, despite Kunikida’s pouting and opinion-stating-self always being a humorous blast if you ask the younger between them.

“Oh,” he remembers, “How’s Dazai doing?” Atsushi asks, changing the topic as he sips on the coffee - which is barely anything but milk, at that - and speeds up his pace a little to match Kunikida’s long legs.

The older one takes a moment to ponder, because it’s a difficult question.

One would never describe Dazai’s mental state as ‘good’ nor anything that closely correlates, but it isn’t.. horrible? He’d assume, at least.

He’s been weird for sure, but as mentioned, Kunikida assumes that comes from a place of change, one for the better too, so he won’t use that as his reasoning for Dazai not doing good, at least.

He wouldn’t use the word ‘bad’ either, which is not because his state is positive, but because it never has been. Dazai doing bad would be like food burning to the brim when you’re used to a too bitter crisp, it’s never good but it becomes the norm after time, so you wouldn’t describe it as ‘bad’.

“I think it’s getting a little easier. I hope.” He sighs, letting a hand run down his face in wonder. “This morning, he told me I ‘meant a lot to him’, which was weird.. but it’s a good thing, surely, right?” He asks as he opens the main entrance door to the dorms upon campus.

Something like that has to be a good thing.

It’s progress, no?

Because he’s developing. He’s learning to understand and expressing emotion, care being one of them, so this is surely nothing but progress.

Atsushi almost nods, but then he stills.

Which is absolutely not appreciated.

He should not still.

It’s progress. It’s good. It’s okay.

“Hm.. I mean, I’d definitely assume so, but what if it’s the opposite?” He asks, following behind Kunikida who walks a little slower this time around.

Their pace in walking is a little awkward, both now deep in thought.

Kunikida takes a sip of his hot black coffee, thinking over the possible situation proposed to him, even if he almost feels a need to lash out at the thought even just being there, the suggestion that was spoken aloud due to nothing but care.

He just wishes it wasn’t a thought that needed to be suggested.
“You’re worried he’ll try to..” He doesn’t finish his sentence, trying to remember how Dazai acted last time he had an attempt, the only time he had one, that he knows of at least.

The younger one nods, though not fully committed to the thought now lingering, “We’d know though, right?”

They reach the stairs and start walking up, cursing over the fact that the shitty elevator still hasn’t been fixed, and it’s been six months since some dumbass thought it would be a good idea to put a firework inside, which was not very appreciated at 2 am in the morning.

Either way, the council has totally neglected this - very clearly - urgent matter, forcing all of the school's dorm-living students to walk up flights of stairs.

“Well-” He gasps for air for a second when they find their floor, “Wouldn’t we?”

They both realise this conversation is questions getting answered with questions, going in a loophole of the base question ‘is Dazai okay’, which there is an obvious reply to every time but it’s never quite enough.

At the very least, Kunikida feels confident he won’t be met with a dead Dazai for a while, but now that Atsushi has brought it up he leaves it in his mind to keep an eye out for any weird behavior, just in case.

He doesn’t know what that would be, since he’s already acting weird, and he’s judging all of that upon what he assumes is development, so how is he supposed to tell what’s development and what isn’t?

‘What if none of it is?’

He shakes his head, not wanting to have this train of thought, not even wanting to imagine a world where that’s a real outcome, a real possibility lingering at the end of the day, but he’s already living in that world, he’s been living in it since he first found Dazai attempting to end his life, he’s been living in it since long before that.

They finally find the dorm labeled under Osamu Dazai and Doppo Kunikida, which is a relief because they’d rather not have the food they so generously bought from Dazai’s favorite take out place get cold.

Kunikida turns the doorknob, and is confused as of to why the door is locked when he swore he left it unlocked, just incase Dazai still wouldn’t have woken up after going back to sleep after they shared breakfast, but he assumes he remembered wrong and digs his pockets for keys.

He did advertise Dazai to not go back to sleep at all, worried he’ll just mess up his sleep schedule, in which he defended himself with the awful argument that he already sleeps 14 hours a day, which is a fact to true Kunikida didn’t have it in him to argue back, allowing him to sleep a little extra while he went out.

Not a little extra, if he’s still asleep, considering it’ll be at least 5 hours of what Dazai calls ‘napping’ which is just outright sleeping.

“How bothersome.” He mumbles to himself, unlocking the door.

He can’t help but notice how the atmosphere feels a little.. wrong, as he enters, and just as he had guessed, Dazai doesn’t seem to be woken up just yet.

He curses at the new awful factor, being he has to wake him up.

And he does have to wake him up, because he’ll be much more annoyed at his favorite food being cold than he’d be at being forced awake once more.

That’s not to say Kunikida is at all excited to be met with a sulking face, a mumbling voice and possibly an angry scolding.

Atsushi places Dazai’s drink on the kitchen counter, “I’ll pack the food out and find something to watch, you go wake him up?”

Kunikida nods in a groan, “Yeah, be back in a second.”

He curses at himself for overthinking, and partly for Atsushi to even suggest such an outcome, which now unfortunately is on his mind despite what’s supposed to be a peaceful day.. but it’s alright.

He reaches for Dazai’s door, and it’s alright because he knows that as soon as he sees him soundly asleep, and he smiles and he hears they bought him food, Kunikida will feel a lot more relaxed than-

…

But that’s wrong.

Because Dazai is not sleeping soundly.

And god, was he an absolute idiot for assuming he was.

Atsushi seems to notice the sudden odd silence, and Kunikida doesn’t even pay any attention to him calling out, asking if everything is okay, because everything is not okay.

His eyes are glued to the floor, roaming at every possible piece of information he can find.

He takes a few steps closer, his body beginning to tremble as he fully takes in the sight.

Dazai is seizing on the floor, his whole entire being shaking with everything it’s got, so much that Kunikida for a second wonders if he’s fucking possessed.

Which, honestly might be a better situation than the very terrifying scene playing out in front of him.

His eyes are rolled to the back of his head, as if he’s seeing light in the darkness behind his eyelids, only revealing the white of his eyes to the rest of the world, to his best friend.

Kunikida looks at the foaming around Dazai’s mouth, and how he’s audibly gagging on it, his hair is covered in puke and so is the floor, and he’s sure his face would be too if the tears and foaming wasn’t much more distracting than some useless vomit.

“A-atsushi..” Kunikida calls out, looking towards the bottle of pills, towards the empty fucking bottle of pills.

God, he hopes all the vomit was an after effect of the pills, and that there isn’t any left inside Dazai.

“Kuni-” Atsushi rounds the corner, looking at the shaking body in front of them, “W-what-”

“Call an ambulance. Now, please?” He tries desperately to keep his composure, to not panic at what’s happening in his own home, to not think about how much more terrifying this sight is than the one he was once met with.

He tries to not pay attention to the letters- fuck, the fucking letters, splayed all over Dazai’s empty bed.

He catches a quick glimpse of his own name, and he almost gags as the tears well up, but he doesn’t have time for that right now.

Atsushi runs out of the room to find his phone, and Kunikida takes a deep breath, ignoring the frantic sounds of searching coming from the kitchen, instead he pays attention to the sounds of Dazai gagging, the small ounce of sobs leaving him just as well, though it’s overpowered by- by everything.

Kunikida grabs on to Dazai’s shoulder, turning him to the side so he won’t choke on the foam or the puke that’s overwhelming him, he wonders if any part of him is conscious right now and while he so desperately wants that to be it, he also hopes Dazai isn’t here enough to feel himself shaking, to feel himself gagging and crying and- oh god.

He tries not to think about the sobbing from the kitchen and the words that are inaudible, he almost leaves the room to take the phone instead so no time gets stretched more than it has to, but finally he hears the woman on the other line of the call tell Atsushi that an ambulance is on the way.

Fuck, the chaos of an ambulance showing up at campus and everyone-

He has to tell Chuuya before he finds out through something as stupid as the media.

Kunikida leaves the thought, he’s gonna do that when they get to the hospital, the students won’t know about it yet and this is more important than hurting Nakahara’s feelings.

He grabs on to Dazai’s right wrist, the one that’s less covered in vomit than the other, though he doesn’t go without getting a little on his hands anyway, he doesn’t care, frankly. He searches for a pulse, and when he finds it, he sighs in relief despite how slow it is.

He was worried it could be cardiopulmonary arrest - also medically known as SCA (sudden cardiac arrest) - and the seizure was due to lack of oxygen and Brain Hypoxia, so he’s rather happy to be found that Dazai’s heart is at the very least still beating.

It just has to keep doing that.

“Wha-what do we do?” Atsushi asks, now in the doorway, and Kunikida wishes he knew. He wishes he had a fucking answer but he has anything but that, he just needs the ambulance to come fast because this- is so much more serious than the last time.

Last time Kunikida was met with a half-dead Dazai, he was swaying gently from the ceiling of their living room, and though the sight had been horrifying, it is nothing compared to this.

Even though Kunikida had enough time to worry, enough time to wonder, he still didn’t have to call an ambulance because Dazai coughed out his will to live when Kunikida cut the ropes, and he was still alive.

He was alive.

And now..

He chokes on a sob as he remembers how Atsushi suggested Dazai may be planning to kill himself, and then he had the nerve to play it off because when has Dazai ever wanted to live anyway?

What kinda best friend is he, pretending the suicide of his one and-

Who is he to pretend Dazai being suicidal wasn’t a big deal, because he always had been?

He gasps as the boy in front of him looks so weak, so utterly fragile, much more than he has in the past months, despite his decrease in weight and his hair growing long enough to slightly hide the increasing eyebags, he looks defeated.

He looks dead.

Dazai Osamu is dying on his bedroom floor, and who knows how long he’s been planning this?

Kunikida searches his memories for an answer, for anything that leads to this, and he clenches at the part of his shirt that covers his chest when he realises the reason he can’t find an answer is because there wasn’t one moment that leads to this, every single one of them does.

This morning he had told him something as outrageous as what he did because it would be the last chance he had. He confessed one last time to Chuuya because he needed him to know he’d die loving him, it’s nauseating. Every single factor of the story makes Kunikida wish to vomit on the floor that’s already soaking up the remains of Dazai’s guts.

Dazai’s mouth drools past the endless foaming and vomit, the tears drying into his face as his eyes fall back into place, and for what seems like eternity, Kunikida prays to a god he doesn’t believe in.

He prays, he begs, hell he’d sacrifice even, that this is not the end.

Because he prays, because he closes his eyes and sobs as he makes this final wish, Kunikida doesn’t notice the pulse pausing- the pulse ending completely, he doesn’t notice the seizing stopping, and he doesn’t notice Dazai dying.

____________

Chuuya cracks his back as he makes his way towards his fridge, hoping to find something his past self has indulged in buying so he wouldn’t wake up regretful.

Well, to be fair, eating in general is what usually leaves him regretful so that’s an empty wish.

He pouts at the bright light blinding him in what is essentially the darkest room on planet earth right now, his blinds covering so much of the real world that he’s unsure of what time it actually is.

His heart tugs in on him in a way that’s much too uncomfortable, as if his body is urging to tell him something is wrong.

He groans, “I get it, I’m heartbroken, wah wah, been there for a year my guy.” He mumbles to himself as he reaches to a low-cal protein bar in his fridge drawer.

He stumbles over his own feet as he gets caught off guard by the phone in his bed calling, the light lightening up his room, and he groans once more when he accidentally falls into the bed, scrambling his hands around to find the blinding light.

He finally grabs ahold of it, staring at the name on his screen.

Because in what world would Kunikida call him at - he finally looks at the clock - 6:43 pm?

He picks up, “Wassup, everything good?” He asks, trying to seem more careless and less worried than what he actually is, despite the sudden black pit of desperation in his stomach, the one urging and begging to know what’s wrong.

He hears a tremble in breath on the other side, and he instantly sits up, “Kunikida? What’s wrong?” Screw pretending not to care.

‘Dazai..’ he breathes in, and Chuuya stands up, searching for pants, having a feeling he needs to leave this room as soon as possible.

‘H-he- shit, sorry.’ Kunikida tries to keep composure, but Chuuya could honestly not give less of a shit if the man was outright sobbing on the other line, he needs to know what’s wrong.

“Doppo. What’s wrong?” He asks, more firmly this time, as if demanding to know.

A sharp hiss of breath hits him in reply, and he puts the phone in between his ear and shoulder as he bends down to get pants on, needing Kunikida to answer right now so he can call Yosano and tell her where to drive him, wherever it may be.

‘He overdosed. We’re at the hospital.’

…

Chuuya drops his phone, for what is only a second, because as soon as the words sink into his head he’ll hang up, he’ll call Yosano, and he’ll go to the hospital.

But for just a split second, Chuuya stands still.

And he prays.

Chapter Text

Chuuya doesn’t have time, nor is anywhere near the mental state where he’s ready to pay attention to the growing guilt in his chest.

How could he be, right?

After all, a majority of this was his fault. Logically speaking, maybe not, but he also knows that everyone who might be inside that hospital knows just as well as he does that this has a lot to do with their.. conflict.

He doesn’t say that to take the blame, nor to play victim, but he can’t ignore the obvious fact that this.. undeniably has to do with their promise.

It must be.

If he were to acknowledge the pain pulsing through him, the throbbing headache approaching and the tears he’s doing his utmost best to not let fall, he’d simply fall apart.

Right here and now, inside the car going above speed limit which he doesn’t have time to care nor complain about. If anything, he’d yell at his best friend to speed the damn car up, because what if- what if he’s too late?

That ball of utter, conscious guilt is being swarmed by so many other emotions that he’s barely learnt enough through life to be able to digest, he can't swallow any of them down though neither can he for a second let his mind dive to them.

The pit around his heart is swallowed in a void of anger, stabbing him and every conscious thought he’s ever had about Dazai.

Then there’s the sadness, that one is however overdone by every other emotion to such an extent that Chuuya finds himself wondering whether he’s even sad at all.

That’s only until he finds said emotion and gags, which causes Yosano - who’s currently driving the car - to look worried over, and he realises he needs to leave it alone, that if there’s any emotion he shouldn’t pay any mind to right now, it’s the sadness swarming his whole being.

He can’t fall apart, not now.
Later, later. Later, when he’s home again.
Later, when he has made sure everyone isn’t falling apart as well.

Later, when he knows Dazai is alive.

When the sadness fades out of consciousness, the prioritised one shows itself once more.
The confusion - why?

Why would Dazai try to kill himself?
(He knows why, he’s admitted to himself that he knows why. But he can’t help go back on his word and wonder if there is another reason, even though he always ends up on the same one.)

Is that why he needed a last moment to say goodbye, is that why when he touched Chuuya a year ago he looked at him as if it was the last time, why he always acted as if their time together was limited, and is this what he meant when he made it clear he had a full thorough belief he was still going to leave Chuuya?

Just how long has he been planning this?

He can’t believe he took him for granted, and now there’s a chance he’ll never get to hear that awful monotone voice ringing in his ear again, or the stoic face he had gotten so used to that sometimes would melt into nothing but a loving gaze, or the touch that had become all of him.

He also knows he didn’t take him for granted at all, Chuuya loved every single part of Dazai, he loved the parts that didn’t love him back, and the ones that did.

Chuuya loved the parts of Dazai that made him believe burning in hell was worth as much as a simple look.

He loved the parts that convinced him hell wasn’t real at all.

He loved the parts that made him believe that maybe, he already was in heaven.

But fuck, that’s wrong, isn’t it?

Chuuya didn’t love Dazai.

He loves him.

Then, now, and however long his future will last, he will continue to love Dazai Osamu, whether the bastard be dead or not.

But, that’s not to say that in the meantime of loving him, he hadn’t learned to respect himself. He’s partly convinced loving Dazai is the sole reason he learned to have some dignity, and he learned to love Dazai enough to only wish for them to be together healthily, which is why he had to make the choices he did, and the promise he asked to be kept.

Is this Dazai’s way of keeping his promise?

Once again, his mind lands on that conclusion, the guilt tugging at his heart once more.

“Chuu, you need to calm down. It won’t be a good situation for anybody if you storm into the hospital and either start puking or-”

“I know, ‘Sano, I know.” Chuuya mumbles through the nail he’s biting onto, not paying attention to the sweet hand that glides over and squeezes his jumping thigh.

He thinks back to where it all started.

‘You look pretty today, surprisingly.’

He remembers the breath caught in his throat, the sickness spreading in his chest along with the nausea creeping up on him. He remembers hating that he wasn’t saying it out of sincerity.

‘I’m not denying shit, what? You wanna pound me? Is that what this is?’ He cringes, remembering his own words considering the multiple times he’s been the one to pounce on Dazai.
‘And if I do?’

He lets a smile creep on to his lips, what a piece of shit he was.

‘How deep do you go?’
‘To the vein, you should try it sometime.’
He flinches at the memory,
‘You think I haven’t? Think I wear these bandages just for fun?’

That catches his attention, in between remembering back to bring himself some positivity, he finds a blank spot.

A void.

Was he sincere in those words?

Has Dazai been harming himself just as Chuuya has, all along, and he never even cared to ask, to check or to help, despite all the times Dazai did? (He knows he didn’t help that much, but he did enough for the guilt to grow.)

‘Go, fucking, deeper.’

Right, okay. Enough.

Stir away from the bad memories, right now, or this will end up significantly worse than it already is.

‘What do you want?’
‘You.’

As his mind glides away from the bad memory to focus on another one, in which he had Dazai begging like a dog for him to come to that damned party, his lips curl ever so slightly.

If he heard those words now, he’s sure his chest would fill with warmth, though back then he had almost told Dazai to go kill himse-

Fuck.

His interactions with Dazai had once only ever been aggressive, a way to constantly push him away, to resist the temptation that convinced him the man he loves is evil.

As if he could ever be.

They used to be rough, intense and despite the fact that Chuuya would never admit it aloud, they were scary.

He was scared of his sickness, he was scared of burning forever, and he had believed that allowing himself a taste of light would force regret upon his soul for all eternity, but now, even when he might be losing Dazai forever, he doesn’t regret having fallen in love.

Chuuya doesn’t regret loving Dazai, because loving Dazai is what made him want to live again.

But loving Chuuya drove him to kill himself.

‘Loving Dazai Osamu is suicide.’

.. no. It seemed to be the other way around.

‘Don’t fall in love with me, Nakahara. It’ll only end in tears.’

Yeah. Maybe that was true. Maybe, loving Dazai has now ended him to yearn and long forever for a lover he never has the privilege of calling that, for a man he never got to truly love despite the emotion filling his whole being.

But that doesn’t mean he’d ever regret it.

His mind blurs between the few minutes that it actually takes to drive to the hospital that still manages to feel like hours despite his best friend undeniably breaking the speed limit, to the moments he runs into the hospital.

The smell of medicine and cleanliness is nauseating when you’re aware of the rotting corpses and flesh hidden in between rooms.

Right, not rotting corpses, that’s extreme, but corpses nonetheless.

Dazai could be one of those corpses right now.

He skims the waiting room, not seeing any of the people he should, those being either Kunikida, or Dazai’s parents, or the rest of the crew he always hangs around, so instead he asks the lady at the counter.

He doesn’t notice the pity on her face when he asks while desperately gripping onto the counter, nor the way she flinches when he accidentally raises his voice asking for her to hurry and check where the patient's friends & family would be staying.

“Ah, they’re in the waiting room upstairs, that one's more reserved and they all seemed very out-” She doesn’t get to finish her sentence before he’s already on his way and the sweet black haired girl beside him apologises while following behind.

He runs up the stairs, almost running into a man walking down them and he manages to let out a ‘I’m sorry’ before continuing his search, he rushes and opens the door in hope of-

…

God.

The agony in that room fills the air, making Chuuya almost choke on his own breath.

“Chuuya.” Akutagawa says, silently, his arms wrapped around the tired puffy looking boy.

Akutagawa is holding a crying Atsushi who seems to be almost passed out from exhaustion, and despite Chuuya’s panic, despite just how hurried he was, he first now realises that he’s not the only one who’s affected by this.

In fact, he wonders if he’s the one who’s most affected by this.

His eyes dart to Kunikida in the corner who looks somehow even more tired, his clothes are comfortable and loose and Chuuya looks down at the bag his original clothes seem to be in, as if he’s planning on sleeping here.

He isn’t gonna ask how he got permission to that, no matter how badly he fucking wishes to.

He’s pacing close to the door, on the phone with someone, and this time Chuuya wonders who else he’s calling to tell about this, and why he was called first.

Was Chuuya called before Dazai’s parents?

Not that they’ve ever been.. great, definitely better than Chuuya’s, that’s no surprise, but ever since Odasaku’s death they’ve been neglectful enough for him to actually believe that he was indeed called first.

He approaches slowly, silently, waiting for him to put the phone down.

His breath has calmed down along with the racing painful heart hidden behind his ribs, seeing everyone be as out of it as he is forces him to accept this as reality. It forces him to accept that he can’t bring Dazai back to life with tears or with screams, no matter how hard he begs and begs, that’s all there is to it.

Dazai could be dead right now.

Dazai might be dead right now.

Dazai tried to kill himself.

He might have succeeded.

“Yeah.. yea that’s great I’ll uh, I’ll let the doctors know you guys are on the way yeah? -- great, see you in a bit.” He sighs as he finally hangs up from what seems to be one of his many conversations from today.

The beeping sound of the phone helps Chuuya back to reality once more.

Realistically Kunikida has been the one to talk to every doctor and nurse that needed information or the other way around, considering he’s the closest to family here.

“Nakahara.” He turns around, noticing the new person in the waiting room, also leaving a nod to Yosano behind him.

He needs to keep composure, he needs to. He can’t fall apart now, he has to wait- God he has to wait, and for what exactly? To find out whether the only man he’s ever loved is fucking dead? To find out if he has any chance of surviving, he doesn’t even know how many pills the idiot swallowed or which ones and oh God what if Dazai is dead.

He’s hoped for that so many times. Silent wishes, loud beginnings screamed through rage, hoping for him to just disappear and now that he might- now that he might never see him again how could he ever have said those things?

He never even said it.

Dazai never said ‘I love you.’ Despite his confessions of being in love, and a shock of electricity shoots through Chuuya’s spine when he realises, he never did either, did he?

He never looked Dazai in the eyes and told him ‘I love you.’

… what’s gonna happen now?

Chuuya swallows every emotion welling up inside him, seeing how everyone else is also doing, trying to find a ground to stand on, something to keep him aware and sensible. “Can.. can we-”

 

Kunikida shakes his head, already knowing the question as if he’s been asked by every other person in this room, as if he himself had asked it just as well. “We’re not allowed in right now, no. He’s getting pumped from the toxins, but they should be done soon. Though they’ll have to do a bunch of blood tests and other stuff to keep an eye on him.” He speaks professionally, like giving out information like the nurses have been doing to him.

That doesn’t mean Chuuya doesn’t notice the tired sigh escaping his throat, or the hoarse and rough tone in his voice.

He remembers back to the phone call.

“You.. Did you find him?” Chuuya asks, seeing the dried tears down the man's face, not to mention how his bagged clothes looks like he’s been carrying a body covered in puke, which isn’t unlikely.

How much had he been puking? Did he spill most of the pills he swallowed?

Kunikida averts his gaze at the question, adjusting his glasses to look at the swaying trees outside.

It’s a cold day.

Dazai tried to kill himself on a cold day.

Just like.. just like the day he told him he was in love with him.

Twice.

Dazai confessed, twice. Both days were cold, both days he said a goodbye.

Fucking piece of shit.

Kunikida looks back at the boy who seems to be growing angrier at whatever his thoughts are playing him, he rubs his temple, allows a sigh to leave him and nods, “It seems I always do. It’s just- I should’ve-”

“It wasn’t your fault, Kunikida.” Ranpo says from the seats, looking up at the taller male, “He’s never expressed a will to live, him acting slightly different and you not noticing doesn’t make it your fault, you couldn’t have known.”

Chuuya looks down at the comforting words, and for a second he feels anger flare up inside him, this time not directed at Dazai, and alongside follows the need to ask, ‘did you know?’

Ranpo knows everything, he’s basically a fucking prophet, so even if Kunikida didn’t know, did he?

But none of that matters right now, nothing matters other than Dazai being okay, other than him being alive.

He has to be.

Chuuya allows his legs to give out as he slumps into the seats, the ones that welcome waiting, which forces him to wonder just how long he’ll have to do that. How long will he have to sit in this seat, how many times will he have to see it again, and even worse, what if never?

What if the doctors come out now, revealing the information that Dazai Osamu has passed away?

What the fuck is he supposed to do then?

The thoughts gnaw at every angle of his brain, tugging at him in hope to gain attention, to make his eyes swell and his teeth grit, every nerve in Chuuya’s body wants him to break.

Every part of him wants to see Dazai, to see his smug fucking face and hear his stupid voice and feel his God forsaken body be warm.

His trembling body is begging for relief, to let go of the nausea and anxiety that’s been building in him since the phone call, he wants to lay down and he wants to cry, to break, to give up.

He can’t. He just, can’t.

“I’m gonna go to the vending-machine.” Ranpo stands up in a sigh, stretching enough to crack his back.

Chuuya watches as he leaves, he watches how his hand isn’t shaking, how he doesn’t seem to be falling apart like everyone else. How he seems to not care. “Why is he so calm?” He asks through gritted teeth, anger seething in him that he has nowhere to put.

He can’t put it on Dazai, even though that’s where it’s rooted from.

Kunikida looks at him, then at the boy walking away. “Ranpo is the oldest of us.” He sits down, “Usually, people assume I’m the mature one because I keep charge, but he’s the reason we don’t crumble. We’re able to sit, cry and yell because he doesn’t, he gives us a sense of stability that we can hold on to, so that we know things will be okay even when they’re not. He’s not calm, if anything.. he’s breaking just as much as I am.” He leans down, his head being held up by his hands. “He just knows how to not show it.”

It makes sense, but it doesn’t save Chuuya’s dilemma of rage.

He leans back, “I just-”

The door opens, doctors swarm the room inside as one of the male nurses comes out, the smell of medicine once again being wildly overwhelming, the scent causing an urgent panic in everyone’s throat. “Are you Dazai Osamu’s guardian?” He asks Kunikida.

Utter, desperate nausea creeps onto Chuuya, and God, he wishes he could give in and puke all his anxiety up on this floor.

He doesn’t want to listen, because what if- what- oh dear.

Yosano squeezes a comforting hand on his shoulder, mouthing something along with ‘It’s gonna be okay’ but she doesn’t know. She has no way of knowing. The only one who knows is that fucking nurse, and his face is so natrual, it’s keeping composure so he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if his love is alive.

Kunikida stands up, “The closest thing to that, yeah. How is he?”

The nurse crooks an eyebrow, observing the room of non-parental looking people, then back to Kunikida with determination. “He’s.. stable. Alive, at least.” He explains, “It’s too early to tell, but it might take him a while to wake up.”

Despite the not-completely-positive news, the sighs of relief filling the room helps carry half of the anxiety Chuuya had upon him.

He’s alive.

That’s all that matters.

“.. A while?"

 

“Days, weeks, months, more. We can’t tell for sure, our priority right now is keeping his blood clean and keeping him stable.”

Despite the fact that Dazai is essentially in a coma currently, despite the fact that no one knows when he’ll wake up, everyone seems content right now. Including Ranpo standing in the corner, his hands are shaking now, Chuuya notices.

Kunikida finishes talking to the nurse, and Chuuya’s thoughts wander again.

He could be gone for months, perhaps more?

He wonders what the chances of amnesia is in cases like this, and it takes him all the self restraint in the world to not pull his phone out and google it, which he can’t do because he knows better than anyone that it would lead to a never-ending loop of spiralling and researching.

“When-” His words make the nurse stop, “When can we see him?” He bites his nail, keeping his stare at the ground, a hand slowly making soothing circles on his shoulder. At least, Yosano will be here for him. Whether it be days, weeks, months, or more.

There’s a small sigh, “In approximately half an hour, I’d assume.” he answers, the look of guilt peaking through the professionalism.

This is all rigged. So, utterly, rigged.

But he’s alive.

Dazai Osamu is alive.

_______

Kunikida enters the cold room, slowly.

He flinches at the breeze that shouldn’t be there, considering the closed window. The temperature in this room is way too cold, he takes note of.

He keeps his head low, scared to approach the sight he’s had forced upon his head the past few hours.

He’s terrified that he’ll meet a blue-skinned Dazai, the blood barely visible underneath his soft face, that he’ll see his closed eyes and he’ll somehow look more dead than when he was seizing on their floor.

Is that possible? His heart stopped for a minute, he was dead. Dazai was dead, and now he isn’t, so there’s no chance he could look worse than what he had, right?

He breathes in a shaky, uncertain breath. He catches himself biting his lower lip, scared to finally let his head look up and find something he’s been begging to see since he realised the pulse beneath him has stopped, that being his best friend, alive. That’s what he’s been urging to see, so he needs to bite this fear in him, and look.

And so, Kunikida looks.

The body lays in the bed attached to a bunch of things he doesn’t have the stability to care for, and there is Dazai Osamu.

Kunikida’s best friend.

His skin shows the redness under him, which sends a breath of relief up the throat of the one watching him.

Did he, once more, do it knowing Kunikida would be the one to find him? Did he feel comfort knowing he’d feel his life slip past his fingertips while being held by the one and only true guardian he’s ever had?

What was his last train of thought, was it fear, regret, or was Dazai truly content in his decision?

He never said he regretted his attempt the first time. Sure, Kunikida for a while thought the sobbing he watched play out was out of regret, but he came to learn that was simply Dazai’s reaction to the yelling, so.. the chance that he’ll wake up, upset that he does, is much too probable.

Did he do it out of selfish purposes, or was this all an attempt to be selfless?

Kunikida doesn’t like any of this.

He doesn’t like that Dazai attempted to kill himself, again, but even less he likes the possibility that he’ll wake up and realise Kunikida managed to make it home in time and save him, and he’ll be displeased.

He could open his eyes, and he could feel resentment.

Right, because how dare he? How absolutely fucking dare he save his best friend? Well how fucking dares Dazai to make Kunikida go through this again.

“You’re an idiot.” He sighs, sitting down on the chair he’s pulled towards the bed.

What exactly do you say when your best friend is in a coma for attempted suicide?

What do you tell someone who tried to take their own life in front of you, and even then, he really didn’t do that at all. He did it in his own room, he locked the door; which may have been a clear attempt to keep Kunikida out for just a second longer.

He was desperate enough to die to keep Kunikida out.

Is he really gonna be mad?

He flinches, the reminder of the letters in his bags not helping remind him of happy and comforting memories at all.

“Do you have to keep doing this to me?” He grabs the cold hand that isn’t cold enough to make him check for a pulse, but cold enough to take an extra peak at whether or not his chest seems to be rising with breaths. “No, I’m sorry.” He retreats.

“It’s not your fault.” The clouds outside look too dark, too full and grey to leave anyone wondering if Dazai would pass away here and now. Because Osamu Dazai would die in sunlight, he’d die on a day where no clouds are hiding the sunrays from the animals jumping in the grass.

He would die on a day where his soul would get picked up by the cold lakes, reflecting the big star in the sky as the sound of birds singing guide him towards the end.

So this isn’t where he dies. It simply can’t be.

“Please, Dazai. Just wake up now, and we’ll go home. Doesn’t that sound nice?..” He looks at the unresponsive body, “Me and Atsushi bought your favorite take out. I wonder if you would’ve waited if you had known.”

“I wonder if you wouldn’t have done it if I had paid more attention, if I had noticed earlier. If I had noticed at all.”

The guilt eats him from inside out, despite Ranpo’s words of reassurance, despite how they have some truth to them, it doesn’t save him from asking the ‘what if’s’

Because if he thinks back, Dazai has been acting weird for a long, long time.

‘Do you guys love me?’

.. how couldn’t he have noticed.

“Can’t we just go home?”

He drowns in the hope that the hand he’s so desperately holding onto right now will squeeze back at him, that the tip of his fingers will curl, twitch, anything that gives him a sign he’s listening, that he’s here.

He hates having to acknowledge the clear fact that he isn’t.
________

“I can’t do it.” Chuuya sighs into his hands, Yosano silently leaning on his shoulder.

Her touch is warm and comforting, contradictory to what he imagines Dazai would feel like right now.

Would he feel cold, his skin as if there was no soul behind his closed eyes, his body not responding to any touch Chuuya could offer despite how the boy would always bask in any touch he possibly could?

Dazai wouldn’t feel like himself right now. Hell, Chuuya doesn’t feel like himself right now.

He feels uncharacteristically angry, which isn’t to insinuate that Chuuya Nakahara is never angry, that’d be plain bullshit outright. But he isn’t usually.. this, oddly frustrated and rageful, which is the only words he can really put on himself right now. He feels those emotions a lot, but never to this extent, never in a way where he doesn’t have a coping mechanism hidden somewhere.

He wishes what he felt was sorrow, agony or just.. just that guilt in his chest.

It would have reason. Chuuya likes reason, it explains things he himself can’t, like emotions, for best example, so the fact he doesn’t understand why he’s so angry and the following fact he doesn’t have a justified reason to be angry is forcing him to spiral.

Because, what? He’s angry that Dazai tried to take his own life?
(Yeah. Yeah he is.)

“You’ll regret it.” Yosano sighs, matter-of-factly.

“I know.”

“You want to.”

“I know.” He hisses angrily.

“So why-”
“Because I can’t handle seeing him like that.” He chokes out a pathetic sob.

Fuck, fuck fuck fucking fuck.

He really needs to keep it together, he just- he doesn’t know how to anymore.

The relief was overwhelming, so much he almost broke into tears the second he heard that he was alive, but now seeing Kunikida step into the room it’s.. it’s too much. How is he supposed to walk in, see his- his Dazai, hanging on by a thread?

To look at him, alive or not, not be conscious?

It’s surrealistic. A world where he isn’t nagging him, holding him, annoying him, kissing him. How can he possibly cope with that, fuck, is he even meant to?

Is one meant to mourn the wicked?

But he isn’t. Not anymore.

He hasn’t been for a long time.

Despite the second-hand guilt he feels knowing Kunikida was the one to find him, he can’t help but appreciate the fact that he wasn’t. Would he have been able to stay calm, to think about calling an ambulance, to get his heart back to beating?

Or would Chuuya have watched life slip past the one he loves, panicking while trying to find rationality?

Probably, yeah.

“He- he died, Yosano.” He breathes out shakingly, tears silently falling between his fingers covering his face. He doesn’t need to look to know she’s nodding, to know she won’t say another word, to know she’s allowing him to continue.

“His heart stopped. He died-” He cries, gasping, “And I can’t- i- I don’t- fuck why can’t I speak?!” He yells, hitting a fist to his head, it doesn’t take a second before Yosano has both her hands holding his.

“I don’t want to see him dead.” He manages, despite the choked sobs piercing their way through his throat.

“He’s not dead.”

“I know, I know Yosano. I know he’s- he’s breathing, his heart is beating, he’s okay he’s- he’s- I know he’s alive but.. he died.”

There isn’t much more to say, they both know that.

They also both know Chuuya will have to suck it up and go in, because of he doesn’t, the guilt will consume him from inside out and hell, he might die before Dazai’s stupid fucking suicidal piece of shit self does.

He’s just, so, angry.

At everything, at Dazai? He doesn’t know. At himself? Probably, he can’t tell where it is, where it needs to be placed, but he’s angry and it’s overstimulating and he can’t fucking breathe and why can’t he breathe why isn’t it working why is he crying and why is Dazai not here why is he so stupid and he’s such an idiot and Chuuya should have known why didn’t he know why didn’t he realize why-

“Chuuya.” Kunikida speaks up, having left the room.

He looks tired. Deadly exhausted, really.

Everyone does.

Despite his guilty consciousness, the thought passes him faster than he can catch it and shut it up. ‘Is this what you wanted?’

‘It’s your fault everyone is like this. That I’m like this.’

Chuuya knows he’s being irrational, but he also finds it in himself to know he has a right to be. Everything has fallen apart, he’s allowed a moment to just be angry, to be irrational and to be stupid. Just for now.

“You can-” Kunikida coughs, his voice hoarse, “You can go in, now.”

He doesn’t want to.

He does, fuck he does but he can’t.

He looks toward the other side of the room, Akutagawa soothingly running his fingers through Atsushi’s hair, keeping his gaze to the tired boy. "Nakajima, do you wanna-”

He shakes his head, “I need to calm down a little. I’ll go in after you, it’s alright.”

Chuuya turns his head to Ranpo, who reciprocates with a mirror of Atsushi’s previous movement. “I’m waiting. Gonna greet his parents when they arrive so Kunikida can get some rest, they should be here soon.”

So he has no out. Great, okay.
Fuck.

___________

When Chuuya grabs onto the doorknob, it feels as if the hands of every thought he’s ever had is holding him back, begging him to not enter the room. It feels.. heavy. Heavier than what he had expected in contrast to how badly he had wanted to see him a mere half an hour ago.

There’s claws digging into his skin, scraping against his bones, voices ringing in his ears to keep him out, to not traumatize himself with a sight that he’ll never escape no matter what the future might bring.

But he has to see him, doesn’t he?

The letter in the pocket of his jacket keeps him conscious, grounded.

It doesn't keep him from losing his mind, but it keeps him from breaking down in tears here and now, despite his outlash before.

He ignores the looks placed upon him from every soul in the room, he ignores the reassuring nod from Yosano, and the doubtful look from Kunikida.

It’s okay, it has to be.

Slowly, so slowly he’s unsure if the world is even spinning still, unsure if time around him has stopped, which is ironic, considering his main issue with time is never being able to run from it.

His hand sweats with anticipation, with anger, with fury and with guilt. With mourning.

But he has nothing to mourn, there’s no man, no love, nothing to be mourned. Dazai is alive, and Chuuya still loves him.

Right, and that’s why he has to see him. Because even through all this unplaced unresolved anger, he loves Dazai.

He gently pulls the door open, giving the waiting room one last look, as if needing the confirmation that it’s okay, he won’t find him dead, he won’t walk in and see him seizing just as Kunikida had, he’s gonna be fine.

Everyone gives a silent, almost unnoticeable encouraging nod.

He closes the door behind him before he allows himself to look at Dazai.

“Hey, dipshit.” He half-sighs, half-groans. Leaning his head harshly on the door, keeping his eyes closed.

“If I look now, you better not be fucking dead, got it?”

No reply.

Fuck him.

Breathe in, ‘Well maybe I’m in love with you.’ Breathe out, ‘I don’t know what love is, Chuuya’. Breathe in, ‘But you’re different.’ Breathe out, ‘This is it, yeah?’

His eyes open in wide desperation.

…

He’s alive.

Chuuya sighs in relief once more, as if this was the final confirmation despite the nurses having told him the same thing with full confidence. (Not really in full confidence, but they promised, reassured and ensured that everyone knew he was alive and they wouldn’t let his life slip past their fingers.)

He takes a few steps closer with caution, despising the fact he has to take caution at all. This is his lifeline, for God's sake.

Chuuya scans the surroundings, the beeping noise reassuring him that Dazai’s heart is stable, the visual of his chest rising doing the same.

Okay, everything is okay.
(Who is he kidding?)

“.. you thought writing me a letter would make up for- for this?” He uses his arms to gesture at the lifeless - he’s alive. He knows he is - body upon the bed. “I don’t even wanna read it. I’m not gonna read your sappy fucking goodbye, jokes on you, you’re still alive.”

He sighs, annoyed.

.. can he hear him?

“I don’t know what you were thinking.” He sits down on the edge of the bed, his weight doing more than Dazai’s.

He looks fragile. Usually he’s covered up by his clothes, which happen to be thick and layered the majority of the time, and considering their year long absence.. well, Chuuya hasn’t really had much time to notice just how skinny he’s gotten.

“Is this your way of keeping your promise? Of creating a world where you don’t hurt me? God you selfish-..” He paused, because this wasn’t really selfish at all, was it? Chuuya is angry, more than not at least, so he wants more than anything to call Dazai selfish but this- this was his attempt at being selfless.

Yes, he fucked it up, majorly.

But this was done in good favor, at least that’s what Chuuya has come to believe.

And what he knows is partly true, but he doesn’t have any proof until the bastard wakes up and says it himself.

Which he better do, by the way.

He looks at the unresponsive body, silently tucking some of his long hair to the side so he has a better view of the closed eyes, hiding away Chuuya’s whole world.

All he wants is to see those eyes again.

Then he won’t be angry.

He just needs to see him, as he’s always been.

Then he won’t be so confused.

So lost.

So painfully in love.

“This wasn’t what I wanted.” He whispers. “I wanted to be with you.”

He’d be happily in love. It wouldn’t hurt. Why does it always have to hurt? .. He supposes that’s just what loving Dazai Osamu is. No matter how much joy it brings you, the pain is a package deal. Isn’t that how it’s always been?

His eyes don't look away once, even when he gets the urge to turn towards the loud wind outside, reminding him way too much of evenings he’d rather not let his mind wander to right now. Why did they have to be such good, yet such bad memories all at once?

“Do you still love me?”

The response he wanted didn’t come.

Of course it didn’t.

“Are you still gonna love me when you wake up?” Once again, the silence jolted his heart. “Fuck you, Dazai. Fuck you so fucking much.” His eyes squinted with tears, staring at the body that had once wrapped around his own, with life, with love, that was now nothing but a tired unresponsive soul breathing.

“You think you can leave me? Again?” The anger flares up in him once more, why can’t he control himself? “Well- fuck you. You can’t. I’m gonna make you regret this so fucking bad the thought will never even cross your mind again. Okay? I’m gonna- I’m gonna make you want to live, whether you fucking want that or not.” The curses kept slipping from his lips in rage, the tears spilling with fury.

He keeps contradicting himself, he’s much aware of that, but see if he cares about that.

“And you know why? Because I love-” He grits his teeth, keeping the words to himself.

“No,” He sighs, “I’m not gonna give you the satisfaction of hearing those words just because you tried leaving. Wake up, and I’ll tell you.” He stands up, facing away from the still body.

“Wake the fuck up soon, Dazai.”

Chapter Text

Chuuya wakes up-

No, scratch that. Scratch all of that.

Chuuya does not wake up, because he’s not had a single peaceful moment gracious enough to grant him one singular minute of rest.

He’s been turning and squirming all night, trying every method ever suggested (posted on google) to just sleep. And God, does he want to do that, considering how ever since the split, sleep managed to become an escape, and he had hoped it would stay that way. Chuuya had hoped more than anything that when he closed his eyes, he’d catch a glimpse of his love, whether the dream allowed him to touch him, to speak to him, seeing him would be enough.

Alive, that is.

He’d rather not deal with nightmares of Dazai’s lifeless body just yet, and preferably never, but all things considered it’s bound to happen, which is the only reason he’s slightly grateful he didn’t get any sleep, because if he did have a nightmare, he’s afraid it would result in him being too anxious to visit him.

He just wants a dream that reminds him of the eyes he can now only see closed, of the hair that’s displayed loosely over a hospital bed instead of gently swaying in the wind.

Of the lips he hasn’t met in over a year, but that he’s now craving more than ever.

Of the touch he was afraid to forget but that he still feels on him, as if he had been marked.

He wishes there was something on him, a mark, one that Dazai had left. A constant reminder of them, and yes, Chuuya has that through multiple things, cold days being one of them, for example, but they're all metaphorical rather than physical evidence of.. of them.

The sunlight that peaks through his blind is nauseating, burning his eyes to the rim.

He grunts against the soft bedsheets that would’ve been softer had another weight been beside him, as his clock continuously reminds him he needs to visit the hospital.

He can’t tell if the feeling inside him is dread or excitement.
_______

Chuuya decides to wait up for Kunikida, just because it’ll make things easier and more digestible if they went together, so he’s fairly surprised to see none other than Atsushi Nakajima be the one to open the door to Kunikida and Dazai’s apartment.

The apartment.

The dorm.

He tries not to think about the details Kunikida had told him bestowed being asked, despite his words of ‘I think it’s best you don’t know.’, Chuuya had insisted, but even if he had not, the remaining stench of puke and panic is enough to know.

Enough to know that this is where Dazai died.

To his failed efforts, his eyes slowly tug themselves towards the hallway he knows leads to Dazai’s bedroom.

The one where he sat carefully, writing letters, planning out everything that was meant to happen.

Chuuya hates asking himself questions he can’t get the answer to before Dazai wakes up, it’s more than irritating and frustrating in itself, but also just a constant reminder that he can’t do something as simple as pull out his phone and send a message, asking whatever he wants -needs- to know.

Honestly, through the night he’s considered calling him multiple times, his sleep deprived mind leading him to delusion and hope and what-if’s.

Though the subconscious knowledge he’d be met with a voicemail, an automatic one, because Dazai never bothered to make one himself - Chuuya wishes he did, he’d call him a thousand times over so he could hear his voice, even if it was a teasing rejection to whoever had thought of calling him - was enough to not do it.

To not call, to not imagine he’d pick up, to not deludingly believing he’d get an answer to his questions.

The biggest one yet has been obvious, ‘did Dazai regret it?’

When his heart rate sped up, or when it slowed to a pace almost unnoticeable to still be beating, when he cried through the pain as his body trembled and he choked on the foam appearing in his mouth- well, safe to say Kunikida didn’t leave details out after Chuuya got him convinced.

Did he regret it, during those moments?

Was he at peace?

Will waking up make him even more distressed, forcing them all to watch him attempt aga-
“Chuuya.” Atsushi smiles awkwardly, head tilted to the side.

Oh, right.

“What are you doing here?” He carefully opens the door, allowing the pondering man in as if it was second nature. Like Chuuya belongs there as much as he does., “I thought you’d be at the hospital already.” He admits.

Chuuya skims the dorm, taking in everything he can. He silently picks objects and tries to guess whether they belong to one or the other of the living students here, which turns out to be harder than expected. Minimalists.

He can guess a few, though, those of which he feels confident enough to know he’s right even if having never seen the object before.

Like that tiny notebook, that’s without a doubt Kunikida’s.

“I was waiting for Kunikida, but I assume he’s already gone? Why haven’t you?” He leans against the counter, trying to seem much more composed than he is, regarding both the situation but also his dizzy head that wants him to sleep, despite its own refusal to let him.

Atsushi yelps, “Yeah! Yeah uh-” He seems rather out of it, which isn’t a surprise. He doesn't seem to be good at putting on a facade, at least not like everyone else had been yesterday, which Chuuya acknowledges to himself that there’s no shame in. “I- Kunikida left, yes. I’m packing a hospital bag in case Dazai has- in case he has to stay after he wakes up.”He explains, his arms doing more than to help visualize the gesture.

The older one in the room lets out a small sigh of relief, small enough to not be heard by the other presence, when he hears the hope in Atsushi’s voice. ‘After he wakes up.’

Not if, but when.

Chuuya nods, “Alright. Why isn’t Aku here with you?” He tilts his head in a mirror of Atsushi, who looks dumbfounded.

“I told him I needed to be alone for a minute.” He sighs, shamefully honest, as if he’s admitting to some sort of crime. “It’s just.. there’s been people around since I got the call and it’s been really overwhelming, and I didn’t want to suddenly get angry and lash out on him because of that.” He justifies himself.

Chuuya doesn’t know where the sudden burst of honesty came from, but he can tell by the fast pace of voice that Atsushi does indeed seem to be rather overwhelmed.

That’s to be expected, really.

There’s a comfortable silence between them for a while.

“That’s alright, Kid.” He sighs, “I know what you mean..” He averts his gaze, and Atsushi can’t help feeling a pang of guilt in him.

Here he is, complaining about people, which includes his boyfriend, constantly being around, while Chuuya looks to have not slept a damn minute over his. Well, not, but they’re.. something, who knows?

Dazai said this was it, but did he mean their never-official relationship, or his life?

Another question Chuuya has found himself wondering one too many times.

This one has been gnawing at him just as much as the other, because if- when. Because when Dazai wakes up, will he want to be together? Will Chuuya even want to?

He doesn’t know.

He had pushed him away because he didn’t want him to leave, but somehow he managed to do it once more. So, he can’t really tell at all how he’ll feel when he wakes up.

Of course he’ll be happy, he’ll be fucking relieved, but will he be ready? Will Dazai want him back, if he is?

He really doesn’t need to think about this right now.

“I’ll leave you alone for a bit, you wanna go to the hospital together? I’ll drive.” Chuuya shrugs, trying to switch the subject so he doesn’t start depressing himself before he even has a chance of seeing the one who’s behind all this.

Atsushi scoffs softly, humor in his intention. “You drive? Akutagawa tells me Yosano is the designated driver.”

Chuuya stares at him with half-offense, half-humor. “So? Doesn’t mean I can’t.” He defends himself, a smirk playing on his lips.

He looks as Atsushi packs down another sweater, having focused more on thick layered clothing, which makes sense considering Dazai’s body naturally runs cold. He smiles, nodding, “Yeah, we can go together.”
________________

Chuuya notices the way Akutagawa is quick to be by Atsushi’s side, cupping his face to make sure he’s alright. He can’t help the nauseating jealousy inside him, seeing these two be able to be happy together - but his thoughts quickly rewind themselves, because no one is really happy with all this.

How could they be, right?

 

But he wonders if any of them.. if they can manage to have happy moments at all while waiting. Will his mind ever get distracted, for just a second long enough for a smile to find his face again, despite his constant back-thought screaming Dazai’s name into his ears?

Would Dazai want him to be happy while waiting?

“Nakahara, thank god.” Kunikida sighs in relief and the sight, which is rather odd, but not to be complained about.

Honestly, Chuuya is just happy to be pulled out of his thoughts once more, and so he walks towards the equally-looking tired man. “Doppo.”

He speeds up his pace, meeting Kunikida close, “Any news?” He stretches his arms behind his back, trying his best to stay awake, because the irony just fucking hates him and wants him to suffer. Let the boy sleep at night, why don’t you?

Yeah, keep him up all night so he doesn’t get a single moment of rest, but the second he stands up and just wants to see the man he loves who’s been on the damn brink of death -he ignores the fact that he did die, for now- he has to be so tired that if he closed his eyes for just a second longer than the average blink, he’d succumb to sleep right here and now?

How pathetic.

He just wants..

He sighs, he doesn’t know what he wants. He wants Dazai to wake up, and then he’ll figure it out from there.

Kunikida nods, “Yeah.”

The short and quick reply, which doesn’t hold enough tone to suggest literally anything, is not at all comforting.

There’s an immediate panic rising in Chuuya’s chest before the older has a chance at raising his arms, guilt wretched over his face, “Nothing bad, actually it’s quite good news.” He explains, which - yeah, he should’ve probably said that from the start, but it helps calm Chuuya down enough.

He nods impatiently, waiting for him to continue.

“Right.” He adjusts his glasses, clearing his throat, “The nurses told me this morning that they have a theory, an assumption if you will, that Dazai might be in a sort of conscious state despite his coma, which leads them to believe he can hear his surroundings. Not to say he’s awake, and aware, but enough to recognize voices, though words are unlikely. They can’t be sure, but-”

 

“How’d they even come to this theory?” Chuuya asks, doubtful, not wanting to allow himself fake hope.

Dazai can hear them?

Maybe, assumedly.

God, if he can, this would be so much easier. It would be a sign, an actually comforting one, that he’s alive. Rather than the constant sound of his heart monitor, or the small visual display of his chest rising, this wouldn’t be physical proof, but it’d be proof he isn’t braindead.

That he isn’t on some sort of life-support, seconds from slipping past them.

He knows he isn’t, the nurses have assured them of that, he’s ‘stable’ as they say, but he’s still in a coma. He’s still not awake.

Kunikida shifts his weight to one foot, “His heart monitor starts acting up only when people he knows personally speak to him. Such as me, you, or his parents, for example. The nurses and doctors speaking to him doesn’t cause any reactions, but well.. we do. So, they assume that could be the reason - what I’m trying to get at is that we should talk to him. Ground him, remind him that we’re here.” He looks at the still doubtful one, “It’s not guaranteed at all, it’s a long-shot assumption but one worth theorising over, Nakahara.”

He sighs tiredly, thinking over the information being dumped on him first thing today after a not-well-rested night.

If Dazai can hear his voice, that means he’ll be able to notice tone language too, so.. Chuuya can yell at him, essentially.

He nods, “I’ll take the chance of believing, then.” He crosses his arms over his chest, “In the end, what matters is him waking up, less the conscious state he’s in before that.” He says, to which Kunikida agrees to through a sympathetic nod.

But really, just how long is he gonna be out for?
_________________

ONE WEEK - Since the attempt.

Chuuya groans, despite his satisfaction.

The long journey was (almost) not worth the end goal.

Finally, they’ve found a good fucking vinyl store, while they’ve all been dirty, too cheap or too expensive, all of them just felt uncomfortable.

But this one is actually clean, comfortable and appropriate, which sends another sagging relief through Chuuya. Okay, maybe the journey was worth the end goal after all.

Akutagawa opens the door, which results in a small bell going off.

“Welcome, let me know if there’s anything you need help with!” The voice of the lady behind the counter greets them kindly, to which they both give an appropriate nod as reply.

Atsushi had bought his record player yesterday, coming up with the idea that if Dazai can hear their voices, he should be able to hear music too - or at the very least the melody, rhythm or beat.

He had also suggested bringing his own vinyls, to which Kunikida sighed hopelessly and told him something along the lines of ‘If he were to listen to your music, Atsushi, I think it’d force his soul out rather than keep it in.’ which most of them found funny enough to have to hold a chuckle in, while Atsushi was rather offended despite also giggling to himself.

All in all, it wasn’t the joke itself, it was the presence of it.

A tiny reminder that they can have just a bit of positivity, that not every day needs to be filled with gruesome and dark sadness, and that they’re allowed to enjoy their time as much as possible, even if that possible isn’t a lot.

“Jinko suggested Radiohead.” Akutagawa laughs humorously to himself, Chuuya following along as he gently dives through the category he came for in the first place.

He looks up at the boy, who’s going through supposedly the same category but on the other side of the big holder, “Has he met Dazai, ever?” He chuckles along, thinking about him moping around pathetically to sad teenager music.

“That’s what I asked.”

Chuuya scoffs out a smile, “He likes classic. Says it’s because you know the music is real, not done through autotune or added computer made beats, he likes the sincerity and honesty in it.” He speaks, taking any chance he can at explaining any detail his mouth hasn’t spoken aloud before about Dazai.

He hears a mirrored scoff across from him, “Bring him some death metal, that’ll show him sincerity.”

Chuuya raises an eyebrow, waiting for the apology to hit, which happens more than usual.

Akutagawa has openly admitted to hating Dazai, despising and resenting him, even. So it’s not unexpected that he slips up and lets some rude comments out due to simple habit, and Chuuya doesn’t exactly mind considering how his anger has caused him to speak about Dazai this past week, but he also knows Atsushi doesn’t appreciate the comments so Akutagawa has an automatic apology whenever it happens.

Chuuya also knows - though he’d never say it, because someone would become very defensive - that Akutagawa still cares. He doesn’t want Dazai to be ill, and of course he doesn’t want him to be dead either. He spent years attached to the man as if he was his master and only reason to live, so yeah, he’s taking this at least half as hard as everyone else.

That’s why he doesn’t mind the comments as well, because he knows where it comes from. The seething anger that he himself feels, causing all rationality to leave their 50 mile radius.

He knows his best friend enough to understand.

“Sor-” “I know, don’t mind. Honestly I’ll take you up on that offer, I do wanna see how he’d react to metal, in general.” He shrugs, taking the opportunity to think just a little second longer about him.

That’s all he really does these days, isn’t it?

________________

TWO WEEKS - Since the attempt.

Chuuya sits down roughly on the grass, a small hit of guilt hitting him when he realises just how unfamiliar this place is.

He looks to his side when Kunikida sits down as well in a grunt, seemingly cold despite the thick hoodie he’s wearing.

It takes a while before either of them spare a glance to one another, both taking in the atmosphere of the graveyard. None of them can find it in them to make eye contact with the grave stone placed less than a meter away, feeling an odd sort of guilt for having not come before despite the fact they never had a close relation to the man.

Well, at least Chuuya has never been here.

“You ever come here with him?” Chuuya asks, leaning on his knees, his gaze not meeting Kunikida.

Instead he focuses on the distant ocean, the small hill the graveyard is placed upon allowing him to have a view of the unmoving water.

A sigh is heard beside him, to which he finally turns his head, looking at the other man in wonder. “One time.” He admits, thinking back. “After Odasaku died, Dazai was too afraid to come alone. You remember the funeral?” Chuuya nods in response.

“Yeah. I think he felt some guilt for how he’d acted, even though he didn’t regret it. So.. I came along, after that he wasn’t as afraid, so I never thought much about it. Though now that we’re here..”

They’re both silent for a while.

“Yeah.” Chuuya sighs, half-heartedly.

The wind causes some noise to disrupt their comfortable peace, a swarm of leaves gently flying past gravestones upon gravestones.

One of them has to break the silence and tell the unresponsive stone what they came here to do, but it’s hard. There aren't ears to listen to their words, or expressive eyes, there’s no reaction to come and having to admit to the situation is already soul-breaking.

“You know..” Kunikida starts, but he seems to be talking to Chuuya rather than Odasaku, so he turns his head once more, looking at the eyes that don’t meet him back.

“He asked me when he changed. When.. when I knew he loved you.” He rests his head against his palm, arm leaning on his knee. “I think he asked because he didn’t know himself. Dazai has never really been good with.. love. He’s never really been good with anything.”

Chuuya scoffs, a smirk on his lips. “Other than pissing people off.”

Kunikida laughs, warmly. As if just talking about Dazai brings him some comfort, and yeah, Chuuya can definitely relate to that.

“Emotion wise. He’s never been good with that. But after falling in love with you, I think he learned.” He turns his head, meeting Chuuya’s eyes with a smile. That wasn’t exactly what he had expected, but he’s not complaining in the slightest.

He takes a shaky breath in, looking at the stone spelling out a name of someone he’s never really come to know. But he’s come to know his brother, and to love him.

He looks towards Kunikida again, who gives a soft encouraging smile, nodding towards the gravestone.

Okay. Breathe in, breathe out.

“Dazai..” He tries, tasting the name on his tongue, sweet as ever. “He tried to kill himself.” He says, honestly.

There’s no point beating around the bush, especially considering there isn’t truly anyone to listen to their confessions, to their explanations and words, so what’s the reason for stalling, really?

“He’s okay. Kind of, he’s.. unconscious, but he’s alive. And, well, we were really worried he wouldn’t be, so I’m not gonna be complaining.” He scoffs humorously.

Explaining is hard.

Talking about it is hard.

Kunikida watches him carefully, this time being the one to inhale. “He attempted a year after your death as well. I’m unsure of if he ever told you about that, so I’ll let you know just in case. I’m taking good care of him.” He cringes in on himself, “At least I thought I did.”

The last addition is barely above a whisper, so low that Chuuya almost is incapable of catching it.

The wind pierces through their ears gently, reminding and grounding them. The grass feels cold to the touch, almost as if it’s been frozen by the cold weather already, despite snow having had no time to come yet. Ah, snow. He wishes he could enjoy a snowy day with Dazai, running around childishly laughing.

He can almost imagine Dazai’s laugh, or the pout he’d try to hide when Chuuya manages to throw a snowball in his face, only to be followed by a playful smirk, ready to take his revenge.

… That’d be nice.

______________

THREE WEEKS - Since the attempt.

The clean taste of alcohol is refreshing, burning his throat that’s instantly soothed by the calming taste of passion fruit, the combination allowing his mouth to focus on a different sweetness than the one he yearns for.

He remembers the last time he kissed Dazai.

It was much too gentle, more soft than any kiss between them had ever been, considering most kisses shared between the two were often rough, hurried, as if they wished to devour one another.

The reason for the softness placed on his lips was probably due to them both acknowledging their end being close, they knew it was the last kiss and therefore decided to savor it.

At least Dazai did, Chuuya barely remembers if he realised it would be their last kiss before he stood in the soaking weather, trying to process the break-up that wasn’t really that.

He observes the different options displayed on the bar, the bartender keeping an eye on him as if he’s found another self destructing man.

Bars tend to have those a lot.

Men, women, people of all kinds who come for the only purpose of alcohol and forgetting. Some people arrive at clubs and bars for the sake of dancing, hooking up and having fun, but without a doubt there’s an increase in people who come here, acting as if whiskey is their own personal holy water.

Well - Chuuya raises his glass for another sip - he supposes he isn’t too far from that.

He’s suddenly jolted out of his thoughts, a touch on his shoulders forcing him to reality.

“What’s that? Looks good.” Ranpo smiles, his hands giving a quick squeeze to Chuuya’s shoulders before sitting down beside him, he takes note of how the bartender no longer seems concerned, which is good.

There’s nothing to be concerned over.

Ranpo had the idea to go to a club and have some fun, he had invited Yosano and suggested Chuuya come along to get his mind away from everything, and even though he’d usually say no, annoyed by the mere suggestion, he came along this time.

He doesn’t know exactly why, to be fair, but it was worth a try to not lay and pine over his almost-deceased not-really-boyfriend.

Well, his not-really-ex-boyfriend.

He swallows the liquid in his mouth, “Passionfruit cocktail, mixed with irish whiskey. It’s good.”

He doesn’t care enough to ponder over how Ranpo asked him something he surely knew, judging from the smell of the drink and intelligence of the man alone, but he isn’t being paid to think about such things.

Suddenly, he feels the presence in the room.

One he knows much too well, one he’s been around for years.

He snaps his head to the side, immediately finding his joyful waving best friend approaching. “Oh no.” He says silently, looking to Ranpo, hoping Yosano won’t hear his whispers. “Did she drink already?”

He gets a curious look back, the man also considering his alcoholic options. “How’d you know that?”

Chuuya sighs, “I can tell.”

He understands the confusion, though. Truth be told, he can’t use the excuse that she gets hyper when she drinks, because Yosano seems hyper to most people, and they wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Though for someone who’s had her around for years and knows her like the back of his hand, he’s bound to have learnt the difference in demeanor over time.

“Chuuya! How are you? I haven’t seen you in two days- oh what’s that? Smells good..”

As he had expected, of course.

He and Ranpo really are a lot alike.

In some ways, at least.

“Passionfruit cocktail.” He breathes out in a smile despite his small irritation that she already seems to be on the verge of being drunk. They all agreed they’d take a cab home, so he isn’t that worried about getting home, or the others doing so, but he still wishes he could’ve enjoyed a second of Yosano’s sober presence

He hisses as he glugs down the last drop of his cocktail, the unmixed whiskey laying at the bottom becoming more apparent, causing his throat a small burn.

He hates waiting.

It’s all he does, these days. He sits around, waiting, waiting for Dazai to wake up, trying to come up with a plan on what to say but he’s never satisfied, and he keeps going blank as well, as if the words won’t be sincere unless they come the second he sees him.

As if them being practised and thought-through removes the truthness of them.

He has an idea why, which is exactly why he can’t let that happen. Because every time Chuuya sits down and thinks, when he finally has his brain quiet and capable of processing his feelings, it jumps to anger. He tries to ignore it, writing sweet nothings and comforting truths, but the eager rageful spirit inside him forces him to discard any sweet words toward that man.

If he doesn’t practice it, he’ll throw a fit, he’ll scream his lungs out to the point of spilling the wastes of his stomach on the hospital floor, and he assumes Dazai would rather not see that first thing he wakes up, but truth be told.. he doesn’t think there’s any other way.

He doesn’t believe he can sit down, and speak words of kindness and love, at least not before he’s yelled in the boy's face because God. How could he be so stupid?

“Another.” He waves to the bartender, ready to enjoy a night where his thoughts don’t race to the hospital, to the waiting room, or to the awakening he fears may never come.
______________

ONE MONTH - After the attempt.

“..Hey.” Chuuya smiles pitifully at the boy, heavy eyebags, hair a worse mess than if he had fallen down a series of stairs.

Atsushi’s a wreck.

Akutagawa had told Chuuya he had to take a visit home, his parents asking to see him for just a weekend after he’s barely been replying to their messages, putting his whole focus on Atsushi and.. well Chuuya can see why.

He takes in the vision in front of him, the averted gaze, the slight trembling and the hands trying to keep his body still, wrapping around himself. His bottom lip looks to be bruised and bitten, along with the beds of his fingernails.

Atsushi is wearing a hoodie, and it doesn’t take Chuuya longer than a second to recognize it.

It’s much too familiar, because he himself has laid upon a chest covered in that very blue hoodie, the scent one he’d remember even had he moved across mountains.

Maybe he should dig one up too. One of Dazai’s, he assumes he must have one laying somewhere.. else, he’ll just have to find one.

“Atsushi. You look sick..” He sighs sympathetically at the trembling kid keeping his door open. Chuuya had really decided to just come and check in on him, not expecting it to be anywhere near this bad. His cheeks are filled with a soft pink, his eyes puffing up with the same gentle color, his face filled with dried tears.

Chuuya can only imagine how horrible he must be doing, and obviously he understands.

He spends every night hunched over the toilet, spilling the contents of his stomach, his throat hoarse from the crying.

So, he doesn’t look at Atsushi in surprise, disbelief or shock, but kind understanding.

The boy tries to smile, but it comes out as a scoff, “Well.” Is all he manages, shrugging, knowing the sight of him must be something out of a book.

…

Chuuya averts his gaze as well, trying to think of how to cheer the kid up, and whether or not he even should.

Is it a waste of time?

Would he rather wanna be alone?

Ah, screw it.

“Can I come in? We can watch a movie together, yeah? One Dazai would wanna watch.” He smiles, laughing through a small volume, no humor noticeable in it. “He’d always suggest physiological movies, because he likes to figure out the mental dilemmas before the characters.. I always said no, though I’ve been wanting to recently. Didn’t wanna do it alone.” He continues upon seeing the hesitant look on Atsushi’s face.

His tense shoulders sag slightly.

Their eyes meet, and Chuuya notices now just how empty they look.

Atsushi looks shallow. A void filling out what’s meant to be his soul, and for a second, Chuuya relishes in the same relief he feels every day, thanking god that Dazai didn’t die. If his attempt had succeeded, he doesn’t even want to imagine what Atsushi would look like.. what he would look like.

He waits for the approval, or the rejection, both essentially fine. He really just wants to know the kid is alright.

Atsushi nods soundlessly, opening his door to the messy room, dark and the atmosphere screaming depressive episode more than anything. The only light-source is from the tv, that isn’t currently playing anything but is paused on youtube, as if he had been looking for something to watch.

The silence between them isn’t uncomfortable when they both get comfortable on the bed, sitting in ways that are rather nice, the mattress so soft you can almost sink into it, despite the covers catching you first, he has a hell lotta pillows too, this kid.

It takes them a while to find one they both remember Dazai having mentioned, most of them being either horrors or mysteries, which is the most common genres to add psychology into, all things considered.

A comfortable silence wraps around them as they start the movie, neither of them ever really looking at one another, both too busy studying the movie, imagining which lines Dazai would grimace at, which he’d correct and which he’d think about for a minute. They don’t know the other is doing the same, but somehow there’s still a mental bond between the act, which drives Atsushi out of his thoughts.

“You know..” He smiles, looking at the television screen.

Chuuya turns his head, his whole attention ready to listen to whatever words the boy is approaching.

“Whenever I’d have nightmares, before Akutagawa at least, or I’d have panic attacks because I missed my parents,” He thinks back, a small pain hits Chuuya in the chest as he remembers the boy is an orphan. “Dazai would sometimes muster up enough empathy, or whatever it was, to just.. be there. He wouldn’t say much, he’d just stay by my side.” He smiles, sincerely, despite the sadness written all over his face.

A smile appears on mirroredly on Chuuya’s lips, “Yeah.” He chuckles, “He did that with me too. Sometimes he was a little mean about it, though.” He shrugs, being honest in his words, which earns a sad laugh from Atsushi.

He studies the look on the boy, which makes one thing very clear to him, he wishes Dazai was here to do that right now.

Chuuya is sure that Atsushi appreciates the comfort Akutagawa gives him, Kunikida as well if he knows him right, but he also understands that it isn’t enough. Because it isn’t Dazai. He assumes maybe it was the same once, when Dazai comforted him, it wasn’t the same as if his parents had been there.

But he understands it more than enough, because despite Yosano’s constant presence, comforting soul and sweet words, he just wants Dazai.

Well, Dazai isn’t here, but Chuuya is.

He grabs one of the loose pillows thrown on the bed, placing it on his lap, looking kindly to the still-shaking Atsushi, who looks back at him with a somewhat-shock. He holds his hands up, waving them out of embarrassment, “Oh, no Chuuya it’s alri-”

“Come on Kid.” He nods towards the pillow.

Atsushi swallows dry, looking as if he needs another nod of confirmation, which Chuuya is quick to give him, and so he ever so slowly lowers himself to the pillow, his body clinging on and hugging to another one, which looks to be the one he usually sleeps with, considering the wrinkles.

It takes a while for him to relax, but Chuuya smiles in relief when he feels the tense body slowly become saggy on his lap, the head resting on him suddenly becoming much heavier, which he isn’t here to complain about.

… maybe..

He raises his hand slowly, allowing it to approach the white fur-like hair messily displayed on the pillow in his lap, and the second he reaches it, Atsushi flinches.

Chuuya stands still, almost not breathing, trying to see how he’ll react.

It takes another few seconds, but Atsushi relaxes again, which Chuuya takes as his sign of approval.

He ever so slowly entangles his hand with the soft hair, running his fingers through it as if it were a big tiger laying with him. He keeps his focus on the boy instead of the movie now, taking in the small black streak in his hair that reminds him of Akutagawa, or the bangs he wonders if he cut himself, and if he should ask whether or not he should help touch them up.

He ignores the small rattle from Atsushi’s shoulders, and the occasional sniffles.

Chuuya, for tonight, takes over the role Dazai probably always had, despite never being able to show it through the correct amount of care, but mostly through teasing and assistance.

For just tonight, he’ll be the older brother Atsushi misses in Dazai.

_______________________

TWO MONTHS - Since the attempt.

The light reflecting on the moon at midnight shines into Chuuya’s room carefully, allowing him just a bit of natural light despite the complete void of darkness his room wraps him in comfortably.

He prefers his room like this. A never-ending swallowing blackness, he himself unseen by the world.

The darkness allows him to imagine.

To close his eyes, and pretend Dazai got up early to make them breakfast, or Dazai laying in his bed, adding extra weight to the mattress that holds him well.

He spends most of his nights imagining. His days, too.

Whether it be big or small things, it’s a way for him to hold onto the unconscious soul.

Even without imagining, he holds on with claws, the grit in his teeth crumbling as he keeps his hope alive. But the pretending.. it’s a comfort to him, as well.

When he eats lunch at the big table, his friend group and Dazai’s which are officially entangled with one another by now, he likes to listen to the conversation and pretend Dazai sits beside him, silently and sneakingly intertwining their fingers under the table, squeezing his thigh or writing some idiotic message on his palm with his finger.

Maybe he’d squeeze his hand back at him, or he’d smack him away, trying to hide the heat creeping onto his face while Dazai would smirk victoriously at the sight.

When he wakes up and he hears a knock on his door, and despite his clean knowledge of Akutagawa’s presence, he closes his eyes and bites back a ‘come in, Dazai.’ imagining him waiting for confirmation outside, waiting to enter the room and envelope Chuuya in kisses.

He imagines skipping the whole day, staying in bed, deluding himself into believing Dazai’s warmth despite his poor blood circulation causing the boy to always be rather cold. Maybe it was Chuuya’s heat, his warmth and comfort, and not Dazai’s.

When he enters class, and he finds the seat he usually sits in, imagining Dazai being his usual self, coming a few minutes later so he can be purposefully annoying and sit beside him, distracting him with whispers through the whole lecture, his foot sliding up his leg.

Would he choose to insult him through discreet hints, or would he tease him and flirt sarcastically?

Overall, Chuuya likes to pretend.

Actually, he likes to pretend Dazai is still a part of his daily schedule in general.

There isn’t an hour where he doesn’t take a quick moment to feel his presence, despite it being a drive away, placed in a hospital bed.

He feels his soul be present, feels him listening in on the conversations, and his eyes carefully following every movement Chuuya dares take further away from the hospital, despite knowing he’ll come visit after school anyway.

So now, here at night, he thinks about scenarios that haven’t happened.

He’s gone over their memories so many times that by now, he could quote everything Dazai has ever spoken to him.

Part of him believes he already could that before, though.

He imagines a gentle laughter, the sound a delight to his starving ears. He imagines a sweet ‘I love you’, and he hears his own name spoken over a thousand times. He imagines a sunny day, spent swimming in a lake, where they’d push each other into the water until they were choking and gasping for air.

He imagines him being the one not able to breathe, while the sound of Dazai bursting into ever-lasting laughter both would manage to piss him off and ground him all at the same.

He imagines Dazai teasingly kissing him, gently exhaling into his mouth, forcing the normal air circulation back to his lungs.

Chuuya imagines snowy days, spent running after one another, balls made of soft ice thrown in his face, where he’d reciprocate the act, accidentally throwing it so hard Dazai would slip on the ice and fall on his back.

Chuuya would worry he’d cracked his skull open, but in frantic panic he’d fall over Dazai as well, forgetting about the thin layer of slippy ice beneath them, and all the air would be punched out of them once again, but he knows the immediate familiar laughter would have him giggling just as well.

He imagines Dazai’s arms wrapping around him, kissing his lips softly between whispers of promises.

Promises that he would know Dazai would do anything to keep.

Just like the one they made.

“Shit.” He sighs, pulling out his phone and finding his chat message with Dazai.

Really, he promised himself to never check them, solely because he’d end up crying till he puked his guts out, and he likes to avoid that outcome, which his doctors also recently have been on his ass about.

But, God.

How can he resist? How can he deny himself getting to read the words Dazai had once written, intended only for him?

His eyes skim over the most recent messages, considering those are just.. him.

Not allowing himself to read their messages doesn’t mean not being allowed to text him, despite knowing the answer won’t ever arrive.

Though, sometimes he thinks about Dazai waking up in the middle of the night, darkness swallowing him, no one there to explain anything to him, no one there to hold him or to scream at him. Just him, alone.

Which is why he can’t help but send texts, whether they be ‘Can’t you just wake up?’, whether they be ‘I hope you never wake up’ (that one he’s never sent, but he’s written it out enough to be counted.), or whether it be the occasional, repeated ‘I miss you, idiot.’

He looks at Dazai sending stupid messages, all flirty and sarcastic, a rare ‘You looked pretty today. Almost pounced on you right there’ appearing before his eyes. He laughs out a scoff, scrolling higher up.

Another ‘Have you considered carving my name into your thigh instead?’ Reminding him of how much of an asshole he really could be.

He continues looking through the messages with no real meaning behind, despite the aching pain in his chest convincing him all of them had intention, love and truthness behind them. He knows that’s not true, he can’t even tell when the messages become something of love, and he’s not sure they ever did.

He passes a voice message, which instantly has him freeze.

… okay.

Dazai didn’t send those often, mostly because Chuuya would always reply snarkingly, saying he wouldn’t listen to it because he didn’t want to hear his idiotic voice, but they both knew he always listened to them, yet Dazai had the decency to repeat his messages most time, pretending he believed the threat.

Chuuya remembers how angry he’d become every time one of those popped up on his screen, because he knew he couldn’t ignore it, that his urges would take over and he’d listen to every word, to every letter coming out of that beautiful mouth and every inhale and exhale as if Dazai’s voice was his oxygen.

His only solution to breathing, his only outcome of living.

He doesn’t mention the other occasions of what the voice messages got used for, by the way.

He taps on the thirteen second long voice message, feeling bitter-sweet over realizing it happens to be the last one Dazai ever sent before the split.

Asshole.

His heart clenches, his fists following right behind, when he hears the sweet voice. ‘Just saying, Chuuya,’ the name-drop forces a hiss through his teeth, his eyes welling, reminding how sore they feel. ‘I think you should come over. I miss you.’

Chuuya ignores the sarcasm hidden behind the voice, the forced intention that wasn’t really there in the first place but that had managed to make his heart skip another beat nonetheless.

He turns to his side, seemingly also ignoring the tear falling, and he taps it again.

He doesn’t know how many times he does that, all he knows is that by the time he finds it in him to scroll further up, his face is wet and his throat has an aching lump that makes every forced swallow feel painful.

Finally, his fingers obey his brain and scroll away from the voice message he considers listening to once more before he goes to sleep, but he really just wants to see if he can find anything else first. Anything that’ll bring him some extra comfort, which is a lost cause of a wish considering how he and Dazai always spoke to each other.

Roughly, rudely, and with intentions of hurt.

When did Dazai decide he didn’t want to hurt Chuuya anymore?

When did Dazai start planning his own suicide, for the second time?

His heart skips a beat uncomfortably, his face grimacing at the sudden text caught by his eyes. He feels the hair on his body rise, and the way the trembling starts already even though he hasn’t processed exactly what stands written on his screen.

He looks a few messages up, trying to figure out what he had said for Dazai to say that, and he chokes out a sob at the realization.

His message reads, ‘I’ll love you when you’re dead, fucker.’

Dazai’s reply is written, ‘Guess I’ll have to die, then.’

.. fuck.

________________

TWO AND A HALF MONTHS - Since the attempt.

Chuuya finds himself in an infinite hall of darkness.

The intrusive void groping him at every angle. He feels fingers down his throat forcing him to spill guts up, the spit forming in his mouth is overwhelming and the sensation causes him continuous gags.

That’s how it feels, at least.

All this anger, all this unplaced sadness and fear.

He drowns in the empty pit, his lungs deflate as they beg for oxygen, his body simultaneously flailing, attempting to get him back to the shore despite his own desperate need to sink further. He wants to sink until he feels himself hit the bottom, unable to process any thoughts, incapable of forming any tears or emotions.

Every night the far-fetched dream of his phone ringing, and the delightful message telling him that Dazai has woken up, kills him.

He feels the scimitar pierce his heart, and he feels in detail how his blood vessels pop beneath his skin, breaking as he bleeds out with no visual proof other than the increasing bruises on his body.

When did living become such a nightmare?

And who should’ve thought Dazai Osamu would be the cause of it.

Well, more precisely his absence.

Dazai was always part cause of Chuuya’s decreasing sanity.

His presence felt as forced temptation, it felt like consuming raw meat and gagging in a wish to puke it all up, yet rendered completely unable to. His presence was a nuisance, one Chuuya had learnt was formed by the devil to tease him, to break him. He assumed Dazai was Satan wrapping himself in sheep-skin, his growling bloody fangs showing themselves only to Chuuya.

He thought what was Dazai’s love was a curse, one that was placed upon him like a promise.

A promise for an arrival at hell.

He doesn’t remember when Dazai’s presence started feeling like heaven itself. When his words felt as sweet as God’s repeating prayers, his touch was as gentle as an Angel’s wings. Somewhere along the way, Dazai became his belief.

Maybe it was after he truly felt the despair of his absence that he came to realize what life without him was.

Maybe it was after the split.

Maybe it was when Kunikida called him and told him Dazai tried to end his own life.

When he tried to leave Chuuya, in every way possible. When he dared to leave him in a world where heaven would no longer exist.

Dazai died thinking he was creating a world where Chuuya would no longer feel pain, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth.

No, because when Dazai Osamu died, he manifested hell upon earth itself.

He turns his head to the phone transferring music to his headphones, allowing him to soak in the music he gathered together for nights where he couldn’t stop thinking about Dazai, which is most nights, after all.

‘My love for you was bulletproof, but you’re the one who shot me.’

His hand shoots out to skip to the next song, not wanting to drown in this specific one.

Though no luck seems to be on his side today, because a few seconds later another repeating lyric of thought hits his ears.

‘And as the sun went down, we ended up on the ground,’

His body curls together, the fetal position welcoming him as home.

‘I heard the train shake the windows, you screamed over the sound.’

He chokes, ‘And as we own this night, I put your body to the test with mine. This love was out of control. Three, two, one, where did it go?’

Chuuya sits up with tears in his eyes, staring at the desk where his lamp is dim with orange light.

He looks down at the unopened letter, the one his hands hesitate to open, the one he’s refused to touch since he put it down the night he came home from the hospital.

A faint, ‘now don’t be crazy, yes, now of course you can stay here.’ plays into his ears.

.. He thinks about it, a lot.

But honestly, he doesn’t have it in him. He’s useless, pathetically sobbing his eyes out over the envelope with his name carefully written on.

He doesn’t want to find the words that may greet him in that letter. He doesn’t want to read a goodbye, because the goodbye isn’t supposed to happen, never, and especially not now.

The thought is too much to bear, especially because Chuuya recently came to a realization.

‘If Dazai dies now, he’ll go to hell. And he’ll be there without me.’

..shit.

Chuuya throws his legs over the edge of the bed, hunching over to grab the jeans he had taken off to lay in bed the second school was over. He didn’t think visiting the hospital would be a good idea today, the anger and rage inside him has been overwhelming and he didn’t want to actually get banned from there.

He grabs his jacket, leaving the letter untouched as the next song plays softly in his head.
‘Bury me in the bedroom where I, I can sing you to sleep all night.’

Thoughts aren’t processed as he hurries down the stairs, ignoring the worried looks from other students, who probably ponder whether the day has finally come.
‘Put me next to the open window, promise me a second time. Cause I don’t wanna leave without you buried by my side. I’d rather kill the one responsible for falling stars at night, cause they fall all around me, the night can be deadly.’

The car-engine turns on, and he wonders how quickly he can get to the hospital.
‘And they’ll never take us alive, (can you take away the darkness?).’

‘To live and love and die,
last night she recited every reason she’s fine, so if we’re heading there together at the same time, you sing while I drive.’

The music continues playing, torturing him through the road.

‘More like a fugitive tonight, dance on the ambulance. Cause I’d rather spend my life, vacations in bed with you like drunken summer kites. And this is only a test, sober and scaring me to death.’

The chorus plays loudly again, which has him almost ignoring a red light.

He drives over the bridge leading him to the hospital at final,
‘And I don’t care if you’re sick, I don’t care if you’re contagious. I would kiss you even if you were dead.’

‘Would somebody make me go blind for the rest of my life, cause I’d do anything to hold your hand.’

‘And I don’t care if you’re sick, I don’t care if you’re contagious, oh no. Would somebody make me go blind for the rest of my life, cause I’d do anything, anything, anything.’

Chuuya steps out of the car, unaware of how badly he’s parked as he hurries to the room where his one and only lies, deadly.

His mind blurs between him checking in for visiting, he doesn’t register what the nurses say before he’s on his way up the stairs anyway.

He doesn’t count the steps like he’s done many times before, he already knows there’s exactly twenty-eight. He knows the average time to get to the hospital would be a little over minutes, but that if he hurries and breaks spread limits he could make it in three. He knows the nurses by name, them the same other way around.

Chuuya also knows that at this time, no one else usually visits Dazai, and Kunikida never goes without letting him know first, so he should absolutely not find anyone inside that room here and now.

So tell him, God knows why, Fyodor Dostoevsky is sitting in front of Dazai’s unresponsive body, talking to him as were it any other day. And why the fuck does he look so surprised to see Chuuya there?

“...Nakahara.” He coughs, standing up awkwardly.

“Fyodor.” Chuuya crosses his arms, not caring for gentle formalities at the moment.

A flash of fear shoots through him at the thought of Nikolai, perhaps Sigma, being here as well, though it seems Fyodor also recently has learned damned mind-reading.

“Don’t worry.” He smiles, as insincere as can be. “Nikolai is not here, I came alone.” He says, nodding towards the chair on the other side of the bed which Chuuya quickly finds himself sitting in.

He rattles in the chair, trying to sit comfortably. Averting his gaze, he asks, “Why? Do you.. come around a lot? I’ve never seen you here before.” He tries to keep the strong facade, but honestly Fyodor’s presence is rather intimidating.

Another gentle smile, how uncharacteristic. “I do. I only come when I’ve been made aware of your departure, and I was told today you hadn’t left the school at your average time, so I thought I’d take the chance. Seems I happened to be unlucky with my timing.”

A scoff, “You have people stalking me now?”

Fyodor shakes his head, “Sigma keeps an eye out so I can avoid you. Don’t take it personally, Chuuya. It’s just that Nikolai would likely go berserk if he knew I was even sitting talking to you now.”

Well, that’s.. fair.

This is all much too unexpected. If Chuuya’s being honest, he had barely even considered the possibility of Fyodor showing up probable, much less existent at all.

“How often do you come?”

“I try to come by once a week.”

“I come every day.”

 

“I know. I would assume nothing less.”

“Why are you here?”

A sigh, “Because Dazai is my friend. A close one at that. I might be apathetic, but I’m far from inhumane, of course I’d visit him.”

Chuuya curls in on himself, a small hint of guilt appearing. “Sorry.”

Him assuming no one other than the people he’s well aware of coming around would visit Dazai is a rather painful realization. He didn’t know he’d be so surprised by someone he hadn’t expected, and he feels immensely guilty for it.

Though, it being Fyodor helps calm the guilt, to his fortune.

Fyodor laughs, “Nothing to apologize over, I understand your concern. But worry not, I’m here with nothing but care and worry for my friend. I was told by a nurse there’s a chance he can hear us, so I thought he’d appreciate some company every now and then.”

“He can’t hear our words, at most he can recognize our voices.” Chuuya corrects him.

Silence blooms between the two, but Fyodor is quick to clear his throat and change course.

“So, why are you late? You usually come at four, I had assumed that since it’s already six you simply weren’t planning on going.”

He shivers at the reminder he’s apparently being fucked watched now, too. “I wasn’t gonna come. I didn’t feel well today, and I didn’t want to risk getting kicked out.” He admits. “But, I..” He sighs, unsure. “I didn’t want him to be alone.”

“He wasn’t.”

“I see that now.”

…

“Hey, Fyodor?”

“Yes?”

.. “Did you get a letter too?”

The question seems to both intrigue and shock Fyodor all at once, and he quickly swallows down his non-stoic facial expression. “I did.” He nods.

He shouldn’t ask. Those things are private, for God’s sake. But oh, does he want to know.

“Did you read it?” The urge takes over.

Fyodor’s hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed, but he nods once more. “I thought it would be for the better. Just.. in case. I’m sure you’ve read yours too, no?”

Chuuya shakes his head, “I don’t want to read him saying goodbye.”

A mutual understanding from both perspectives cling to the room. Chuuya understands why Fyodor read his, and he accurately understands why he didn’t, either.

“Are you ever gonna?” He asks in a monotune that reminds him too much about Dazai.

Chuuya shrugs, unsure but certain at the same. “I don’t think so. If he.. if he passed, I would. But until then, I won’t. I need something to keep me going in the hope that he’s gonna wake up, and if I read the letter.. the last piece of him I have, then isn’t that final?”

Fyodor hums, nodding in gentle understanding, and Chuuya doesn’t remember a time the man looked so.. soft?

He manages to dig up a new question when his other one doesn’t get answered, even if it wasn’t really meant to be anyway. “How did you react?” He covers his chin-to-mouth by lowering his face into his palm. “When you heard.” He mumbles.

He doesn’t meet Fyodor’s gaze when seconds pass by before he hears a quick clear of throat.

“I was shocked.” He says, honestly. “I don’t think I really believed it at first, but then I heard Nikolai speaking about how some students had seen an ambulance on campus. I don’t quite remember how I felt.” He sighs, “I’ve never felt what most people feel as sadness, nor grief or loss. But I think that was the closest I’ve come.”

The way he speaks makes it sound as if he couldn’t care less, as if this was a topic as boring as the morning newspaper in a small old down-town village, but his words are spoken with sincerity nonetheless.

Even the person known as more inhumane than Dazai himself almost came to feel grief, and he still thinks he can stay unconscious?

What a piece of shit.

Chuuya loves him to death.

_________

THREE MONTHS - Since the attempt.

Around the second week of Dazai’s coma, Chuuya and Kunikida agreed that they shall not call each other unless it's of crucial importance.

This agreement was caused after Chuuya had missed a call from him and went into frantic panic, thinking the worst of the worst and the other didn’t reply for an hour, as he had been visiting Dazai.

When he checked his phone again and saw the ten missing calls and the message ‘I’m on my way to the hospital.’ They agreed.

For humane things, they’d text.

Calls meant something had happened.

Which is why Chuuya swallows hard, staring at the written out ‘Kunikida’ on his vibrating phone. The decline button is so close, in case he’s gonna tell him Dazai is dead, the accept one just as shiny in case of the opposite.

Accepting the call means he has to accept whatever news he hears, and the doctors have been kindly explaining how Dazai’s health and stability has gotten much better, so yes. The chance of it being him having woken up is more than likely, but the other possibility is there. In big, capital letters written in red, and does he really want to take the chance?

Does he want to risk hearing the news that the love of his life, the only one he’s ever known, is no longer breathing?

That Dazai might no longer be human, but instead be a soulless corpse unable to ever mutter the words of ‘I love you’, a scenario that hasn’t dared to leave Chuuya’s mind for far over a year?

Well, he’ll have to.

Whether he wants it or not, this call might be the complete opposite. And what Chuuya is not doing, is risking the chance of seeing Dazai’s never-forgotten amber eyes looking back at him, whether that’ll be with love or with hatred.

At the fifth vibration, Chuuya takes a deep breath and taps accept.

He doesn’t say anything.

His nail gets bitten to pieces as he waits for information, and the first thing he hears is a huffed sob.

Oh, God. No, it can’t be, can it? But the doctors- they said he was doing better, so why in the name of God is Kunikida crying? This can’t be-

“He’s awake.”

Time stills in the small room that Chuuya considers a home more than the one he was raised in.

The air goes cold in the bed he and Dazai shared before they could admit they were the truth, before they came to realise their love was present.

Chuuya had believed he came too close to the sun, and his wings made of wax and feathers were melting as the hubris had taken over, he believed his fall as Icarus was to arrive sooner than later.

That he’d not listen to the voice of reason, and he’d fall to his death, the ocean welcoming him as his lungs would puncture from the pressure.

But Chuuya might be flying.

_________

He storms into the waiting room, the faces of Atsushi, Akutagawa, Ranpo, and even Fyodor present.

Yosano talks to the reception lady, asking baseline questions such as ‘how quick can an awoken coma patient come home, on average?’. Questions she knows Chuuya will forget to ask but will start frantically searching for the second he’s no longer in the hospital.

But who could blame him, Dazai is awake.

How could he possibly care about anything else?

He walks over to the most sane-looking person in the room, who happens to be Fyodor.

“Chuuya.” He nods as a greeting, his arms crossed as he leans against the wall impatiently. “Kunikida is currently in the room with Dazai. I assume he’s gonna allow you to be the next one to visit him.” He explains, giving the details he knows the man is begging to know.

He sighs in relief, because this isn’t a dream. Dazai is alive, and he’s awake.

Death had felt so disturbingly close, it’s canines ready to rip the life right from Dazai’s throat itself. It had been watching over him, hovering with every breath he took, every exhale that could’ve been his last. Death was there when all of them took turns visiting him, talking to the body they knew wouldn’t reply, but that they had an ounce of hope could at least hear their voices.

Death came closer when Chuuya caught himself screaming at the fragile man and his heart monitor frantically beat, and Death took a step back when he calmly sat down caressing the face he’s ever so familiar with.

Death was present every second after Dazai had chosen to swallow down pills his body had no way of processing.

Chuuya had felt him there, watching his every move as if ready to blame Dazai’s departure from life upon the one who loved him most.

But right now, he doesn’t feel the dark void of existence beside him.

He doesn’t feel threatened that Dazai will disappear from his grasp, but if anyone were to think for more than a few seconds they’d come to realise that he’s still close to being as distant as possible.

But hasn’t Dazai always been distant?

So, Chuuya shouldn’t be afraid.

He’ll close the distance himself.

Chuuya’s gaze fixates on the unopened door, contemplating how he’s gonna face the embodiment of his heart after such a time.

“How’s he doing?” He asks the man he hasn’t spoken a real word to yet.

Fyodor shrugs, which almost sends a signal that really, he couldn’t care less. But Chuuya just so happened to learn that he cares a significant amount.

“Nurses told us that when he woke up he puked his guts out.” He sighs, “His body started reacting oddly to the medicine, and he was panicking as they fixed it. He said he needed quote on quote ‘Kunikida or Chuuya’ to come as fast as possible, which is probably why Doppo called you first.”

Atsushi looks over, “Kunikida called him first because Chuuya loves him, Fyodor.”

“And because Dazai loves him as well.” Akutagawa follows up, as if the words they just spoke aloud were factual statements written by scientists, a theory of how the universe itself came to be.

Chuuya mostly cares about the state of Dazai, rather than kids speaking of their love as was it obvious.

He had been vomiting, panicking, and he asked for Chuuya.

Despite the current situation absolutely not calling for it, a small heat rises to his cheeks.

A nurse approaches them, eyes drilling holes into the new person of arrival.

She looks at the other people in the room, one who looks much relaxed, then a distressed kid with his rather supportive partner, the one whose eyes are fixated in the ground as if to not look at anyone. Then at Chuuya, who’s looking back at her.

“Who are you in relation to Mr. Osamu?” She asks, holding files, looking doubtfully at the man.

Chuuya stutters and the unexpected question, not totally back to reality yet, “Uh, I don’t- I’m not really-”

“Lover.” Fyodor cuts him off, responding as if the question had been intended for him.

His head snaps to the responding man, but he doesn’t quite have a defense. Because, somewhere along the line, they were lovers. Never boyfriends, never partners, always more than friends, never really friends to begin with. So, yeah, maybe he and Dazai had been lovers, but hell. They haven’t felt each other's embrace in over a year, he doesn’t have the right to call himself his lover anymore.

Not that he ever had, anyway.

He turns to the nurse once more, who has her eyebrow raised in curiosity, waiting for confirmation.

He silently nods, and she sighs at the non-verbal response. “Alright, everybody.” She looks to the waiting room of Dazai’s friends.

Of Dazai’s family.

“Other than Mr. Osamu’s parents, who I’ve been informed are on their way, we can only allow one more visit. We are not to exhaust him when he’s just awoken, so you guys choose who that’s gonna be, and I’ll be back in half an hour. I expect nobody to defy my request in order of your friend's health.” She explains, her gaze constantly changing between each presence in the room.

Everyone nods, but Chuuya can feel the multiple gazes placed upon him.

After she leaves, there’s an uncomfortable silence in the room.

“Well, I think-” Fyodor starts.

 

“Nobody cares what you think.” Akutagawa scoffs, hissing when his boyfriend hits his shoulder in disapproval.

“Nobody’s gonna fight.” Ranpo says tiredly, finally looking up from the floor. Finally speaking, really. Chuuya doesn’t remember a time where he’s been this quiet, this disheveled.

Everyone shuts their mouth after that, waiting for the eldest to speak up. To give some sort of order.

He stands up, “I believe it’s appropriate Chuuya gets to go first.” He says, both he and the man mentioned notice the quick flash of hurt in Atsushi’s eyes, but he nods obediently quickly after, looking down to hide the sore feeling of betrayal.

If he had the self-control, he’d suggest Atsushi go first, but Chuuya doesn’t have it in him to wait a second more, and he already has to get tortured with Kunikida’s long visit.

Okay. So, Chuuya gets to go today.

_______

Kunikida smiles gently at the shaking man, “I told him you’re here. Go in.”

When he came out, his breathing was uneven, his voice hoarse and his eyes not focused, which had scared Chuuya quite the bit, but he seemed to relax at the sight of his presence, as if he had worried he wasn’t actually gonna come.

He almost wants to object, to run away now and never look back, but God does he want nothing more than to walk in and feel love in the pit that’s been consumed by darkness in his heart.

The hole that was carved by Dazai, filled only half by his presence and starved to death by his absence, has a chance of getting closed now.

To get fixed, to heal.

There’s also a small chance his heart will be gouged out beneath him and torn to pieces he won’t ever be capable of putting back together.

But that’s the chance you have to take with love, is it not?

Loving, is a risk.

A risk of loss, of grief and abandonment.

But it’s also a risk of fulfillment, satisfaction and happiness.

He’d happily risk one to have the other.

Chuuya inhales shakingly, “Okay.” He nods, attempting to encourage himself as all eyes are darted in his direction, as if this is the moment.

This is it.

He turns the doorknob, and Chuuya enters the room in which his love has awoken.

The atmosphere feels cold and empty, contrary to what he had expected. It should be warmer in here, Dazai is naturally cold so it can’t be good for him to be here.

Fear creeps over him as he leans against the wall, a heavy sigh loud enough to be heard by the second presence in the room that he can’t bring himself to look at.

He’s used to not observing whether or not he’s being perceived when he’s in this room, so the sudden realization that his every move and exhale can be noticed leaves him a little too self-aware of what he’s doing, even if it’s something as simple as breathing.

Chuuya swallows dry, he swallows his fear, his hesitation, and he swallows all three times he’s been separated from his purpose.

He slowly looks up, his eyes finding an angel shaped from God’s raw hands.

He would say he’s exaggerating, but he knows for a fact that he is not.

Dazai’s gaze is pointed towards the window, the orange horizon greeting them in this moment of reunion. The light from the sun that Helios grants upon them shines through the window, making Dazai look as if he is glowing, as if he is the mere purpose of the universe. The reason for Chuuya's, at least.

There’s no sight more beautiful than of the one he loves.

The one he’s been meant to love since he was put on earth itself.

“You’re here.” Dazai speaks, his voice rough from the three months of nonverbability, but God does he sound perfect nonetheless.

His voice sounds like a picture-perfect replica of when angels grazed humanity with the blessing of song.

Chuuya doesn’t scream, or yell, or question why Dazai is refusing to look at him.

He doesn’t care if they never get to be together. If Dazai’s eyes will never find his, if his skin made from the holiest of prayers never touches Chuuya again, if their souls isn’t a match-made-in-heaven, because he’s here.

This angel has awoken, been given another chance from God.

No, no that’s not right. Chuuya is the one who’s gifted

This is God’s way of telling him he doesn’t need to atone for his sins, that love is the greatest blessing and answer to a prayer. Because Chuuya has been gifted with the ability to see his beloved alive.

A calming sense of relief washes over him, because Chuuya had always believed God was against who he is.

That he was a sinner and would be to the day Satan himself picked him up.

But if that was the truth, he doesn’t see how he somehow manages to be so utterly blessed right now. He is God’s child, and he harbors the love that humanity has created, the emotion built on raw devotion and understanding, he bears it in his heart, and this is the utmost proof that he is forgiven.

That there was never anything to forgive at all.

“You surprised?” He smiles, his voice coming out more endearing than he had intended.

It’s not his fault, really. Nobody would be able to even think of pretending if they were in the presence of an angel sent for them to hold.

He hears a soft scoff coming from the face pointed towards the heavens, and finally.

Finally.

The eyes Chuuya has imagined a thousand times meet his.

The eyes he’s seen welled with tears, even if barely.

The eyes he’s seen look back at him with love, the ones that looked back at him as was he invisible.

They’ve portrayed a million emotions, all of which contradict each other, but right now, there’s a desperation of ‘I missed you.’ hidden in the fear he can’t recognize, because Dazai has never been afraid.

At least not that he knows of, he doesn’t remember a time where he looked afraid nor voiced his fear.

The only ounce he can find is from the first time they separated, and when Chuuya had later on said they needed to talk after they found each other again. His mind purposefully blocks out the fear as clear as day when Dazai had told him he loved him.

Well, that he was in love with him.

His eyes didn’t meet his much that day, which is something he’ll probably never forget, but now, he’s seeing the eyes as were they his to absorb.

They’re so much more gorgeous than he remembers.

Dazai tilts his head lightly, his hair moving gracefully upon the movement. “Nah, Kunikida told me. Just.. had a hard time believing it was true, I guess.” He shrugs.

Chuuya doesn’t take the nonchalance to heart.

He has just woken up after three fucking months of come that was caused by an attempt on his life, of course he won’t be stoked.

“..Why?” Chuuya asks, slowly approaching the body he’s missed having in his embrace.

If he didn’t have to have this conversation, if he could just lounge forward and hug this man that he loves more than he’s ever devoted to God, he would do it in an instant. He would allow everything to become okay, but unfortunately it isn’t that simple.

Things won’t be okay before they talk.

It can’t be, because they’ve hurt each other over and over again, and this was the last push. It’s now or never.

He flinches at the sniffle, and the sight of a clear tear falling from Dazai’s eye made of clean copper.

It sends a spike of reality down his throat. Dazai almost died.

But now he’s here.

He really is an angel, isn’t he?

“Thought you’d be mad.” He smiles gently, as if he’s yearned for Chuuya’s presence just as he had for his.

He wonders if that’s even possible, not only because Chuuya has been in an empty pit of distress and has deemed life worthless if Dazai was not there to bother him to the end of day, but because they never talked further about the chances of his consciousness.

Could he process thoughts? Emotions, even?

Has Dazai been lying in bed, pain filtering his heart with every second that Chuuya was not present to either scream at him, or to gently speak about his day that never exceeds disappointment because of Dazai’s absence?

Has he been longing for him, as well?

Chuuya looks at the embodiment of his heart.

The reason his life-purposing organ beats with love every waking moment.

He looks at the man he loves.

Softly, his hand finds Dazai’s cheek, cupping the face he hasn’t had in his hands for what could be eternity. He wipes away the tear that had fallen, and the one that follows. “I’m furious.” He says through a gasped breath, “But most importantly, I’m relieved.”

He sits down on the edge of the bed, the sitting up Dazai lightly letting his body untense as he melts into the touch.

“Because I love you.” Chuuya says.

Dazai’s eyes widen, and another tear is quick to roll down his face, which is immediately caught by Chuuya.

There’s a few seconds of wonder between them, shock and -knowing them- probably misunderstanding.

What’s there to misunderstand?

Chuuya doesn’t know, but if he knows Dazai correctly he’ll scramble his brain for anything that proves he’s saying something else than the three words that’s never lingered in the air between them before.

That’s what makes them so alike.

He retreats his hand at last, holding onto the boney, fragile and pale hand that is Dazai’s.

The temperature of his body no longer feels corpse-like, and despite the look of it, he seems like he might be able to recover fast.

Chuuya sighs, finding the words that had left his mouth moments ago, because they need to be repeated. To be explained, so that Dazai has no way of misunderstanding this.

Fuck, he’s waited three months, If not almost eighteen, to be able to say this. He’s not waiting another damned second, and he’s sure as hell not allowing this to go unsaid.

Now or never.

He inhales every ounce of willpower and confidence he can, swallowing the fear down his clogged throat.

“Loving you is accepting my fate.” He starts, speaking from the heart that beats only for this man. He doesn’t meet his eyes yet, “It’s loving a fate I had once been deadly afraid of.” He smiles, sincerely. “Loving you is coming to the realization that nothing will burn me if you’re by my side. So won’t you stay?”

This time, his eyes find the ones he’s been dreaming of once more.

The silence blossoms, as if Dazai isn’t sure of this promise.

As if he still isn’t sure about staying, and it sends a fit of rage inside the body that had forgotten the feeling the second he stepped into this room, the second he got that call.

“You’re idiotic.” Chuuya starts again, a shocked but guilty look appearing on his love. “And I’ll never forgive you for trying to leave me. But-”

“Did you read my letter?” Dazai asks, his gaze no longer meeting Chuuya.

The question forces an amount of anxiety to roll up into his mouth, which makes him worried it’s the acid from his stomach about to be spilled.

That’s what he’s asking right now?

Hell, Chuuya sits here confessing his undying love and this piece of shit has the nerve to ask whether or not he read his suicide letter?

He inhales, he needs to keep calm. To not lash out into anger, or scream, but to be gentle and patient, because Dazai’s health is what’s important, not Chuuya’s feelings.

But God, does he make it hard.

“I..” He hesitates, “I didn’t. Believe me, I considered it, but I didn’t want to accept-” Once more, he’s caught off.

“When I realised I might be in love with you, I asked Fyodor, ‘What does love mean to you?’” Dazai’s eyes return, tears glossing their beautiful color.

The sun outside lowers even more, allowing only a slimmer of golden to pass through over the mountains.

They had all believed that if Dazai was to die, it would be on a sunny day.

Instead, the sun helped him awaken.

“I expected it to be the same for me, despite having never experienced it. He told me that for him,” He inhales shakingly, “Love is longing.”

Chuuya’s eyes fixate upon him, in full belief he’ll never be able to look away again.

He can’t tell if this is meant to be a rejection, a confession, or none of the two. He doesn’t know if he wants to know.

The words came so suddenly, he has barely processed what Dazai is doing right now.

“He wishes Nikolai would never leave, and he’s the only person he’d ever mourn. As he told me that, I realised what love is for me.”

The anticipation clogging Chuuya’s throat convinces him he’s choking, for a moment.

…

“Love, for me, is protection.” He smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. It doesn’t reach Chuuya’s heart, either. “I wish to protect you from all harm, from all evil, from anything that could ever hurt you. Because I love you,” He finally repeats the words back, which forces Chuuya’s beating heart to skip one as he swallows the words like were they his only source of survival. “and nothing pains me more than seeing you hurt.”

Chuuya’s mouth gapes slightly, trying to find words, but he’s interrupted before he has the chance.

“”Eliminate all possibilities of Chuuya being hurt” I thought. The thought was a constant, always there and present. It rang in my head. It rang in my head when I kissed you as you waited for me, all to simply have dinner. It rang in my head when you called me late at night, begging for me to come over, and I made my life’s biggest mistake. It rang, when I told you I loved you, and you told me to stop hurting you. When almost fifteen months passed where I didn’t get to hold you, and all I ever thought when I saw you was how badly I wished to protect you.”

Tears fall from Dazai’s eyes, calmly, and Chuuya can’t tell if it’s reciprocated. He can only look at love itself.

“So, every time I considered coming back to you, I knew. I knew I was the thing causing you most pain, and If I were to protect you, it would mean leaving you.”

He gasps at the words, his heart clenching in on him.

“‘Loving Dazai Osamu is suicide.’, I’m sure you’ve heard that from somebody, whether that be me itself, my friends or yours. You deserve much more than all the pain I caused you.” A few seconds of silence passes them, “And it rang in my head once more when I swallowed the pills, because I could die happily knowing you’d be okay in a world where I no longer existed.” Dazai cries.

He’s not sobbing, snot filling his face or his words unable to be processed, but he’s crying clear as day.

“E-even now.. I want to push you away, seeing the tears on your face is making me realise I can’t save you from the pain. I’ll cause you pain no matter where I go and- it hurts-” He gasps, “It hurts really fucking bad, Chuuya. I don’t want to be the cause of your pain because I’m supposed to protect you because I love y-mgh..”

His words are cut off as his lips get blocked.

A few continuous explosions set off inside his head, sparking his eyes back to life in mirror with his body.

He can practically feel life slip into him.

The sensation is familiar, and Dazai reacts out of habit, opening his mouth so Chuuya has more access to softly graze the roof of his mouth with his tongue.

Their mouths are linked as magnets, the desperation the distance caused being ruined by every exhale and inhale. They’re breathing each other's air as were they one another’s life source. When Chuuya breathes out, Dazai steals his breath, hissing it down his throat, inhaling as his mind repeats the same name that’s never left him.

Lips interlinked with love, with fear and with dread.

With desperate consumption.

He exhales a sound of protest when Chuuya peels away, completely forgetting the actual situation they’re in. His head is clouded with images of Chuuya, the reappearing sensation of his lips giving him a reason to live, one he currently wishes he had been reminded off before attempting to leave heaven.

“It hurts when you leave me.” Chuuya says, still panting for air, but determined to say what he needs to. “Not when you’re gentle, and you kiss me, and you protect me from all harm outside of us.” The tears staining his face become clear once again, “Dazai, you only cause me pain by leaving me, and you..” He chuckles, no humor in his tone. “You somehow seem to really like doing that.”

The words stab Dazai in his rising chest.

“If you want to protect me, then stay. Because I love you. Nothing hurts more than living without you, so please, come back to me, yeah?” He leaves another soft kiss on the lips that are now slicked in spit, having before been dry.

Chuuya’s hands are wrapped in Dazai’s hair, as a gentle ‘stay.’

The boy in front of him chokes out a sob, nodding against him before closing the distance between them and allowing their lips the pleasure of meeting each other once more.

The overwhelming reminder, the realization of just how badly they love each other is vomit inducing. It’s nauseating that they had ever spent time apart, that they had learnt how to live without barely sparing glances at one another.

In those two months, in the next fifteen ones as well, they knew their hearts were marked by the other's name.

“I love you.” Chuuya breathes out into Dazai’s mouth, his hands keeping him close by, as if afraid he might disappear from his grip.

A smile, the most sincere one the world has ever seen from the man that is Dazai Osamu. “I love you too.”

 

“You’re still an idiot.” Chuuya laughs, the tears apparent on his face.

Dazai wraps his arms in the embrace he had once been so familiar with, “I think jackass fits better.”

…

“That’s right.” He smiles.

Chuuya still feels the hesitation in the comfort, and that’s okay.

Because Dazai did hurt him, badly, multiple times.

And some of the things he did can never be made up for, but the past is the past, and Chuuya knows he will learn to love him through gentle kindness, instead of rough desperation.

It will take time for Dazai to overcome his fear of hurting the one he loves, and if anyone knows these two, wounds will be reopened and stitched back together for years and years on end before they figure out how to match like two perfect puzzle pieces. They’re crooked, and they don’t understand love as others do, but they can learn together.

So, Chuuya squeezes tighter, holding his life in his arms.

_____________

SEVEN MONTHS - Since the attempt.

Yosano sits down, slumping into the crowded couch with another four additional people. She puts the crisps that’s been (not very) carefully placed into a bowl, and she appreciates suggesting movie night should be held at Ranpo’s, considering his filthy rich father, and his gigantic living room, including the couch.

“When are the lovebirds comin’?” She asks, loosely throwing her legs over Kunikida’s for a more comfortable position.

She snaps her head when she hears a displeased scoff in the other end of the couch, getting a clear view of a happy Atsushi basically digging himself into Akutagawa’s chest, and then said man, who doesn’t look very appreciative of her comment.

“Since when did we stop being ‘the lovebirds’?” He asks offended, probably a bit petty too if she’s seeing it right.

She gives a rather annoyed look back, remembering back to how he’d always be wildly annoyed by getting called that. Seems like it wasn’t all that bad, though, since he’s getting obviously jealous by someone stealing their spot as the group's designated couple.

Akutagawa gently runs his fingers through Atsushi’s light but messy hair, the boy closing his eyes and melting into the touch, completely forgetting the three observers. “Yuck.” Ranpo spits, giving Atsushi a smack in his nape to not let the boy fall asleep before the movie even begins.

Not that they’ve found one yet, that being said.

Kunikida adjusts his glasses, his hoodie causing them to sometimes falter down his nose a little. “When I found them making out on Dazai’s literal deathbed.” He says deadpan.

“Do you ever shut up about that?” Chuuya groans as he closes the front door behind him, Dazai happily walking into the room to greet his friends.

It’s been four months since Dazai woke up again, and truth be told the first month or so was rather.. difficult, to say the least. His speech wasn’t great, which Chuuya had noticed during their whole encounter, he spoke words wobbly and stuttered in between them, and it took him a good week before he could walk by himself; The nurses advertised he didn’t move for more than ten minutes at a time, which limited their eventful days quite a bit.

Nobody cared about limitations, though.

What mattered was all the small things.

What mattered was the way Dazai had carefully held Atsushi while the smaller boy sobbed his eyes out for what could’ve easily been an hour - or how Kunikida would spend every afternoon doing speech therapy with Dazai even though he claimed to not need it (he was secretly more than grateful.) - or when Fyodor was allowed in and Dazai was as surprised as Chuuya had originally been, which the guy wasn’t much satisfied about. He gave him a rather hard scolding about ‘understanding the values of friendship’, which was undeniably the funniest sight Chuuya has ever seen.

What mattered was the way Kunikida had groaned annoyingly and called for a nurse like how a brother calls for his mom when his sibling acts up because he had walked in on the two making out, continuous times.

The way Akutagawa never completely had full conversations with Dazai, but every once in a while the others would catch a glimpse of the two talking about some mundane day-to-day things.

There were moments the others would get frustrated with Dazai’s actions, especially when he was reckless, but when they got upset about small things and scolded him just as they had in the past, they’d always retreat and apologize. That was until he went ahead and begged them to stop treating him as was he fragile.

There were the nights.

The nights where Dazai held Chuuya to his chest, rubbing smooth circles on his shoulder, or gently tracing each bump of his spine, or combing his hair with his delicate fingers.

The nights where Chuuya would find himself in desperate panic, holding onto the man he loves for all he was worth, terrified he’d wake up in a bed without extra weight. Mornings where Dazai woke up first and forgot about his boyfriend’s nightmares, his worries and so on, and he’d do something humane like go to the bathroom to take a shower or start making breakfast and coffee, hoping he could do some work on making Chuuya eat more naturally.

Usually he’d be out of the shower, drying his hair and brushing his teeth as he’d hear a frantic ‘Dazai?’ from outside, and he’d find a sobbing hyperventilating Chuuya who’d instantly cling himself to him, muttering words he couldn’t comprehend but that he understood the message of.

Like when he had nightmares, and spoke words of ‘don’t leave me’, and despite the fact of him sleeping and probably unable to hear, Dazai would soothingly whisper back a ‘Never.’, or a soft ‘I’m here.’

He did that when Chuuya had panic attacks as well, no matter what the cause was, because essentially it always fell upon him clinging desperately to his Dazai’s shirt, burying himself in his chest, crying for him not to leave.

Then, there were the soft days.

Those were nothing really happened, and nothing really needed to, either.

Chuuya would wake up, seeing Dazai’s body entangled with his arms wrapped around his waist and a head hiding in the nook of his shoulder.

Days where Chuuya would make breakfast - for both of them - and they’d sit calmly and eat, talking about average things and occasionally some gossip that Yosano had shared with Chuuya days before that he had forgotten about.

Those were his favorite.

When they’d go grocery shopping together, both in discussion about what to have for dinner, or the days where they’d stay in bed talking about all the things they never had a chance to.

Chuuya would open up about his experience growing up, and Dazai would tell him every moment his eyes never left him.

He wasn’t dense or clueless to the way his boyfriend kept an eye on him.

Dazai would never skip an opportunity to make Chuuya eat an extra bite, or bring a snack along if they were gonna be away from home for longer than a simple two hours. He’d lightly slide his hands over Chuuya’s thighs, pretending it was a normal soothing act, but he knew he was checking whether the man was in relapse or not.

That only happened once, which caused another kind of day, one more common than the rest.

The days where they fought.

Usually Chuuya would be the one to start it, being defensive about something and close in on himself, or when Dazai was being stupid.

Stupid refers to him making comments under his breaths, ones that were always much too hurtful despite not being harsh, because Chuuya would always pick up on the intention. He’d scream, yell and cry until his lungs went sore, and when he pulled the ‘You said you’d never hurt me’ card, it was always bound to be a rough night.

They still haven’t really learnt to make up in a normal way.

It often ends in the two apologizing by close proximity, never the words themselves being said, no matter who’s in the wrong, but said through gentle kisses, and more than often rough sex.

That was one thing about Dazai that Chuuya realised. When he initiated the kiss, it was always going to be gentle. Whether they be in an argument, or Dazai inches deep inside him, the kisses were never aggressive.

The same couldn’t be said the other way around.

Chuuya kissed Dazai like he was intending to devour him.

He kissed him as if he was attempting to suck his soul out through his canines alone. It was utterly possessive. An act of ownership, one to make sure Dazai would never leave his grip, but there was one thing that kept them going.

The two never forgot to tell each other ‘I love you’.

“What are we watching?” Chuuya asks, sitting on the floor where blankets and pillows have already been placed for the ones who’d arrive last. Dazai follows closely, wrapping an arm over the shoulder of his boyfriend, kissing the side of his head as he looks up at the people behind them, Chuuya’s gaze fixated on the television screen moving with every drag on the remote. Yosano is going through Ranpo’s streaming services, trying to find something interesting, as they’ve all agreed on genre.

Horror, obviously. Aren’t movie nights always horror?

She groans, “We haven’t decided yet because all of these idiots are too thick-headed and dense to pick something.”

 

“I suggested-”

“We are not watching fucking War and Peace, Doppo. That’s some school lesson shit-” Akutagawa interrupted, only to be paused halfway through as well.

“I was gonna say The Shawshank Redemption! You all have no sense of movie taste.” He sulks.

“We agreed on horror, now shut up and let me pick.” Yosano half-laughs, half-groans. She pretends to be irritated with the others, but truthfully she adores them, even if she’d never admit it out loud.

Chuuya loosely melts into the arm around him, leaning his head on Dazai’s shoulder.

“Squeeze my hand if you get scared.” Dazai teases, instantly groaning from the growing pain when Chuuya digs his nails into the knuckles of the hand his is intertwined with. “If anyone is scared of horror movies here.. it’s Atsushi.” He says, truthfully.

“Eh?! I’m not scared of horror movies!” He protests, lifting himself up from the loose grip around his waist. “You’re scared!”

That argument continues for a while longer, but everyone is much aware that Atsushi isn’t exactly a fan of them, that much is true.

Scared? To an extent. Jumpscares get him the best, at least.

Laughter erupts the room every time he jumps, screaming louder than the people in the tv, which always earns him a few extra insulting jokes. He doesn’t take it to heart, though.

Through-out the movie there’s never peaceful silence, not for a second. Whether it be Kunikida loudly stating his observations, Yosano telling him to shut the fuck up, Atsushi screaming or Chuuya repeatedly asking questions that no one would know, Akutagawa, Ranpo and Dazai seem to be the only ones capable of peacefully enjoying the movie.

Every once in a while Fukuzawa comes in, asking the fully grown people invading his house if they need something, but everyone figured out months ago that they only get something if Atsushi asks.

If Dazai was to ask for a soda, Fukuzawa would retreat and spit a ‘Get it yourself.’, and if Ranpo asked for anything at all, he'd stare and ask ‘Is it your request or Yosano’s?’ despite knowing the answer every time.

So when they wanted pizza, or soda, or literally anything possible of obtaining, they’d tell the white haired kid so that next time Fukuzawa would peek in, he’d smile innocently through the small hint of guilt and ask for whatever the others had mentioned.

When the credits roll and Yosano is busy actively scolding Kunikida, while Akutagawa is attempting to hold in a laughter and soothe a shaking embarrassed Atsushi, all the while Ranpo is in the kitchen begging his dad to order them take out, which everyone knows he’ll say yes to, Chuuya stands up in a yawn.

“I need a smoke.” He stretches, his back cracking with a loud pop which Kunikida visibly grimaces at.

Dazai stands up as well, “I’ll come with you.” He smiles, like some sort of puppy clinging to his owner.

_____

“Did you enjoy the movie?” Dazai asks, his finger intertwining with Chuuya’s, they both land their gaze upon the shining full moon, walking towards the small bridge leading to Ranpo’s house, the one that gives them a clear outlook of the active highway.

Chuuya breathes in through the filter of his cigarette, his hands warming the cold ones in his grip with his too-long-sleeved sweater.

He exhales the toxic air, “Yeah.” He answers simply, his arm lightly swinging their hands in symmetrical rhythm.

They find the bridge which Chuuya is quick to silently lean on, his one arm keeping his body weight steady, his other one gently removing the cigarette from his mouth as he blows out some remaining smoke.

Dazai stares, just for a moment, because what a sight.

Chuuya stands at the railing of the bridge, looking up at the round and gorgeous moon reflecting its light back at him, making him look ethereal. It’s cold enough for his breath to be visible even without the smoke coming from his lungs, and his hair sways so beautifully in the wind, accidentally covering Dazai’s personal favorite part of his face.

His fucking eyes.

Though before he has the chance, Chuuya himself gently moves the hair behind his ear, forcing a beat to skip in Dazai’s heart as he stares at the man that occupies all of said heart.

He doesn’t think he could ever look at a person as he does Chuuya. Because absolutely nobody else could look this beautiful. It’s simply unrealistic, impossible, even. He’d dare assume Chuuya is the objectively most beautiful person to walk earth, but if he said that out loud he’d get a protested huff back, where Chuuya would shy-ly say something along the lines of, ‘You’re more beautiful, though.’

“Hey.” Dazai smiles, leaning against the railing as well, the sound of hurried passing cars distracting his ears from the sound of Chuuya’s soft laughter, only for a moment, though. “Hi.”

Chuuya rests his face on his hand, this time keeping his gaze fixated on Dazai rather than the moon. “You’re beautiful.” He says, staring softly yet intently at the man in front of him.

A small, almost unnoticeable heat rises to Dazai’s face, but he’s instantly scooting closer to the smoke-scented man, who seems to be ages away from him despite their already close proximity.

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

A scoff, “Cheesy.”

“You said it first.”

“They’ll never believe you.” He smiles, looking at his whole world.

Dazai moves from where he stands to wrap his arms around Chuuya’s waist from behind, his head loosely placed on his shoulder now.

Silence passes them for a while as Chuuya melts into the embrace, turning off the cigarette that’s been burned down to the filter by now.

“You ever think about how all these people..” He starts, looking down at the speeding vehicles. “May be rushing somewhere? Like, how everyone has a life of their own?” He softly nudges his head closer to Dazai’s, a hand coming up to scratch his pretty head of hair.

Dazai hums, lightly kissing his neck, no form of sexual intentions hidden. Just pure adoration and love.

“Not really. If I spent time thinking about other people's lives, I’d never have time to appreciate my own.”

The words send some form of fear combined with relief down Chuuya’s gut, which causes him to turn around.

He hesitates, but his lips betray him as the words fight their way out nonetheless. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

A small kiss placed on his lips, then another on his temple, all while a hand is cupping his face.

“Anything.”

He sighs, unsure of whether or not it’s the right time, whether or not he should ask it at all.

“Do..” He breathes in, turning back to look at the road beneath them, the fear increasing in him. Dazai seems to notice, as his hold around his waist turns into a full blown hug, nudging his head into the crook of Chuuya’s shoulder. As for confirmation, permission even. ‘It's okay, you can ask.’ It means.

Chuuya inhales the clean air, contradictory to before.

“Do you still want to die?” He asks, his inhale turning into a bit of a gasp at the question coming from his own mouth.

He’s been wanting to ask this for a long time, but in all honesty, he’s been too afraid of the answer to really muster up the courage.

The silence swarming them despite the constant sound of cars sends another shiver of fear down him, which is instantly soothed - just a bit - when Dazai squeezes him, again.

The moon reflects down on them, the wind not cold enough to make them shake but cold enough to make their breaths visible. It’s a beautiful night, the city lights just far away enough to give a more than gorgeous horizon for them to gaze upon.

Dazai kisses his shoulder, “Sometimes.”

The word breaks something inside Chuuya, something he can’t quite figure out what is, though he assumes it’s his heart. All he knows is the utter dread forming a pit in the gut of his stomach.

But then, the man with his arms enveloping him speaks again. “But I never think about doing anything to accomplish it, anymore.” He kisses Chuuya’s jaw. “I can’t leave my boyfriend, now can I?”

 

A disgusting relief swarms over Chuuya’s heart as he turns around and hugs Dazai back with all his might.

The embrace is warm in contrast to the night swallowing them in graceful darkness.

“You can’t.” Chuuya says, finding comfort in the scent he knows best. “You’ve done that far too many times.”

They hold each other through the night, the cars below them not doing anything to steal their attention no longer.

Dazai lifts his hand to cup Chuuya’s face, the lower half of his palm reaching his jaw.

They both stare into the eyes of who they love the most.

Eyes that have found each other through everything.

Through stupid parties and challenges, through arguments that never meant anything, and those that did. Through hazed vision, whether it be caused by alcohol or substance, through deep intimate contact.

Through confessions upon confessions.

Through sneaked glances when they weren’t meant to be looking for the other.

But no matter what, Chuuya’s eyes always found Dazai’s, which were already welcoming him with a reciprocated look of love.

Love that had once been hatred.

Dazai places a kiss on Chuuya’s lips, this time deeper and more sincere than before, allowing them to taste each other.

His tongue runs across Chuuya’s bottom lip, his other hand keeping him in place.

A long time ago, Dazai had said a world where the two loved each other seemed more like a fairytale than those of fairies and magic. Now, in complete contrast, a world where they don’t is so far fetched from reality that you wouldn’t find the concept even after looking through centuries of ancient scrolls.

The kiss is deepened when Chuuya grabs ahold of Dazai’s shirt to pull him closer, the constant sentence of ‘I love you’ running in his mind, which he’s determined to force down Dazai’s throat with the act of kissing alone.

When they pull away, a small string of spit between the separated lips lingering, their eyes still don’t dare leave each other, not for one second.

“I love you too much to ever consider leaving you again, Chuuya.” Dazai smiles, as sincere as the night will allow.

Chuuya reciprocates the expression, his eyes softening with nothing but love. Real, genuine, forever-lasting love. “I love you too much to let you leave, Idiot.”

As the two let their lips meet once more, their love is concealed under the moon.

Chuuya’s mind is wrapped around the love he bears inside him, never once gazing upon the forever unopened letter still placed on his desk.

It shall never be opened, and it shall never be read.

Because whatever was said in that letter, will never become reality.

Reality is them, here and now, confessing their love through soft spoken words and gentle kisses.

And so, Chuuya had fallen.

Much, much further than he had ever expected.

He’s just lucky Dazai had fallen just as badly.

--

‘Dear, Chuuya Nakahara.

I don’t like writing your name out in full, it feels rather odd, in all honesty.

This letter is not to soothe your anger, which I’m well aware is more than existent, believe me so. Neither is it to explain why I’ve done as I have, considering how I’m convinced both of us are aware of that one specifically, so that I won’t dive into. Instead, I’m using this as my final, mayhaps my first, definitely my last, but nonetheless my current only chance of finally telling you.

I love you.

If I know you correctly, part of you is mad at me for writing it. Because, directly quoting your more-than-predictable thoughts, I ‘have the audacity to never let you hear it yourself’, because you’re sappy, and you want to hear it come out of my mouth.

That is precisely why I’ve taken into account of leaving a voice recording on my phone, which I assume Kunikida will be safekeeping, merely ask for that and you shall hear the words spoken from my heart, rather than written.

I believe I fell in love with you somewhere between the first instance I felt care for you, that being Nikolai’s party, and when I decided to kill myself. After I made that decision, I’ve been awfully aware of my love for you, but much to both yours and I’s dismay, I’m incapable of telling you exactly when it happened, which I do apologize for, but needless-to-say, I do love you.

Even as I write this, knowing my end is near, I love you. I told you yesterday that I, Dazai Osamu, don’t know what love is, but that you’re different. There was a lie to that, despite it’s truth of me not having ever known what genuine love was. I have never known it for what it was. Perhaps through my brother, who I’ll be reunited with, yes, but such a love was deranged. It was rooted from dependency and familiarity, while the love I feel for you is raw, it’s painful and it’s real.

I hope my absence meets you well, and that the end of what was once us, is something you’ll look back upon with a smile, remembering that I loved you. That I do love you, and that I’ll love you even in death.

Your smile is what I’ll remember as my eyes close and I greet what was meant to have happened years ago, what has always been my fate, though I am more than happy I got to experience loving you, despite my regrets of the fact I hurt you in the process.

Chuuya Nakahara, I, Dazai Osamu, love you.

I love you more than I have ever loved anything, which doesn’t say much, but it’s all I have. You, are all I have.

I love you, Chuuya.
- Sincerely, yours.’

THE END.

Chapter Text

Sigma groans loudly to deaf ears and an empty room, staring into the fridge of-

 

Well, nothing.

 

Seriously, honest to a god he doesn’t believe in, he’s very fond of his boyfriends, but they can’t do their part for shit.

 

Sure, this isn’t his dorm. Sigma has practically moved into Nikolai and Fyodor’s, spending every night and every day here, even when the two are out on dates (he also goes on dates with them, sometimes the three all go together, sometimes it’s one on one.) So, surely he gets a say. Especially because they all agreed, if he cooks, Fyodor cleans and Nikolai takes care of grocery shopping.

 

But no, god no, who would’ve expected him to do his one single job?

 

Sigma drags himself to the couch, melting into the warm embrace, though he’s sure the warmth of two people clinging to him in the dead of night would be warmer.

 

He thinks back to a recent date he had with Fyodor, it’s kind of.. odd.

 

His dates with Fyodor are usually very calm, talkative but comfortable silence, an appropriate amount of making out.

 

Usually.

 

While his dates with Nikolai always happen to be very extreme, considering how hyper his boyfriend is. Dates with him will usually be full of activities, including most of them ending in sex.

 

He throws his head back in a groan, what’s up with that anyway?

 

Sigma has never been one to even remotely care for sex. Like, at all.

 

Fuck, the man doesn’t remember a time where he’s even felt the urge to touch himself, much less let someone else do it. 

 

Then he met his -at the time- best friends, and for the first time he was around true-blooded horniness, the embodiment of it being Nikolai Gogol.

 

A man who replaces his addiction for drugs, with his addiction for sex.

 

And yeah, Nikolai hit on him a few times, which he always assumed was friendly and playful, until he came around and heard his name being suggested. Suggested for ‘becoming an addition to their relationship’, which, already, hello?

 

It’s not that he was opposed to it, but jesus, ask a man before you decide to make him your third.

Anyway, as time went on, at one point or another of playful flirting and some - quite a few - sloppy make out sessions, he came to the realization that, yeah, maybe he liked these two.

 

Now, they’ve been together for well over a year, and as much as Sigma can confidently say he’s very much in love with both of his boyfriends, he doesn’t understand the fucking sex thing. He’s experienced having a crush before, sure he can’t remember it but everyone has had one at some point! 

 

This whole.. needy thing is new.

 

Well it was.

 

When he first started kissing Nikolai here and there, he didn’t feel much bodily pleasure from it. He felt an emotional satisfaction, yes, but he didn’t exactly get aroused.

 

That was only until Fyodor was the one to kiss him, and okay, when you have not only like the embodiment of sexy - he would absolutely never say that out loud - sticking his tongue down your mouth while you have the walking proof of adorable - he’s said that once or twice - roaming his hands all over your body, it barely matters how much experience you have. That- well, yeah, Sigma liked that.

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t get horny from kissing one of his boyfriends per-se, but it seems to be that kissing them individually is mostly for emotional satisfaction, but when it’s both of them, that’s when his body reacts.

 

And now, he doesn’t find himself directly being desperate for sex or anything, but he’s definitely initiated a few times.

 

He likes giving more than receiving when it comes to Nikolai, and in general, but he doesn’t mind when a hand snakes from his waist to his front, taking care of him when he’s busy more-or-less gagging on dick.

 

You’d expect Nikolai to be rough in bed, - extremely, too -, and he definitely can be, but he’s actually really good at laying back and taking whatever Sigma and Fyodor wants to give him.

 

His vibrating phone tugs him out of his thoughts - thank god for that - and he picks up immediately at the sight of the name written on his screen.

 

“Hi, dear!” 

 

He smiles, just a bit, because it’s quite endearing how you always can hear Nikolai’s big grin even through the phone.

 

“Hey.”

 

A small silence, stretching. “No nickname?” He clearly pouts, and god, he does this every time.

 

Nikolai is needy as fuck.

 

But Sigma knew that when he decided to date him, so he can deal with it.

 

He sighs, running a hand down his face at the newfound irritation and endearment mixing together. “Hey, Baby.”

 

A gleaming smile that despite the barrier through them, Sigma can almost swear he can see it in front of him. Before Nikolai has a chance to say anything, he quickly starts, “You forgot groceries.” He smiles, suddenly not finding it as annoying as he did ten minutes ago.

 

“I know, I know! Fyodor reminded me, god, you guys are so needy.” 

 

Right, they’re needy, sure.

 

“Anyway! I just wanted to let you know we’ll be home soon.” He giggles over the phone, which sends a heart-warming shiver down Sigma’s spine. When did he become so sappy anyway? He has never been the type to smile at the sound of another person's laugh, christ.

 

“You know..” A small whisper comes from his phone, and he can already tell now that he should be on guard for the next words to come.  “Kinda been wanting you all day.” The familiar voice whispers, more calmly than anything he’s ever said, really.

 

Sigma swallows, a bit unsure on how to reply to that.

Yeah he’s learned to flirt with Nikolai - Fyodor not so much, he’s usually the one who ends up flustered when it gets to him. - but he still isn’t the best at replying to sexual initiative.

 

.. “What?” Is all he can muster.

 

A giggly sigh, “Fyodor’s been a fucking tease all day.” Right, yeah, that explains it pretty well. “He diiiiiii-iiid suggest getting a hotel room to not bother you… but honestly, I’d rather have double cock today.” He can fucking hear the shrug on the other end, Nikolai speaking like that in public is something he’s used to but god.

 

He’s so fucking honest, always being direct and straight-forward, which Sigma appreciates in some instances but does he really have to say it like that?

 

“I-”

 

“That was all! Love you, kiss!”

 

“Love y-” The phone beeps in sign of the line cutting before he even has a chance of fully processing what the fuck he was just told.

 

_______________

 

“Shit..” Nikolai groans into the pillow his face is roughly planted downwards in, his back arching, forcing his ass up against the mouth nothing less than devouring him.

Sigma tilts his head at the sight, observing every detail he can.

 

First of all, Nikolai is stripped from head to toe, including his hair tie that usually keeps his braid intact, so his white hair is beautifully messed all over the bed. Fyodor, whose eyes are staring deeply into Sigma’s despite the non-reciprocated act, and his mouth awfully busy, is still wearing pants. At least one of them has some decency.

 

Sigma himself is still fully clothed, taking his time to enjoy the scenery of the bed from the chair. 

 

“Oh, god.” He hears a muffled whimper coming from the face he can’t see. 

 

That won't do.

 

“Nikolai.” He speaks, but he doesn’t get a reply.

 

He sighs, ever so shy-ly tugging at the parts of his hoodie that half-covers his hand. “Baby. Look at me.” He tries, which much to his liking, gets a reply in the form of a pleased moan and turn of head.

 

Most of his face is covered by his hair loosely falling all over the place, but his scarred blue eye finally stares back at Sigma. 

 

It doesn’t go unnoticed how the eye contact leaves him a full-body shudder, and judging from the leakage coming directly from his front, Sigma can only as much as imagine how tortuous Fyodor might have been through the day.

 

“How did he tease you?” Sigma asks, curiosity in his voice rather than arousal, tilting his head to rest on his palm, both his legs dragged up and crossed on the chair. He watches Fyodor’s fingers clench around Nikolai’s thighs, his nails digging into the pale fat.

 

Another groan escapes Nikolai’s lips, “He- jesus fuck, the bastard -ah- palmed my dick throughout the whole mgnghh movie..”

 

Sigma brushes his own hair to the side, not only taking in the sight in front of him but every single noise that escapes Nikolai’s mouth, every small whimper or loud groan, every moan that sneaks past him. Though he’s definitely not the only one, which he can see clearly through the way Fyodor digs himself even deeper, fingers bruising thighs, his own hips involuntarily giving small ruts against his will.

 

“Pretty.” He mutters to himself, not intending to let Nikolai hear it.

 

“Love,” Nikolai breathes out, shakingly letting the word become a moan, “I- fuck, I love it when you do that but augh, I’d rather n-not come this early in the night..”  He says, his knuckles turning white from the pressure in the tight grip he has on the sheets, still maintaining sharp eye contact.

 

Fyodor retreats, spit covering half of his lower face, a thin string still connecting to Nikolai’s throbbing insides. 

 

“Wanna join in yet?” He asks, half-panting as Nikolai fully lays down, his body relaxing. Fyodor looks expectantly at Sigma, who was the one that suggested they started without him, and not to be self-observed but they didn’t hide that they missed him.

 

He smiles at the sight of both his boyfriends staring at him, and yeah, it doesn’t get better than this.

 

Sigma stands up, approaching the bed slowly, being the only one fully clothed, baggy sweatpants and hoodie leaving everything to imagination. “Have an idea.” 

 

____

 

Nikolai swallows dry as his hands search to find his boyfriends, his vision blocked by a black blindfold. “Since when did you become so kinky?” He asks cheeky.

 

Not that blindfolding is even remotely close to kinky in favor of Nikolai’s usual preferences, but comparing them to Sigma who’s worried of even going too deep inside because he’s terrified of hurting Nikolai, it’s rather odd. 

 

“If you lose one sense, all others are heightened.” He explains, and Nikolai instantly flinches at the kitten lick approaching the tip of his dick.

 

He doesn’t reply, eager to drown in the soon-to-come (hopefully) sensation of Sigma’s mouth.

 

Suddenly, he feels a fat wet mass of muscle from two opposite sides of his cock, both licking the entirety of his length in unison. “Jesus, are you both giving me-”

 

“Shh.” Fyodor shushes, and depending on both of them having talked, he can figure out that Fyodor is on his left, Sigma on his right.

 

A loud surprised moan forces its way up his throat when two lips cup his head, lightly sucking on the sensitive skin. Okay, he knows Sigma said this was for ‘heightened senses’ or whatever, but fuck, what he’d give to see this sight. Both of his boyfriends attentively licking around his cock, the mere thought itself makes his dick throb and it’s happening beneath him right now.

 

Why shouldn’t he get to see that?

 

But before he has a chance of ripping the blindfold off, he notices rough and dry hands keeping his wrists linked and in place, Fyodor’s long slender fingers gently rubbing into his palm. “Sit still, Kolya.” 

 

Nikolai groans when an entire mouth warms his dick, “I wanna- ohh god- wanna see..”

 

One mouth soothingly kisses his hipbone, sucking and biting on the skin every once in a while, while another mouth takes the entirety of him in.

 

Warm wet walls, a roaming tongue and real fucking dedication leaves him trembling. 

 

Sigma enjoys giving blowjobs, both Nikolai and Fyodor have become much aware of that in the past year, both getting spoiled with deep swallows and rare gags.

 

Lips go down far enough to touch his lower abdomen, and he almost finishes on the spot from hearing Sigma let out a small gag when his entire throat is filled with nothing but Nikolai. He throws his head back, the sensation overwhelming but good, so so good.

 

“You’re hogging.” Fyodor says, Nikolai can almost hear the pout, but he doesn’t have time to care when his previously warmed up dick is left to the cold atmosphere of the room, slick with numerous amounts of spit.

 

God how he wants to see Sigma’s tear stained drooling face.

 

He tries again to rip his wrists free, but to no avail when lips he recognizes circle his tip, retreating once more to slowly lick across the slit, Fyodor’s tongue suddenly pressing against where Nikolai’s cock begs for release. 

 

His hips rut forward, cursing at the teasing.

 

The difference in Sigma and Fyodor’s sexual tendencies, is that Sigma goes all in. He’ll deepthroat the second his lips touch, he’ll bottom out from the start he gets to be inside (making sure Nikolai is okay in the meantime, of course), always wanting to do nothing but please his partner.

 

In contrast, Fyodor is nothing but a tease.

 

He’ll get Nikolai hard, leaving small touches and comments throughout the day, then edge him till the sun goes down.

 

One time he edged him for a week, safe to say he’ll never do that again, considering he ended up with an angry Nikolai for the next additional five days even after he got to come.

 

Fingertips crawl up his cock, tickling the space that isn’t occupied by lips, which is currently way too much. 

 

“Looks like you’re about to explode.” Sigma says in stoic, his monotone not making him seem aroused, but all three in the room know better than to judge from that. “You’re teasing him.” He says, his voice this time directed towards the man slowly letting his tongue lick up the base. 

 

“Of course.” 

 

“Fedya- please-” 

 

“He’s usually way too stubborn to beg for anything, this is the only way I can get him to do it.”

 

“God- stop speaking-” Nikolai tries to pull his wrists free again, this time to push Fyodors head down onto his cock and relentlessly fuck into his mouth, but he still doesn’t budge.

 

He groans in frustration, his hips bucking up in need of friction. “Fuck you, you piece of shit. I hate you so fucking aa-” Fyodor shuts him up by finally swallowing down half his length, instantly swallowing the beads of precum leaking into his throat.

 

Overwhelming satisfaction runs in Nikolai’s brain as his cock is embraced once more by wet walls and an agonizing slow tongue, this time Sigma is the one to leave small kisses in the thick part of his inner thighs. 

 

Fyodor lightly bobs his head down, gaining pathetic moans that turn into nothing but sloppy whimpers.

 

“Sh-shit guys, not to be some one minute man but ohh fuck- yes, just like that..” 

 

Sigma pulls himself up a bit, his weight suddenly putting an ever so minimal pressure in Nikolai’s stomach which almost makes him keen. Before he has a chance to ask what he could possibly be doing, slick and soft lips circle his chest, and dear god.

 

His whole back arches, a loud whimper roaring out his throat at the sensitive touch. “Sig- dear- baby I can’t- can’t-”

Then, just as the pleasure grows in his stomach, Fyodor forces every last bit of him down.

 

“God- yes, yes fuck, gonna- gonna come-” 

 

Sigma makes a quick mental note of having an apology ready in case they get complaints from their neighbour dorms, (again), because of the absolute earth-shattering moan that fills the room.

 

His hips rut themselves into Fyodor’s throat to ride the orgasm out, feeling every pulse and throb as he leaks into the throat of his boyfriend. The intense movement causes his blindfold to loosen slightly, giving him a small spec of light, and the very slim opening shows him Fyodor choking down every inch. 

 

He thrusts again, the last bit of cum releasing, filling Fyodor’s mouth with a bitter taste. 

 

Nikolai moves his head slightly, trying to get a better view when he notices his boyfriend isn’t swallowing, which he usually does.

Instead, Fyodor gently tugs at the collar of Sigma’s hoodie, pulling him over to his side.

 

If Nikolai hadn’t come before, he sure as fuck would’ve now.

 

Because what a fucking sight.

 

Fyodor grabs harshly onto Sigma’s hair, pulling his head back and forcing a small gasp out, resulting in the man's mouth gaping. He takes that as his chance and their lips meet, roughly and lovingly at the same time.

 

Sigma cups Fyodor’s face to keep them in sync, and Nikolai almost thinks he might have a second orgasm when he sees a small bead of cum fall down between the two pair of linked lips, and then he sees Sigma fucking swallow.

 

Fyodor is gently transferring Nikolai’s mess down Sigma’s throat, and it’s the most erotic shit he’s ever seen.

 

They’re sharing his taste.

 

“Mghm..” Sigma softly moans, swallowing once more before the two parts and he pants, having forgotten to breathe through his nose while savoring the flavor of both his boyfriends.

 

All three in the room are out of breath, one from choking on dick, one from coming and one from being kissed breathless.

 

“That was so fucking hot.” Nikolai chuckles, staring at the two men looking back at him as if ready to devour.

 

They act like feral beasts.

 

“You know..” He sighs, another deep breath leaving as he leans forward, his blindfold still loosely sitting on his head. He plants a small kiss on Sigma’s lips, then on Fyodor’s. 

 

Before he gets to continue, Sigma speaks up first. “Who gets to go first?” He looks at Fyodor, and Nikolai groans loudly. This discussion always takes up way too much of their time, and essentially it doesn’t matter who rails him because they both end up getting their turn every time. 

 

“You went first last time.” 

 

“Yeah well you got to make him come.”

 

“You swallowed it!” 

 

“Oh, you wanna go?!”

 

Nikolai sighs at the yelling which ends up in the two clashing mouths, their tongues leaving no room for continuous arguments. 

 

“I was actually thinking..” He starts, getting small attention from both of his boys who are busy ‘arguing’ and making up (out) by kissing. Which is what they always do. Fyodor grabs onto his shirt, pulling him closer to them to not leave him out, which as much as it’s appreciated, he breaks the two apart. “What if you both go first?”

 

…

 

The two stare at him, heavy panting in the room.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

_____________________

 

Sigma watches in anticipation, holding Nikolai by the back of his knees. “You sure about this?” He asks gently, nuzzling his head into the back of his boyfriend's shoulder. “It could hurt a lot.”

 

Nikolai chuckles, lowering down onto Sigma’s cock while Fyodor keeps him steady.

 

“I’ve been -aah yes- wanting to try this.” He leans back, his head colliding with Sigma’s shoulder as he pushes past the rim, opening Nikolai up. He hisses slightly at the newfound pain, which isn’t unusual so not anything he complains about.

 

“Shit.” Sigma hisses as well, the tight walls surrounding his dick with a pleasuring warm wet sensation being more than he’s gotten in the past week. 

 

Fyodor leans forward to kiss Nikolai, helping him through the soon-passing pain.

 

He’ll need to get through it if he wants to fit double.

 

Despite his forever-lasting protection and Sigma absolutely never wanting to hurt his boyfriend, his hips act on mental command and push forward, causing Nikolai to shudder and moan a soft ‘fuck’ underneath his breath when he feels every wall being hit.

 

He balances his feet on Sigma’s ankles, stabilizing his own position. He arches his back when his prostate is lightly grazed as Sigma attempts to go deeper ever so slowly as to not hurt him, even though Nikolai repeats soft spoken ‘it’s fine’ and ‘I’m okay’ reassurances, which quickly turns into ‘Deeper- shit’ and light begging.

 

He lowers himself down completely, no skin left untouched between the two as he’s filled completely up, and though part of him doubts if he could even fit a single extra finger up there, he looks in anticipation at the damp spot in Fyodor’s boxers.

 

“Hey..” He smiles at him, already fucked out from being so full. “Come.. come here.” 

 

Fyodor approaches, leaning down to kiss Nikolai’s spread thighs, slowly going up and up and up until he meets his mouth.

 

“You sure you're ready?” He bites down into where Nikolai’s pulse is beneath his throat. 

 

He nods, both impatiently and slightly (slightly.) scared, awaiting what could both be the best fuck, and the most sore morning he’ll ever have.

 

Excluding the time he was bent over in the shower and they slipped, which was not rather fun, for good measure.

 

Fyodor pulls his boxers down, already leaking from the sight of Nikolai being filled to the brim and Sigma panting in pleasure behind him. He taps his tip against the stretched rim, keeping an eye on Nikolai’s reactions before pushing. He nods once more, lightly moving on Sigma’s cock which gets a groan out of him.

 

“Come on, please..” 

 

Fyodor gently pushes in, a mix of painful and pleasured moan leaving Nikolai when he gets stretched even more. The further he goes in, Sigma has the same reaction, now not only being welcomed with the warm insides but the feeling of another cock rubbing against his.

 

“Shit.” He hisses once more, biting into Nikolai’s shoulder. Fyodor himself moans, lowering onto the other shoulder, all three heads now in symmetrical placement. 

 

It takes a few seconds for any of them to say anything, to even open their eyes because the feeling is so fucking intense.

 

“Mngh..” Nikolai moans, a series of repeated whimpers coming out even though no one is moving. His whole body is twitching, which sends a shiver of pleasure through the bodies currently inside him, “oh.” He gasps, tears welling in his eyes.

 

Sigma instantly raises his head, Fyodor the same in unison.” What’s wrong?” Comes from behind him, a gentle kiss on his cheek. In front of him, “Too much?” A sweet hand cradles his face.

 

“so.. so good.” He moans, full-body trembling and twitching, though he melts into the touches of his boyfriends both checking that he’s alright. It helps numb the pain that he actually is feeling even if he wouldn’t admit it.

 

It feels like the earth beneath him shatters whim Fyodor tests the waters, pushing in as deep as possible.

 

“Fuck- god, oh my god, Fedya-” 

 

His eyes catch onto the bulge in his stomach, almost outlining Fyodor’s cock inside him.

 

“A-ah..”

Sigma turns his head to the side, holding onto his chin as their lips meet, and Nikolai is quick to melt into the kiss, allowing Sigma’s tongue inside his mouth.

 

His whole body jerks when Fyodor and Sigma thrust in unison, spitting out any word that could’ve possibly been about to leave him when a pathetic sob of pleasure comes out instead. 

 

The two take the non-painful-sound as a sign that they can continue, so they slowly start up a pace that matches one another, both groaning into Nikolai's shoulder at the sensation. They’re practically frotting inside of him, raw, too. 

 

At one point, they both ram into his prostate at the same time, realising exactly what angle they have to be at when he cries out a loud moan, his thighs trembling and cock leaking with thick beads of pre-cum. Curses slip past his lips, repeating through every thrust he receives, additionally more turned on by the heavy panting and moaning coming from each side of his head. 

 

“Jesus- fucking christ” Nikolai whimpers, every nerve in his body reacting to the stimulation.

 

“It’s so fucking tight..” Sigma curses into Nikolai’s shoulder, for a second seeming like he’s in pain before his body shudders and another moan escapes him. 

 

Damn right, if anyone gets to be in pain Nikolai will gladly say himself that it should be him.

 

Get a boyfriend, they said.

 

Hell, get two! 

 

Make sure they both have gigantic stupid cocks so you never have a chance of breathing when fucking either one, and then try both! 

 

Though to be fair, he was the one to suggest it, and he isn’t at all disliking how it’s going.

 

The sensation is one thing, overwhelming and pleasurable but still a lot. But seeing both of his boyfriends, groaning and moaning in reciprocated pleasure as they put all their attention on him and how he feels.. Well, Nikolai is an attention whore.

 

And he loves both of these stupid fucks, even if he isn’t much for being true about it.

 

When another double-hit thrusts into his prostate, Nikolai almost screams in pure ecstasy. This is fucking heaven.

 

“I’m- fuck I’m gonna come-” He whimpers out the words that might as well be pure air.

 

Fyodor besides him groans out, “Me too”, and based on Sigma’s breathing, it’s to be expected.

 

Nikolai’s thighs tremble under him, his whole body twitching as white ropes cover his stomach, including the pressure of his insides being filled to the rim. 

 

Jesus Christ.

 

______

 

After Fyodor and Sigma are done washing up their sleeping boyfriend, and emptying him out from an absurd amount of bodily fluids, they’re outright exhausted.

 

“Shower?” Fyodor turns around, leaning towards his closet to get a towel.

 

Sigma hums in reply, slowly getting up despite his knees feeling like jelly, and he’s a little worried getting into a hot shower will drain the rest of his life from him.

 

He follows Fyodor into the bathroom, taking off the one piece of clothing he had managed to get on after that whole encounter, that being his sweatpants. He likes them baggy and flowey, more comfortable, he’s not really a big fan of tight pants in general.

 

Fyodor turns on the water in between what Sigma considers the perfect temperature and what he does, essentially making the water a little too cold for him and a little too hot for his boyfriend. It’s a compromise.

 

He lets the water run for a few seconds before turning to the undressing presence in the room. “Shouldn’t shower with that.” He reaches out, pulling Sigma’s hair out from the loose ponytail it’s been in this whole time, which he can only imagine has been uncomfortable.

 

Sigma hums, melting into the touch, probably still a bit out of it.

 

He usually isn’t that accepting of touch. He has a tendency of being on guard, but right now he’s like a cat purring while being pet. Fyodor himself isn’t one to admit he finds someone cute, even if he’s gotten used to it over the years with Nikolai as his companion, but he can’t help crack a smile at the softness he holds in his hands.

 

He slowly steps into the too-cold, simultaneously too-hot shower, pulling Sigma with him.

 

A little while of comfortable silence passes by where the two just accept the runny water, then allow each other to help clean up.

 

“You tired?” Fyodor asks while gently washing shampoo out of Sigma’s hair, his eyes closed as he leans down just a little so Fyodor has better chances. “Mhm.” He nods softly.

 

Another beat of silence as the water runs on them, there’s a quiet agreement that they’ll go to bed after this, which is rather expected but even then it’s nice to know they’re on the same page, considering it isn’t always easy to be.

 

“We should eat out tomorrow.” Sigma says, now getting conditioner in his long hair.

 

Fyodor nods in agreement, “With Nikolai?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Alright.” He leans up, kissing the almost sleeping man, “Let’s do it.”