Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Winter used to be Dazai’s favourite season. 

Winter in Yokohama, to be specific. Only in his hometown do the winters look so beautiful. Yet, the more he thinks about it, maybe it isn’t the cold season he loves. 

But the boy that truly loves the season. The one that he had shared it with, time and time again. 

Now, he is alone. And the season is as bitter cold in his heart to him as it is outside. The pure white snow is stained and tainted with memories, no matter how fresh the snowfall is. 

Stained with the footprints of boots and snow angels. Tainted with the way it used to stand out so vibrantly against russet curls in the sunlight.

Permanently stained, with the look and sparkles of joy and laughter in sapphire blue eyes.

Doesn’t matter where he goes; he can still see it. He could be on the other side of the world, but the sight of it would still be burned in his memory like a fresh mark.

“Come on, Dazai!” Chuuya shouted back at him. “Do you have crab for brains? Hurry up!”

Dazai imagined his crush to be more like a drill sergeant. Barking orders at him like it’s the end of the world.

“Chuu~ya~!” Dazai whined, drawing out his name as long as he could. “It’s too cold out! Can’t we just stay where it’s warm?” 

His protests were futile and only earned him a sad frown.

But it was still quickly the most beautiful thing Dazai had ever seen. 

“I want to see the first snow!” The ginger tugged at Dazai’s arm. Pulling him along to the foyer of his home. 

He threw the brunet’s coat and boots at him. Chuuya managed to get him dressed and ready to go. And they were so close . Dazai just needed a final push.

The man in question did everything as slowly as humanly possible. Maybe he was being sluggish just to be a pain. Perhaps he was doing it because the frustrated whine that Chuuuya lets out was so soft and sweet that it made him want to do everything ten times slower just to hear it again. 

But soon enough, he was dressed to go outside (though he wouldn’t put it past Chuuya to just drag him out in his socks or even with  only a boot on if he was slow enough), and there’s a slight kick to his back. 

Then another. And another. And another.

Swift, vicious kicks on the middle of his back. Not enough to hurt, but enough to push him forward. 

“Get up!!” He whined and kicked a few times more. 

“Slug’s so painful today!” Dazai sighed as he finally stood up.

Chuuya stuck his bottom lip out in a pout and crossed his arms.

“I’m not the slug today. I didn’t take forever to get dressed.”

Dazai hummed like he was thinking about the answer. Though there wasn’t really one.

All he could do was stare at Chuuya’s lips as they formed a perfect pout. 

“I just want to see the first snow,” Chuuya told him, walking past and out of Dazai’s large estate. “Nothing wrong with that.” 

No, there’s not. It’s Chuuya’s favourite season. Dazai knew this. 

He knew that Chuuya loved it because he liked how the snow looked in his ginger hair. Chuuya liked it when they had snowball fights in the backyard, and Dazai always managed to surprise attack him with a snowball. He knew that Chuuya kept photos on his phone of the tiny snowmen Dazai made in the ginger’s image. Even if they were far too small and angry. 

Dazai knews that Chuuya loved it because Christmas was his favourite holiday, and he loved to get friends and family gifts. Chuuya liked it when Dazai took him around the city to look at Christmas lights. He knew that Chuuya has a small list of things to buy and try every winter that was only available during the season.

He knew how important this was to him; it never once slipped past his mind in all the time that he’s known Chuuya. 

The season became that much more important to him as well.

“I’m sorry, you weren’t waiting too long for me, were you?” 

Dazai shakes his head with a small smile towards Oda. Pushing off the brick outer walls of the shopping centre, he’s meeting the older one today. 

He could have gone inside, but he’d rather be able to see Oda coming toward him. It’s not the redhead he doesn't trust; he’s just grown to not trust others. 

“I just got here,” he gives a slight shrug, but by the way he’s shivering, Oda knows it’s a lie.

“I’m sorry. I got held up,” Oda sighs as he opens the door into the shopping centre. 

Dazai mutters, “no worries”, as he looks around. It’s more like a glorified mall, and Christmas decorations make him want to puke. He hates the dumb holiday and just wants to get it over with.

“What did the holiday do to you?” Oda asks, watching him glare at every decoration they pass. 

“It exists,” he just replies flatly. 

The older sighs and goes into a small curry shop in the area. It’s Oda’s favourite, but Dazai can’t stand the stuff. At least generally, the restaurant isn’t that bad.

When they’re seated and have menus, Dazai can’t focus. All he can do is stare at his drink as his mind decides to wander into the depth of his memories. 

One of Dazai’s favourite of Chuuya’s facial expressions was when he was pouting. His cheeks puffed out childishly, and he had a very light flush on his face from embarrassment. 

It’s a mix of undeniable cuteness, like he could snap and murder him at every second.

And the brunet was very sure that Chuuya was the only person on earth who perfectly pulled off such a look.

It stirred something in the boy’s chest as he looked over at his crush. A crush that had long since been formed in his chest. It took root when he was much younger until it bloomed into an unwavering love. He came to terms with it a few years ago, and it’s true to its name as his feelings crush and suffocate him. 

Because every single time he looked at Chuuya, he wanted to just pin him to the wall and kiss or punch him in the face. He wasn’t sure.

But both actions he would do so with an overwhelming amount of love in his heart. 

Dazai smiled from where he stood, bouncing on his heels as he poked Chuuya’s back. 

“Come on, Chibikko~!” He taunted. “You gotta go because, after all, you lost to our little bet ~!” The way he pronounced the bet sent a shiver down Chuuya’s spine that he could feel on his finger. It was wonderful.

Chuuya hesitated because, fair enough, he didn’t want to. But Dazai won’t take no for an answer. That’s just the rules of the game, you see. 

You lose the bet; you pay the price. And Chuuya lost, and unfortunately, he was even the one who picked the punishment this time.

He just didn’t think that he would be the one who would have to do it. 

Which was fair. 

Dazai wasn’t too keen to have the wrath of other kids on him, and Chuuya was better suited for this anyways.

“Go get the tickets~!” He whispered in the ginger's ear. “At least five people’s worth!”

That was the punishment. They’re at an arcade, and Chuuya had to go around and try to get all the tickets from five different people’s games and machines. 

Of course, the other would be on standby if someone chose to be aggressive. Or worse, call security on them.

The goal was to get as much as they can without getting caught. 

Chuuya was able to get four people before they had to run from security. 

Oda sighs as he finishes his curry, but Dazai’s still poking at his. 

The brunet has had maybe six or so bites, not hungry to eat much more than that. His stomach is in knots, and all his mind wants to do is show him everything he’s missing back home. 

Everything he could have had if he hadn’t been a pure bloody coward. 

“Dazai, will you please at least try to eat more?” Oda asks, and Dazai’s surprised at how gentle his tone was today. “Not the whole thing, but at least half?”

His best friend can read him silently like a book, and he’s probably the only person besides Chuuya that knows so much about him. He is one of the few people he still keeps close to and can understand what he thinks even before it registers. 

“It’s so hot, Odasaku!” Dazai whines. They both know it’s not. It’s just easy to pretend it as a way to avoid it. “It’s too spicy. I don’t know how you can eat this stuff!” 

The brunet sticks out his tongue at the food as if it has offended him with some schoolyard insult. Obviously, it can’t speak enough to insult him beyond flavour. And it’s not even that bad . He just doesn’t feel up to eating much today. 

Sucks, he guesses. 

Oda sighs again and keeps eye contact with him.

“Dazai,” he says a little bit more sharply. “Just try. Come on.” 

It’s his Dad tone, as Dazai likes to call that tone he’s using. He’s not a parent figure to him; it may be more accurate to say that he's like the brother that he never had. He only has a little sister at home, one that he’s not very close to.

She’s a sweetheart when she wants to be, and though Dazai loves her, Oda still feels more family to him than she is.

Dazai frowns pointedly at the tone and huffs out a “ fine ” as he tries to eat just a little bit more. 

He makes it one-fourths way through when he sets the spoon down. Chugging the rest of the drink in defiance and finality, an action that says he’s not eating anymore. 

His friend concedes because he also knows that’s the best he'll get out of him for now in this state. 

Oda pays and gives Dazai a small thank you, but it’s full of genuineness, and Dazai feels somewhat happy.

He made Oda a little proud, and he’ll take it. 

Today Oda is accompanying Dazai to go shopping to make sure that he gets everything on his list that he would need for living alone in his drab, tiny apartment. As well as a few extra things to make sure he’s eating proper meals and taking care of himself. 

It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to make the younger’s heart swell. 

It’s been a while since he’s felt taken care of. 

“Ne, when was the last time you ate today?” Chuuya asked, cuddling up close to Dazai. They’re lying in his bed, and the question made Dazai hold his boyfriend closer. Humming before he answered, 

“The last time Chuuya saw me eat.” The answer caused a frown to appear on Chuuya’s lips as he tried to think about when that was.

“Was that this morning?” The ginger asked, unsure.

The brunet just smiled against the elder’s lips. That’s the only answer he got before kissing him softly. 

Chuuya reciprocated the kiss with soft tenderness and sweetness before pulling back to talk to him. Holding the face of the brunet to keep him from chasing after and trying to catch him once more in a kiss. 

“Dazai, hey, the sun is setting . We should get you some food, and then after, I promise we can do whatever you want.”

Brown eyebrows rose, and he knew Chuuya was trying to explore the implication of the look. 

“Okay, turn over.”

“That’s not what I meant!! And you know it!” He screamed as Dazai playfully tackled him to roll him over.

Chuuya did get him to eat afterwards, growling about how that’s not what the deal was. But he wasn’t entirely complaining.

The apartment that he returns to afterwards is drab and lonely. There’s nothing inside to hint at himself or have any real personal touch about the person living there. It’s rather bare aside from the everyday things you’d find in an apartment.

It looks normal at first glance, but the longer one looks inside, the lamer it becomes.

He had managed to convince Oda to let him go home alone with the excuse that his social battery had seemingly run out after today's routine. The brunet isn’t sure he can talk to anyone right now, so he thinks it was a good call. 

Dazai only puts away the cold groceries that need to be kept frozen or in the fridge. He wouldn’t bother with it if he isn’t so tired of losing so much money on food that goes bad because he doesn’t put anything away. It’s happened one too many times for his liking.

Leaving everything that can stand out to be alone, he moves to flop on the couch. 

Once laid down, he just pointlessly scrolls social media. He doesn’t ever post anything himself; he just uses it to check on his friends back home. He’s not that far from them now, but they’re still too far for him to see every day. 

As if he knows that he was online, Atsushi texts him a picture he guesses is taken from a bedroom window.

[6:15PM, Atsushi] It’s snowing here! Is it snowing there for you too? 

[6:15PM,  Atsushi] You should come back for Christmas.

Dazai reads them, but he doesn’t have the energy to respond to them. So he doesn’t. He leaves the chat app and goes back to the posts he had been looking at on his Instagram feed. 

He sees a post by Atsushi, shopping for presents in a store. Face tired as he walks down the various aisles. 

Yosano’s story shows a picture of the poor boy with a cart slumped over it as he looks at whoever is behind the camera. The brunet would put most of the money that the person in question is Akiko. Who probably dragged him all around to go shopping with her.

He’s just glad that’s not his job this year. 

It’s fun, but usually, the person she chooses to shop with is made to carry all of her parcels and items. The company is fun; the work is not.

But judging by the time, that had been a few hours ago. Sometime during noon, so Atsushi is hopefully well home by now. 

He keeps scrolling through various posts, and the person he chances upon next sends a wave of pain through him. Does he really want to look? 

Yes. 

No. 

He’s not sure if he can take it, but he clicks on the account anyway to scroll through.

The first post that he sees and clicks on has two pictures. The first one is Chuuya holding a coffee cup, and he’s smiling up at someone who is mostly out of the frame. All he sees is his arm and own matching cup from the same place. And a tiny sliver of the torso. 

Chuuuya looks stunning, of course, in the photo. Russet curls perfectly framing his face, and the cream hat and red scarf make him look so attractive. It’s amazing how effortlessly perfect Chuuya is. 

Always was, always will be. 

The second photo is just of him. Smiling brightly at the snow that’s falling around him. He’s in the same outfit and still has his cup. He looks utterly oblivious to the person behind the camera, and Dazai wonders if the ginger had known the photo was being taken or not. 

He can’t tell.

The brunet doesn’t even have the energy, or the will, to frown despite the pain in his heart from reading the caption. 

Tokyo winters are so beautiful! So nice to spend with the man (and the drink) I love! Stay warm!!🤍❄️

There’s no shame in the way he throws his phone clear across the room. He doesn’t want to look at it anymore. It hurts too much too.

Dazai’s never seen Chuuya’s new mystery boyfriend, no one has. He doesn’t say the male’s name or show a clear picture of him. His entire appearance is a mystery to the brunet, and he likes to think that Chuuya does that because the new male is ugly.

So hideous that he doesn’t want to show him off and risk embarrassment. Or he has a horrible and embarrassing name that he’s trying to save from getting out.

All could be true, but it’s most likely not. 

His heart burns with guilt and regret. He’s happy Chuuya’s moved on. He deserves to have happiness, but it’s not with Dazai. And that’s what hurts. He wants to make Chuuya smile like that again, but he had made him upset. He had made him break and cry . 

Dazai really doesn’t deserve to face him after that.

“Would you stop staring? It’s fucking creepy.”

The library smelled of old books and dust. Not in an unpleasant way that made him want to sneeze, but in a weirdly comforting way that made Dazai want to sink into a chair and take a nap in the warm sunlight.

“But why? Chuuya’s so beautiful I can hardly take my eyes away from him.” Dazai smiled as Chuuya’s face flushed, and he used the homework out on the table to distract him from the staring.

“I can’t focus on you staring at me like that!” The boy’s whispering now so he could scream and hiss at him without getting stares or being shushed. “I need to concentrate, Mackerel!”

“But what else am I supposed to do! Chuu~ya!”

The ginger frowned at his paper and looked up at his pestering boyfriend. He finished his work faster than Chuuya, who was nearing completion. But now, without work, he was antsy and only wanted to stare at Chuuya. And all the attention was making his skin burn. (In a good way).

“Review your answers!”

“I did, and they’re right!”

“Then let me do mine!”

Dazai’s apartment is completely dark when he wakes up. 

He doesn’t even realise that he had fallen asleep, but it's clear he had, judging by how dark it is outside and inside without the lights. For how long, he doesn’t know. It’s too dark to see, and he can’t find his phone. 

Ah , right. He’d thrown it before he’d fallen asleep. He should get that to check and make sure that it’s not broken.

But he’s still lying down, making no move to get up. 

The brunet doesn’t even stir when the buzzing starts. His phone lights up and vibrates with texts. Even after the phone fires off three in quick succession, it does little to prompt him up and out of the seat. 

The only thing that does get him up is the cold. The cold from the outside has snakes itself into the apartment and seeps itself into his bones. Leaving him shivering and in need of a blanket or something that could offer him even the tiniest of warmth.

Dazai picks up the phone, ignoring its insistent buzzing as he simply slips it into his pocket and heads to the bedroom. His text tone goes off as it tries to alert him to look at it. As if screaming will make him want to make it stop.

It is almost tempting. But he’s too tired and too out of it. The brunet is just going to worry about it all tomorrow, but the buzzing stopped. He thinks that maybe he finally got peace for a few seconds, but then it buzzes one last time before falling silent. 

Then there’s no more buzzing. 

That’s when he decides to look.

There are texts from three people. His mother and father, and sister. 

[7:45PM, Mom] Dazai, call us back, please. We need to talk about something.

[8:57PM, Mom] Son, please, it’s urgent.

[8:54PM, Dad] Dazai, we have been trying to get a hold of you. You need to respond. Your mother is worried about you.

[8:58PM, Elise] Please come back home

[8:58PM, Elise] I miss you

[9:05PM, Mom] Dazai, you won’t answer. I’m just going to tell you over text, and I’m so sorry. 

[9:07PM, Mom] Honey, Hirotsu is dead.

[9:10PM, Mom] He passed this morning, and it was a shock to all of us. Please say that you’ll come back for the funeral. I know it will be challenging, but you should come back to at least pay your respects.

The brunet is sure that the world stops when he reads that next. He knows that his breathing does. He cannot find air to fill his lungs because trying to breathe hurts . Dazai’s throat is too tight for him to do anything but sit there and try to remember how to breathe while his mind seems to go a million miles a minute.

Dead? Hirotsu is… dead? Granted, Dazai hasn’t visited home in a few months, but he had been fine the last time he visited and spoke to him. As much as someone his age and in his condition could be!

The old man has been sick for a while, but things seemed like they had been getting better! Dazai just can’t wrap his head around it.

He stares at his phone and checks through all of his messages for one that tells him it's all an elaborate prank. They’re just pranking Dazai, and it’s all his sister’s fault, and she is sorry. 

But there isn’t anything. 

There is no message about saying sorry or feeling bad for starting the cruel and twisted joke. 

This is real .

Oh, gods, it feels like he is going to throw up.

He barges to the bathroom, phone in hand, waiting for the text to make the world feel like it would stop spinning on its axial. The brunet doesn’t feel better dry heaving a few times into the toilet. 

It isn’t real. It isn’t real .

Hirotsu was his caretaker when they were younger. For him, Chuuya, and both of their respective sisters. The two boys liked him the most, but they were all close with him. The man meant everything to them.

And now, all of a sudden, he’s gone .

His phone buzzes one more time. His mother, seeing that he did, in fact, read her messages, tries to reach out to him once more.

[12:06AM, Mom] He’ll be back too. Just so you know.

Dazai’s sure that his heart stops beating. His breath falters, and it takes him a moment to compose himself. Even in the otherwise empty apartment, he’s embarrassed about his reaction.

Of course, he will be there. It will make sense since they were all raised by the old man, but knowing that he has to face Chuuya after two years of straight-up avoiding one another in a small crowded place will be hard. 

It makes sense, and Dazai knows it’s selfish, the way he doesn’t want him to be.

He doesn’t want Chuuya to be there, and he doesn’t want to go either. The brunet doesn’t want to risk seeing him after everything he’s done to him.

After everything that he’s put him through .

Dazai doesn’t even feel like he’s worthy to see him. After all he’s done, does he deserve to?

His answer? It will always be no, no matter who thinks otherwise. Not that anyone else liked his decision in the first place anyways.

Daydreaming about him is vastly different from seeing him. And the prospect that he inevitably will make his stomach churn.

He walks around his apartment despite the late hour like a drunken man. Dense and clumsy uncoordinated movements as he goes to get some food. Turning off the phone and dumping it for anything else he can use as a distraction. 

It’s too much bad news for one night, for one person. 

Dazai’s not sure he can handle any of it.

The distraction isn't much of a distraction, the quiet solitude allowing his mind to stretch bounds. Bouncing back and forth between memories and fantasies about meeting him again. Some bad, some good. Some about Chuuya, some about Hirotsu, and some about them both.

The male’s sure his heart has cracked into a million pieces. Tearing apart further with a pass of memory and run of imagination.

Maybe an hour later, he realises that he had never responded to his parents,eaving them on read. He falls into bed and types out one word before passing out.

[1:09AM, Dazai] Okay.

Chuuya has always loved winter. It is a beautiful and happy season, his mind filled with many holidays and time to spend with friends and family. The white innocence of the start of the year that covers the ground makes it a sight to see. 

Sure, it doesn’t quite hold a candle to the blooming blossoms of spring or the rusting colours of fall’s leaves. Winter is its own sort of beautiful.

And the ginger loves it. 

And there’s nothing like winters in the hometown of Yokohama. He’s slightly biased, having lived there his whole life before he moved to Tokyo for university. And he’s taken a few trips to different places, but nowhere did it have the same charm of Yokohama winters. 

And it’s perfect. 

But he’s alone this year. Ever since he was just six years old, he’s never been without him during his favourite holiday. They were never really separated in general. Always clinging to one another like lifelines and security blankets.

Chuuya’s just trying to not think about that. 

But he’s failing. 

Because, for some reason, that’s all his brain wants to think about. 

There are too many memories at home. Everything is just how he had left it when he went away for school. The only visible disturbance in his luggage, which he’d thrown up onto the bed a few moments ago. Having just arrived back at his childhood home.

 Photos that are no longer there, items he had lied about throwing away are stuffed away inside a drawer in his desk. 

They used to sleep in a sizable empty bed together when they were younger.

And it only stopped just two years ago, yet it feels like all of that is lifetimes away .

Chest aching, he turns to the door to face away and not face his memories. 

Lucky for him, a saving grace disguised as his sister chooses that wonderful moment to come to see him. Her words pulled him momentarily out of his thoughts.

She’s in a black mourning dress, her red bangs covering her left eye, and her hair is down. Pinned to the side on the right to not fall any further on her face. 

“Welcome home,” Kouyou greets him with open arms and a soft smile.

“Anesan, it’s been a while.” he moves into her embrace, and it’s tight, but it feels like home.

“It has,” she agrees, holding him impossibly tighter. “Have you been well at university?”

Chuuya nods into her shoulder before letting go and backing up to sit by his luggage on the bed. “Yeah, it’s fine. I have finals soon, and things are busy from that.”

“Have you met anyone there yet? On-campus or in a little coffee shop?”

It’s an innocent and genuine question, but blood rushes to his cheeks. His face flushes as he answers her.

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad to hear,” relief and happiness flood her words in an overwhelming amount and his chest aches. “What is he like? Does he treat you well?”

He’s nothing like he was, is the answer that almost tumbles out from Chuuya’s lips. He closes his mouth before trying again. “He’s good. He treats me well. We study together in our room. He waits for me too. Other things like that.”

A sigh of pure relief escapes her lips, and the tightening in his chest returns at the sound. “I’m glad.”

“Yeah… he’s sweet…” he murmurs as he picks at the comforter of his bed. His older sister's nervous movement goes unnoticed, but not the tone. That raises her attention; she gives him a look of caring, concern flashing onto her features.

“You sound like you’re hesitant about him?”

Chuuya sighs, furrowing his brows as he falls back on the bed with a small thump . “Am I moving on too fast? From him?” The words rush and tumble from his lips. Like he’s been holding in the question for ages and is only now feeling the urge to seek out reassurance. 

It is the truth. He’s seeking reassurance to know if he made the right choice because he doesn’t know himself. Chuuya’s not sure if this all feels right or if he’s rushing his life just because he had one bad breakup. (his first and only break-up).

Kouyou comes to sit beside him and brushes her fingers through his hair. Almost like he’s a child again. It’s friendly and comforting.

“You’re different, not rushing into anything ,” she insists, admittedly making him feel a bit better. “You deserve to be happy.” 

Closing his eyes, he allows himself to relax in the gesture. He is trying to go back mentally to when he was younger. A little kid who would fall asleep to someone brushing their fingers in his hair. “He’s smart, really handsome, and he’s witty.”

It occurs to him that he’s not sure who he’s describing.

“Get up,” Chuuya whined softly, kicking said male from under the covers. It’s soft, not wanting to disturb him too much and the comfort of the position that they found themselves in. “We gotta go.” 

“Five more minutes?” Dazai murmured against the skin of his neck. His face was buried as he laid with the ginger in his bed. “Chuuya’s so comfy I don’t wanna get up.” 

A bubble of laughter floated out, and Chuuya nuzzled his nose into the soft locks of the brunet’s hair. It made the younger look up with a slight pout. Hair was tousled from the nap he’d taken in Chuuya’s arms. It was admittedly comfortable, but they needed to go. They had things to do, and Dazai was going to make them late, or they weren’t going to make it.

“Chuuya’s so mean,” his boyfriend murmured into his skin, making Chuuya chuckle. 

“You like me that way. You wouldn’t have me any other way.” Dazai hummed as he nestled closer into Chuuya’s body.

“Chuuya’s so perfect. That’s why.” The brunet’s voice was laced with sleep.

And Chuuya hoped that maybe his boyfriend couldn't hear his heart despite how close they were. His ear was pressed right against his heart, and the last thing he wanted was for Dazai to know just how something so simple could affect him so quickly. 

Chuuya lets out a shaky breath as he looks at the funeral home. His fingers shake from the nerves, and he must look wrong from how Kouyou holds on to him. Clasping his shoulder and giving a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay to miss him,” she whispers, and her smile is sad. He’s not blind to see that she’s sad too. They were all raised by the old man, and it’s hard to see and know he’s gone.

The siblings are approached by Hirotsu’s daughter, a polite smile on her lips. But her eyes are rimmed red and slightly puffy. 

She’s been crying a while.

“Kouyou-san, Chuuya-san, you two for coming,” she says, bowing to them. The siblings immediately return the gesture.

“We’re so sorry for your loss,” Kouyou says softly when she straightens back up. 

“I’m sure the loss is felt by everyone who knew him,” she says and smiles fondly at Chuuya.

His heart tightens as she gestures to them inside. And there are already so many people inside. It’s packed with people paying their respects. He can recognise most of the people in the crowd from his parents’ business or from seeing them at Hirotsu’s estate when he was younger.

If they’re all here, then that means….

Dazai’s standing in a corner, talking to a man that’s one of their parents’ business partners with a coy smile. Chuuya is sure that his heart starts at his sight, and his breathing even starts to fail him. He’s dressed perfectly and eloquently as always. The black folds of his ensemble are pressed down neatly, making him look like the perfect example of effortless grace. 

Even his chocolate-colored hair is perfectly framing his face. A small part tucked away behind his left ear. Just the way that Chuuya liked it when they were together. It brings out the softness of his eyes and cheekbones. Making his ex-boyfriend look perfect. 

So perfect, he can almost melt away the pain and feel the aching desire in his body to leap into his arms and want to be held protectively forever. 

It’s then that their eyes meet. Hazel eyes widen before quickly darkening as if the surprise to see him hasn’t actually come on his face at all. It’s only in Chuuya’s imagination did Dazai show any spark of confusion towards him. 

Or any emotion, really. 

He quickly moves away to hide behind Kouyou. It’s childish, and Chuuya’s scolding himself for being such a child in his head, but he can’t help it. His hands are now shaking and clammy, and he’s not sure that he can stand near him or make eye contact with him any longer. 

But he can still feel his eyes in him. Dazai’s eyes follow his back as he moves and makes his way through the crowd. It’s always creepy how his gaze seems to burn his back as he moves his way through. Paying his respects to Hirotsu and talking to people he’s either never met or not seen in years.

Trying to pay his respects to Hirotsu in peace. The caretaker is the man who takes care of them more often than not when parents are out of town or busy at work. All things that happened way too often… but at least there was Hirotsu, always with an open door and a sweet smile. 

It ‘s too soon when Kouyou leaves him to talk to other people. Separating from his side and leaving him alone to speak to associates of Hirotsu or those of his parents. 

“Chuuya-kun!” someone calls for him. “It’s been way too long! How’s life in Tokyo for university?”

Chuuya blinks at the old man for a few moments before the face registers in his mind. He is one of Dazai’s distant relatives so he allows a small but polite smile to fill his lips as he talks to him.

“Mitsuba-kun, it truly has been. Have you been well?” 

“You know how old people can be! It won't be too long before I join Hirotsu-kun too.” 

Chuuya winces at the joke, feeling it too soon to be making something like that. Mitsuba himself laughs before speaking again. “Ah, just a joke. Just a joke, don’t worry. Have you been well yourself, Chuuya?”

“University is rather hectic, but nothing I can't handle,” he replies politely. “How has your knee been?”

The elder male looks taken aback before dissolving into more laughter. “Ah, how kind of you to remember my old problem! I knew there were always good reasons to like you. Always so kind! I haven’t seen Dazai in the longest time.”

Chuuya grimaces at the mention of his ex-boyfriend. He can feel his skin crawling at just the mention and his memory. His reaction earns a head tilt from the older man. 

“You’re not with Dazai anymore.”

Chuuya’s not sure if it's an observation or a question, but he doesn’t respond. He can’t even muster up the strength to shake his head. It seems to be at that moment that Mitsuba understood the situation. 

“I’m sorry that I brought it up.”

Chuuya shakes his head and smiles despite the raw pain he feels inside. Torn anew from seeing his ex. God , he thinks. I’m nothing more than a teenage girl in a movie. How lame .

“He didn’t tell you. I understand. If you’ll excuse me, Mitsuba-kun, I need to step out for a moment.”

The tiny old man nods vigorously, motioning and moving aside for him to go. 

Chuuya feels like he barely makes it out of the funeral parlor. He’s breathless, and his heart feels seized by panic. Throat tight from the panic attack that he knows is coming on.

He hasn’t seen Dazai since he went inside. And he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not. They had ended on such painful and shameful terms in Chuuya’s eyes. It is the way that Dazai looked at him that settled him. Like the last two years never happened. 

Like the pain he’s been feeling never happened. That he never felt the pain from the breakup. Like it never even happened .

The cold air feels good in his lungs, but it’s not enough . He clamps his hands over his mouth when he’s gotten to the side of the building. Not wanting to be seen from the front. Lest he be found by someone like Dazai. 

His finger digs into his cheeks in desperation to keep quiet as he leans his back on the wall. He slides down the rough bricks until he’s sitting on the cold ground. Trying to hold in and contain all of his pain that's threatening to spill out before him. He doesn’t want to show weakness, even alone in the small alcove he’s found for himself. 

Chuuya only allows himself a sigh to get out all of the feelings that have bubbled up inside of him. All the sadness and pain came out in a broken and pitiful sigh. 

It only makes him feel slightly better.

It’s almost pitiful. He hides away, just so his ex-boyfriend doesn’t see him having a panic attack. Having to hide away just to express his pain. 

But it’s Dazai . The person that he used to be in love with. So in love with the thought that they would be together for the rest of his life. The one that he would spend forever with.

Chuuya shakes his head feverishly, using the movement to help clear away his thoughts. He’s seeing someone else now . He’s finally happy and in a better place. He doesn’t need to dig up old memories of a past that never played out.

He almost jumps out of his skin when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.

The ginger fumbles around to grab it thinking it's his sister scolding him or trying to find him. It’s not. And the text makes a smile form instantly on his lips. Unconsciously soothing him and warming his body from head to toe.

[2:15PM, Fyodor] It’s so cold here without you 😭 When are you coming back? I miss you already… 

[2:15PM, Fyodor] (Attachment) Chuuya! It started snowing again. It’s not heavy, but I can see why it’s your favourite season.

His heart swells in adoration for his boyfriend, happy and warm from his message. It couldn’t have come at a better time. He types out a quick but sincere heartfelt reply, so distracted that he doesn’t hear the footsteps of someone approaching.

“Chuuya.”

The ginger stops typing and looks up into dark, hazel eyes. Eyes that had once held so much love and affection for him. The look makes his heart stop.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Chuuya spat out, eyes livid as Dazai stood before him.

“It’d be so much better for us, Chuuya. You’re going to Tokyo, and I’m moving to another part of Yokohama. It’s going to be too far apart for us.” 

“Are you listening to yourself right now? We could always come back to the city on the weekends and—“ 

“I just want some freedom, Chuuya.”

Chuuya reeled back like he'd been struck across the face and snapped his mouth shut. He wore betrayal and hurt openly on his face, wondering if this man before him was the same person he grew up with and had fallen in love with. Because there was no way his Dazai would ever say such a thing. 

Dazai wore no expression as he continued, “We’ve been in each other's lives for so long now. Don’t you want to see what’s out there for us without each other?” 

“You could have just said you were bored of me.” 

Even after two years, Dazai’s still wearing the same blank expression. Face to face for the first time since that night, yet other than looking taller, he’s not that much different. 

“What the fuck do you want?”

“It’s been a while,” and he has the nerve to smile the polite smile that Chuuya always hated. He uses the same one whenever he is lying, and it is always good to cover up his tracks to anyone else. 

To Chuuya, it’s more infuriating than charming.

“Yeah? Well, that’s what everyone’s been saying back in there.” He jerks his head to gesture to the funeral home with a burning sneer. “There’s not that much of a difference.”

“You’ve been well.” Hazel eyes wander his frame, making him feel exposed and open. Almost naked out here in front of him. “I see you’ve even met someone new.”

Chuuya bites down on his tongue, a pang of guilt snaking through his entire being. The kind that makes him question himself and all his actions to this point in his life. 

He can’t explain the guilt. He has no reason to feel shame for Dazai or the precarious situation that he got him in. Dazai broke up with him . Not the other way around. 

He’s free. He can do whatever he wants, see whoever he wants to see. He doesn’t owe Dazai shit .

So why is there so much guilt in his chest? Weighing down on him like he’s sinking to the bottom of the ocean? 

“I did, but that’s none of your concern.”

Chuuya thinks about Fyodor. Back in Tokyo, waiting got him to come back. He’s always patient with him, caring, and sweet. He loves Chuuya for who he is and has never made him doubt or question himself.

It’s Dazai who is doing this to him .

“Fyodor Dostoevsky, isn’t it?” Dazai whistles lowly. “He has quite the extensive family history too. Now tell me, Chuuya, did you always have a thing for men from colourful backgrounds?” 

Chuuya grits his teeth and glares at Dazai. 

“Wasn’t it our parents who told us to only get together with people of our caliber?” Chuuya questions, crossing his arms as he stares back up at the brunet. 

Dazai hums, wearing his amusement high on his face. “But really? The Dostoevsky family, though?”

“What would you know about the Dostoevskies?” Chuuya shoots back. “And mind your own business. Your family legacy is just about as fantastic .” 

Dazai grins. It’s slightly wild and something that Chuuya had always wanted to punch off his face when they were younger. It’s an incredibly fake expression, and everything about it screams lies to Chuuya’s face. Dazai’s trying to hide something from Chuuya, and he knows that he isn’t doing an excellent job. “You would know.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Chuuya says exhaustedly, his heart aching too much to handle this conversation. “What do you want, Dazai?” 

“‘I’ve missed you.”

Chuuya freezes as he processes the words before his blood boils and his eyes feel hot. 

“How dare you.” He hisses, applauding himself mentally for being able to keep his voice low as he glares at Dazai. “I can’t do this right now, right here. It’s Hirotsu-san’s funeral .”

Dazai wears the familiar faint smile on his features, something akin to gentleness and— 

Chuuya refuses to go down that road. Down the painful path of memories, he instead shoves them all away to deal with when his heart isn’t being torn asunder by the tall brunet.

“It’s fine with me. I just wanted to let you know that I’ve missed you, and I’m happy you’re doing well.”

Chuuya’s eyes widen in anger, and his frame shakes. From what exactly, he isn’t sure. He clenches his hands by his side into fists and resists the urge to sucker punch the man in front of him. Oh, and how hard it is.

Dazai turns his head slightly when the bells ring out, and he frowns. 

“It’s time to pay another round of respect. I’ll see you around.” Dazai says quietly. Chuuya doesn’t look up until his footsteps have long since faded away into the hall, and he hates the way his hands are trembling and how his head is spinning. 

“Chuuya, do you ever think about the future?” 

Chuuya glanced over at the boy lying in his bed while he studied. Dazai’s eyes are glassy and curious. 

“The future?” Chuuya paused in his writing and frowned, already lost in thought. “I guess if I get to continue to express myself in my writings while doing something to help others….”

“Hmm,” Dazai sprawled flat on Chuuya’s bed, reminding the ginger of a starfish. “I want a future where you will always be happy.”

Chuuya furrowed his brows in confusion and placed his pen down. “Where I am happy? What about you, Dazai?”

Dazai closed his eyes and smiled so gently that his heart fluttered. “As long as Chuuya is happy, I am happy.”

Chuuya bit down on his lower lip and felt his eyes prickle. He got up from his seat and threw himself onto Dazai, taking him by surprise. 

His eyes flew open as he caught Chuuya, large, warm hands resting on his sides before he maneuvered to wrap Chuuya in his arms. 

Chuuya nestled his face into the crook of Dazai’s neck, lips brushing against his pulse to tether himself before he murmured, “Then, I want a future where Dazai would be happy, too.”

Chuuya felt the ghost of Dazai’s lips against his forehead, and he sighed contentedly. 

A speck of white floats downwards in front of Chuuya, and he puts out a hand to capture a snowflake in his gloved palm. 

How pretty, his first snowfall after coming back home to Yokohama. 

He raises his head and blinks a few flakes out of his long lashes before leaning his head up and looking to the sky. Watching the snowflakes fall lazily to the ground below. The boy shivers and places his hands in his pockets to keep warm. 

Even with the gloves on, he can feel his fingers slowly turning to ice.

As he does so, he feels something vibrate. He pulls out his phone, wondering how that made it in there. He doesn’t remember putting his phone away, so when did it end up back in his pocket?

Chuuya pulls it out to reveal a single message from Fyodor. 

[2:30PM, Fyodor] I miss you, can’t wait for you to be back 🤍

The uneasiness that eats at his heart makes him want to throw up. 

[2:32PM, Chuuya] I’ll be back before you know it. Don’t worry.  Remember to keep yourself warm. It’s getting colder!

He feels like a fucking hypocrite. He’s happy with Fyodor now. Dazai has no right to insert himself back in the picture if he wants to just walk away again. 

Chuuya slams his head against the wall and sighs at how his heart clenches tightly in his chest. 

Winter has always been cold. But his heart feels colder and crueller than winter itself. He needs a drink of some sort to wash away the uneasiness he feels in his chest.

How had things gone so wrong? Dazai just had to show his stupid face again to screw his recovery up.

It’s been two years, and the first six months included Chuuya drunk texting Dazai, begging for him to come back with no response, posting cryptic stories on his Instagram, which Dazai viewed (the audacity of that man). Chuuya also went on self-destructive benders, cursing the man that caused him so much pain . It got to one point where he actually had to be hospitalized for alcohol poisoning, and it was then he realised that he needed to stop. 

The next six months included him getting his shit together with the help of his roommate and university mates. It also included Tachihara hitting the gym with him almost daily, and when they weren’t at the gym, they were in the corner of a bookstore cafe that gave them free drinks because of the barista who had a crush on Tachihara. But said man was too blinded by his pining to even notice it.  

When Chuuya stepped into the second half of his second year, he wasn’t sure if he could ever find anyone who would make him happy again.

Until he had bumped into Fyodor Dostoevsky in the library, buried under stacks of books that towered over him, pen flying over sheets of papers feverishly, not noticing his elbow was dangerously close to a pile of books until it was shoved off the table. Chuuya had caught it before it fell to the ground.

Shakily, Chuuya pulls out his cigarette box from his coat, peeling out a stick to light up, and sighs out the drag, watching it curl in the air wistfully.

“Dazai,” Chuuya called out quietly in the dark, his fingers reaching out blindly across his bed, panic rising in his chest when he felt nothing.

There were no arms that held him while he slept, no warm body to spoon him, and no breath trickling down his neck. 

Chuuya sat up hastily, blankets tumbling down his lap as he narrowed his eyes to adapt to the darkness of his room. He frowned the whole night because Dazai couldn’t sleep unless there was not a single glimpse of light. 

“DAZAI!“ he called out louder. There’s clear and evident panic in his voice, hoping this wasn’t some dream. And if he was trapped in some nightmare, Dazai would wake him up soon. 

The door to his room opened then, and light broke through the darkness behind his figure. 

“Chuuya?”

Dazai flicked the room switch on, and immediately, he was by Chuuya’s bedside, taking his boyfriend’s hands into one hand and using another to cradle his face. 

“Hey, was it the same bad dream?” 

Chuuya blinked a few times in confusion until he felt Dazai’s thumb as it brushed against his cheek. 

Chuuya swallowed shallowly before he shook his head. 

“I don’t know. I don’t remember. All I know is that I woke up, and you weren’t there.” 

“Sorry,” Dazai whispered gently. He leaned in and brushed his lips against Chuuya’s tear-stained cheek gently before standing and pulling him into his arms. “I had to pee. I didn’t think you’d wake up.” 

Chuuya curled into Dazai’s arms and let out a soft, secured yawn. “‘S fine now. You’re here now.” 

“Silly chibi.” Dazai chided quietly and pulled them back down to bed. 

“Lights,” Chuuya murmured sleepily, making Dazai laugh. 

“Give me a second.” He replied, kissing Chuuya’s cheek again before he untangled himself unwillingly from the redhead to turn off the lights.

When he returned, Chuuya was already curled up on the bed facing the empty spot that Dazai had occupied before he got up.

Sliding back under the covers, Dazai stretched his arm out to him Chuuya lifted his head almost instantly and curled back into Dazai, fingers tangling into his t-shirt and legs entangled with his. 

He felt fingers card through his locks, and Chuuya let out a soft sigh, his heart completely and utterly complete. 

“Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” Dazai whispered into his hair, and Chuuya bumped his face into his chest. 

“You didn’t know,” Chuuya answers him sleepily. “It’s fine.”

“Ah, what am I going to do with you?” Dazai asked as he lightly ran his blunt nails against his scalp. The slight motion started putting Chuuya back to sleep almost instantly, and he was so close to doing so when Dazai continued, “How do I protect something so precious as you?”

Chuuya felt his breath catch and his heart swoon. It’s almost impossible to feel even more for him, but he just did anyway . 

Chuuya lifted his head to nudge Dazai with his nose, earning a slight noise of confusion. He felt Dazai turn towards him, and even blinded by the darkness, Chuuya managed to capture his lips quickly, without clashing. 

The sound of surprise Dazai made melted into a soft sigh, and his arms tightened around Chuuya. His own hands gripped at Dazai’s t-shirt more. 

Their lips slid together in perfect synchronisation, breaths ghosting over each other’s lips, and Chuuya poured everything he felt into that one soft, passionate kiss. His heart exploded when Dazai’s arms tightighted, perfect around him as if he was afraid to let him go. 

And the truth was, Chuuya was afraid to let him go too.

Chuuya broke apart first and was immediately smushed into Dazai’s chest, frowning when he felt the shudders in the man. He raised one hand to stroke Dazai’s face, a small smile playing on his lips. 

I love you. 

“‘Samu,” Chuuya breathed out, and he could hear Dazai's breath catching in his throat. 

“Osamu,” Chuuya called out again, and Dazai buried his face into Chuuya’s hair, his body shivering. 

“Not fair,” Dazai whined. “How do you make my name sound so good on your tongue?”

Chuuya grinned in satisfaction and leaned up to kiss Dazai’s cheek with a tenderness that had him melting and understanding his feelings then. 

“Osamu, you don’t have to protect me.” 

“I know.” Came Dazai’s answer. “But I want to. You are everything worth protecting.” 

“So are you,” Chuuya replied without any hesitation.

“I’d pluck every star out of the sky for you.” 

Chuuya huffed then. Trust Dazai to be so damned romantic. His heart’s doing somersaults in his rib cage.

“I would too. Sleep well, Osamu.” 

“No more nightmares for you, Chuuya,” Dazai murmured happily as he pulled Chuuya closer. 

Another bell rings, and Chuuya stubs out his cigarette. 

There goes any hope and thinking that he’d survive being back home. 

He dusts the snow from his shoulders and shakes it out of his hair before going back inside. 

Chuuya pauses for a moment to look out at the falling snow. It’s truly beautiful, the winters in Yokohama. They’re unmatched and unparalleled compared to anywhere else.

But now, the whiteness of the snow is ruined. The innocence of the freshly fallen snow has been dirtied by footprints. Tainted and marked, no matter how much snow falls outside, it will never fully cover up the footprints. 

How cruel winters actually are. 

Chapter Text

Chuuya plans to spend the whole week back in Yokohama. That's how long the funeral is, and he's not sure how much more he can take here. 

He misses Hirotsu too much, and knowing he's gone is heartbreaking. It leaves him without words, and a horrible hole in his chest knowing that whenever he comes back to Yokohama again he won’t be able to run into the old caretaker’s arms again. It makes everything feeling more like a nightmare than reality. When he was younger, the old man practically raised him, but to know he was actually gone? Knowing that he would never see him again after all he's done for Chuuya? It blows, it sucks, it's horrible.

It twists in his chest, and he just wishes someone would shout " JUST KIDDING! ". Inappropriate or not, he'd rather this all be some elaborate prank than be honest.

The ginger's heart hurts from how much he misses him.

The cafe he's sitting in is where he used to come with Dazai when they were younger. Chuuya liked them for their Western sweets, and Dazai enjoyed their coffee. 

The very booth he’s currently at is the same one they would sit at together in high school. He’s subconsciously sat there out of habit. It's in the back, far from the door and prying eyes. Chuuya's even sitting on the same side he used to.

"Hello! Do you know what you'd like to order— Chuuya-san?!"

Hearing the call of his name, he looks up at the caller. He was too lost in thought to notice that a waiter was at his table, or that his waiter is one of his old friends from middle school. A white cream apron with pink toe beans on the ends of the fabric that went around his neck. His yellow and purple eyes almost glitter as he looks at the boy in front of him.

"Atsushi? I didn't know you worked here." Excitement leaks in his voice from not having seen his friend in so long. Not since he left.

He hasn't really contacted anyone but Tachihara since he left for Tokyo. 

"Yeah! I've worked here for a while now. It's been almost half a year, I think? Something like that!" He sounds so proud of himself and excited to see Chuuya. He can't help but be excited too. Catching his contagious feelings. 

"That's great! I'm happy for you!" 

"Yeah!" The boy's so happy and excited that Chuuya can't help but smile. Motioning him to sit down and join him at the booth. Atsushi's all too happy to do so in the spirit of catching up with his old friend. "I didn't think you would be back here for this time of year, but here you are!"

Chuuya's mood sours slightly, bringing his hands under the table to put them in his pockets. Sinking somewhat in the seat of his booth. 

"To be honest, I didn't think I'd be back here." He mutters, staring at the table's wood-like surface, trying to commit it to memory. "My old caretaker from when I was younger passed away. I'm just here for his funeral."

"Your old caretaker? Aw, Chuuya-san, I'm sorry to hear that. Wait…is that the same one that Dazai-san is back for?"

His mood sours further, glaring at the wood like it had done some awful crime to him. Something so personal that deserves the quick look of utter hate, his eyes twitching and cheeks flushing in an angry red. 

How would he ever see him again if he got this pissed off at mentioning Dazai's name?

Well, the last time I saw him was an utter accident, Chuuya thinks. At least on his part is is. Dazai's the one who sought me out. The thought of it makes Chuuya want to punch him for that.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he looks back up at his friend, glare mostly cleared from his face, though he's sure his angered flush remains. 

"Unfortunately."

"I'm so sorry for your loss," the white-haired boy says softly. His genuine and kind words make Chuuya's lips crack into a small smile. "Have you been well? How's Tokyo?"

"It's been alright. It was better before I saw Dazai again. But I think I'm getting the hang of living in Tokyo, and we're nearing finals, and that's stressful. But other than that, I think I'm getting there." He rambles, and Atsushi doesn't seem to mind. He just looks happy to see his friend again and talk to him. 

"That's great! Sounds like you're having a lot of fun!!"

"I am. It's nice there. How about you? How are things here?"

Atsushi's smile falters just a bit, but nothing sincere. "It's good. I'm being dragged all around by Yosano-san while she does all her Christmas shopping!" He hangs his head low, sighing, and Chuuya can't help but laugh.

"Yeah, I love her, but that's not something that I miss. It's a tradition, but I can't say it's one of my favorites." They laugh together, and something in Chuuya's chest feels light. Happy and relieved because it feels like old times. To be talking and hanging out with his friends again like he used to when he was in high school. 

Chuuya didn't realize how much he missed them.

"Hey!" Atsushi says so suddenly that it causes Chuuya to jump up in his seat. "Speaking of Yosano-san, did you tell her that you're back?"

Chuuya faces his old friend with a blank stare before the statement can sink in, and he realizes that he, in fact, hadn't. He winces because he didn't even think to. "No, I totally forgot…." 

Atsushi sighs, shaking his head slowly. "You should. I'm sure she'd want to hear from you again. We'd all like to hear from you more. Besides, she's still mad that you and Dazai…" his sentence trails off slowly, and they both know he doesn't need to finish to understand what he's saying. At least he seems to look sheepish about it, unsure how to talk about the breakup. 

Quite frankly, Chuuya doesn’t know how to talk about it either.

He knows his friend is right about Yosano, but he's still shot with a pang of guilt in his chest. He's pretty guilty of cutting off the commincations, isn't he?

"Yeah… I've been meaning to, but… I've been really busy with school…" it sounds lame, and it's not a complete lie. But… it's still not the whole truth.

"We should all have lunch together then! The three of us, if you wanted to, of course. That way, we can all catch up properly" The way he bounced back and changed subjects so fast was almost enough to give Chuuya whiplash. 

Yet he smiles and nods appreciatively anyway. 

"I'd like that."

"Awesome! Well, I get off in two hours, and we can go then? You text her to see if she wants to join us, and I'll work on making your order!" Atsushi bursts up from the table with urgency and is about to walk away before turning back to face him. An embarrassed flush spreads across his cheeks. "Um, what was your order?"

Chuuya laughs, overwhelmed by the feeling of missing his friends. Home may be painful because of Dazai, but he missed this :being with his friends, and laughing and having a good time with them. 

Smiling, he gives Atsushi his order, and the boy is off before he can blink. 

He should text Yosano like he said he would. But when he pulls his phone out of his coat pocket, all Chuuya can do is stare at it. The longer he prolongs talking to her, the angrier she'll be at him. 

But still , he doesn't know why but he just can't . 

He's embarrassed, really. They used to text all the time, but they became spottier. Oh, gods, he even left her on read. 

Chuuya doesn't even want to try, he’s so embarrassed. So he chooses to procrastinate on social media instead. 

Looking at Fyodor's page, he can see that he's uploaded a post to his story about how cold and pretty Tokyo is. He’s thinking about replying to his boyfriend about the story when he gets a text from him asking how Chuuya is coping with the funeral and how he’s doing as well. 

A sweet smile spreads across his features as he types out a reply. Humming softly to the music playing quietly on the speakers. How could one text set Chuuya at such ease? Not that he is at all ungrateful for the comfort his boyfriend brings him. Instead, it makes his heart swell with happiness.

[10:32AM, Fyodor] What are you doing now?

[10:32AM, Chuuya] Hanging out at my favorite cafe. Trying to give myself a break before I go back to the funeral.

[10:33AM, Fyodor] I hope you're okay.🤍

[10:34AM, Chuuya] I'm fine, please don't worry about me.🤍 Have you finished the assignment that you were working on?

[10:35AM, Fyodor] It's absolutely dreadful. I would be working on it a lot faster if you were here. 

[10:35AM, Chuuya] I highly doubt that

Chuuya laughs softly as he sends a small pouting gif. A real baby he is, but he's Chuuya's. He's typing out a reply when Atsushi comes back with his drink. 

"Is that the mysterious boyfriend?" The younger asks, and Chuuya can feel his face heat up from the accusation. 

"Mysterious boyfriend?"

"Yes!" He almost yells . "You've been sharing this guy in your stories and posts, and you don't say who he is or anything about him! You act like we wouldn't notice something like that." A fake little sweet pout on his face reminds him of the one Dazai would use when they were younger. Chuuya's sure that's where he got it from. 

"This is why Yosano-san complains that you never tell us anything anymore," he places Chuuya's coffee down on the table, and Chuuya's thankful for the distraction. He focuses on drinking instead of answering Atsushi's question. 

"So, who's the man?"

At least he can pretend that the flush on his face is from the drink's heat, not the question. "He's just someone that I met at university."

"But does he treat you right?"

Chuuya hums and nods, gesturing for Atsushi to come to sit with him again. It's on Dazai's side of the booth, but he's trying not to think about that. Atsushi smiles as he takes his seat, happy to gossip and maybe go hunting for more answers.

"He's…everything I didn't think I wanted," Chuuya begins. He's looking at his cup because he can't handle Atsushi's gaze right now. "He's brilliant, funny, and he's patient with me. The effort that he makes with me makes me feel so comfortable. He's always going the extra mile to make sure that I'm happy, and he doesn't try to push past my limits. He understands me, and he works hard at it."

Chuuya didn't mean to start rambling about Fyodor, but it all comes out anyway. It's true and just talking about him makes his chest feel empty. Being away from him during a time like this is hard.

But with what Dazai said to him at the funeral parlor, he isn't sure that he could look him in the eye right now. 

Atsushi is silent as he takes in all of the information Chuuya dumped on him. After a while, he offers him a small smile.

"You're happy now. I can see that he does well at his work." 

Chuuya laughs at that and curls his finger around the warm drink, trying to suck the temperature into his skin. 

"He does make me happy."

Atsushi's smile lightens as the doors chime to the cafe, meaning someone has just come in. He stands from his seat, and Chuuya glances back at his phone, knowing his procrastination time is close. 

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work. But please text Yosano-san? I know she'd love to hear from you."

Chuuya nods, even though he knows his friend has already turned his back and is walking away. 

Once again, he's greeted by the dead chat. Filled with few messages and even fewer replies. 

The redhead still tries, though. Typing out a message before deleting it seconds later and trying again. He’s so lost in his thoughts, trying to figure out how to word his message, that he doesn't even notice Yosano has come online. 

Or is typing until his phone vibrates softly with the message. 

[10:59AM, Yosano] Are you stupid or what? Are you typing a goddamn essay?

Chuuya grimaces and almost drops his phone in surprise. He'll never know how she managed to sneak up on him in texts .

[11:00AM, Yosano] Dazai said that you're back. I told him I didn't believe him because, as we are all aware, he's a fucking pathological liar , but it's true. You're fucking back, and you didn't dare to text me !

Chuuya chuckles softly at her words.

[11:01AM, Chuuya] Oh fuck off. Why are you even talking to Dazai?!? Do you want to grab lunch with Atsushi and me later today?

He frowns when she leaves him on read. Going offline after she sees it. 

Chuuya deserves it since he'd done the same to her a while back. But come on! They were both online, and she didn't even answer his question. He rolls his eyes, and he places his phone face down. Turning his attention to his drink, trying to ignore the tension in his shoulders. 

Instead of focusing on what feels like a failed conversation, he looks around and watches the surroundings of the cafe. Chuuya watches as a group of high school students are huddled around a table, their faces buried in textbooks and notebooks like he was once upon a time. A couple is sitting relatively close to him, in their own little world as they exchange small words and sweet fond smiles. 

Cradling his cheeks in his palm propped up on the table, he sighs. Tearing his gaze away to look at the drink, that's probably starting to get cold. Poking the cup with his fingers and watched the dark liquid ripped before his eyes. 

He leans back in his seat and rests his head on the cushion with another soft sigh. He toys with a ring under his gloved middle finger before peeling off the gloves to expose a small silver band. It has ocean waves engraved in metal and dark but beautiful sapphires set into the waves. 

It was a simple shared gift— Chuuya had fallen in love with the ring when he first saw it. Dazai wanted to get it for him, but Chuuya had instead of sharing the payment since it was so expensive. After a few rounds around, they split the payment evenly between the two of them.

He probably should have thrown it away long ago when Dazai broke up with him, but it’s pretty. Chuuya loved it (and still does) so much that he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. So he wears it but keeps it under his gloves so no one else can see it. 

Besides, he bought it.

His phone buzzes next to his gloves, and he looks over to see Yosano's reply to him. 

[11:17AM, Yosano] Fuck yeah?? Text me the place. I'll be there.

Chuuya smiles, taps a quick reply, and looks up, hoping to meet Atsushi's gaze. When they lock eyes, Chuuya waves his phone to him. Getting a thumbs up in return and the same smile he's sure that Chuuya's wearing on his own face.

[11:19AM, Yosano] Dazai's my friend too.

Chuuya sighs, locking his phone because he knows that's true. 

Putting the phone away, he returns to his drink, which is now lukewarm, if not room temperature.

Trying to give himself something to do while he waits., he pulls out a notebook that he tries to keep on his person at all times. The leather is old and worn, and it's comforting running his finger down the spine before flipping it open. Passing all of the pages he's already filled before going to a new one, untouched and without the black ink that coats all of its predecessors. 

Picking up his pen, he begins to draw, letting it guide him as he doodles quickly. The art is hazardous and rough, but he's the only one who sees them anyway.

He knows that Yosano is Dazai's friend. A lot of his friends were also Dazai's. That's the thing about falling in love with your childhood best friend: him and Dazai seemed to share custody of those they loved, and they kept them all in the divorce. 

Except for their respective families. 

That was why he had chosen to withdraw from her. 

He'd left, gone too far away to Tokyo, a place where he couldn't provide the same support if she ever needed him.

But Dazai? 

Dazai could provide her with so much more than he could. 

Besides, Dazai needed her more.

"Chuuya," Tachihara sighed worriedly. He stood next to his friend's bed and gently lifted the blanket off of the small body. "We have to go. It's noon, and we have to attend a class at two."

The older said nothing as he snatched the blanket out of the other boy's hands. Curling up tighter inside of it, he tried his best to fight down nausea rolling through him like relentless waves. 

"Chuuya, come on."

A two-day bender was what Tachihara had told him later when he was holding back Chuuya's hair as he threw up into the toilet bowl he'd spent his weekend getting absolutely shit-faced. 

All because he'd found out that Dazai was seeing someone else.

"Getting wasted will not bring him back," Tachihara told him as they walked to class. Chuuya groaned as he pressed a hand to his head, as he tried to use sheer will to stop the pounding in his chair and keep the sun from shining brighter than it already was. 

"I was not getting wasted because I want him back. He can fuck off and die in a ditch for all I care."

"It's not how you should be processing your feelings, regardless."

Chuuya gave him a wilting look, trying to be as annoyed as possible, but he's sure that he failed. Judging by the look on his friend's face that's part concern and part amusement, he looked no more threatening than an angry kitten.

"I will process my emotions the way I want," Chuuya snapped, drawing his back closer to his chest, ignoring how it brought comfort to him.

"There you are!"

Yosano's voice tears him away from his book. He glances down to ensure that the shock didn't mess up the art. Relief fills his chest when he finds the pages clear of unintentional stray marks.

"It's been two years!" she growls. Her hands are on her hips, and her perfectly formed brows are drawn in annoyance. Her voice draws the attention of every other customer in the room, and Chuuya's cheeks heat up from the attention and the intensity. "You never came back for the holidays!"

Chuuya tries to quickly gesture for her to sit down, hoping that maybe if he can at least get her in the booth, she'll quiet down. "Why the fuck do you gotta be so loud?!" He hisses.

"Well, I've missed you too!" she declares, crossing her arms and sitting in the booth across from him. Unfortunately, her voice does not lower. And heads and stares do not leave them.

"You've clearly been well," Chuuya comments, capping the pen and putting it away with the notebook. "I've seen your posts. You're dating Ranpo? I thought you…" his words trail off, not knowing if not having a real conversation in two years grants him the right to talk about her love life choices. 

It doesn't seem to, because she ignores the last comment. 

Laughing with a slight smile on her lips as she speaks. “Ranpo has been well too, Chuuya. We all are."

"I know."

"I see you have a new boo," Yosano says, changing the subject. She is leaning forward with her elbows propped up on the table, lacing her fingers together under her chin. Chuuya really wishes she wouldn't because he wants to talk more with her about Ranpo, but he doesn't seem to be able to get a chance. "Will we get to meet him?"

He simply shrugs as he answers, "maybe when you come to visit Tokyo."

“Aw, did bae not come to Yokohama with you?”

"He has classes, Akiko ."

She clicks her tongue in disapproval, and Chuuya sighs. "What a buzzkill. Bring him along next time you come to Yokohama. I heard that he comes from a pretty wealthy family. I'd like to see which charming man you've managed to wrap around your fingers this time."

Chuuya tilts his head at the implication, but Yosano doesn't elaborate. And she doesn't continue. 

"I'll see what I can do," he says. "Not sure if I want him to meet you, though."

She gasps, clutching her hand at her heart. It's so dramatic it reminds Chuuya of a particular person. " Chuuya! How can you say that? I'm ratting you out to your sister!"

Chuuya shrugs. "Ane-san knows about him already."

Leaning back in her seat, Yosano drops the dramatics, but there's a sort of tension from talking about her that Chuuya can't identify. He's so close to asking and trying to speak to her about it, but she starts talking again, at least this time at a regular volume.

"I'm glad you're happier now."

He doesn't even get a chance to respond when the bells over the door chime again, announcing a new party. They both turn towards the sound, only for bitterness to swell inside Chuuya's chest.

"Odasaku! I'm telling you, the cafe serves a—"

The words trail off as Dazai glances over to where Chuuya and Yosano are sitting.

Of course .

The fast conversion he had yesterday with Dazai comes back with a vengeance. Anger bubbles inside him, ready to surface once again.

But another emotion comes with it, one that Chuuya's all too familiar with when it comes to them.

Chuuya feels his chest constrict at sight at the sight of Oda walking so closely next to Dazai. The younger man is now facing Oda as he walks, in the middle of a conversation. His face is joyful at first, but the second that his eyes meet Chuuya's, they change into someone more muted.

Into something empty. 

Chuuya hates the way his chest fills with something ugly. An awful emotion as he gets up from his seat, putting his gloves back on hastily. 

"Chuuya?" Yosano calls out for him, but he can barely hear her. He can barely hear anything over his racing heartbeat. 

"Atsushi's shift is almost over, right? I'm heading out for a smoke. I'll wait for you both outside."

"Ah, but Chuuya! It's snowing pretty heavily–"

Chuuya ignores her and heads towards the doors, smiling politely at the older man, and glaring at Dazai, who gives him a blank look in return that Chuuya's no stranger to. 

He isn't in the right headspace here. 

"Hello, Oda-san." 

Oda blinks a few times, barely an expression on his face, but his tone is warm when he replies. Just like he was when they were kids. 

"Chuuya, you're back. I didn't see you at the funeral." 

"Chuuya pulls his lips into a thin line and smiles. Of course, he would be there too. 

"I'm back just for the funeral. And I'll be returning to Tokyo afterwards."

"We should catch up before you leave."

Chuuya lets a similarly blank expression fall over his face as he tilts his head to the side as if he's contemplating something. 

He glances over at Dazai, who has busied himself with the menu, as if he will be ordering anything other than the ridiculous iced berry tea with extra syrup. 

"I'll text you when I'm available. You seem well, Oda-san."

Chuuya may be small in size, but he's never felt small. His personality and actions always spoke otherwise. But next to Oda? He’s always felt like an ant. 

Small and utterly insignificant. 

The first time such an emotion grew inside Chuuya, he hated it.

"Odasaku? You mean Oda-san?" Chuuya asked. He stopped walking to glance at Dazai.

"Mhm! He's in the literature club with me! He kinda reminds me of you in a way. Just a mellow version, though. He doesn't get mad like you do. Dazai stopped walking then, his head tilted as he looked at Chuuya like he was silently asking why he had stopped walking with him.

"So, that's who you've been hanging out with when I'm at practice?" His voice came out quieter than he liked. He could feel an unrecognizable feeling starting to sprout within him. He shook his head and continued walking. Though it was faster and harsher than before.

Dazai followed suit, long legs allowing him to keep pace with him.

"Yeah, he just gets me. Even when I don't," Dazia replies, his gaze slightly unfocused like he was trying to demonstrate his point. Before snapping back into focus on Chuuya, who'd gone still.

Dazai never talked about his friends like that. Even student council president Sakaguchi Ango was never spoken about with fondness in the brunet's voice. 

Chuuya never liked being jealous. He's always thought it was stupid to feel so insecure about something he had no control over.

But now? Right now?

The green emotion was spreading across his lungs like a plague, threatening to collapse them.

"Chuuya?" Dazai calls out before he appears suddenly in the redhead's vision, startling him.

"What?" Chuuya snapped, annoyed. Dazai frowned and poked his cheeks a few times. Chuuya swatted his hand harshly with a click of his tongue, making Dazai whine. 

"What are you thinking about?"

Smoke curls into the air as Chuuya exhales, letting the lit cigarette warm himself amidst the cold. He leans his head back against the broken wall, allowing the shadow of the alley to shade his body. 

The redhead shakes his head, feeling his hair brush against his neck and sighs with furrowed brows. 

He is over Dazai Osamu.

Dazai Osamu means nothing to him. 

So it doesn't matter who he walked into the cafe with. It could have Oda, Ango, some girl from high school, some chick from college that he's blabbered about hitting on him, or someone he decided to date after–

He pulls himself out of that rabbit hole, glaring at his traitorous hands, which had started to tremble. He clenches them tightly together, cigarette sticking still between his fingers and groans. 

Fyodor. 

Oh, how Chuuya would do anything to have Fyodor hold him in his arms right now. 

He misses how Fyodor would brush hair in silence when he was in the mood. 

Sometimes he wouldn't do it quite right and would tug on Chuuya's hair, but it didn't matter. Even then, it was still comforting. 

Chuuya peels himself out of his phone, gloved fingers tapping numbers across the screen before pressing it to his ear.

" Chuuya ?" Fyodor's answer sounds a little surprised. 

The man closes his eyes in relief, exhaling softly. 

"Hey, it's me. Am I disturbing you?"

" Not at all ," Chuuya hears papers rustle, and the corner of his lips curl upwards. " Is everything alright ?"

"No, everything's great," Chuuya lies. "I just wanted to hear your voice for a bit."

Chuuya imagines the confused look on Fyodor's face as he answers; his tone is laced with concern. "You're lying, but I'll take it. I miss you too. "

"I'm fine, Kationachik . Coming back to Yokohama is just a little more overwhelming than I expected it to be." Chuuya murmurs. He can already see Fyodor stiffening at his endearing nickname, and the soft sigh falls through the phone.

" You should have let me accompany you back to Yokohama."

Chuuya sighs. "I wish you could be here too."

" You don't sound okay ." Chuuya picks up on the worry and can't help the warmth that blooms sweetly in his chest. 

"I promise I'm okay. If you're that worried, why don't you pick me up at the train station when I'm back?" Chuuya asks cheekily, and Fyodor laughs. 

" Who do you think I am? I'll be there , solntse ."

There's silence on Chuuya's end of the phone as he processes the words. His heart feels heavy in his chest.

"Don't lie to me. Are you sure you're okay ?"

Yes, Fyodor." Chuuya insists. "I just wanted to hear your voice, but I know I'm disturbing you. I'll call you again tonight?"

" Sure, " Fyodor breathes out. " I love you, solntse ."

Chuuya freezes in his movements, and his jaw drops. Fyodor hasn't said those words to him before now.

But he doesn't get the chance to answer. 

Because Fyodor has already hung up, Chuuya stares at his phone with his mouth agape, his head ringing, and his heart is pounding. 

His grip on his phone is too tight; he's worried it may break .

Chuya should feel happy that Fyodor loves him.

Right?

Right ?

They're dating, after all. They've been working towards building a long-lasting relationship. So naturally, it would pop out eventually. 

So why doesn't Chuuya feel happy?

Why isn't he elated to finally hear those words?

Why can't he bring himself to say it back?

"Have you ever told Dazai you loved him?"

"Huh? Why are we even talking about that bastard now?" Chuuya asked, brow set in deep annoyance. 

Tachihara shrugged. "I'm just curious."

"No, I haven’t," Chuuya said quietly. "Never felt the need to. Our actions always spoke louder than our words ever could."

But, Chuuya wondered now if Dazai ever returned those feelings. Was it possible that he was just faking it?

Faking for three whole years?

Maybe he didn't mean as much to Dazai as Dazai did to him.

Dazai sighs, resting his head on the excellent wood of the table he's sitting with Oda. His eyes fell upon the doors that are now closed, trying to hold in the horrible feeling in his chest. 

Even with his eyes closed and forehead pressed on the table, he can feel Oda's gaze on him. He wants to say something and is about to, or is thinking of the best way to phrase it.

"Please…I swear to god if you give me any lecture or anything…." His voice comes out weak. Muffled by him, facing his lap. "I don't want to hear it."

"You're having a hard time with this."

Dazai scoffs because that's plain to see. Anyone can tell that, and Dazai's having so much trouble trying to function like an average person having him back in his life.

" No shit ," he closes his eyes, rubbing his face with his hands as he tries to clear his mind. "I didn't think I'd miss him so much. God , this is so pathetic. I don't know what I'm supposed to do now."

"Maybe try talking to him? Tell him why you did it?" 

Dazai wants to cry , but he laughs instead. It's ugly, and it's bitter sounding.

"What makes you think that I didn't? That I haven't already tried to talk to him?" His tone is bile , and at least Oda isn't shaming him for it. "Ah yes, let me tell him the moment that we meet again after two years why I dumped him and humiliated him. Because that would do so well after what I said to him yesterday."

"I don't know what you said yesterday, but as long as you don't say you still love him, I'm sure you'll be okay." Atsushi's voice cuts in, and Dazai rolls his face to him to give him an amused look. But as the words sink in, it dies down to become something more muted and unreadable.

"..." he stays silent for a moment. Letting them pick the answers in their heads.

"Dazai?" Atsushi questions, and it doesn't sound like he's thinking highly of the man. "What did you say to him? Did you already tell him?!"

"...I didn't say that I love him but may have admitted that I missed him."

He can tell that Oda isn't happy with him, and neither is Atsushi. But no one was happy with his decision in the first place, so it's not that much of a loss. 

"Oh… and— how'd he take it?" he licks his lower lip like he's afraid of the answer. 

"About as well as you think he did," he sweeps his arm towards the direction that Chuuya had left— more like ran out off.

"Well…what did you expect, Dazai-san? You left him." Atsushi bluntly replies. But he just didn't understand. No one understands why he did it. Only one person understands why he broke up with him, but even she didn't approve of his actions.

Dazai shrugs and sits up at the table before facing Atsushi ultimately. "Are you finished making my drink? Or do you want to grill me more on how I left Chuuya?"

Atsushi sighs before going to the back to finish his drink. 

"For what it's worth, I'm happy Chuuya-san is better now."

There's a fit of jealousy in Dazai's heart and mind. It takes all he has in himself to shove it away somewhere deep so that he doesn't have to face the consequences of his decision. 

But seeing Chuuya in front of him again? The same man he loves and the one who held him in his arms on his darkest nights? The one who whispered quiet and soothing words into his ears when he was wrecked by his own nightmares? He is threatening to crumble all of his resolve.

Dazai did Chuuya a favor, 

Chuuya doesn't deserve him. 

Chuuya deserves the goddamn universe .

And Dazai? Dazai is simply a speck of dust in the cosmose can't even compare. 

He glances out of the cafe window and sees Chuuya standing across the street. He is hiding in an alleyway as he makes a phone call. He has a wistful smile on his features as he runs a gloved hand through his hair.

He looks soft and endearing. 

He's probably talking to Dostoevsky.

What right does Dazai have to tell him that he misses him?

Chuuya seems happy now, and he doesn't want to ruin it. Someone needs to do better than him at taking care of Chuuya.

It was a slip of the tongue that he promised he wouldn't make. A rookie mistake, and he is paying the price for it.

But Chuuya looked so ethereal as he sat there under the snow. Just as he's always been. 

And Dazai had just blurted it out without thinking. 

Was it worth it?

Maybe.

As much as it hurts Dazai to do so, he needs Chuuya to hate him. He needs him to hate him to continue to flourish even more. Dazai can't offer what Chuuya needs. 

But that doesn't mean that Dazai has to like it. 

No. In fact, Dazai hates it. 

He hates having to do it. 

Watching Chuuya so conflicted in front of him, eyes wide in anguish and confusion. His brows, slightly furrowed, hands trembling by his side. It hurt. 

It hurt watching Chuuya like that—torn between his emotions. But it means something to Dazai. It's like watching a firework show from a spark that should have been long since extinguished. 

The grass isn't greener on the other side for Dazai. No one can ever compete with Chuuya. No one can ever make him laugh like he did, feel at ease like he did, keep him safe as he did.

And no one can love him like he did.

But it's all for Chuuya. 

So yes, it fucking sucks. 

It sucks so much that he can't move on from Nakahara Chuuya. It's terrible that he can't let go of him even if it was for his own good in the first place. 

Dazai glances out of the window again, and even from this distance, he knows something is bothering Chuuya. 

Is it Dostoevsky?

Dazai never liked him. The Dostoevsky’s have been at odds with his family's business for the longest time, which is why he's refused to go to Tokyo. 

He's heard about how the heir of Dostoevsky was studying in Japan and rumored to be in Tokyo. He'd hoped that Chuuya wouldn't bump into him there, but the universe had let them meet. And, of course , the universe just had to go and make them a thing. 

Unbelievable. 

Chuuya's shoulders slouch, and Dazai frowns behind his hand that props up his chin, the elbow resting on the table.

Chuuya takes another drag of his cigarette, the smoke coming out in a long, slow exhale before he glances down at it. He drops it to the ground to stomp it out with the heel of his shoe. 

"Maybe you shouldn't have done it the way you did, huh?"

Dazai drags his eyes away from Chuuya to painfully look at Yosano as Atsushi comes and brings his drink to him, and he thanks him softly. He's sitting within a crowd of three-plus himself, they make it all cramped at the small table, but it's okay.

"He's finally happy now, Dazai. Or maybe it would have been better if you hadn't done it at all," she's smiling sadly at him like he's some kicked puppy. "He does deserve it after the break-up you gave him."

He tries to return the smile with his own small one.

"Anything I never want to lose is always lost.” Dazai drawls out. "It is a given that everything worth wanting will always be lost when I obtain it."

"I'm glad that he's happy without me."

And that's the very thing that hurts him the most.

Chapter Text

"Did you become a fucking stalker or something within the two years we've been apart?!" Chuuya snaps as he turns on his heel to glare at Dazai, who is dressed dashingly— Chuuya would rather die than admit that out loud, but here Dazai is— dressed in his black winter coat with a deep blue scarf draped over his shoulders, and a dark-grey oversized sweater tucked nicely into his black jeans. 

Dazai’s soft brown locks are tousled by the wind and frame his face gently, softening his sharp features. His honey-brown irises are so liquefied that it makes them feel like their seeping into his soul. Chuuya can see the bandages peeping out of the cuffs of his sweater, and he knows that they end just before his elbows and then start around his neck, hiding away scars from throughout the years. Some Chuuya knew where they came from, but some… he has no idea.

However, despite the tacky bandages, Dazai looks so good it actually hurts .

Chuuya knows that when Dazai dresses so well with minimal effort he just wants to blend in with society and not have people pay attention to him. 

He doesn't know if Dazai is aware, but he only steals more spotlight when trying to hide his presence.

Which also means that he must be in one of his dissociative moods. 

His ex-boyfriend hums with a bright look of innocence, his hands held up in surrender. It's late, and they've just wrapped up their funeral visit.

Kouyou had to leave for work, which included a series of apologies that she had to leave him alone. Chuuya has reassured her that he would be OK to go home on his own, but he didn't expect to bump into Dazai at the local convenience store near his place, standing in an aisle with a few cans of food and cheap sake in his hands. 

"I don't know what you're talking about?" His tone is so light and casual that Chuuya almost believes him. 

But this is Dazai . The same fucker that he spent fourteen years of his life with. 

"I'm not an idiot."

Since he returned for the last three days, he's been constantly bumping into Dazai at places Chuuya never expected him to be. Yet he is there every single time .

And each time he wears the same infuriating smile that makes Chuuya want to smack him across the face and pull him into a desperate kiss at the same him. Which, quite frankly, confuses him because he's over Dazai, and he's seeing someone else. He shouldn't have the irrational urge to do something to the man before him, yet he does, which pisses him off.

Maybe he just wants to hit him. Maybe he just wants to wipe that smile off of his face. Maybe he just wants to pull him down to his level and—

"I've bumped into you every night in different locations , shitty waste of bandages."

Chuuya had made sure that Dazai wasn't at the funeral when he was there today.

He just didn’t want to risk seeing the man again.

And it's not because he's afraid that he can't control himself in Dazai's presence. It's more like he doesn't want to feel anything. 

He just wants to peacefully mourn the loss of Hirotsu and not feel the pinpricks in his eyes for other reasons. He wants to have his own thoughts to himself for once. He doesn't want to think about anything else. 

Especially not the words that Dazai had uttered—

That's not right. Chuuya knows this.

Blaming Dazai has always been so easy. Putting everything on him is easy.

And Dazai always let him. He took everything that Chuuya ever gave him gracefully without any complaints. 

The angry texts, the heartbroken ones, the hateful ones, the tearful ones, every single embarrassing text message. Dazai received them all with good manners, even if he never responded.

Well.

He couldn't just snap back at him, right?

He could, but he didn't. 

He could have blocked your number and moved on.

Chuuya curses the traitorous thoughts in his head and glares at the brunet in front of him. 

"I don't know what you mean, though, Chuuya? I just finished a potential client's meeting on behalf of my parents and was on the way home when I felt hungry." Dazai tilts his head with a pout. 

That fucking pout .

Chuuya swears him all the way to the heavens. 

"Fuck you," Chuuya hisses, turning on his heels, his dinner rustling in the plastic bags in his hands. "I'm leaving, don't follow me."

He stalks down his path, only to hear Dazai's shoes clacking against the pavement. 

" Listen ," he says warningly, turning his head to look back, and that man has the blankest look on his face with a smile so soft it must be fake. "Fuck off."

"My house is literally on the same street as yours," Dazai replies, one hand on his hip and the other he uses to gesture towards the direction of their houses. "In case your chibi brain had forgotten, we live on the same street, right across from one another." 

Chuuya winces because he knows that. 

How could he forget such a painful detail?

He’s been extra careful to take specific detours to ensure he doesn't pass by Dazai's house alone. When he is with his family, and they take the car, it’s easier to avoid his place by looking out the window. They pass in a jiffy, and Chuuya pretends that Dazai doesn't live in the extravagant house owned by Mori Ougai, the place that he was all too well-acquainted with.

He had, after all, spent countless nights there too.

“Chuuya-kun, good morning.” 

Chuuya stopped his descent down the stairs. A slight blush spread across his cheeks. He just wanted to grab a drink and return back upstairs to hold Dazai, whom he'd finally gotten to fall asleep.

The younger one didn't have a good night; haunted by his own nightmares that he never shared with Chuuya. And Chuuya wanted to quickly get settled back into bed. But his plan was thwarted at the sight of Dazai's adoptive father. He was sitting in the armchair by the stairs, a book resting in his lap with a lone lamp turned on next to him on the side table stand, just at the foot of the stairs. 

"Mori-san," Chuuya greeted confusedly and sleepily. "Good morning…?"

It was four in the morning, but Mori was dressed as though he'd just come home from work.

In hindsight, Chuuya should have been suspicious. No one comes home at almost the crack of dawn. Or just sits in a dark room under the stairs with just a light on.

"Is Dazai OK?" Mori asked as Chuuya carefully threaded down the stairs, mindful to keep his footsteps silent so as not to wake the rest of the family upstairs.

Chuuya yawned behind his hand and nodded. "I think so. It's been a long day. He fell asleep a while ago, and I was kind of thirsty, so I snuck out to get water."

Mori sighed and placed the bookmark between the pages of the book he was reading and closed it. 

“You’re a good person, Chuuya-kun. You know that?"

"I—ah? Thank you?" Chuuya crinkled his forehead perplexedly. 

"You and Dazai… you're both such good children who don't deserve to be thrust into our world."

"I—"

What?

The sleepiness in Chuuya's head made his head fuzzy, and he didn't fully register what Mori had said, and the man didn't seem to want to elaborate any further. 

With a huff of a laugh, he more quickly gestured for Chuuya to head to the kitchen. 

"Hurry back to Dazai. I'm sure that he'll be awake by the time you get back into bed."

Chuuya winced because Dazai being awake again meant he wouldn't fall asleep anytime soon.

And Mori was right. When Chuuya was back in the room, Dazai was already awake and had sat up in bed. He was patiently waiting for Chuuya to return, analyzing his hands with the blankest of looks. When he noticed Chuuya's presence, the gentlest smile graced his features, which made his own heart stop. Chuuya barely made it back to the bed before he was attacked. Tackled down and drowned Chuuya with dozens of kisses that started out innocent, then grew emotional and eager. Cold hands glided under Chuuya's t-shirt, his own warm ones sliding against soft, pliant skin.

He's so deep in his thoughts that Chuuya doesn't even realize that he has found himself deviating from the path home. If he continued down this route, he would find the old playground they used to play out in summer as children. They hung out there after classes as middle school kids, and even used it avoid going home as highschoolers.

Chuuya stops in his tracks in front of a park.

Ah. Not just any park either.

His breaths come out in soft puffs of white as he stares at the playground. The vibrant colors on the equipment have faded throughout the years, but Chuuya never realized it until now. The soft blues and pastel greens have faded away to almost white and dirt. Track marks season the ground, making it look uneven.

Another pair of shoes stop behind him, and he can hear Dazai hum.

"Hmm. This place sure brings back memories."

Chuuya glares at him from the corner of his eyes, but he can see it all. Their younger versions laugh over silly jokes, Chuuya wandering into bushes to follow a puppy, and him pulling Dazai out of another brush when he decides to get himself stuck there.

Then, he sees an older version of themselves. Settled on the swings, popsicles widget between their lips as they bicker over test results, Dazai laughing and Chuuya scowling.

He swallows down a lump in his throat and turns away. Refusing to look at the playground any further. He doesn't want Dazai to see his face right now.

"I remember…" Dazai says, pointing over to an open area by some bushes. "This was where you fell down and scraped your knee pretty badly. You didn't cry at all, despite the amount of blood gushing from the wound. Hirotsu-san felt so bad .”

Chuuya's breath catches in his throat, and he can feel the pinpricks from earlier in his eyes again. 

Of all their memories of this place, Dazai had to pick that one. Chuuya could remember all the pain from his knee; he knew it hurt. But it didn't feel like it hurt as bad as…

As bad as what, though?

A small bubble of laughter escapes his lips, and he says, "you didn't even know what to do! You just stood there with your dumbass face and watched as Hirotsu-san fretted all over me."

Dazai retaliates. "That's because your stupid face ruined my concentration," his words make Chuuya scoff.

"My face is fucking fantastic . Thank you very much." Chuuya stops, and then, against all of his better judgment, he asks, "have you been well?"

"Why do you ask? Is Chuuya curious?" He questions back, and there's a dangerous look in Dazai's eyes. It's a very familiar one that tells him that Dazai's about to lie to him. Or is at least thinking of one to tell. It's the look he gets when he spends too much time with Mori. 

The hideous look means he's hiding something from him.

Chuuya hates how it still makes him feel sour and annoys him to his core.

Chuuya scoffs and climbs over the small metal rails that separate the park from the street. 

"You don't have to think up some elaborate lie," Chuuya tosses his hair over his shoulder and sighs.

"I don't know wh—" he begins, and Chuuya actually laughs. Earning a narrowed look from Dazai. 

"You always wore that expression on your face, which you think is menacing, when you couldn’t be honest with me." Chuuya interrupts. He chooses to focus on the ground instead, missing how Dazai's eyes widen. "When you broke up with me, you wore the same look."

Chuuya turns back to watch Dazai's eyes glint with so many emotions. Twisted in pain, anger, hurt, and raw conflict that could be misunderstood and seen as dangerous by any other person. But to Chuuya? It isnasn't. It can't be. He's spent most of his life with Dazai trying to figure him out, memorizing everything about him.

And Chuuya's laugh sounds so bitter and fragile like glass even to his own ears. It's a noise that his younger version would never be able to make until he tasted heartbreak on his tongue. 

"I guess if you can think of a lie to tell me, then that means you're well. It was…" Chuuya's words trail off. Trying to find the right words to say to him.

He can't do it. 

And Chuuya frowns because he doesn't know how he feels. The anger that he had harbored for Dazai for so long is gone. He's long since accepted that the man chose to leave him. Dazai was the one who chose to leave their life behind. 

He'd chosen to be free of him.

Maybe… it's reminiscent, then. Chuuya's been friends with Dazai longer than they were lovers. They grew up together, and as painful as it is for him to admit out loud (or even to himself), Chuuya will always care for him. 

"It's good to see that you're well," he finally manages to say.

He misses the way that Dazai's gaze softens. Not wanting to look back at him. The lips of his own dipping downwards into a disapproving frown.

He misses the way that Dazai says his name like a soft breath. Like it's holy, fragile, and could break if he said it too loudly. 

He misses how Dazai reaches out to him from where he stands. Like he's trying to follow and catch up with him, but there's a rail in the way. The rift that's keeping them apart.

"You're exhausted ," Chuuya murmured, legs crossed under Dazai's blanket. 

Dazai yawned and stretched himself out, t-shirt riling up to show off the tight muscles that Chuuya was blessed by the gods to be the only one who had the opportunity to look at. His hair was still wet from the shower, his towel draped over his shoulders. And Chuuya was sure he was still dripping water all over the place.

Dazai's fatigue was loud and clear across his features. The expression was worn so openly in front of Chuuya, even if it makes him look vulnerable. It's Chuuya, after all: his oldest friend, his boyfriend, and the man he loves. 

He would let down almost every wall, if only he asked. Dazai has no reason to hide from him because he loves Chuuuya. He’d do anything and everything for the redhead.

"C'mere," Chuuya said, concern passing over his features as he opens his arms for Dazai to crash into. 

Spending the day at Mori's office left Dazai exhausted and hardly able to move. Tired eyes glanced to Chuuya as he tried to ignore how his head pounded in his skull. But he slowly crawled over to Chuuya, falling against him. Resting his head on his shoulder, sitting on his lap comfortably. 

The moment he attached himself to the smaller male, the towel was grabbed from his shoulders and was used to dry his hair further. 

Dazai sighed quietly, allowing himself to melt into the touches from Chuuya. Sluggishly grabb his phone before snuggling into an even more comfortable position. Scrolling through his messages as he laid against the small warm body.

"Long day?" Chuuya asked softly as he brushed Dazai's now mostly dried hair. 

"Mm." was all he answered. He didn't want to indulge Chuuya in the details—it would ruin his expectations of Dazai, and he didn't want to really talk about it in the first place. "It was boring . I'll spare you the details. You're little chibi brain won't be able to compute everything."

Chuuya snorted, his hand snaking its way around his scalp to his forehead. He flicked it hard against the skin, eliciting a loud whine. Dazai's phone fell into his lap when both hands flew up to the now sore spot.

"Chibi, I'm tired . I didn't ask to be bullied. I just wanted to unwind in your arms ."

"You're such a whiny brat," Chuuya said, but it's not menacing. It's sweet, and he chuckled. He opened his arms again, and though Dazai huffed in annoyance, the exhaustion that weighed him down pulled him back into Chuuya's arms. Melting away all of his problems as he rested against him.

But, Dazai has sen his weariness that the older is hiding under gladdened blue eyes.

"How was your day?" Dazai asked, reaching out to press his hands against Chuuya's, interlocking their fingers before he pulled him into his own arms and brushed his fingers into Chuuya's hair.

It's awkward because he's still technically trapped between Chuuya's legs, so he twisted himself until his own long legs draped over Chuuya's, and they're more comfortable.

"Had to help out dad with a bit of work, ran some ideas with him, and sat with him for a pitch. Then helped Ane-san with some numbers for a school assignment." Chuuya yawned, soft noises escaping his lips as he pressed his cheek against Dazai's chest.

" You’re helping Kouyou?" Dazai repeated in disbelief. Kouyou was four years older than them, and she was in university . What kind of help would she need from a senior high schooler ?

"Ane-san," Chuuya corrected and emphasized. He sighed at the disrespect for his older sister. Dazai and Kouyou constantly bickered, the two of them just too overprotective over Chuuya. "Just wanted some opinions."

Disgruntled, Dazai said nothing else and rubbed his nose into Chuuya's hair, knowing that it'll annoy the redhead. But today, Chuuya only wrapped his arms around him in a tight, warm hug and didn't let go.

Dazai walks into an office, its hallways completely empty. It’s as though the while building knew that he was coming. That the brunet had planed to visit and everyone clearned away, desiring to avoid any contact with him.

It’s almost kinda funny. It draws a short chuckle from Dazai as he makes his way down the hall.

There's a specific person that he plans on visiting today. And he stops in front of her office. The thick set of doors, tapping it twice before they opened automatically. Dazai's eyebrows raise at how fancy it all is.

Rows of dark oaked bookshelves line the walls, two shelves are removed from the central bookshelf to line a dark red and black hilt katana, and certifications line the bottom shelf, showcasing Kouyou's years of martial arts training, similar to her younger brother's.

"Ane-san," Dazai draws out, pulling the formality out like a spoiled brat that wants to pull on the brain of his friend's hair. Spreading his arms out in greeting. "It's been a while."

The disdain on Kouyou's face is so sharp that Dazai's sure it could cut through paper. But she does look somewhat relieved to see him.

"I didn't think you'd show your face in here," Kouyou says eventually. "You look well, Dazai."

"Well, I managed to successfully seal the deal for Mori in Sapporo, and he did also request me to come back to celebrate, ah, after we mourn for Hirotsu-san, of course."

"Are you going to be back for long?

"Nope," Dazai answers as he flops down unceremoniously in a seat in front of Kouyou's desk. Her office overlooks the city of Yokohama, and the office a few floors above, at the very top, belongs to Mori. And somewhere in between, he's sure to find the Nakaharas' office. "Probably three weeks at the most, then I leave for a job in Tokyo."

"Tokyo?" Kouyou repeats with a raised brow. She places her pen down to lean back in her seat with her arms crossed. "I thought that you were avoiding that city like the plague? Since my brother is there."

Dazai barely looks amused as he drapes one leg over the other on the side of the seat. Lounging rather disrespectfully over the cushioned chair. Relaxing into the seat, looking completely unbothered.

" Outskirts of Tokyo ," he corrects. "I'm just going to investigate some rumors about a rival gang that's made its home there, and I'll be back again."

"Have you met Chuuya yet?" Kouyou asks, concerned, lifting a teapot that Dazai is sure is handpainted in a soft shade of red and pouring them a cup of tea. 

"Oh? He didn't tell you?" Dazai replies with a quirked brow. "I've…spoken to him, but just briefly. He's going out of his way to avoid me now."

He watches as the corner of her lip twitches, and he frowns.

"Entertained, are you?"

Kouyou purses her lips and leans forward, placing her chin over her laced fingers, making it seem like an understatement. Because no, she was fucking fascinated .

"Don't get me wrong, Dazai. I'm still mad at you for breaking his heart and hurting my baby brother the way you did, and I disapprove of trying to protect him, but I understand why you're doing it…because I would do it too."

In all the years that they've known one another, Kouyou and Dazai have never seen eye to eye. But this? This is the one thing where they have somewhat of an understanding.

"Ah," Dazai muses. "Is that why you pushed her away?

Kouyou glares at him, even if she knows that deep down, he's right. "My relationship issues are none of your business."

"So, I am correct. She still likes you, though. Even though she's dating someone else right now. And that you've been ignoring her for the past year ." Unfortunately, it is Dazai's business. But maybe he is out of line, and he's being hypocritical. 

But he feels like he should still say something on her behalf.

"Why are you lecturing me? And rubbing my choices in my face?" Her voice sounds as lethal as the poisons she's known for using on jobs when she's bored. "I already told you I agree with you, so drop it ."

Dazai lifts his hands in defense. "If it cushions the blow, I don't imagine this little glorified friendship of theirs lasting much longer. Maybe a few more months at least."

Despite her glare, there's a tiny spark of hope in her eyes. She's so much like her brother it almost hurts to see similar traits in her. It doesn't make him attracted to her because no one can replace his Chuuya. 

It just creates heartache and longing.

He decides to change the subject before Kouyou gets any ideas on poisoning his tea. Though, it's not like the new subject that Dazai picks is any better.

"Do you agree that Chuuya seems happier now?" Taking his tea before she could change her mind and take it back or worse. It's still warm, and he relishes how it seems to slowly warm his insides. 

He needs it in the chill of the room. 

But his warmth is all but evaporated when Kouyou starts talking again. 

"From which moment are you comparing to?"

Gone instantly is the warmth inside of him. Gone is anything but guilt and gooseflesh crawling through him inside and out. 

He supposes that after what he said to her, he deserves it. 

But that doesn't make it hurt any less.

"If you want to compare it to when you left him, then yes. He's definitely happier." Dazai opens his mouth to argue, but for once, he's speechless. He can't even make a sound to defend himself. "But if you're talking about now , that seems to be up for debate."

Dazai tries, oh gods, he tries so hard to keep his heart from feeling anything when Kouyou says that. He just wants to extinguish the flame in his heart.

She's rubbing just as much salt in his wound as he's sure he did to hers. It's just payback, real karma for his misdeeds and words. 

But that doesn't make it hurt less. 

That doesn't make him feel any less pain.

Because the resentment he feels for himself and the one who's making Chuuya feel happy is too strong. It's not right, he should want Chuuya happy, and he does . He just wishes that he could have both. But only gods can have both.

And he is not a god, he is nowhere near one.

And to hear out loud from people saying that Chuuya isn't happy with him, or possibly at all right now? It's a knife in the chest. It's a blade that drives home exactly where it hurts the most.

"I…In our line of business, we can't have a weakness."

"I concur," Kouyou bitterly agrees with his statement. "But what you did, ruined him . Showing yourself like that would only destroy the peace and life he's spent the last year repairing."

Dazai cocks his head to the side, smiling sadly at the woman. 

"He deserves to be happy and protected. I can't do both for him, Ane-san. I still believe that I did the right thing." Dazai replies, setting his cup down and threading his fingers in his lap. The tea suddenly felt scorching. Like it's burning him from the inside out.

Kouyou's smile is grim as she takes another sip of tea. "I beg to differ. You just don't feel confident about yourself. Which is what pisses me off so much about you. Honestly, Dazai." 

Dazai winces because he knows that tone from Chuuya, another wonderful thing that they share. The same tone that lets Dazai know that there's an oncoming lecture. 

"You are one of the most respected people in this business after your father, and yet you can't seem to bring yourself to be strong enough for Chuuya. You left him in tears—"

"I'd prefer not to be reminded of that." Dazai interrupts with his lips tight. He blows out a slow deep breath and narrows his eyes at Kouyou. "I know exactly what I've done, and I'm sitting in the consequences of that."

She laughs, and oh gods, it sounds so broken. " No , you don't get to get off that easily. If we were in a normal situation where you're a shitty ex-boyfriend of my brother's, I'd warn you to stay the fuck away from him now because of how broken you left him. He's moved on, Dazai. And as much as I know you adore him, he's happy now."

Kouyou's classes were long today, her longest day of the week. It's a pity because she had to go to work for a few more hours in just a few hours. It's such a shame, but she wanted to come home and see her brother before she left again. 

Maybe grab dinner if he's hungry. 

But the house she walked into was quiet. It was relatively normal for this time of day. Parents are generally at work, and her brother could typically be out with his friends, or most likely his boyfriend. But she knew he was home. 

His shoes were there in the genkan. But all of the lights were off, and there wasn’t a single sound in the whole house. 

That was her clue that something was wrong. Because Kouyou's brother was never quiet. His personality was as loud as his hair, and he was always so lively when he was home. Was he upstairs with Dazai? 

He couldn't have been because Dazai's shoes aren't with Chuuya's.

Something was utterly wrong .

She ran up the stairs, and she prayed that she'd find him in his room. Maybe asleep, but something in her told her that wasn't the case. Neither of them would be so lucky. 

When Kouyou threw open the door, she found all of her suspicions to be correct. She didn't hear anything from Chuuya about her bursting in, and the lights were all off. 

At first, she didn't see him in the darkness, but a small shaking bundle leaned against the wall in the corner of his room. It took her only a few seconds to realize that the ball was, in fact, her brother. 

And he was sobbing his eyes out.

It was quiet, and she could feel her heart-shattering in her chest. 

"Oh, Chuuya…" she said softly, sitting by him. She made herself comfortable on the floor next to him. 

Chuuya's wearing clothes she didn’t recognise. And they're way too big for him. Kouyou assumed they're probably Dazai's. His face pressed into the fabric of the pants, and even in the dark she could almost see the wet spots he's made with his tears. 

"Is everything OK?" she asked him softly, but no response to her words or presence. 

"Chuuya? Hey, talk to me," she tried again, but it was the same result. 

All Kouyou cloud do was squeeze his knee, trying to put as much assurance that she could into the gesture. As she tried to show him that she’s there for him.  

A few minutes later, he seemed to realize she was there by his side, just like she'd always been when they were kids. 

The moment that he did, he all but lept into her arms. His quiet sobs turned to loud wailing. So loud, she wanted to cover her ears since he was right there. So loud and in so much pain. 

"He's gone, Ane-san!" That sentence made her blood run cold and sent her into a flurry of unwelcome emotions. 

"Dazai's gone! He left me! He said he wanted freedom from me!" he wails loudly to her shoulder, words hardly muffled. "I wasn't good enough for him, and I chased him away!"

It was then she'd learned that they'd broken up. That Dazai had really gone and done it. At that moment, she'd never felt more hatred for anyone in her life than she did then. The feeling started to lessen when she found out why, but her harbored grudge ran deep.

Dazai knows that Chuuya is happy now. He knows this well . He knows that Dostoevsky would do anything in his power to make him happy. He's done his own research on the man and knows just how powerful the man's family is. 

But he can’t help but wonder if he's only hanging around Chuuya because of who he is, and the connections that he can get through to his family.

But, who is he to interfere if he takes care of him? If Chuuya's happy, then Dazai should be satisfied too. And if Dostoevsky can keep him protected, something that Dazai cannot, he doesn't deserve to get involved. He shouldn't .

" Dazai ," Kouyou's tone is concerned as she looks at him pitifully. A look that he's never liked receiving. He scowls, but she dismisses him like Dazai's the one that's her actual little brother. "As someone who cares for you, please , take good care of yourself and don't self-destruct another time. If you tell him that you want him back, you're going to shatter the both of you ."

The narrow-eyed smile Dazai gives her is one that's always haunted her and one that she's always had. It is a cold, calculated look that Dazai knows what he was doing. He knows any and all repercussions and still chooses to do it because he believes that it's the best outcome, and he doesn't care who will be hurt in the process. 

Incredibly ironic because he left Chuuya in so much pain .

"Well, aren't you selfish, Dazai?"

The smile grew further before it eventually turned sad. Kouyou's heart aches for him.

Sometimes she wonders if it is really worth it for them to be tournaments by something so small and insignificant. 

The last thing she wants is either of them getting heartbroken again.

" Chuuya!! How is Yokohama?! "

Yuan's voice is so loud that a few heads turn to glare at him for having the girl screaming at him on the other end of the phone.

"What is it with all the women in my life screaming at me and making people stare at me?" Chuuya hisses into his phone.

" Oh? Do you have multiple women in your life? " Chuuya can already see Yuan giggling in teasing anticipation, and he rolls his eyes. 

"Only ones like to draw me mass amounts of attention," which makes her laugh. "What do you want, Yuan?" Chuuya asks, walking down the street of Kanagawa, hoping to visit the temple before he heads back to the funeral, hoping not to bump into a certain someone he's trying his best to avoid.

"Well….. " Yuan drags out the word, trying to be a tease. It only earned her a click of Chuuya's tongue.

" I wondered if you've already bumped into that hottie ex-boyfriend! "

Chuuya winces. " Yuan ."

She laughs sheepishly from the warning and says, "sorry insensitive. But, for real, though, are you coping well being back in Yokohama? I saw your stories, and it's such a pretty city…. and your Russian hottie is so missing you ." 

Chuuya turns left down a street, sighing aloud into the phone in annoyance at his best friend, earning him a laugh. 

" Oh, Chuuya. I know you miss him too. But for real, are you OK, though? I haven't gotten many texts from you since you returned to Yokohama ."

"I…" he slows down in his steps. Yuan's been his university mate since day one, and they've always been there for one another, no matter what. She can tell when Chuuya's down, when he's angry (and Yuan will get mad at him too!), and now she's worried about him.

"I've been bumping into Dazai a lot," he begins. "I thought that it would be OK 'cause I’m over him. But, Yuan, he's everywhere ."

"...And what is this doing to you, Chuuya?"

"I don't know," Chuuya confesses. "It's been two years; how are you supposed to react when seeing your ex-boyfriend?"

"Ignore him, roll your eyes at him, glare at him, pretend that he's dead to you," Yuan ticks off her list, and he can see her counting all of her little things on her fingers. "But you want to talk about when I was on/off with Shirase, I hoped he would die, but I also wanted to grab him and make out. I wanted him to suffer the same pain that he put me through, but I wanted him to still love me. And, I wanted him to f—"

"OK!" Chuuya interrupts by all but shouting into the phone, turning even more heads his way. He flushes red and hurries along his way. "I get it. You were still horny as fuck for Shirase, even though you both broke up—"

"Nah," Yuan corrects him. "But that's between him and I. You… However…"

Her voice fades out in his ears as he looks at the shine ahead. His eyes are focused intently on the man standing by the small fountain, one hand holding the ladle and the other's fingertips brushing under the water that pours out from the ladle. 

" What the fuck ," Chuuya utters under his breath as he stares at Dazai. Who is moving slowly towards the bell, rang it and clapped twice before interlocking his fingers with a downward tilt of his head in silent prayer.

Sunlight shines down on him, bathing him in soft, delicate light, his dark hair turning many shades lighter. 

" What? " Yuan hisses. " What is it, Chuuya? You don't say that very often, bitch, spill? "

"It's—It's my ex-boyfriend ."

Yuan gasps scandalously and then starts to ask him a question, "in front of you right n—"

But she doesn't get a chance to finish it. 

"I'll call you back later." And he hangs up before she can start to protest. Shoving his phone into his pocket as he bows before entering the shine, stepping in his left foot.

He's appreciative of the quietness inside of the shine. Crickets sing as he makes his way through the shrine, stopping in front of Dazai. 

"How am I able to bump into you even here? " He hisses as he gestures respectfully around them.

"You know, Chuuya can always just ignore my presence," Dazai says with amusement as he crosses his arms. Chuuya places both hands on his hips and huffs in annoyance. He hates the way that his cheeks feel warm.

Because Dazai is right. 

He could have, but he didn't .

"Maybe, that's 'cause I wanna harass you." Chuuya harrumphed, turning his cheek away, missing the small look in Dazai's eyes. 

"So, what's little chibikko doing here? Other than harassing me, of course? Maybe you're stalking me instead" Dazai looks scandalously teasing with his wide brown eyes.

"I thought I'd come pray before heading back to the funeral," he says quietly as he brushes past Dazai, picking up the same ladle that the man was just holding onto earlier. "Get your head out of your ass. I would never stalk you." 

That's a lie, but Dazai doesn't need to know that.

Chuuya had spent a reasonable amount of time hanging out on his social media accounts, scrolling mindlessly to see what Dazai would post. He still does sometimes, just in case . Of what, he doesn't know. A new partner? Coming to Tokyo? He's never been sure, but he does it anyway when he gets low. 

Or out of pure boredom.

Chuuya scrolled through Dazai's social media on his phone. He looked up at Dazai with a pout, and Dazai granted him a sweet look that was a mix of confusion and amusement. 

"What's wrong, Chuuya? Find an ugly slug photo?" He laughed when Chuuya huffed in annoyance. 

"How come you never post anything?" Chuuya lifted his phone to show Dazai his own page, like he's never seen it. 

There are only maybe three pictures of Chuuya on there, but there isn't much else besides that. He doesn't ever talk about his family or post about them. Maybe he'd thought a few pictures of the sea were pretty, but it's so bland and tasteless. 

Dazai held Chuuya tightly, kissing his lips lightly like trying to get rid of his pout. It almost works. 

"I don't post a lot because I want to keep what's most important to me private." He moved up to kiss Chuuya's nose. "I don't feel the need to share and show people what's mine. I want to keep you as close to me as possible."

Chuuya'd be lying if he said that his heart doesn't flutter a bit in his chest at the answer. 

"OK," he said, accepting what he was given and moving up slightly to kiss his boyfriend.

"I'm sure you didn't," Dazai grins like he knows some dirty little secret Chuuya has. But it is too childish to say it out loud. 

Chuuya ignores how fake his words sound in favor of purifying his hands. After he does, he rinses his mouth and then repeats the process of washing his hands. 

The shrine is where Hirotsu bought them a few times when they were children for special occasions. They didn't come here often, but that never made it any less special to Chuuya. 

After he places the ladle back, Chuuya glances at the place. He can notice, despite how bare it is compared to when there's a festival, there's still a layer of peace and tranquility that seems to cleanse over the place, making it feel comfortable and soothing. 

"It's been a while since I've been here," Chuuya says as he slides his hands into his coat pocket. Ignoring how his hands seem to ache from the chill of the water. 

"Well, you didn't come back for the holidays last year. I heard there was a very festive Christmas fair last year."

"You heard?" 

"I didn't come back last year either," Dazai confesses. Something in his tone makes Chuuya turn his attention back to him.

His features have a sorrowful look like the last two years haven't been kind to him. And something in Chuuya can't help but wonder if he had felt any kind of pain that he went through.

Did it hurt?

Did it hurt leaving me the way it hurt you?

There's a blur of quick movement before Chuuya's eyes before his vision is blocked by a dark figure. He looks up to see an almost raw pain in Dazai's eyes that's quickly smoothed into something more gentle before Chuuya realized what he'd done. 

He asked the question out loud .

Chuuya had asked both questions out loud, and Dazai heard them.

Then he's smothered by Dazai. Wrapped in something that he thought, at first, was an embrace, but it doesn't feel like one. But Chuuya can still feel the warmth of his body being pressed up against his and so close . He hates how it feels too soon when Dazai backs away from him.

It takes him a minute to realize that his hands are in his hair. And they were trying to get something out of it. His fingers are cold against his scalp as he moves them through his hair. One of his hands held gently at the roots so he could be careful not to hurt him, and the fingers on his other hand slowly worked something out. Prying something from the long locks. 

When Dazai finally steps away entirely, he has a small but sad, wistful smile on his lips. Like he's trying too hard not to break the moment they're having between them. He lets go of Chuuya's hair, and he realizes later that the mourning feeling in his heart is from the lack of Dazai's warmth. And he tries his best to ignore how every part of him wants to reach out to Dazai.

Reach out to him and capture him in a genuine embrace. To earn back the feeling of his arm around him. He focuses; he can almost feel where Dazai would hold him.

In Dazai's fingers, he holds a winter cherry blossom to him. 

Confusion floods through Chuuya, and Dazai keeps his painful silence as he toys with the small flower between his fingers. 

Suddenly, small white particles flutter obliquely across his eyes, falling in the small space between them. Making his eyes cross and his vision blur slightly.

Chuuya blinks a few times, trying to clear his vision and his confusion. Taking a moment to realize that it had started snowing again.

A soft breeze flies past them combining the snow with flowers and their petals; it catches the ends of their coats, billowing them along with it. It's beautiful, like something right out of a movie. And Chuuya may have loved it more if he didn't have to spend it with Dazai.

He would have enjoyed it more if Dazai didn't look like he was struggling to say something; contemplating words that are stuck on his tongue. His brows furrow like he's in pain, and in his eyes, Chuuya can only see honest regret before it all fades away.

And the words that come from his lip are no louder than a whisper. Almost carried away by the breeze.

Oh.

It did.

Chuuya hates the burning relief that he feels, and he finds himself burning with the desire to have more of the warmth around him. The taste of something he's been missing and his words made him only want to have more.

Chapter Text

“He’s not as mad at me as I thought he’d be…”

Oda looks at Dazai quizzically, and Dazai shakes his head, dismissing his words.

“Did something happen?” he asks, un-pryingly. He knows good and well that Dazai will open up to him when he’s ready. Because of this, there’s no reason to force or pry. 

Dazai sighs and leans back in his chair, rocking on its two hind legs carelessly. 

“I…pulled a flower out of his hair this morning?”

Oda slides him a flat, questioning look. Dazai simply shrugs in his defence.

“He looked so pretty under the soft sunlight and it just felt like we were seventeen again. Celebrating another new year like we’re kids.” Dazai bemoans, burying his gaze in his arms resting on the cafe’s table. “A winter cherry blossom got stuck in his hair and I just instinctively reached out to pluck it out. Oh, Odasaku , the look on his face…”

Dazai would never forget the slightly dazed look Chuuya wore; his cheeks were dusted pink from the cold, his bright blue azure eyes soft and confused, and his lips parted slightly as soft breaths escaped his lips. The very ones that he had come to adore kissing. 

But when Chuuya asked him if it hurt? The pained blank look on Chuuya’s face twisted Dazai’s heart more than he’d expected it too. It felt like he wasn’t looking at Dazai anymore. That he saw right past him, and saw only the person who caused him so much pain .

“ It did. ”

The two words were spoken so softly, they could have been blown away by the wind. He almost hoped that Chuuya didn’t hear them. More than almost, he honestly wishes that he hadn’t heard him. 

Time and time again, Chuuya seems to unconsciously force his hand. Dazai has to be painfully honest with him, and he just can’t help it. Not when it’s Chuuya who’s standing in front of him, his questions so innocently direct, his words so gently that it’s hard to not answer. 

It’s like Chuuya has some sort of truth spell on Dazai, one he placed on him when they were kids, and Dazai feels absolutely compelled to give him everything he’s ever asked for. He’ll tell him anything that he wants to know if he only asks . 

All he wants to do is bare every single part of his soul to Chuuya. But he can’t .

And the way that Chuuya had just stood there, the way that his bright blue eyes went wide just before he pressed his lips in a firm, tight line, and then turned his head away, avoiding Dazai’s gaze. He knew then.

Chuuya had heard him.

Dazai sighs loudly, earning him a raised eyebrow from Oda before he flops himself down on the table. The older man nudges him with his shoe, earning a whine from his friend.

“Why do you do this to yourself Dazai?”

Dazai takes a peek from the corner of his eye, just before his elbow and groans before he answers honestly. “ I don’t know .”

Oda makes a small noise and takes a bite of his meal. He watches as men in tailored suits scurried of the tower’s cafeteria, busy with their own lives with their own lives while throwing them a slightly terrified look, as if it wasn’t normal to have two men— well, one man, dining in the main cafeteria area of the building while the other looks like he’s going to have a crisis. A whiny little brat and a calm man who’s just eating his food. 

“Did my father want something from you today?” Dazai asks as he plants his cheek against his arm, ignoring the way his cheek feels squishy under the muscles. 

“Just another recon job on the rival gang in Yokohama. You know how it is.” Oda says dully, waving his spoon at Dazai. 

Dazai snorts as he sits back to melt into the chair. He takes a look at his friend, the man who never gets his hands stained red, but will do all sorts of dirty jobs to make ends meet.

It’s odd, then. For Dazai and Chuuya to befriend Oda. Two young boys from wealthy, questionable families hanging around a boy that no one really heard of. The two curious boys had met Oda when he was helping out around Hirotsu’s place, and Dazai had quickly befriended him, pestering him as much as he could.

Chuuya, though, seemed to be only glad that Dazai wasn’t constantly bothering him, and avoided the duo as much as he could.

“Chuuya is happy now, Dazai. You gave him that. Why not let him live it out like the way you have always planned?”

The question isn’t meant to offend him, and it's not meant to question Dazai’s decision. Oda just wants Dazai to come to terms with his own feelings and to understand that if he makes a mistake, he makes a mistake. 

Dazai mumbles something, making Oda raise his eyebrow again. 

“What was that?”

Dazai scowls, hating the way he’s being treated like a child under Oda’s gaze and he huffs. “ I miss him .”

Oda’s gaze softens, and he smiles. “I know you do, Dazai.” 

“How am I supposed to compete with someone who already won his heart?” Dazai questions, and for a moment, all Oda sees is a little boy who’s sitting on the engawa floors. Short legs kicking the air as he looks out with a sulk at the pond in Hirotsu’s estate. His smaller counterpart, though, probably somewhere else in the house, also sulking , maybe with tears in his eyes. 

“Now, Dazai. I’m not encouraging you to do anything stupid. But don’t you think Chuuya deserves to know the truth?” Oda places his spoon down to look at his friend properly, and Dazai decides to accept the challenge by staring back at Oda with no emotion in his eyes. 

People tend to cower under Dazai’s gaze. It’s something long ago established that the man has no fears. With a reputation and tainted as his, there’s no wonder no one dared to look him in the eye. That’s how he’s earned the name ‘ The Demon Prodigy .’

But that’s after Dazai had cut off the only fear he’d ever had. It was all done to protect him . 

But not everyone knows how Dazai is haunted by the aftermath of his actions—even months later.

“Dazai, you should eat something.”

“I’m not particularly hungry.”

“Dazai, have you slept?”

“Not really.”

“Dazai, at least take a shower to freshen up yourself.”

“Later…maybe.”

“Dazai.”

“I know.”

“Dazai, please.”

“I’m fine.”

“Dazai, come on.” 

“I’ll do it later.”

“You shitty waste of bandages, when will you learn to take better care of yourself?”

Dazai’s eyes opened languidly to stare at the darkness of his apartment. He laughed, a sound cold and brittle. Of course he was being haunted by him even then.

The Chuuya in his head was fake. The ghost of a memory of someone that he’ll never have again.

But, what’s real is his flat. One that has suddenly become clean .

At least it felt clean. Though, he couldn’t really see. The sun had set at some point and the only light that came in was the city lights that shone through his window. Someone had come in to clean up the mess.

He could also smell the aroma of food coming from the kitchen— it smelled like soup and familiarity. 

He glanced over to the kitchen counter, watching with bare interest as steam curled upwards lazily. Someone had just left his apartment without him realising it just then.

Dazai guessed that maybe he should be more careful. Especially since people are seeming to wander into his apartment without him seeing or even realising it. 

What kind of son would Mori think of him if he was just assassinated in his sleep?

Dazai grabbed himself off of the couch, looking down when he felt a blanket pooling at his feet.

He’ll just pick up later. 

He shuffled into the kitchen, ignoring the bowl of hot soup and rice on the table in favour of pulling out another bottle of sake, only to frown when there’s nothing left.

As in, nothing .

Dazai’s shelves where he stocked up on a variety of sake and whiskey were empty. His bottles were gone .

“Odasaku,” he hissed angrily under his breath. Dazai spun on his heel to notice just how clean his apartment was. Whatever bottles were left haphazardly on the floor was cleaned out, regardless if they were empty or half full. 

“Fuck,” Dazai growled, teeth gritted in irritation as he pulled out his phone to text Oda a bunch of angry messages. But before he had a chance too, a notification pings and Dazai’s eyes widened, his heart in his throat. 

He hadn’t texted him in months , so why the sudden change?

Dazai wanted to wait a little bit before looking at the texts, so he texted Oda instead. Waves of pissed off messages with a promise to kill him before he opened Chuuya’s chat. Long after the last message came in.

[11:38PM, Chuuya 🥰] Hey. I know it’s late and you’d probably be studying or asleep at this point. I’ve spent quite a bit of time contemplating if I should send you this, but I realise that this is my closure to you, even if you’ll never give me mine. 

[11:53PM, Chuuya 🥰] You were the best thing in my life. I’m thankful to have grown up with you, to be able to spend our teenage years together, and to build such beautiful memories. I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough for you to stay. But I hope that whatever memories you made with me would always bring a smile to you too. I’m sorry for all the horrible texts in the last few months. Honestly, I’m ashamed that I did that, and I hope that you will find it in you to forgive me for those stupid texts.

If there comes a time where we will be able to find each other again, I hope that your heart will be willing to give us another chance. I’ll keep holding out a chance that you will come back. But until then, I have to move on and I will keep working on myself to become the best version of myself. Thank you for being one of the best people in my life, and I hope that wherever life takes you next, you will be able to grow into the best version of yourself too.

Please take care of yourself, Dazai Osamu.

🤍 Chuuya.

Dazai read it all once before letting the phone fall from his hands. It bounced off the counter and onto the floor. He didn't even have it in him to worry about whether or not it cracked when it hit the ground. 

His vision swam, and he thought just maybe karma was making him blind for retribution for all that he’s done. All of the deeds he'd committed, but he blinked a few times and it all cleared. 

His cheeks were hot too, but as soon as the heat came, it cooled quickly. Leaving only stick, damp trails behind. Was he crying? Possibly. He lifted his fingers to his cheeks to confirm that yes, he was crying. And there were new tears falling as well.

He half slid half fell to the ground, leaning against his cabinets. He hugged his knees close to his chest, and resting his head on their caps. 

Dazai didn’t move for the rest of the night.

“Are you going to avoid him?”

Dazai pulls his weight forwards, looking at Oda from where he’s been previously staring at the dull LED ceiling light, and tilts head to the side. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… it's romantic and all, but you forget one detail. He’s seeing someone else now . And him knowing that it hurt you to leave him…”

“Ah, I can always just cook up some story.” Dazai replies with a wave of his hand.

“ Dazai, ” his tone is low, and it's a warning. The sound makes the younger scowl. 

“Will everyone please stop saying my name like it’s a cursed thing only to follow it up with a lecture I don’t need?”

Oda sighs and stands up. Earning a bewildered look from the younger male. Oda gestures with a cock of his head as he picks up his tray. 

“You’re joining me for the mission, and I’m going to lecture you all about feelings.”

Dazai visibly pales and winces. “No, thank you.”

“No, that is not an option here. Move your ass .”

Dazai makes a face at Oda and stands up, dusting his pants before he follows behind Oda slowly. Watching as he returns his tray to the cafeteria lady, thanking her for the food, and then heads out of the room to the armoury.

“I don't understand why you need guns, though. Oda Sakunosuke, the man who doesn’t kill his enemies, is known to be an angel of mercy.”

“It’s better to be safe than sorry, right? And besides, guns can immobilise someone too. Not that you need teaching,” Oda snorts. “Anyway, the whole point of getting you to follow me, Dazai, is that we need to talk about comprehending your feelings .”

“Can we not?” Dazai almost sounds timid, and Oda smiles, passing through a set of glass doors and down another hallway that leads to a thick set of metal doors. 

“No, we’re going to get to it. What do you want from Chuuya?”

“I want him back.”

“ Clearly, but that’s not an option now. So can you accept that Chuuya is seeing someone else?”

“ I have to ,” Dazai mumbles. He watches dully as Oda places a hand on the biometric sensor, waiting for the doors to unlock before they both flock through into the armoury. “That’s the whole point of me leaving him.”

“You have to, and you are able to have two very different lives, Dazai. You and Chuuya were both born into such similar family backgrounds, but grew up in drastic upbringings. If you’d giving him a choice—”

“The less he knows, the safer he is.” 

“That’s not true. We’ve seen so many families killed because of ignorance.”

“He needs to be protected, Odasaku.”

“If that’s the case, why are you inserting yourself back into his life?”

Dazai stops moving once he sits down on the seat, his gaze follows Oda as he moves around the armoury. 

“I…”

That’s the question, isn’t it?

Oda smiles as he slides a gun into his holster and clasps a hand on Dazai’s shoulder. 

“It’s fine, Dazai. But try not to hurt yourself more than you have to, and don’t put him through any more pain than he’s already had. If you want him in your life, then you have to understand that you can only have him as a friend now. Don’t be greedy.”

Dazai’s tongue sneaks out to lick his lower lip, a sign of hesitation, and then he sighs with resignation.

“That’s the most I can ask for, isn’t it?”

Chuuya swings himself on the low swing, his cheeks still warm. Is it from his earlier interaction with Dazai? It’s been three hours since it happened. His cheeks shouldn’t be this warm after so long, right?

Or maybe, it’s from repeating the scene over and over in his head. 

That has to be it. He’s glorifying it to just be something out of a romance book. (It was one, but that’s not the point ). This is his actual life. 

He’s treating the whole situation like he’s some main character in a dumb cheesy novel. After having a talk in some not-so-secluded place that’s just them, flowers fall all around him right after very touching words. And then the flower that was stuck in his hair gets pulled out…

But then, there’s the crushing and very jarring reality that Dazai is his ex-boyfriend. Not some wonderful and caring romantic interest. He’s just—

“I’ve been trying to find you.”

Chuuya's thoughts are halted when he hears someone talk to him. Looking up from where he's staring at his sneakers and frowns. 

“Yosano?”

Yosano’s dressed down today. Like she’s only dressed for only the cold. Not for going out and meeting with people. She only has a plain sweater and denim jeans, and her dark purple winter coat that looks as though it could swallow her whole. She has her hair pulled into a low ponytail, and looks as if she’d just woken up.

“Do you need me for something?”

“Nope,” she sighs as she sits down on the swing next to him. Slowly swinging herself on it. “I actually had a feeling you may need me .”

Chuuya raises a brow in question and looks at her. 

“And why would you say that?”

Yosano looks thoughtful before it spreads into a secretive smile. “Just a feeling.”

Chuuya’s frown deepens, because Yosano’s feelings were eighty percent creepily accurate, and the other twenty is just…from unknown sources from throughout the years. He tries not to worry about it, because when she gets a feeling it’s usually right. And he supposes that now is no different.

Either way, it’s still scary.

“Are you doing okay?” Yosano asks, and Chuuya lets out a deep sigh that makes his chest ache.

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “I thought that coming back to Yokohama after two years would be fine. I’m not mad at him anymore, and I’ve moved on. I’m happy with what I have now, Akiko. But coming back has brought back so many distant memories. And I— I didn’t think it would feel this way.

Yosano’s voice is soft and gentle when she asks, “feel like what?”

“I…” Chuuya starts, hesitation creeping its way up his throat. “I’m not sure, I keep seeing him everywhere , Akiko. I’m not hallucinating, by the way . Like, him in person . Is he stalking me? I’ve seen him in so many places. The park, the fucking convince store, and then today I bumped into him at the shrine. Who goes to the shrine at seven in the morning?!”

Yosano offers him a smile of pity, and he feels even worse than before. 

The swings creak under their weight as they mindlessly swing. Their shoes drag across the mixture of snow and sand on the ground; it clings to their shoes making them cold and wet, but they aren’t bothered.

Yosano is the first to speak again. “I don’t think that he’s stalking you. Or maybe he is. That’s just the way he’s been with you since you were both kids, isn’t it?” Yosano laughs, and the sound is soft and teasing. Almost refreshing really. 

The sound and her words make him chime in with his own laughter as well. “Yeah…asshole always liked to follow me around everywhere we… but we’re not friends anymore! He chose to leave me .”

“Dazai’s always been an enigma, hasn’t he?” Yosano chuckles weakly. “Always acting on his own, entertaining himself in that genius mind of his.”

“ More like pain in the ass .” Chuuya snorts. “It kinda hurts, ya know, being back. But this has always been my home. Yokohama will always be where I feel safe and comfortable. Tokyo is just…like a pit stop. I’ve always known that I’ve wanted to spend the rest of my life in this city. But there are so many memories and I don’t know if the small pains will ever fade away.”

“Well, you could always bring your little mystery boyfriend here and create new ones with him? To wash away the old painful ones.”

Chuuya stutters in reaction to her words, and flushes a deep shade of red. He’s sure that he’s the same colour as his hair.

“He—Fyodor’s not my boyfriend!”

Yosano raises a delicate brow, looking like she’s almost lost in thought about something. “He’s not?” she asks, trying to get clarification. 

“No…” Chuuya answers shyly and he chews down on his lower lip. “We are seeing each other exclusively, but he’s not my official boyfriend yet…”

“What?” Yosano says in disbelief. “You didn’t think to tell me the first day we saw each other again after two years ?”

Chuuya laughs awkwardly and then glares halfheartedly at Yosano, who’s stopped swinging to glare at him too. Her next words are serious.

“Have you both said the three magic words yet?”

The wince from Chuuya was all it took for Yosano to sigh so loudly he felt ashamed of himself. 

“He lets go of the wings bars and puts his hands in his pockets as he mumbles, “I panicked . But, he wasn’t expecting a reply either… he hung up on me afterwards.”

“And did you text him after that?” Chuuya almost cowers under Yosano’s scrutinising gaze. Almost . He feels like a fucking child, but he isn’t going to let her have the upper hands here. 

“We…spoke on the phone that same night?”

Yosano throws her hands up in the air in exasperation. So much for the upper hand…

“And when was this?”

“The…the same day that we went out for lunch? Just before?”

“What?!” she screeches, jumping to her feet to grab him by the shoulders, scaring the daylights out of him, and forcing his hands out of his pockets to grab at the swing’s bars so he doesn't fall out of the seat. “What the fuck , Nakahara Chuuya?! It was this recent ?!”

“I…Yes…?”

Yosano makes an undignified nose and shakes him. Hard. “You didn’t tell me! Is this why you’re so conflicted?”

“Mostly.” Chuuya pits after a few more shakes like he’s just a plush doll and then he swats away at her arms gently. “Fyodor’s a great guy, he’s sweet and all.”

Yosano waves a hand in front of them, and places her mother on her hip. “Wait…Fyodor…that name sounds awfully familiar—as in, Fyodor Dostoevsky?”

Chuuya grimaces at her tone. He recognizes it's the same time that she uses when she knows something he didn’t and isn’t going to like hearing. 

Why is she so surprised though? Dazai had figured it out when Chuuya didn’t tag Fyodor on Instagram. Especially since (as far as he knows), there’s only one Fyodor in Japan. Especially in Tokyo. 

“Isn’t the Dostoevsky’s Mori’s biggest business competitor?”

Oh.

“What?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be involved in your family business?” Yosano huffs in annoyance, like she's angry she has to be the one to lecture him about it. “The Dostoevsky’s have been trying to acquire many of Mori Corporation's business and have even tried threatening Mori himself over it. They haven’t met in person before, but I heard that Dazai and the Dostoevsky’s have quite an extensive— how do I put it, business banter?”

Yosano pauses, then shakes her head, raising a finger in the air. “Nah, business banter isn’t right. Business competition? I’ve listened to too many coffee talks from Dazai whining about this Russian company that keeps trying to poach their way into their own people too. Overall, bad for business. Haven’t you heard about any of this?”

Chuuya has heard of them before. But he was always more involved with his parents' other business. Kouyou is the one who’s at conflict with the Dostoevsky’s. So when she finds out that he’s actually dating one…

“Now Dazai has to worry about competing with them on a personal level too?” Yosano interupts his thoughts another laugh, and again, thus time she’s fucking amused and it’s almost maniacal. She grins widely and Chuuya must have the biggest question on his head because she pats him on the head earning a scowl from him. 

“You should have told me earlier that you were dating Dostoevsky! Oh, Ranpo is going to have the time of his life when I tell him this.”

“Why would Ranpo even be interested?” Chuuya grumbles, hugging at the fact was clearly missing out on something .

“Your life is always so interesting, Chuuya. We love watching it unravel.”

Chuuya snorts and crosses his arms, kicking some sand and snow in Yosano’s direction. 

“Hey!” Her mortifying cry breaks whatever heavy thoughts he has in his mind earlier. Before long, he’s yelping himself when she starts kicking back the mixture at him as well. 

Being back in Yokohama is nice. 

If he could spend his time like this everyday, he would. 

They fool around a while more before a cold breeze blows past them, sending them into shivers. 

“Oh fuck we should go somewhere warm”, Yosano mutters as she gets to her feet. 

“I gotta head back to the funeral. Tomorrow is the last day…” Chuuya trails off, suddenly feeling guilty that he’s having fun here instead of being at the funeral.

“How a re you dealing with that loss?”

“Not well,” Chuuya reveals. “I— I just keep telling myself it’s been a very long time since I actually spent any proper time with Hirotsu, and I— I didn’t even visit him before I left for Tokyo.”

“Oh, Chuuya.” Yosano says empathetically. 

“I didn’t even know he was sick . I should have been better. Hirotsu raised us. He would watch over us when our parents weren't around, and that happened so often. He was like a grandfather to me. I don’t even know how to process him being gone.”

A tissue comes into his view, and he looks up, confused, only to hear his own sniffles. Embarrassed, he takes the tissues to blow his nose, wincing at how hard he has to blow it before it clears. 

Yosano drapes an arm over his shoulders, moving slowly so that he’s aware of it, allowing him to nod before the pressure finally rests on him. She gives him a slight squeeze, her warmth providing some comfort before she overstays her welcome and pulls away.

“Ya know…” Yosano begins carefully, like she’s afraid of Chuuya’s reaction to what she’s thinking. “I think Dazai has the same difficulty as you, mourning the loss of Hirotsu . You both grew up under his care, so I’m sure if there’s anyone who could understand your feelings, it’s going to be him.”

Chuuya pouts slightly. 

“I’m not sure if we’re on talking terms.”

“Well, you can always change that, you know.”

“How do you even get on talking terms with your ex ?” Chuuya asks, dusting off his pants and moving to solid ground to shake the sand and snow out of his sneakers.

Yosano follows suit and then she shrugs. 

“As long as it’s communicated clearly that you’re seeing someone and your intentions are just to be friends, to commemorate the man, I think that would be okay. But hey, it’s just a suggestion. If you have other ways to mourn for him, do that. But I’m sure Dazai would appreciate someone who knew Hirotsu on the same level that he did.”

Chuuya’s fingers toys with the phone in his pocket that he’s shoved in there for warmth while he’s mused over it. 

Friends , he repeats himself in his head. 

Yeah, Chuuya can do that.

“Chuuya, can you come over here, please?” The voice was barely raised, only enough so that it reached the small six-year-old playing in the living room. From there, he could hear toys rustling against one like another, and it sounded like they were in some sort of fight. 

There was a pause. And then a drop of toys.

Dazai watched a little tiny redhead, no older than he was, pop his head out from behind the door frame. 

And he’s immediately captured by the curious big blue eyes that were so vast and bright . Like the clear ocean waters when they reflected the sun, his hair was almost similar to the sun itself. Short fiery red locks framed his features, and he had chubby little cheeks that made Dazai’s finger twitch. A little button nose and a pair of full lips that were pulled into a pout. And his skin was dotted and covered in freckles that dusted his skin like stars.

Looking as if he was mad that he was pulled away and interrupted from playing.

Dazai wondered what those big blue eyes would look like if they were filled up with tears. 

Maybe he should find out one day. 

(He doesn’t need to try.)

“Chuuya, come over. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Chuuya, the little redhead, shuffled out from behind the door frame, and bounded over to his mother’s side, taking her extended hand and beaming up at her, before he met Dazai’s disinterested gaze. 

Chuuya tilted his head to the side as he took in the boy in front of him. Brows pinched together cutely as he analysed him from head to toe. Whilst he did that, Dazai couldn’t help but study the boy in front of him too. 

Chuuya was thin for a six-year-old, but he looked otherwise perfect . They were standing at the same height, and yet, Chuuya looked like a petite porcelain doll with fair and perfect skin. 

Dazai wondered what Chuuya saw beyond a lanky little boy dressed with Bandages around his arms and around his eye.

The redhead blinked a few times, slowly, cautiously, as if he were a predator studying his prey. And then, he frowned. 

“Chuuya,” his mother called again, and Chuuya broke their gaze to look at the small lady that Mori had earlier introduced to him. “Chuuya, this is Dazai. Dazai Osamu. He’s Mori’s ward.”

Dazai caught a flicker of a glance from the corner of Chuuya’s eye, and he heaved a sigh. 

Another person who thought that they could fix him?

“Dazai,” Chuuya repeated after his mother, his high pitched voice rang clear like the ocean’s waves crashing against the shore, but it would take him years later to realise how much he adored the sound of Chuuya’s voice at night. Especially after he hit puberty, whispering quiet soothing words to him to chase away his nightmares. 

“Mhm. Would you like to befriend him?”

Chuuya let go of his mother’s hand to take a step forward, and Dazai had to physically restrain himself from cowering back. He felt Mori’s hand on his back and he winced inwardly, knowing that he couldn’t run out of the Nakahara’s place. 

Dazai thought that he just may drown from the intensity of the curiosity in Chuuya’s eyes. Up close, Dazai thought that he was the ocean horizon personified. 

One of the prettiest things he’d ever seen.

An addition to the list of things he could absolutely not have.

Somebody he had to keep away from him.

Because if it were up to him, he’d shatter that brilliant innocence behind the blue eyes. 

“I’m Chuuya. Nakahara Chuuya! Nice to meet you!” The redhead introduced himself, a small grin on his features. 

Dazai repeated his name a few times in his mind, locking it in a distant part to repeat it again at night when he’s alone. 

Chuuya peered at him curiously when he didn’t reply and then Dazai smirked. 

“You’re really ugly up close.”

A gasp came from Chuuya’s mother, and Mori’s finger twitched on Dazai’s back.

“Dazai!” 

Chuuya, though, looked furious and offended. His cheeks turned red, and tears formed in his eyes. His lips parted as if he wanted to swear him nine ways to Sunday with the vocabulary of a six-year-old.

Dazai could feel the adults holding their breaths as they watched Chuuya. Waiting for his reaction, the tension thick.

Would Chuuya run back to his mother and cling to her leg in tears? Would he stomp his feet in a childish tantrum?

“And you’re just a shitty waste of bandages!”

For the first time since that incident , Dazai could feel his heart actually warm at the statement. He leaned forward, into Chuuya’s personal space, challenging the redhead to see if he would back off, but the petite redhead squared his shoulders and the way he scowled was so oddly adorable. 

Dazai just wanted to reach out and poke his cheek.

“My name’s Dazai. Dazai Osamu.”

And I look forward to annoying you for a very long time.

“Hey, Yosano?” Chuuya asks sheepishly as they walk down the sidewalk. 

Yoasno asked if she could accompany him back to the funeral home, and Chuuya wasn’t about to turn down the company. 

She hums in response, looking at him. “Yeah? What’s up?”

Chuuya hates the way he feels so embarrassed to ask the question. It’s not a big deal, yet his cheeks flush red anyways. 

“Could you maybe… not tell my sister that I’m dating Fyodor. Please?” His sister was rather close with Yosano before he left, and he hates keeping a secret from her, but…

“That won’t be an issue,” she replies with a slow nod, but her voice is filled with so much sorrow, he regrets asking almost immediately. “I haven’t spoken with Kouyou in about a year now.”

“Wha—” Chuuya looks at her in disbelief, and Yosano looks forward. Avoiding his gaze.

“She won’t speak to me, and is always out or busy when I try to talk to her, so I gave up.” She shrugs, and her eyes look teary. “I got tired of waiting and I— I moved on, Chuuya.”

His phone lights up and vibrates against the table, and he sees Chuuya’s name pop up on the screen. He feels a little apologetic; he can’t reply to his angel right now. It’s been twelve houses since he last replied to him, and he supposed that he was supposed to have some decency to reply to the man. He swept his phone off the table and tucked it safely back in his pocket. 

He’d give his full attention to Chuuya later.

Fyodor taps his finger irritatedly slowly against the metal table, earning a flinch from the other man in the room.

“The results are quite…disappointing, won’t you say?”

“Sir, we’re already working on another formula for this—” the man with a receding hairline and crow’s feet around the corner of his eyes begins to explain, but Fyodor only waves his hand in dismissal. Halting his words immediately with the mock sigh that escapes his lips as he stands up from his seat.

“I’ve spent the last three hours in your labs, trying to see what exactly was so impressive, it's been jarringly disappointing. I can’t believe that you managed to convince one of the directors that you deserve my time to introduce to me such third-grade quality laboratories. If this isn’t disappointing, please let me know what it is.” His tone is carefully gentele, but his eyes narrow warningly as he lips pull into a disagreeing line. 

“Dostoevsky-san, if you can give us another chance—”

Fyodor sighs and gets up from his seat, making the man cower despite being on the other end of the table.

“My, I wish there was a better proposal waiting for us. How upsetting it is I’ll have to tell Gogol about this. Imagine what he’ll do because of the incompetence here today.”

He graciously walks towards the man, and drops a yellow pill bottle on the table. The nose of its continents rattling against one another ominously loud in the confined room. Fyodor leans into the man’s personal space and grins, meeting his gaze, making him as uncomfortable as possible. 

“You do know what this is, don’t you?” Fyodor asks innocently as he leans his head down to the side slowly.

The man gulps out loud. Making Fyodor grin as he sits down on the space on the table next to the man’s chair. Picking up the bottle and bringing it up to the light, analysing the small pills in the bottle before he pops the lid open and shakes out the contents into his palm.

Seven pink pills come to rest in Fyodor's palm before he casts the bottle over his shoulder. Grabbing the man’s chin with his free hand, he wedges the bone between his thumb and forefinger, easily overpowering his struggling with a tighter grip. He taps the man’s chin with his finger, frowning disapprovingly as the man’s mouth stays shut. 

“This won’t do,” Fyodor frowns. “Open up, or should it be your lovely daughter we hand these pills too? She’s in the University of Tokyo too, isn’t she? I think I’ve met her while out with my partner. She’s quite the sweet girl. Imagine what would happen if we were to try out these… fun little pills .”

Tears and terror flood the man’s eyes as he starts thrashing against his hold, his cries muffled against Fyodor’s hand.

“Ah, ah.” Fyodor grins sickeningly sweet as he taps his finger again. “All you have to do is open wide and I’ll promise to keep your little girl safe. 

Fyodor watches as the man’s eyes cloud over in fear, the tears pooling in his eyes threatening to spill over his cheeks as his jaw slacks slowly in his hold. 

His own smile widens when he’s able to pop the seven pills into the man’s mouth.

“Now, swallow them all . It wouldn’t do us any good if you don’t.”

His gloved hand is pressing against his mouth as he waits, feeling the slow gulps until the man is shaking his head against his hand.

Fyodor cocks his head again and drops the hand covering his mouth, waiting. 

It takes a few minutes, but before long, the man before him is pliant. The terror in his eyes fades away, his eyes glazed over with unwavering compliance. 

Fyodor grins as he watches the results unfurl in front of him. 

“You’ll be a good boy, won’t you ?” Fodor croons, realising his chin and batting the man by the cheek. 

He blinks slowly in acknowledgment, then he slowly smiles owlishly.

“Anything to please you.” he purrs.

“ Splendid .” 

Fyodor moves off the table, and gives him a small wave. 

“I look forward to great results.” He tells over his shoulder, watching the man hunch over in his seat. His eyes still fogged over, and then his grin widened. 

Seven pills . That will send a warning to the rest of the conglomerates. 

When he steps out of the conference room, there is no one guarding the doors. He can’t help the wild thrill of pure arrogance that spreads through him, like a feverish dream.

Fyodor makes his way casually out of the building, squinting at the afternoon sun that glares down on him, before his attention is taken away by a long vibration in his pocket. Signalling that he is getting a phone call. 

Fyodor pulls out his phone, and instantly, his smile turns warm. His fingers slide across the screen to answer the call as he continues down the streets of Tokyo. Walking away from the pharmaceutical building. 

“Hello, angel.”

“ Fyodor ,” Chuuya exhales in relief. “ You haven’t been replying to my messages. Are things alright ?”

“Sorry for worrying you, sweet thing.” Fyodor apologises softly. Chuuya is one of the sweetest people that he had chanced upon. Sometimes Fyodor hates the way he hides things from Chuuya. “I woke up late and had to rush to the labs. You know how we have to keep our phones away in there.”

Chuuya hums softly, and then he replies, “that’s fine. I was just worried. Did you sleep late?”

“Yeah,” Fyodor confesses, he says in the next sentence is a lie he’s so used to telling. “I was preparing for the labs next week. You know how final years can be.”

“ Mm .” Chuuya answers absentmindedly. “ Take better care of yourself, will you?” I’d prefer you to be in top condition when I’m back .” 

Fyodor laughs at the intention behind his words, always taken aback by who bold Chuuya can be. “Are you that excited to see me again, angel?”

“ Always .”

Fyodor tilts his head back, letting the cool winter air caress his face, and answers, “I miss you too, angel. Behave, and we’ll make up for all the time you’ve spent in Yokohama.”

Chuuya’s laughter has always been refreshing. It’s like taking a deep breath of fresh air after being stuck in a stuffy, humid room for the longest time. It’s by pure luck that he met Chuuya, and after having a taste of the Nakahara’s youngest child, Fyodor’s dark nature kicked in, overshadowing whatever goodness Chuuya brings into his life, but that’s fine.

Chuuya is his, and he is Chuuya’s.

And as long as Chuuya stays his, it’s going to be a lot easier to handle the mafia.

Chapter Text

The sun is setting when Chuuya makes his way to a place he never thought he’d go again. But , here he is, hesitantly taking the steps towards the very large estate on the other side of the street. 

The guards recognise him immediately, and they greet him with small talk about how long it’s been since they last saw him. Chuuya can only shyly explain that he’s moved to Tokyo university, they simply chuckle and invite him inside the grounds. 

As he walks away, Chuuya can hear the way that they talk about how the children were growing up too fast around them. It makes the guilt he’s already been feeling before coming over thicken in his chest until it feels like a mass of sludge in his lungs.

Chuuya’s stride is slow as he reaches the main doors of the house, taking in the sight of another place that he grew up in. The driveway before the mansion curves around a huge fountain. Chuuya once had the luxury and pleasure of dunking Dazai in there before when they were younger. 

Now that he has the time to sit and really look at it, he can feel his lips tug downward. 

Typically, fountains are a more simple, elegant three-tiered design. However, the fountain that positions itself in Mori’s driveway is way more extravagant. Under the three-tiers stands four marbled foxes, and curled at the top of the fountain is an embellished water dragon, its mouth apart in a roar, where the water distribution begins.

It takes a few moments for him to tear his gaze away and continue the walk up to the door. 

Bushes line the front of Mori’s home, and down the bricked driveway. Making the heels of Chuuya’s boots crunch down in the snow.

The trees are almost gone now with winter, leaving whatever leaves that managed to stay on covered in a layer of snow.

Chuuya had a plan to try to talk to Dazai at the funeral, but he didn’t show up today. So here he is, making his way to Mori’s estate, stepping carefully so as to not slip on the snowy and icy ground. 

But his boots didn’t seem to get the message. 

Every step that he takes threatens to send his spiralling onto the icy ground.

Chuuya curses his own mind for being so easily influenced by Yosano. Deep down, he knows that she’s right. Maybe having someone to talk about Hirotsu with, who knew him like he did, would help. Having some that could relate to him in hopes of coping better…

But Dazai…?

He shares so many memories with him, they all blend into a sweet, hazy fog that he keeps locked in his mind so he doesn’t have to remember much. 

But when he saw Hirotsu’s memorial photo, it pulled out so many memories, Chuuya feels like he’s going to suffocate if he doesn't get some type of outlet. 

Needless to say, he’s rather conflicted on the whole matter. 

Chuuya sighs, and takes another step forward, but miscalculates, and he slips on black ice. Hands flying, he reaches back down to make an attempt to catch himself, ready to brace himself, when his other foot also misses the landing .

His breath catches in his throat, heart hammering at the sheer fear of landing on his back on cold hard bricks, welcoming the frostbite he knows will affect his palms if it means saving himself. Before he closes his eyes shut to brace himself for the pain he knows will shoot up his spine, all he sees is the way that the view goes from a nicely decorated mansion, into a blur of colours. 

But he never feels the impact. Chuuya never lands on his ass, and pain does not flare up at him. Nor do his hands come into contact with enough black ice to leave his fingers red . 

The only pressure that he feels is a hand on his lower back, and another one wrapped around his forearm. The grip is warm and familiar , sending a flare of heat through his spine and arms, instead of the icy cold sensation he expected. 

When Chuuya opens his eyes, he can only see bleary colours. Trying to make his vision clear, and force his heart to stop racing in his chest to make his breathing more even. He only sees a mop of brown hair, and a pair of confused chocolate brown eyes looking down at him.

“Chuuya? Are you okay?”

It takes him a few seconds to process the situation he seems to have gotten himself in. Dazai …has caught him by the waist and the forearm, and his own body is arching  into his hands. Like he’s trying to unconsciously seek for the heat he was so familiar with. Feeling like he can finally stand on his own two feet (without falling again), Chuuya quickly scrambles to his feet, wincing when his feet threaten to give out once again. 

He can feel Dazai’s warm hand resting on his lower back and moving up slightly to support him better, and Chuuya almost wants to swear himself to hell.

Because there should be no way that Dazai’s hand should feel so good on his back, no way his wrist should feel like it’s burning from the warmth in the fingers that are curled around his skin, his palm resting on his racing pulse. 

all Chuuya can hope is that the throbbing in his wrist is from the fall, and not from the way he’s been caught.

“It’s…you.” Chuuya says dumbly as he straightens up, embarrassment flooding his cheeks. Trying  not to stutter as he does his best to calm himself down. “Thanks…”

“What are you doing here? You do know that this is my home? Not yours right? Or did your hats finally swallow your brains whole?” 

Chuuya only scowls, cursing himself mentally because he can still feel how warm his cheeks are. 

And Dazai has still not taken his hands off of his wrist or his back.

Both their gazes flick down to Dazai’s hand still on his wrist, and instantaneously, the hand is gone and Chuuya can feel his heart sink.

Oh, that’s quite traitorous of you. Aren’t you seeing someone else?

“Oh, uh… I was… hum, I didn’t see you at the funeral.” Chuuya begins, inwardly cringing as he drops his gaze to the snow trapped between the brick tiles. 

Dazai knits his brows and answers, “but, isn’t Chuuya avoiding me?”

Chuuya winces, because while it’s more of a factual statement, Dazai somehow managed to twist it into a harmless question. 

And that means Dazai noticed .

“I’m not avoiding you,” Chuuya says as he looks up, his heart stuttering at the way soulful brown eyes he knows look exhausted and confused, but everything soon settles into an unfamiliar dark look, and Dazai retracts the other hand on his back.

Dazai crosses his arms taking a step back, keeping a respectful distance between them as he gestures towards the house. 

“Come on in, it’s cold out here.” 

Chuuya doesn’t argue with that.

Is he not going to argue about it?

“I’m not avoiding you.” Chuuya finds himself saying as he falls into pace with Dazai as they go in the doors of the mansion. Grateful for the blast of heat to hit his cheeks that’s not from embarrassment or anything else. 

“Sure.” Dazai agrees, and Chuuya scowls. “So, what brings you here? Are you here to see Elise?”

Chuuya stops in his steps just before going inside, the sound of his boots coming to a silence drawing Dazai’s attention. 

Obviously, Chuuya didn’t think it through when he decided to come to Mori’s estate.

And that visiting Dazai’s childhood home meant there is a chance of seeing his entire family.

Though he adores the family, he isn’t sure he has much of a right to visit them the way that he used to anymore. 

“It’s warmer inside, and Elise will be happy to see you again.” Chuuya knows that it’s supposed to probably sound reassuring , but it causes him  heartache. He always held the girl in the highest regard, and not being able to see her as much as he could…

“Has she been well?” He hates the way his voice sounds so much softer than he intends it to. He’s always had a soft spot for Elise, who’s seven years younger than them, and he would always find Chuuya when he was over as a kid.

(Another reason  why Dazai preferred to stay over at Chuuya’s back then. She was always constantly interrupting them.)

“She has. Smart girl too. She’s been at the top of her class for the last two years now.” Dazai rolls his eyes, but he speaks fondly of his sister. “Won’t stop bragging about how she may as well skip the first year of univer—”

Dazai trails off, and Chuuya can feel his own heart twist in discomfort. The air grows uncomfortable, and Chuuya bites down on his lower lip. Wondering if or how he could break that tension. 

It’s not up to him per say. Chuuya wasn’t the one who used university as an excuse to break up, but he had forgiven Dazai. He’s chosen to forgive him for that. It took him a long time, but he has. He’s let go of the pain and anguish Dazai had given him as a parting gift.

But Dazai doesn’t know that.

So Chuuya guesses it’s up to him to somehow let him know that it’s okay. 

But how should he even begin to talk about it?

It’s almost like the Gods hear his cries, because someone comes bursting out the house just then. It’s Elise, standing there with her hand on her hips as she glares at her older brother. And she starts to yell, “honestly, Dazai! if you’re going to be late for dinner again—”

Her voice trails off as he goes from glaring at her big brother, to the person who’s standing next to him. And then her blue eyes start to widen in genuine  surprise, and her jaw drops slightly. 

Chuuya’s struck once again with the revelation that he should have just gone to him today instead of coming here. Because he was having trouble keeping his own shoes on the ground today, never mind the fact that there’s a young  girl suddenly tackling him in a hug.

One so forceful it threatens to send him backward and tumbling once again. Stumbling back as he wraps his arms around her slender waist, blonde hair flooding her face as she starts to yell almost incoherently in his ears. 

A pair of hands catch him by his back again to steady him, and Chuuya tilts back to meet Dazai ‘s eyes gratefully. Despite the many layers of clothes that Chuuya has on, Dazai‘s hands still manage to set his skin on fire . His hands are large, warm, comfortable, and familiar, and all Chuuya wants, in this brief instance, is to trust his entire weight into the hands that catch his weight and let that pair of hands do whatever they please with him.

Chuuya's heart aches to the sight of how tender the look is in Dazai ‘s eyes, and he banishes the feelings away almost immediately. 

A different type of guilt starts to grow in his heart, and he knows that he has to let go of whatever pesky feeling is still festering inside of him. 

He’s seeing someone else. A sentence he’s found himself reappearing in his head for the last few days. 

Chuuya mouths his thanks to Dazai, wincing as Elise continues to scream in his ear.

“ Chuuya! I haven’t seen you in years! I heard you moved to Tokyo for school, and my dumbass brother here—”

“Elise, It’s cold . And You’re not dressed for the weather.” Dazai  scolds, interrupting before he could continue. “ And it’s not nice to keep our guests outside .”

The warmth on his back is gone once he steadies himself on his feet, and Elise is letting go of him. Dazai walks up ahead, giving them another glance before he turns his attention forwards, making his way inside the house.

There definitely isn’t a hollowness in his chest as he watches Dazai disappear into the house. 

No, there is not .

Chuuya turns his attention to Dazai’s younger sister, and he frowns disapprovingly. 

Elise has managed to grow in the last two years; meaning that she’s not slightly  taller than he is. Her hair is shorter as well. He could remember how proud she was of her silky long hair, she refused to cut until he reached her waist. 

Now, it sits on her shoulders. Soft and wavy instead of the curls she loved so much. 

“I honestly thought I was never going to see you again,” she says with a pout. “When Dazai said you two broke up, I remember Mom and Dad were so disappointed.” She takes Chuuya’s hands into her own cold ones, trying to not think about her words. 

It’s the cold that snaps him out of his thoughts. Pulling him out of his daze as he turns to make a face at Elise. She’s dressed in a red pinafore dress and ballet flats, nothing that’s suited for the cold weather at all.

Chuuya clicks his tongue and pulls his hands away from Elise to remove his coat to drape it over her shoulders. 

She blinks a few times in confusion, and then she grins, tugging the edges of the coat closer to herself. 

“You were always a better big brother to me than my own brother.”

Chuuya just rolls his eyes and takes her free hand, gently pulling her back in towards the house where Dazai  stands by the main door, his own coat already gone. 

There’s a small flutter, just a small one , (and a flush of heat, but Chuuya would rather die than admit that, for sure.) at the sight of how casual Dazai  looks in his dark blue sweater, the white collar of his shirt popped, and his black slacks. His arms crossed, and his gaze dark as he waits for them to reach the front of the house. 

“You say that, but I think we both know how much you adore your big brother.” Chuuya teases, flicking her nose lightly. 

“Is that why you’re here? Because of my brother?” Elise whines, but her tone is bright and hopeful , as her hands cover her nose. Chuuya doesn’t quite understand her tone, but assumes the words carry what she means, and he slowly nods. 

Elise’s eyes widen and then she’s clasping her hands together. 

“Are you going to get back together with him?” 

“Wha—”

Dazai ‘s eyes widen, and Chuuya swears he sees something dark flicker in his eyes before it struggles to smooth out into something lighter. “Elise, he’s seeing someone else.”

The downcast of her face makes Chuuya want to turn on the balls of his feet and run . 

Pretend like he was never here, and he never saw Elise again. 

But fate seems to have other plans for him, or maybe he just likes to make his own life harder on himself. He’s not quite sure which is which. 

“That’s too bad…. You were always too good for my brother anyways.” Elise huffs, stepping into the house to remove the coat on her shoulders. She hands it out to Dazai , who takes it confusedly. Elise rolls her eyes as she jerks to the rack next to him, where his own coat is hanging, and a dawn of light lights up his eyes in understanding. 

Dazai sighs and hangs up Chuuya’s coat on the rack after giving it a light fling.

“Have you eaten yet, Chuuya?” Elise asks as she spins on her heels. “It’s almost dinner time, and I think mom made extras.”

“I—” Oh, of course he didn’t think to check the time before coming over. He just decided to leave the funeral parlour and head towards this place without a concept or single awareness of time. And he’s managed to pick a horrible time.

“I don’t want to intrude. I can always just come back another time.” Chuuya offers with a faint smile. Elise looks at him as though he’s grown another head in the last few seconds and snorts.

“Please, you’re never intruding. Mom and Dad will be so happy to see you. I’ll let mom know to set another plate!” Elise says loudly, grinning. 

“Eli–”

With a spin of her heels again, she disappears into the house with a bounce in her steps, not giving Chuuya a chance to even decline. 

Dazai snickers at his side, earning a glare from Chuuya. He raises two hands in mock surrender. 

“Come on, you know how Elise can be, I guess you’ll be staying for dinner then.”

Chuuya’s shoulders slump and he sighs. He really should have thought things through. 

He’s always been like this, making the rashest of decisions without thinking things through. No wonder Anesan always chides him. 

He never learns, does he ?

For someone who’s going to take over one of his parents’ companies, he sure likes to act before he thinks.

“So…” Dazai breaks the silence when Chuuya says nothing. “What are you here for?”

“I thought that it would be good if we could talk,” Chuuya replies as honestly as possible. Dazai raises a brow in caution, the casual air around him is gone, and his body goes rigid as he waits for Chuuya to continue.

If there are any remnants of teasing, it dissipates, replaced by a dark and dangerous look. Something Chuuya’s never seen before because it makes him want to take a step back away from Dazai.

But he won’t because he was raised to not fear the unknown.

And it’s not like Chuuya hasn’t seen this look before. It’s the look his father wears when he gets into discussions about acquisitions, and when he taught Chuuya at a very young age about how everything in their line of business is a political power. How it’s a guarded game of competition, and of watching what the other party has to offer and dissecting every little thing that’s served on the plate. 

He’s seen it in the businessmen that tried to hand him cutthroat deals, thinking that he’s nothing more than a small child with no experience dealing with his parents’ affairs. 

But it’s a look that Chuuya’s never seen on Dazai.

That’s the part that scares him. It would be more accurate to say it worries him more than he’s frightened of it, but the feeling doesn’t disappear from where it’s deeply rooted itself in his chest.

“ Talk ? Chuuya’s been avoiding me for the last few days, and how he wants to…talk?”

He winces, because Dazai’s not wrong . He does have valid reasons to avoid Dazai. Why is he making it sound like he is the one who did them dirty?

It sparks irritation in Chuuya as he turns to face Dazai fully, his breath gets caught in his throat as he sees how close they’re standing to one another.

There’s a small, respectful, distance between the two of them, but the intense burning curiosity in Dazai’s eyes makes Chuuya want to just grab him by the neck and pull him down.

Chuuya barely tilts his head back, but Dazai’s intense gaze follows the movement, his eyes raking down the line of his throat, as he says:

“Chuuya really collared himself like a dog. Did he do it for his new boy toy?”

His attention snaps back to Chuuya as he snarls at the animalistic nickname he’s hated since Dazai first gave it to him.

Dazai looks amused as he steps back, arms spread open as an open invitation for him to try and attack him.

“You bastard–”

Chuuya is about to lunge forward when he hears a throat being cleared from above them.

“I thought I heard a commotion.”

They both stiffen at the voice that comes in a cold tone. Dazai drops his arms down to his sides, and Chuuya straightens up sheepishly. He looks up to the top of the stairs where Mori stands, looking like his ever regal self, surprise written all over his features.

“Good evening, Mori.”

The way that Mori descends the stairs has always fascinated Chuuya. It’s always so powerful and confident looking. Sometimes Chuuya can’t help but wonder where exactly his grace comes from. For as long as he knows him, Mori has always been a businessman who owns several businesses in a multitude of industries. It easily makes his family one of the richest in Yokohama.

“Chuuya,” Mori wails his name like it’s a relief to see him. “It’s been a long time.”

“I’m sorry to intrude. I didn’t realise it’s so close to dinner time when I came over. I just want to speak to Dazai for a while.” Chuuya apologises.

“It’s fine, we haven't seen you in such a long time. I’m sure Arakawa would be more than happy to prepare something for you, if she hasn’t already made extras.” Mori dismisses his concerns. “Will you join us for dinner?”

The way Mori stands before him already intimidates Chuuya into saying yes.

Although Mori is tall, he’s never given off that impression of being so. Instead, he has this air of persuasion that borders on intimidation and charm, and most of the time, Chuuya doesn’t know which one he’s leaning towards.

He hears a snort from somewhere behind Mori, and all he can do is send a short glare to Dazai before he looks at Mori with a tight polite smile.

“I should let you two talk , but I think dinner is almost done. Why not talk afterward?”

Blood drains from Chuuya’s face because he never expected to stay here for long. He thought it would just be a short conversation, nothing longer than maybe an hour. But now it seems that it’s going to be even longer than an hour. 

“Sure, but I just need to text my sister to let her know I’ll be back late.”

“Of course. Send your sister my regards will you?”

Chuuya looks at him quizzically, but nods. 

No one ever says no to Mori.

[07:22 PM, Chuuya] Grabbing dinner at Dazai’s, might be late. Mori sends his regards.

From his peripheral, he noticed Mori’s slight tilt of head and Dazai was tugging on the sleeve of his weather over his shirt. He wants to watch the interaction further but his phone buzzes. The way she opens their chat at such a quick speed makes Chuuya raise an eyebrow.

Kouyou rarely replies this quickly. 

[07:22 PM, Kouyou] Dazai’s???? What??????

She doesn’t seem to be concerned that Dazai’s adoptive father sent his regards though…

[07:22 PM, Chuuya] I’ll tell you more tonight, or tomorrow. Don’t stay up late.

[07:23 PM, Kouyou] Ok. Tell Mori I send my regards too.

Furrowing his brows, Chuuya locks his phone and says, “Kouyou sends her regards too.”

To this, Mori seems very pleased.

“I wasn’t aware you were close with my sister.”

Dazai had disappeared sometime during his texts, and Mori is left with him in the foyer.

“Sometimes your sister helps out at our business too. Brilliant, she is.” Mori comments and then gestures towards the inside of the house. “Let’s head in. Dazai’s upstairs taking a quick shower. Always complained about grime and dirt, that boy.”

(Chuuya had missed the blood stains on Dazai’s sleeve that he had to quickly hide after Mori glared at it.)

“Oh, sure.” He says slowly, dragging out the words as he realises he has somehow started to follow Mori through the familiar house.

The place hasn’t changed since he’s been here last. Ceiling to floor windows line the walls of the house, the setting sun brings in so much evening light, creating a soft, beautiful winter hue into the place.

The usual family portrait hangs in the walkway. It’s a memento, as Dazai always liked to call it. To celebrate Elise turning one, and Dazai in his second year of middle school. Mori wanted to capture that moment in a frame forever. 

It was a memorable year, Chuuya muses as he walks past the frame. For Dazai, at least, Chuuya can barely remember from that year, or the years before if he’s to be honest.

His childhood is a blur of memories pieced together in his brain. He’s been told that’s normal, most children don’t retain full memories of their childhood. But Chuuya can only remember so few memories, and even then, those memories always have Dazai in them.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon. How’s Tokyo?”

“Cold,” Chuuya sniffs, and it earns him a chuckle from Mori. “But, it’s nice. It’s very… bustling. Completely different from Yokohama.”

“I can imagine. I’ve been to Tokyo countless times for work trips, but in recent years there have been fewer. Perhaps you would give me a tour if I were to visit?”

Chuuya’s startled at the question, raising his eyebrows. “Me?”

“Of course you. I’m curious to see Tokyo from your perspective too.”

Chuuya laughs something in between confusion and teasing. “You’re not that old. But sure, I haven’t changed my number. Feel free to drop me a message when you’re in the city. I’m sharing an apartment with Tachihara, do you remember him?”

“Ah, that boy Dazai always makes fun of.” Mori sighs in dismay.

Chuuya remembers the way Dazai would constantly hover over him in high school, making fun of Tachihara whenever he tried to get near Chuuya. But the boy would always take it in good sport, though he would stick out his tongue once, or twice, behind Dazai’s back. 

“Chuuya!” Dazai’s mother stands by the dining room’s entrance, still dressed up in her yellow frilly apron, she looks beautiful as always. Her blond hair is bunned up tidily, and her warm blue eyes shine brilliantly when their gazes meet. Her soft features grow even kinder when Chuuya greets her.

“Auntie, it’s been a very long time. I hope that you’ve been well.”

Oh, it’s such a joy to see you even though it’s under these circumstances.” Arakawa sighs, one hand clutching her heart. Chuuya smiles feebly.

He steps closer to her, and spreads his arms slowly in a welcoming gesture, earning a small but fond smile.

Arakawa isn’t that much shorter than Chuuya, but her hugs were always motherly, warm , and safe.

And heartbreakingly familiar.

“Chuuya?”

Chuuya twisted his head to the side to peek at whoever called for him and his eyes widened at the sight of Dazai's adoptive mother. Her cheeks flushed even redder and he looked guilty at being caught wandering down the halls in the middle of the night.

“Oh,” Arakawa quickly approached him and squatted down just before him, maintaining a small distance to allow him to decide if he wanted to close that gap. “Sweetie, did you have a nightmare?”

Chuuya’s glassy eyes blinked once, twice, before the tears spilled over and down his cheeks, his lower lip wobbling.

“I— Auntie, I can’t remember what—“ 

She opened her arms, small and welcoming, but also not pushing him. If he wanted her comfort, she’d let him take it at his own pace. As it was, the small boy buried himself in her arms, tears soaking into her robes. 

Her hushes were achingly soothing, and for a child who didn’t understand how he had ended up wandering down their halls without his best friend in sight, it made him cling to her even tighter, his sobs muffled and heartbreaking, a noise no child should ever have to make.

She lifted him gently into his arms, frowning when she realised how light the boy was, but quickly smiled at his short legs’ attempt to wrap themselves completely around her. He clung tightly to her, his small frame trembling in her arms.

She ran her fingers through his locks softly and carefully, mindful to not tug too harshly on his hair as she whispered soft murmurs of reassurance to him. 

As she turned down the hallway, she noticed the door to Dazai’s room was already cracked open, some light pouring into the hallway and a mop of brown hair was peeping out at the sound of her footsteps. 

“Ma’am?” 

She felt Chuuya cringe in her arms. Soothingly, she ran her open palm down his back in quiet reassurance. His sobs had turned into sniffles, and from the way he pressed his face into her neck, he had stopped crying too.

With a free hand, Arakawa gestured for Dazai to go back into his room and used her hip to push the door to his room wider, noticing how both sides of Dazai’s bed were in an array of mess. Plush toys were tossed to the ground, blankets hung halfway off their bed. The source of light came from the bedside lamp on Dazai’s side of the bed, casting the entire room in orange. 

Dazai stood slightly away from his adoptive mother, his wide, brown eyes watching everything with a vested interest, and he grasped at her leg when she lowered Chuuya back down on the bed.

Her heart broke at the way Chuuya’s gaze was expressionless. It was always filled with brilliance, joy, and happiness, so expressive that an eight year old could portray, and yet now there was nothing there.

She pulled the blanket up, arranging it so it tucked Chuuya in, but still made space for Dazai. 

“Is he okay?” Dazai whispered as he held Chuuya’s gaze. Dazai approached the bed slowly, and she watched as Chuuya shifted to his side and placed an open palm up in front of his face, an open invitation pleading for Dazai’s comfort.

Without waiting for his adoptive mother’s answer, he let go of her to crawl up into bed. Chuuya scooted back slightly, making just enough space for Dazai. 

She sighed at the sight, feeling so proud of Dazai. Warmth swelled in her chest as Dazai took Chuuya’s hand and locked their fingers together. Without hesitation, Dazai lifted their hands and pressed Chuuya’s small fingers to his lips, a motion he’d seen Mori do countless times.

Chuuya’s eyes fluttered shut then, his cheeks still red from crying. He was going to wake up with puffy eyes, but for now, all that mattered was him getting a good night’s sleep. 

Dazai’s gaze flicked towards her for a moment when she leaned down on them, pulling them into a brief hug, murmuring, “I love you both.”

Chuuya curled closer to Dazai, a soft exhale fleeted from his lips. Dazai pressed his forehead to Chuuya’s, for once, his usually blank gaze filled to the brim with concern. 

“Sleep well, angels.”

“G’night ma’am.” Dazai said sleepily, but his attention was fully still on the redhead in front of him.

She pressed a light kiss to Dazai’s hair and pulled away, flicking the light off before she left the room.

Just as she shut the door, she heard Dazai murmur, “I’m here, so sleep well. No more nightmares for you, Chuuya. I’m right here.”

A line that Dazai would repeat many, many times in the next few years.

“Tokyo is very different,” Chuuya says after he swallows his bite. They’re all settled at the dining table, an array of food laid in front of them as they indulge in dinner. “The people there aren’t as warm as Yokohama's, but it’s a change.”

Mori sits at the head of the table, with Arakawa on his left, and Elise on his right, and Chuuya took his usual seat next to Elise, and across from Dazai. Dazai looks more relaxed after his shower, his shoulder less stiff and his hair falling over his features in tresses, making him look even younger and more boyish than he previously was.

(It does not fly past Chuuya that hazel eyes seem to rest on his hands the whole meal. More specifically on his fingers, and the ring on his hand. He can’t read Dazai’s expression, but it makes him skittish. Almost squirming in his seat as he twists the band in his fingers anxiously. 

Unsure how to get Dazai’s eyes off the ring, and make the strange guilt welling up inside of him.)

Arakawa smiles tenderly and he has to look away from how gentle it is. She’s always been another motherly figure in his life, someone Chuuya will forever look up to. A heat creeps up his cheeks as he recalls how often she used to find him wandering the hallways at night as a child when he would stay over, and how often she would always tuck him back in bed after lifting him into his arms.

“You’ve lost a little bit of weight, Chuuya.”

Chuuya’s brows raise at the statement and frowns. “I did?”

He glances down at himself, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t think I did.”

Mori stops mid-lift of his fork and chuckles. “Just a bit, Chuuya. Has Tokyo not been treating you well?”

Elise snorts around her spoon and throws a dirty look at her brother muttering, “Chuuya has always been a little bit meatier when he was in Yokohama.”

Chuuya winces and flushes at the comment. He didn't think that anyone would pick up on the weight that he lost a little eight. University has been making him work his ass off with late nights, it’s no surprise to him that he lost some weight.

“University is… hectic.” Chuuya chooses his words carefully, pausing to take another bite out of the meal. “Next year is the final year, so I’ve got to work extra hard to get good grades so that it’ll be easier to get a job once I graduate.”

“Aren’t you already in line to take over your family business, though?” Mori asks, puzzled. He takes a sip of wine, and Chuuya eyes his glass wearily. It’s always expensive and good wine, something he would love to indulge in on any other night and allow himself to get tipsy off.

But tonight he has plans. He’s here to talk to Dazai. To find solace in their childhood memories. So, he only allowed himself to take one glass and sat it in front of him. Almost tempting him to finish it in one shot.

“I do, but I also want to keep my options open.” Chuuya answers. A sudden wave of nerves wash through him from the way Mori suddenly looks guarded and more thoughtful.

He expected dinner to be a lot more awkward, but Mori and Arakawa treated him like they always had— another son they love and care for, and they’ve always been genuinely curious  what he’s been up to since he moved to Tokyo. With Dazai’s family, it feels like he never left.

So, he shares stories about his university life. How Tachihara and he share an apartment on the upper side of the city, never midnight that the both of them are supposed to be college students who weren’t supposed to be able to afford that. Chuuya’s parents made sure that he was covered for a good, secure, and safe place. And they never minded that he'd be sharing the apartment with his high school friend. 

He carefully omits the parts where he got himself warded to the hospital because of a bender in his first year of university, and shares more about how he met new people, which prompted Arakawa asking if he’s seeing someone new, and with reluctance, Chuuya says yes.

The way her smile crinkles around her eyes makes him understandably sad, and Chuuya feels the guilt in him grow immensely. 

This is why he shouldn’t have visited Dazai at his house. 

He adores Dazai’s family with all of his heart, always has, and always will. He came prepared to spend the rest of his life with them, but things changed when Chuuya was forced to be away from his second family he’s found and loved. 

“Thank you for the meal, it was really delicious.” Chuuya murmurs after dinner. He places his dirty dishes in the sink, and is about to volunteer to wash them when Arakawa waves a hand dismissively. Elise and Dazai had disappeared somewhere in the house after dinner, and Chuuya’s more than fine with that. 

He has to do his job as a guest first. Otherwise his parents would be horrified if they knew what he’s done at someone else’s house. (They didn’t raise him to be an imbecile.)

“Oh, you’re our guest. Don’t worry about it, I’ll do it later.”

“No, oh no.” Chuuya insists, shaking his head, a lock of hair falling out of place. “You made such a wonderful meal and I intruded, the least I can do is offer to clean it up.”

She shushes him with a finger, eyes narrowing chidingly. “Leave the dishes boy, you’re our guest.”

Chuuay surrenders to her tone with a small sulky pout. She tucks the lock of hair away with warm fingers brushing against his cheek and he sighs.

“Are you sure you’re doing okay, Chuuya?” The spoken words are soft and laced heavily with concern, earning her a small smile. It’s always so easy for Chuuya to open up once people ask the right questions, and if they’re in the right place. 

It happened with Yosano, and now it’s happening with Arakawa too.

“I— I just feel guilty.” Chuuya confesses. “I haven’t seen Hirotsu in two years, I didn’t tell him I was leaving for Tokyo, and then the next thing I know, he’s gone . And I'm not supposed to be here either.” he gestures to the house with a wide sweep of his arms.

“I just thought…I grew up with Dazai. He’d share some sentiment about Hirotsu that’s the same as mine, but…I don't deserve this…this much affection anymore.”

“Oh, Chuuya,” she says softly, and then she pauses hesitantly. “Can I give you a hug?”

Words stuck in his throat, he nods. Her slender arms wrap around his waist, pulling him into a tight his that’s full of reassurance and comfort.

“Chuuya, you’re always welcome here.” She says quietest into his shoulder before she presses a kiss into his hair, There's soft music coming from the radio in the kitchen, and she sways him gently to the music. It’s a familiar tune, something Chuuya grew up with. A song that had him waltzing in one of the empty rooms in Dazai’s house with him since they were children.

A song that they eventually grew to call theirs. 

“Regardless of what happens, you can always come home .” she says, and in her voice, home sounds so different.

He’s always had two homes; his own family’s place, and Dazai’s. Both places let him grow up so warmly, so well loved, he remembers how heartbroken he was when he was forcibly  torn away from one.

“I’m sorry,” Chuuya says softly. The words hang in the air, and he isn’t sure who they’re for. Are they for her, choosing to run away from the second motherly figure in his life? Or are they for himself, to make peace for leaving so much behind? “I’m sorry.”

Her arms around him tighten fiercely, and she shakes her head.

“Do not apologise for situations you have no say in.” she says vehemently, giving him a soft squeeze before she lets him go. “You are always welcome here. ”

Her fingertips brush under his eyes, and he blinks a few times to realise that she’s catching tears before they spill over.

“You've grown up so well, Chuuya. I’m so proud of you, even if that means you’re living in Tokyo now.” She cups his cheeks with a small, prideful smile.

“I—” Chuuya croaks out, but it’s quickly interrupted by the radio right after the song finishes playing.

“ We interrupt our regular new broadcasting hour to bring you breaking news. CEO Mitsuba Okane of Mitsuha Pharmaceuticals was just found dead an hour ago in his home in Tokyo. The company has been rumoured to have ties with the mafia families based in Tokyo and Yokohama, and it has been suspected that his cause of death may have been an overdose… ”

The radio trails off, and Chuuya furrows his brows at how familiar the name is. He’s heard of them before, but it’s so vague, that he struggled to remember where he’s heard of them before.

He scraps through his memories, trying to figure out where he’s heard the name before, a bit before he can come to a conclusion. He hears a set of feverish footsteps down the stairs. Arakawa’s hands drop to her side and she turns to the entrance of the kitchen

Chuuya watches as Mori walks in to pull his wife into his arms, a motion so tender that feels like he’s trespassing, and presses a kiss to her temple, murmuring words of apology about how he needs to go back to work.

Arakawa briefly glances back at Chuuya, a look of concern washing over her features and that leaves Chuuya confused. 

“Chuuya, I’m sorry. I know we don't have much time to catch up, but I have an emergency that I need to attend to. Let's catch up again soon, shall we?”

Chuuya nods quickly in response. “I understand. Please don’t worry about it.”

Mori gives him a brief smile, and he kisses Arakawa again, softly on the lips, before he bids Chuuya good night.

Just as Mori leaves, another set of steps Chuuya is all too familiar with echoes down the other entrance of the kitchen. 

“Chuuya.”

He cringes the way he says his name. How is it possible to sound like familiarity and foreignness at the same time? Chuuya turns in the direction of Dazai’s voice, he feels as though time has stopped altogether.

Dazai stands in the doorway, dressed in the same outfits he was in for dinner, but now that there’s no table blocking his view, he can see the loose-fit shirt that hangs into his board frame and the slacks that hug around his long legs. Bandages still wrap around his arms and neck but all he can think of is the very dangerous memory of arms caging him in his bed, lips brushed against his in a fluid movement, and his own hands gliding down, soft gasps and moans escaping the—

No.

No, no .

No , he will not go there. He’s not allowed to go there.

“Chuuya, you wanted to talk?” Dazai calls out again, looking a little lost when Chuuya doesn’t respond. Chuuya swears he feels himself flush the reddest shade he’s ever been from being called out. 

His tongue sneaks out to wet his lips nervously, and then he nods. Chuuya clears his throat, and steps away from the sink.

“Good evening, auntie.” Chuuya says quietly with a small bow. Arakawa places a hand on his shoulder and gives it a small encouraging squeeze. 

Mitsuha…

The name rings out again in Chuuya’s head, as he tries to frantically grasp onto it. Wondering where on earth the name is from. But once he reaches Dazai’s side, the name is almost immediately forgotten.

Sometimes he forgets how tall Dazai is, and how it seems as though he’s grown even taller in the last two years. Now, he has to tilt his head back to almost completely meet Dazai’s gaze, and his mouth goes dry at the dangerous glint in his eyes. He feels so irrationally small in front of Dazai, like he can single-handedly do whatever he wants to Chuuya, and he wouldn’t even be able to actually escape, which is inexplicable. Chuuya’s always been the best in his martial arts school.

He coils kick ass if he wants too. So what does it feel like he couldn't in front of Dazai?

“Is…something wrong?” Chuuya asks quietly. “If it’s work related, I can always come back another time.”

Dazai shakes his head, the dark lock falling over his face dangerously, and Chuuya wants to just brush the stray ends out of his face. A tight clench of his fist and a harsh bite on his lower lip is his self-restraint as Dazai gives him a lop-sided smile.

“It’s nothing. Mori was just called back in to settle something. I know of a place where we can talk without being interrupted.”

“Well…” chuuya takes in a deep inhale, before letting it out in a slow breath. He meets Dazai’s gaze with a confident, sultry smile. “Lead the way.”

Chapter Text

The study is different from what Chuuya last remembered from his memories. Dazai moving out has likely probably played a decent part in the refurnishing. 

Although Mori calls it a study, Chuuya has always liked to call it The Library . The room is massive , with bookshelves lining the walls, and on one side of the room stands another row of bookshelves. Books that Mori enjoys, he keeps on one side of the room. The shelves hold things about history, war, strategies and tactics, and another side is filled with fiction storybooks that Elise always liked, literature books that Dazai would rave about, and then a small corner of poetry and art that stands just for Chuuya.

If Chuuya remembers correctly, somewhere in the dark corner of the study is restricted to only Mori, and then eventually over the years, Dazai. Elise and Chuuya got curious once when they were slightly younger, just after Dazai got access to the area. But Arakawa was able to easily distract them with the mountain of books that stood on the other shelves.

Even now, Chuuya hasn’t managed to finish reading all of the books in the study.

There used to be three four-seater oak tables, but now, only one remains. Without the tables, the whole study is more spacious. With the yellow lights shining down from the light bulbs, Chuuya can briefly see dust particles floating in the air, as though the study hasn’t been used in the longest time. Tucked next to one of the bookshelves is a small wooden drawer with a gramophone sitting on top of it.

“That wasn’t there before.” Chuuya starts as he walks up to it, dragging his fingers across the device.

He lifts the tone-arm and places it gently on the turntable, feeling a small smile curl up on his features as the turntable starts to play whatever vinyl is placed on it. As quick as the smile comes, it drops, just the same way Chuuya’s heart sinks.

It’s the same song playing on the radio in the kitchen.

The one that was playing when he was swaying with Arakawa, but it’s more sentimental now with Dazai here, and it leaves a painful ache in his chest.

“Dad changed the place after I moved out.” Dazai says quietly, his tone light like he’s struggling with his own words too. 

“...I see,” Chuuya leans on the edge of the table in the back corner of the room, running a hand through his hair that he’s sure lays flat by now. “Listen— I’m sorry to intrude. I shouldn’t have. You probably don’t want to see me anyways, but here I am once again.”

Chuuya winces at how rushed and pathetic he sounds, as if there’s anyone else he could find that knew Hirotsu like he did. He doesn't, which is why he has to go crawling back to the same man who broke his heart and left him out to bleed.

"It’s fine,” Dazai breathes out as he stands away from the table putting space in between them, propping his shoulder against one of the empty shelves, his arms crossed over his chest.

He doesn’t address the last part, and Chuuya isn’t sure if he should be thankful for that or not.

“You still have it— the ring, I mean.” Dazai says as he points to Chuuya’s fingers, changing the subject.

He covers the silver band defensively, like a reflex, but it’s too late. Dazai’s already seen it, so there’s no use in trying to cover it at this point. 

Chuuya knew he would bring it up, from the way he was staring at it during dinner, he just wishes he could have been a little more prepared for the topic. And not feel any sort of guilt for keeping it like an idiot. (He’s growing so tired of the feeling.)

“Yeah,” he says, his tone slightly biting as he fidgets with it. “I paid for half of it, so of course I kept it. It’s too pretty and expensive to throw out.” It’s like he’s trying to rationalise his decision with them both, but if it’s to himself or Dazai more, he’s not sure.

“How are you coping…with Hirotsu’s death?” The subject change feels rushed, but Chuuya’s just trying to get the topic off of the ring before Dazai can answer. It is also why he came over in the first place. So, he doesn't see a point in dragging out the conversation any longer than it needs to be. 

All Chuuya needs right now, is someone who understands his feelings, and to know that someone may be able to relate to him. 

He’s hoping that maybe he can find it in Dazai. However horrible the idea may be. Chuuya’s not sure where else he can turn, leaving the last man on earth he wants to see, the only person he can see.

A shaky exhale escapes from Dazai as he drags a hand down his face like he’s exhausted , and a sound like laughter full of uncertainty comes out of his mouth.

Clearly, he wasn’t expecting this talk.

“I’m handling it okay.” Dazai begins after a moment of silence, but Chuuya can tell in his tone that he’s not. He always does this, trying to pretend like he’s something he’s not. And Chuuya can feel in his bones to reach out to him, to hold him and try to make him feel better until all the brunet’s troubles pass. “I visited Hirotsu before I moved. He was still healthy then. We spoke of… a lot of things then.”

The way he hesitates makes Chuuya curious. A tilt of his head to the side makes Dazai sigh, reading his expression as if reading his mind. Knowing exactly what he’s thinking.

“We talked about us.” He gestures between the two of them.

Oh. 

Oh .

“He was wondering how you were. He knew you were doing well, and he was so proud of you, getting into the University of Tokyo, but he was so worried about you too. I told him you’d do well. He chided me too, asking why I didn’t follow.”

Dazai’s laughter is hollow as he recalls his conversation, and whatever brightness he had in his eyes becomes dim.

(Hirotsu had scolded Dazai, telling him to not let Chuuya go regardless of what the world had planned for them. But Dazai had been so stubborn to them, and Hirotsu could only give him a sympathetic hug, praying that one day they'll find their way back together.

It’s almost a heartbreaking comical that it’s his death that brings them back together like this.)

Chuuya’s throat feels tight and he drops his gaze to the floor. The air is growing thick with emotion, and it feels like it’s getting harder to put his weight on the floor. He scoots back further on the table, planting his butt completely on it, and places both hands between his legs, resting his palm on the table as he runs his blunt nails against the table.

This is not what he was expecting. He thought he’d get something different . Maybe just memories of their childhood. Not this .

But then again, Dazai’s always been the more low profile between the two of them. He’s never liked sharing much about himself, what he does and Chuuya’s never pushed.

Dazai’s past before he became Mori’s ward is something Chuuya’s learned to not pry, and because of that , he grew to adapt not to push too hard. 

Pushing too hard leads to Dazai shutting him out, and it’s happened before.

It’s a moment in their history Chuuya never has any desire to relive.

So he changes the topic instead.

He doesn’t want to know whatever they talked about, what Hirotsu thought— did he know they broke up? Dazai should have told him if he knew he was leaving for Tokyo, Was he disappointed in them? Did he feel sorry for them? 

So many questions left unanswered all because Chuuya has to think about them, and with the way Dazai looks right now, if he doesn’t change the direction of the conversation, he won’t be getting any solace tonight.

“Dazai,” Chuuya said his name softly, afraid to speak too loud in fear of destroying whatever tranquillity the man had built around him to keep himself protected. “Dazai.”

The words seemed to tear him out of his trance to look at Chuuya. 

“I didn’t mean to—“ 

The shaky breath Dazai released was enough to deal a blow to Chuuya. He squatted down near Dazai, but kept his distance, not knowing how he should deal with how he was shut out. 

“Odasaku.” 

Chuuya bit down on his lower lip, bitter jealousy flooding through him like hot lava, twisting his heart into a tight knot.

“If you prefer me to get him—“

“No.” Dazai’s blinks were owlishly slow, like the haze in his eyes were clearing out and then he frowned. Chuuya stayed still and patiently waited for the next words to come out of Dazai’s mouth, waiting to take the next course of action. 

It always started with Oda. Chuuya bitterly realised. 

This time, Chuuya just wanted to know why Dazai wouldn’t share about what he did that day with Oda. Dazai had come over to his place dulled and moody. No matter how many attempts Chuuya tried at cheering him up, he never seemed to perk. 

So he pushed. 

And pushed.

Until Dazai snapped and said something hideously cruel that Chuuya actually felt his heart shatter. 

“Will you stop asking me about my day with Odasaku? If I didn’t know better, Chuuya, I’d think you’re insecure about Odasaku and I.” 

The way Chuuya recoiled in anger and disappointment was sharp and harsh. His insecurities being called out like that felt like a cold towel was slapped across his face. 

And Dazai didn’t seem apologetic.

Not then. Not now.

But yet, here Chuuya was before him, in a dark corner of his family’s study, smaller in contrast to Dazai’s, but still a place both of them were familiar with. 

Dazai’s eyes raked over Chuuya slowly, agonisingly, and carefully. Neither of them moved or said anything, the silence in the study deafeningly thick, making it easy to just suffocate in it.

Chuuya’s thighs were starting to burn just by squatting, but he didn’t want to break the tension, so he resisted, and waited. 

It felt like an eternity later when the dead, flat look in Dazai’s eyes started to come back to life with a slight shimmer, and he pulled his lips into a thin line.

“Chuuya—“

“Should I get Oda?” 

It was a simple, harmless question, yet it made Dazai flinch so hard Chuuya thought he might give him a panic attack.

“No.” Dazai repeated, this time his tone is firm and decisive, even though his voice sounded raggard and exhausted. “Come here?”

Dazai’s arms spread out in the slowest of motions, and Chuuya’s teeth sank deeper into his lower lip.

The small, weak smile Dazai offered started to droop, and Chuuya felt his own resolve cave. 

He scooted closer to Dazai, and then collapsed on his knees, his hands on his lap as he waited, again.

“I’m sorry,” Dazai murmured, his voice barely louder than a breath. He reached out with one hand, wanting to touch Chuuya, but then he hesitated, like Chuuya was a hot furnace and if he came too close, he’d burn. 

He hated that he feels like he’s being wedged between two choices of either staying or leaving. 

Sometimes he’s so wrung out by Dazai’s secrets, like he didn’t- couldn’t- wouldn’t trust Chuuya, even though they were best friends for more than a decade, and had started dating for a year, but it still felt like he wasn’t trusted. That he wasn’t good enough.

And that left such a twisted, blistering feeling in his chest that burned his heart and lungs.

Chuuya adored his boyfriend. 

Sometimes so much his heart would just explode from how full it was.

But the secrets he kept from him felt like jaggard glass shards that dragged itself across his heart slowly and torturously, leaving him to bleed out on the ground. 

“Come here, please, sweetheart?” 

At that name, with such a gentle tone, who was he to say no? With a harsh swallow, Chuuya reached out to the outstretched hand and shuffled towards Dazai. His body was still rigid when Dazai gently cupped his face, the thumb brushing away the stray ends of his hair that clung to his face. 

Whatever deep thoughts he was in when Chuuya pushed earlier were slowly fading away. The dark abyss of his eyes was slowly brightening up cautiously as though he didn’t dare to have a good thought. 

“I– I shouldn’t have pushed you.” Chuuya murmured, his body slowly melting under Dazai’s touch. He slowly raised one hand to clasp against Dazai’s hand that was stroking his cheek carelessly, and leaned his weight into his palm. 

“No,” Dazai shook his head languidly, but he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Chuuya, ridding himself of whatever thought was stuck in his head. “I’m at fault. I should have opened up more with you. You were just concerned, but I said something that hurt you so much.” 

That, along with the way Dazai was carefully cradling his face and touching him, was a balm to the ache in his heart. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Dazai apologised sincerely. 

Chuuya’s heart clenched at his tone and his grip on Dazai’s hand tightened just by a fraction and then he was pulling Dazai into his arms. That quickly changed, with Dazai’s fast reflexes, and he was the one being pulled into strong, lean arms and his face was pressed against a broad, warm chest. 

“I’m sorry, too. Please know that whatever happens, Dazai, I’m always here for you, regardless of what happens during your day. I’ll always want to listen to what you’ve been up to. If you’re not up to sharing, I won’t push again.” 

“No,” Dazai murmured into his hair, his voice muffled but clear. His arms tightened around Chuuya, and on instinct, his own arms around Dazai’s waist secured further. “I should have just been honest. I’m sorry.” 

He took in a deep breath letting Dazai’s smell – white musk, fill up his senses, and leaned up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. 

“It was low of me to pick at such an insecurity, and I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I’ll be better.” 

That’s all Chuuya asked for. 

Honesty.

And yet, the lack of it was still the downfall of their relationship.

“Do you remember—” Chuuya laughs around the rim of the glass. A staff member of the house had brought up a bottle of premium whiskey and a bottle of red wine, some time between them talking about Dazai’s last meeting with Hirotsu before he left home for another part of Yokohama and childhood memories. They’d since dissolved into small talks and memories, gearing the conversation away from anything that would remind them painfully of their breakup. “Do you remember the first time you met Hirotsu? I remember you looking so scared you looked like you wanted to do nothing more than just run away from the place.”

Dazai makes a face at the memories. The same song is still playing in the background, but neither of them have had the heart to stop the gramophone from playing the song over and over for the last house. They let it play on repeat, and at some point, Chuuya even started to get away from it, missing the way Dazai looks at him with a small, fond smile on his face.

“Yeah? Do you remember when Hirotsu taught you to waltz, and you failed miserably?”

Chuuya snorts into his wine glass. He sets it down on the table gently and stands up, letting whatever alcohol in his system push him forward.

In hindsight, it’s a bad idea. He's catching up with his ex-boyfriend, who just happens to be a childhood friend. And he’s seeing someone else now. Granted, they aren’t boyfriends , but he is pretty sure they’re dating exclusively. So, he shouldn’t be so amused by the way his ex’s lips curl around the whisky glass the way there’s a slight twinkle in his eyes.

But right now, wine is singing in his veins. His mind and chest feel so much lighter than they did earlier today.

“I’ll have you know, that I’ve improved a lot .” Chuuya huffs, his chest slightly puffed up as that sight elicits a chuckle from Dazai.

“Yeah?” Dazai challenged with a raised eyebrow, placing his own whisky glass down on the table. “ Prove it . You were always stepping on my toes when we were children, and even when we became older.”

“ I absolutely did not! ” Chuuya scowls in disbelief. “Get over here. I’m going to show you that it’s different now.”

Amused, Dazai stands up from his seat and wanders over to Chuuya, who is humming softly to the tune while standing in the open space in the study.

Evidently, Dazai is the one that’s between them, and he should have stopped whatever they’re going to do. Because once they start this charade, it will snowball into something bigger than them. Something more painful and something that will end with one of them hurt , but of course, they can’t see that now. Not when they’re high off their childhood memories and alcohol.

(Especially not when one is absolutely still hung up on his ex, and the other is still blinded by his own thoughts.)

But as it is, They’re just two men too caught up in their memories of their childhood, and a man who had spent a good pf petition of their lives with them.

“Wait—” Chuuya laughs again, going back to the gramophone to start the song again at the top. He sways slowly on his feet, letting them take him across the space, elegantly as he can with his mind half-hazy from the alcohol.

But he can feel the way he’s gliding across the dance floor, whatever negative thoughts he’s carried with him throughout the day are washed away from the confidence that has been ingrained in him since Kouyou started to properly teach him how to dance.

Dazai leans back against a bookshelf with the ghost of a smile. The ways that he so casually watches Chuuya knocks some breath out of him. 

He looks so nice just standing here with his arms crossed loosely over his chest, his hair falling over his forehead carefreely, and his legs are kicked out slightly just so he can be more comfortable. 

So, okay, maybe Chuuya can acknowledge that Dazai still looks good, hell, he looks even better now, like he’s had the chance to grow into his body and feel comfortable under his own skin.

Chuuya spins him on his feet and with feverish concentration, takes one step forward, folding his arms behind him, and then he’s moving right with his right foot first and then his left, and then he steps backwards repeating the steps until he’s completely confident in his own moves.

He doesn’t realise he’s knitted his brows together until he looks up, feeling at ease with a knocked out of breath grin. 

Chuuya’s movements have placed a distance between them, but it’s always easily closed up as he glides across the floor with a hand stretched out with the same boyish grin on his face. 

Dazai quirks a brow at Chuuya’s hand, and then he looks at the man.

“Am I going to be standing here all night with a hand out?”

Dazai pretends to think for a moment, and all Chuuya can feel is the warmth of the alcohol settle in his stomach as he drinks in the delirious sight of Dazai, lips pursed thoughtfully and his gaze dark.

He’s about to drop his arm from the ache of holding it down when Dazai reached out to grab it, tightening their hands together and pulls Chuuya closer to him

And, oh .

Chuuya tilts his head back slightly to look at Dazai. He doesn’t pull him away until they are flushed to each other, but it’s still close . From where he stands, he can see the thick, long lashes hat frame Dazai’s eyes, making them darker and bigger, his nose slender, and the full lips plump, red and—

No .

He came to the conclusion earlier that Dazai had grown more in the last two years, but now as they stand toe to toe, Dazai towers over him with at least a head and a half of height difference. His shoulders are much broader than he remembers, and his chest seems broader with the way his shirt is pulled taunt as he raises his other hand to rest on the small part of Chuuya’s back.

With a disgruntled noise of complaint, Chuuya places his own hand on Dazai's lower back, because goddamn he can’t reach his shoulder without his heels?!

“You’re a fucking giant.” He grumbles, earning himself a grin. 

“Chuuya’s just small .” A snicker comes along with the statement, and yes, Chuuya is petty.

As Dazai pulls him along, their sock clad feet pad against warm wooden panels, the two of them moving slowly in tune with the song. With his pettiness in mind, he accidentally steps on Dazai’s toes with a pressure that draws out a sharp breath from the latter man.

It’s awkward, Chuuya muses. They’ve never danced like this, with a distance between them. But that’s a given he guesses. 

They aren’t the same people anymore.

“Chuuya is still a band dancer, stepping on my toes like this.” He can hear the pout in Dazai’s tone, and he doesn’t need to look up to see the god forsaken expression.

“Shut the fuck up,” Chuuya mutters, his fingers curling even tighter around Dazai’s arm, and all he gets is an amused smile in return. With a small step, Dazai guides them across the study’s open space. The crackle of the fireplace amidst the song, and the warmth of the fire wraps them in a blanket of warm heat. 

It’s slow. Their dances were always supposed to be paced slowly, mostly because the two of them had to attend family events that often included dancing, and the two of them always refused to go somewhere without the other. 

And in the event that there was a chance they were separated, they were trained well enough to dance with other people as a last resort.

Not that they let it happen often.

But sometimes it just did .

Now, it just feels weird . Dazai used to pull Chuuya so close, having his hand on his lower back while Chuuya’s own hand was spread out flat on his shoulder, fingers sprawled out. 

But, right now?

It’s the most polite form of dancing they’ve ever done. Hands resting on one another’s elbows, hands clapped lightly together, but Chuuya can still feel the burn of Dazai’s hand on his skin. Despite all that, they’re still painfully in turn with each other’s movements. 

When they let go for a spin, or when Dazai releases his hand on Chuuya’s elbow to spin him into a twirl, everything is so smooth, so graceful, as though they never stopped dancing. 

Chuuya’s heard stories from his dance instructor about how practice is important. Chuuya! People who lapse in their practices will always fall behind in steps and lose their familiarity! 

But that doesn’t seem to be the case for them. Daringly, Chuuya takes a glance up at Dazai, and he’s relieved to see that the man has his eyes closed right now. If his eyes were open, he’d be mocking Chuuya in every form he could muster. 

Dazai wears a small, gentle smile on his features, his lashes fanned out partially against his cheeks, and he looks so serene .

It’s been a while since he’s seen Dazai smile like this. Granted, the last time they saw each other, his eyes were flat and cold, cruel, even.

So it hurts still, knowing that somehow Dazai lost that cold, sharp cruelty in his eyes and was replaced by warmth and familiarity like that movement never happened. 

It’s not healthy, Chuuya concludes. To stay in contact with your ex who hurt you, to be in the arms of your ex, but maybe, just maybe .

Tonight, it will be harmless. To just relive their childhood again.

When Chuuya closes his eyes, he can see the two of them, again as children, amused laughter fleeting through the silence of quiet ballrooms, and giggled when Dazai dips Chuuya a little too low, and soft melody echoing down the halls.

The entire conference room is in chaos. A few executives who returned to the office are arguing amoungst themselves, demanding an answer from the pharmaceutical division, and Dazai stands in the main doors with amusement.

“That’s unacceptable.”

Mori’s tone is cold and sharp, so cruel that it draws out a pained inhale from his subordinates and the entire room falls into silence. 

“Sir, we didn’t expect Mitsuha to—”

“Drug overdose. Was no one watching over Mitsuba for him to relapse?”

That would be an easy way out, wouldn’t it?

“It wasn’t a relapse.” Dazai interrupts, and the atmosphere in the room tenses, not realising they had someone else in the room.

He carefully watches as his adoptive father’s expression turns from stone cold, to a calculative look, until it finally melts away into surprise as he meets Dazai’s steady gaze.

“I wasn’t expecting you tonight, Dazai.”

He straightens up and shrugs. 

“Our guest had left for the night.” He selects his words very carefully, feeling the weight of Kouyou's eyes on him. “And I’m sure the board would need my assistance .” Dazai continues, waving his business phone in his hand. “I was checking out the logs on the way here.”

Dazai removes himself from his position and makes his way over into the conference room, watching as someone the executives pull their lips into a thin line in disdain while others watch him warily. 

Well… It’s been fourteen years since was adopted into the family, and five years since mori Announced that he is the next in line for the throne.

Some of the executives are not pleased with that decision, and question how an adopted child can take the throne of the underworld. Others have seen the brutality of Dazai’s cruelty, and the word of how he was seeing someone before Mori announced his accusession, and quickly removed them from his life, and they knew if he could do something of that level, then he’s rather capable of almost anything.

“The visit log was updated and tampered with.” Dazai says ash slides his phone across the table to where Mori sits, and he watches dully as the man picks it up to skim through the information. 

“Right now , I can’t tell you who was the original visitor, but the name, as you can see, registers to a Mark Twain. I’ve looked him up, he’s just an average citizen, and he wasn’t even near the vicinity of the Mitsuhana Pharmaceuticals,”

“...Tokyo. What are the executives in Tokyo doing ?” Mori questions, and the room is still. The executives on the line stop arguing and Dazia smirks. 

“Probably thinking that they can get away with letting false IDs through the main doors.” Dazai replies, and that’s enough for the chaos to ensue again. 

“Dazai, with all due respect—”

“This is nonsense! Boss, we made sure to do all the clearances before visitors get to pass the security post at all entrances.”

What does a little brat like you know–”

Dazai’s finger twitches at the brat, but he says nothing as the executives continue to argue through the line that connects them to Yokohama HQ.

“Honestly,” Kouyou interrupts with an irritated int. “Do you old men have nothing better to do than compare whose ego and shaft is grittier with a young man?”

Dazai snorts amusedly, before quickly pressing his lips together, ignoring the way Mori slides a glance to him.

Her statement, though, makes all the executives shut up in embarrassment and Kouyou rolls her eyes. 

The corner of his lips curl upwards, and Dazai continues, “but if you give me an hour I could give you something.”

“An hour?” One of the older men snorts. Dazai lazily slides a look at Haruka, a middle-aged man with slightly greying hair and narrows his eyes. “Don’t sell yourself so highly, Dazai.”

“When I do get it done, will you get off my back already, old man? It’s quite tiring having to carry you through all the paperwork.” Dazai sighs, mockingly and then he grins.

The snarl in return is loud and obnoxious, and Dazai’s grin grows even wider.

“That’s enough, both of you.” Mori snaps, rubbing his finger against his forehead. Dazai rolls his eyes and drops his grin, folding his arms across his chest, his index fingers pressed up against his upper limbs.

“Dazai, figure out who hacked into the logs and work fast. We need to release a statement tomorrow.”

We, as in the representative of Mitsuhana, Dazai thinks dully. How boring . No one would ever know that the Mitsuhana Pharmaceutical was involved in the mafia once they cleaned up.

Dazai sighs, glancing at the heavy clock in the room that says eleven in the evening. 

The paperwork for this is going to be a hassle, and he’s not looking forward to it. 

Maybe he could hand it over to Akutagawa to write the reports. But that wouldn’t be fair on the younger man…right?

He just finished a stakeout this afternoon, and when Dazai caught sight of him, he looked haggard. 

Frowning to himself more than anyone else, Dazai shrugged. “I’ll try my best. But just because I want Haruka to get off my back.”

He feels the weight of the executives’ eyes bare through him as he turns to leave, but then he stops at the foot, glancing over to his shoulder to meet Kouyou’s eyes, feeling a little guilty at the concern in her eyes.

He stalks down the hallway of the building, barely acknowledging the men that greet him along the way, stuck too deep in his thought to notice.

He can still feel the way Chuuya’s palm burned into his own, and the intense urge to just pull him unto his arms haunts him even now, hours after Chuuya left his place.

Frustrated, he runs a hand through his hair, not caring if he messes it up.

Dazai has work to do, and he can’t afford to screw up. Not when there’s so much on the line; for his second chance in having a family and to keep him safe from everything that threatens their peace. 

Sighing, Dazai rests one hand on his hip, the other dialling a phone number on his mobile before he holds it to his ear.

The line connects with a click , but the other person says nothing, waiting. 

“It’s me,” he says as he turns on his feet to head into the lift. “I have something you want.”

“...I’m listening.” Rokuzo replies hoarsely, sounding as though Dazai’s just woke him up, even though he knows the boy has no such thing as a sleep schedule.

“I need you to crack through surveillance cameras in the Mitsuhana Pharmaceuticals.”

“This about that CEO who OD’ed?”

Dazai pauses, and then answers, “yeah. I’m curious as to why the media is making such a huge hooha.”

Rokuzo snorts, and that makes Dazai raise a brow. “Is there something I should know about?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Rokuzo draws out the words slowly before he snickers, sounding completely amused; he knows something Dazai doesn’t, and it’s annoying.

Very annoying, and it’s starting to get on his nerves.

But Rokuzo is always generous with his information. So much for selling them, so all Dazai has to do is wait .

“There’s a new drug running around the country, but it’s more prominent in Tokyo. It’s called Wisteria , a pale pink coloured pill that can easily be mistaken for painkillers. Word has it that it dissolves quickly into the system once consumed, and roots itself into the lungs and brain really quickly. It’s…hmm, dangerous in large doses. But relatively harmless in smaller ones. It’s supposed to make you high and docile.”

Dazai grimaced at the information.

He’s heard from Kaji and Gin about how drugs are being snuck into the mafia’s nightclubs and how it is to filter it out, and it’s a pain in the ass.

They never dabbled in drugs— it’s the absolutely one rule Mori keeps a firm leash on. They don’t need external parties coming in to deal a blow after the city Mori holds dear, and having the mafia to clean up afterwards.

They already have more than enough on their plate to deal with, the way the government keeps their eyes tightly on them, waiting for them to screw up, and they all know it will only be a matter of time before they do .

Which is why he assumes Mori wants him to investigate Mitsuha's death, to male sure that none of the executives and their businesses are involved in drugs.

Dazai, himself, had an incredibly tight leash on the casinos, making sure nothing slips past him into the venues.

“Thanks for the heads up.” Dazai replies, and Rokuzo sniffles. 

“Yeah, well, a little payment in return for that information would be good. On top of whatever you want me to do.”

“Come on now,” Dazai drawls. “You fed that information to me for free.”

Rokuzo snorts. “Nothing is free when it comes to you, Dazai.”

“Touché,” Dazai grumbles with a roll of his eyes. “Get me what I want and I’ll send the payment across.”

“Within the hour?”

“You know it.”

Rokuzo groans and he can hear a rusting of sheets, and he imagines the boy rolling out of bed, grumbling under his breath.

“You’re a fucking menace. Do you know how much I charge people for rushed jobs?”

Dazai hums happily, knowing he has the upper hand and walks away from the window where he stands. Watching the overview of Yokohama, the night lights were bright and dazzling, something that took him many years of walking up to hilltops at night to appreciate the view.

“I pay you very well. I don’t know what you mean?”

“Sure,” the double and sarcasm is heavy in his tone. Dazai chooses not to entertain it. Rokuzo can be a brat when he wants to be, and right now, Dazai needs him to work. “Anyways, I heard that your precious little redhead is back in town.”

Annoyance starts to bud inside of him at the mention of Chuuya, and he presses his tongue against his cheek to resist talking smack to the boy, giving Rokozu the option to either change the topic, or if he dares, continue.

“It’s always about him, isn’t it? Joining the mafia even though you never planned for it. All just to make sure that it stays far away from him”

“Again,” Dazai says halfheartedly, even though he understands what Rokuzo means. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rokuzo huffs irritatedly.

“Well, it’s not my problem. I’m just an information broker, but you do know he’s dating Fyodor Dostoevsky now?”

Oh , now his mood is just sour.

“Ironically, you tried to keep him away from the mafia when he didn’t realise he was born into a mafia family, and then he dated a soon to be mafia lord, got dumped by said man, and is now dating someone equally just as powerful. It’s like the universe has already set his fate for him. Don’t you think so? ”

When it’s laid out bare like that…

Dazai can’t help but feel a little bad for Chuuya. 

That’s the life his parents want him to have, and that’s the life Dazai would respect and provide for him. 

But it hurts.

He had to forcefully tear himself away from the very one person who always understood him. Who was always there for him, even when the nightmare persisted and he’s never asked or pried too far.

“...If you want him back, you should fight for it. I’d pay good money to watch you go up against Dostoevsky.”

Dazai never once apologises to Chuuya for the way he’s hurt him.

He knows he’s hurt him. The lingering gaze when Dazai was the first to walk away? The cryptic Instagram stories Chuuya posted after they’d broken up? The drunk texts he had received? The closure he never got, but had freely given Dazai?

They were all silent pleas of asking him to return to his side, silent cries of pain and desperation, begging Dazai to please come back .

But how can he? When all he’s done is bring pain to Chuuya?

“...Or ya know, the other alternative is something you should have done long ago. You could just let him go .”

“Dazai,” 

Tachihara stood outside Chuuya’s room, one hand on the knob, the other just slightly away from the wooden door where he had wanted to knock. His heart broke at how broken Chuuya sounded, his voice wet and hoarse.

Chuuya had never once shown weakness in front of him, never wanted to share the pain that threatened to tear him apart. 

But Tachihara had seen the lonely, haunted look in Chuuya’s eyes when he thought he wasn’t looking. He didn’t need to suffer a heartbreak alone. He had so many friends that would support him, and would be more than willing to lend their shoulders. Yet here Chuuya was, coped up in his room.

With a deep breath, Tachihara knocked on the door twice. 

“Chuuya, it’s me. I’m coming in.”

Chuuya’s breath caught in a hiccup, and then Tachihara could hear the way the boy was scrambling in his room. 

“N—“

Usually, Tachihara would just let him be. But right now, Chuuya needed a friend, and he was that friend he needed.

He pushed open the door, frowning at the lack of light in his room, curtains drawn shut. Chuuya’s room was a mess. Books sprawled all over the floor, crushed tissues tossed somewhere near the bin, and if he squinted, was that a broken mug on the floor? 

Tachihara’s eyes fell onto the bundle that was trembling under the blanket and frowned.

“Chuuya.” Tachihara called out gently, and that earned him a flinch. “Chuuya, it’s just me. It’s okay.”

He slowly made his way to the bed, taking loud, careful steps to announce his approach. 

Eventually, Chuuya’s red hair peeked out from under the blanket and Tachihara sat himself down on the edge of the bed to run his fingers through the ends to detangle the mess. 

“You’re gonna be okay soon.” 

Chuuya pulled the blanket lower to peer at him, and all Tachihara saw was a broken boy. His brilliant blue eyes were now puffy and red, lips and skin were drastically pale, and his scalp a little oily. 

At that moment, Tachihara hated Dazai Osamu. 

He hated what he did to Chuuya, how he had broken his friend. 

He may not know how or why they had broken up, he may not have even met the boy, but he hated him with a burning passion, and he promised he’ll punch him if he ever saw him.

“Tachi,” Chuuya croaked out, his voice small and tight, as if speaking too loud would shatter him to pieces. Tachihara hummed softly, acknowledging his name as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through a knot. 

“Am I ever going to be good enough?” 

Chapter Text

Everything hurts .

Chuuya watches numbly as they lower the coffin— Hirotsu’s coffin— into the grave, and hears the way his daughter gives her final eulogy to the man. 

Chuuya had said something, but he can’t remember what exactly. In fact, all he remembers is staring at the coffin, and then there are roses being tossed into the grave before Hirotsu’s family starts shovelling dirt down. 

He thought that Dazai would have said a small eulogy too. Or at least something short about the old man who watched him grow up, giving him a sense of familiarity and home, but it didn’t seem to be the case. He didn’t speak, at least not formally. Whether or not he was asked to by Hirotsu’s family, Chuuya doesn’t know.

All he can feel is regret that keeps growing in his chest. Rooting itself deep in his lungs until he feels like he’s choking on the emotion.

It’s all so much , but it’s so underwhelming, like it’s not even real. Like Chuuya’s watching the burial from afar, or getting a play by play of the actions from someone else, but the words are lost in his ears, and his vision is blurry.

His brain feels like it’s muddled by the end of it. Chuuya’s having a hard time picking things out that happened, what’s been said to him. Everything is lost in immense feelings, thoughts, and emotions that are holding him captive from the rest of reality.

All he can feel is a certain grief that leaves him numb. A hole that will forever be missing in his heart. Buried six-feet under, in the grave along with Hirotsu. Under all the weight of the dirt. 

Chuuya finds himself wishing he could do nothing but claw through the dirt until he can see the coffin again. Then, everyone would scream out sike and his old caretaker would be alive and well in his arms. He would wipe away Chuuya’s tears and tell him not to cry. Tell him that it’s all okay and there’s no need to be sad.

He didn’t even get to say good-bye .

At some point, Chuuya’d pressed himself into his sister’s side. Her arm is draped over his shoulders, crying silently together.

He’s always found it hard to stop the tears once they’ve started. He doesn’t cry often , but enough that it’s rather embarrassing. It’s not as much as it used to be when he was a kid, night terrors causing him to wake up crying most nights from horrific dreams he can never remember. 

It makes it hard to get help, but he’s always had people he's always had people who were there for him. People who helped him calm down, who would lay with him until he managed to fall back asleep. Dazai included. 

He was always there for Chuuya. 

It’s the comfort he finds himself desiring to seek, not the person. The feeling that in Dazai’s arms, he’s safe from anyone and anything. (When did they stop being the same thing?)

His phone buzzes, momentarily pulling him back into the crushing reality around him, causing Chuuya to pull away from his sister. He muttered a garbled mess of an apology and wiped his tears before pulling his phone out his coat pocket. His cheeks are cold where the warm tears previously were, and though the buzzing is only a text, he still feels like he looks like shit and wants to look okay. Even if he doesn’t feel like it.

Fyodor . 

It’s a text from Fyodor, the person Chuuya should be trying to seek comfort from right now. Not Dazai. He spent one night with him, alcohol buzzing in his system prompting them to dance— and many thoughts he shouldn’t be having anymore— and suddenly it's his ex that seems to be stealing all of his attention.

If Chuuya wasn’t already feeling like shit, he’s sure he would by now.

[12:53 PM, Fyodor] Hey, solntse . I know right now is a really hard time for you, but I just wanted you to know that I’m always here for you. However you need❤️

Chuuya has someone right here , interested and caring for him. So, why does his brain pull towards someone who’s made it fully clear he doesn’t want to be in a relationship with him anymore. (Their breakup is a full indication of this.)

But…

Chuuya’s half tempted to put the phone away in favour of not answering so he doesn’t have to deal with the guilt that’s weighing down in his system— but that wouldn’t be right to Fyodor who’s just trying. 

It’s not his fault that Chuuya feels like this. Nor does he even know of all the guilt Chuuya’s been consumed by just the last five days. He’s getting whiplash himself.

[12:55 PM, Chuuya] Thank you ❤️it’s just so /hard/. All I want is to wake up from this utter hell of a nightmare

[12:56 PM, Chuuya] or have someone just scream out SIKE or something and it be all over.

[01:00 PM, Chuuya] I just want to be back in Tokyo and lay bundled up in your arms.

It sounds borderline pathetic when he read it to himself, he almost didn’t even send it, but thought it couldn’t hurt . Chuuya deserves a little comfort, right?

Of course, Fyodor responds almost immediately.

[01:01 PM, Fyodor] I know. Just hang in there. It’ll all be over soon and you can come back to me. And I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of😉

The innuendo in the message makes Chuuya laugh. Causing his chest to feel a little lighter than it was before. Really, Fyodor always has the best (and the worst) timings. Like he always knows just when Chuuya needs him, and is ready to bring a smile to his face. 

Except for that one time—when he told Chuuya he loves him— and Chuuya still hasn’t said it back…. Fyodor hasn’t said it again since then, and he wonders if maybe he’s just waiting to hear it back before he does…

Chuuya feels his mood turn sour once again.

Chuuya presses his head into his sister’s shoulder, seeking her comfort. She runs her fingers through his hair in a way that would calm him down when he was younger and still living at home. 

The thin peace they’ve made is shattered when he hears several footsteps coming towards them. And hears Mori’s voice from behind him. He feels the way his sister stiffens as she wraps her free arm around Chuuya.

“It’s a beautiful service. I’m glad they were able to give such a good man a proper rest.” Mori says, and though Chuuya agrees, it just opens up the floodgates of his feelings again that Hirotsu is gone.

“I agree,” His sister said, voice proper but thick with emotion. “But it’s still rather unfortunate. It's truly a shame that he had to be the one to go so soon.”

“It truly seems that all the good men and women always draw the short end of the stick. They are always doomed to leave the world so soon.” It’s a strange comment, but Chuuya supposes it’s true. Hirotsu was nothing but kind to the world. 

Even if he knows it’s not fair, he deserved to stay longer, instead of being ill.

Chuuya doesn’t hear Kouyou’s response, wondering if she just nodded.

“Our condolences to you and Chuuya. We know how much you meant to you two, having practically raised you.” Not even Arakawa’s calming voice can soften the blow of her words. They still manage to cut through Chuuya like a knife.

“You as well. I know Dazai and Elise were in the same boat as us, especially Dazai. I’m sure this is hard on him as well.”

Chuuya hates how if it weren’t for Kouyou holding him protectively against her, he would have turned around to look for him at the mention of his ex. Instinctively searching for his presence among his family. Heart and body reaching out for comfort from Dazai.

He knows it’s wrong. And yet—

“Thank you. I’m sure he’d love to hear that from you, but it seems that he’s disappeared from us at some point.” Arakawa laughs sweetly, the sound ringing in Chuuya’s ears like comforting bells. But there’s undoubtedly a sorrow in it that almost breaks his heart for her.

Is it for Hirotsu? Or the sorrow of a mother and her inability to keep track of her son now that he’s an adult?

Kouyou lets him go, and they give small bows before excusing themselves quickly. Chuuya doesn’t blame her, it was awkward and depressing.

This whole day— week has been that way.

Chuuya waves off Kouyou when she offers him company. He appreciates her. He does— he just needs some alone time right now. A moment to attempt to process everything that’s been happening today.

To accept everything too.

This leads him to wander around aimlessly, absentmindedly searching for something until Chuuya is the one who’s found.

“Are you looking for someone specifically?”

Chuuya wheels around back to find Dazai standing behind him, leaning down so far his head is around the height of Chuuya’s. Letting out a loud gasp of surprise, he swings his hand around, reflexes kicking in to smack whoever scared him. Dazai ducks easily, a slight smile on his lips.

Chuuya grumbles out a short lecture about why Dazai shouldn’t sneak up on someone like that—though his words are filled with more cuss words than anything else. He placed a hand over his heart, trying to calm down the erratic beating that’s only beating so fast from the surprise.

“God, I fucking hate you. The hell is your problem?” Chuuya asks, trying to wipe the tears from earlier that have mostly dried on his cheeks. Chuuya’s been crying so much these last few weeks, it makes him feel like a big baby, and he hates it. It feels so lame . 

But at least here almost everyone else is crying, so he’s not completely out of place.

Even Dazai’s eyes look a little red…

“I just wanted to come check on you, didn’t mean to scare you so badly.” It’s somewhat a lie, Chuuya can tell. But he’s not in the mood to go round and round today with him. It’s only an hour past noon, and he feels so emotionally wrung out. 

He’s just so tired . Chuuya wants to do nothing more than go home and sleep until his train ride back early tomorrow morning.

“ Sure ,” Chuuya says, standing back a step, crossing his arms as he looks up at Dazai. (Something he’s really growing to hate. How can someone grow so much in only two years? There’s at least one rusted silver lining in the whole breakup. Chuuya’s sure his neck would be in shambles having to look up so much.)

“What else do you want?” Chuuya asks cutting to the chase. Dazai frowns a bit, but he tries to ignore it. Ignoring the way the expression tugs at his already fragile heart, making him want to comfort Dazai until the expression goes away. 

To banish it completely from Dazai’s features forever. 

Dazai sighs before replying, shoving his hands in his pockets awkwardly as he leans back on his heels. “I was wondering how you were doing but—” He pauses for a second, slightly tilting his head to the side, like he’s trying to get a better view at Chuuya. “You seem upset.”

“ No shit .” His words are as cold as the breeze that cuts through them. Targeting Chuuya through his jacket as he shivers in place. Body scrunching in on itself to try and keep warm.

(He misses the way Dazai almost moves to hold him to keep him warm. Body itching to move, and the way his hands almost come fully out of his pockets before being shoved forcefully back inside. Unseen by the small boy in front of him.)

“Do you want to get lunch together after this?” Dazai speaks fast, almost like he’s worried Chuuya will stop him if he doesn’t spit out all his words right now . “I know a great place that we can go to. It’s warm. And I’m sure it beats being depressed with your parents or anyone else who may join.”

Chuuya opens his mouth to decline, because after last night— the traitorous feelings and guilt that’s in his heart have increased so much he’s not sure he can make another moment alone with Dazai— but before he has the chance to reply, he’s cut off by Dazai speaking again.

“It’ll be a free meal. I promise.”

Now that…

That is an almost tempting offer. 

“Where?” He asks, knowingly biting the hook Dazai’s laying out for him. 

Chuuya can tell from the smile that slowly makes its way home on Dazai’s lips that he’s given the brunet what he wants. The very thing he’s fishing for, placing himself willingly on the hook. 

“It’s a surprise .” 

A surprise? Dazai should know him well enough that he doesn’t like surprises—but it’s a free meal…

He hates the way he’s actually considering going.

“Just meet me at the front when the funeral is over. We can go somewhere in Hirotsu’s memory.” It’s a hint, Chuuya knows it. It’s some sort of clue as to where Dazai plans on taking him but— for the life of him he can’t figure out where he means. They went to several restaurants with Hirotsu so it’s hard to pick just one .

Chuuya bites his lip and nods, mind still muddled over whether or not he should go, but at least agreeing to think about it. “...okay. I’m not agreeing, but maybe—”

The grin on Dazai’s face is shameless like an excited child, and the ache in Chuuya’s chest only grows. He hasn’t even decided, and regret is already bubbling inside of him. Building blocks of guilt that he knows will come back to haunt him.

“I have to go back to Odasaku, we’re paying our respects one last time together, and then I have to be with my family for a while. I should be at the gates around two?” He rambles on, almost like he’s surprised Chuuya said yes— though he really hasn’t— and Chuuya is more focused on not letting the bitter sound of Oda’s name ring in his ears.

What does he even have to be jealous of anymore? Nothing . They’re not together, and he doesn't think Dazai would get with Oda like that , but…

It still burns.

Because they would work out better than Chuuya ever could with Dazai. They have their own special relationship, one that Chuuya doesn’t share with him. He’s never been able to, and always hates the way that just Oda’s name lights him up green with jealousy. 

Chuuya’s almost tempted to say never mind, he doesn’t want to go—but that wouldn’t be fair. (However that doesn’t stop the temptation).

“Okay,” is the only thing he can muster up to say.Chuuya wants to say more, but he doesn’t know what he could say. He’s already so strung out from the funeral

“Okay,” Dazai echoes, standing there for a moment more. Like he wants to say or do something else but in the end he decides against it. Dazai waves as he walks away and says; “Hope you think as hard as your Chibi brain can handle!” 

It’s just Dazai’s normal teasing, but why does it set him so much on edge? Maybe it’s just the funeral air around them. Maybe it’s just Dazai himself.

Whatever the reason, he goes back to his sister who’s now with their parents, feeling even more lost than before. 

The rest of the funeral is gone in a blur. Suddenly it draws to a conclusion, and two o'clock is here before he knows it. 

Chuuya’s thoughts are convoluted with memories of childhood. Of missing someone he never thought he would lose so soon, and debating on whether or not he should entertain Dazai’s request for lunch. 

And all of his conflicting feelings with Fyodor.

Does he really want to have lunch with that person?

It’s too soon when the clock strikes three meaning the funeral is over. Chuuya still hasn’t made up his mind on whether or not he wants to go. He’s walking out with Kouyou and his parents, inwardly grateful for the amount of people also walking out that surround them. Chuuya’s able to hide and blend in—as much as his family can— so that he doesn’t have to risk seeing Dazai again.

He feels like a teenager when they stop walking. They get parted around like the red sea, but Chuuya doesn’t want to stop. He wants to leave when Dazai can’t see them, allowing him to slip away then come up with an excuse for his absence later. 

Chuuya never outright agreed to Dazai. The other was the one who assumed he would go. So hypothetically— if he wanted to just sneak out and leave he could .

He’s not listening to his parents as they talk to themselves and his sister. Chuuya’s too busy watching someone else. 

His only focus is Dazai. Who’s standing at the gates, just like he said he would be. Scrolling on his phone, typing every now and then— but he’s waiting nonetheless.

The sight makes Chuuya feel like he’s in high school all over again.

A smile crept up on Chuuya’s face as he peeked his head around the walls of the school.

There, he could see Dazai standing alone, scrolling on his phone. He wondered just what he was looking at, but he didn’t seem to notice Chuuya yet, and that’s exactly what Chuuya wanted right now.

It's the fact that Dazai waited for him like he promised that warmed Chuuya’s heart. That he always did always without fail when Chuuya had a club meeting after school, or some sport practice. He could always find his loving and loyal— newly confessed— boyfriend waiting for him, bringing a blissful smile to his lips.

As he crept closer, he went around a bit to make sure he stayed out of Dazai’s field of vision. He didn’t want to spoil the surprise of his arrival just yet.

Chuuya’s first thought was that he wanted to put his hands over Dazai’s eyes, and do the whole ‘guess who’ game because to him, he always thought of it as romantic. But Dazai’s way too tall for him to do that properly.

So instead, he settled with the standard “Hey.” the spring May wind blew at his long hair, making him need to sheepishly tuck it behind his ear.

The way Dazai’s breath seemed to stall in his lungs at the softness made something in Chuuya's chest explode in sweet victory.

“Thank you for waiting,” Chuuya said, folding his hands behind his back as he looked up at Dazai with the most sincere look he could make. “I wasn’t too long was I?” 

Dazai only shook his head, words failing as he looked at Chuuya. Moment too soft for his heart to take, it seemed.

 Chuuya twisted side to side offering his hand out to his boyfriend, who was all too happy to take it. He wanted to make some sort of comment, but tucked the thought away for later. He didn’t want to ruin the soft expression on Dazai’s features just yet. He wanted to wait just so he could see it just a little bit longer.

“Are you ready?” Dazai asked, making Chuuya laugh from the soft intensity of his stare was giving him. Like he was trying to memorise all of Chuuya like this. 

Soft and serene, and all for him in the rare moments like this.

“Chuuya—”

He’s been so lost in thought he didn’t realise his family was trying to get his attention.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

His father sighs, and his mother puts one hand over her heart, and the other is reached out to her son. He takes her hand slowly, trying to smile.

“We were trying to make lunch plans dear. Is there some place you’d like to go? Or something at home you’d like us to make?” His mother has grief and sorrow written all over her face. They all do, and there’s pity in their eyes when they look at him. 

Out of his family, Chuuya was the one that was arguably the closest to Hirotsu. He did spend the most time with him, he and Dazai did. So, he can see why they would think him the saddest but…

He’s always hated being pitied and treated like a child. It infuriated him, like an old tucked away feeling in his chest. He's familiar with that look always being given to him, people always asking if he’s okay , and how he’s holding up . He can’t remember why they always asked him that. Whatever situation made his family act differently towards him in hard times but— he can’t stand it.

Or maybe it’s a normal thing. Arakawa would be like this sometimes too, but in time she stopped. At least she did to his face, only really getting concerned when she would find him crying after countless nightmares.

“I— I actually have plans.” He still hadn’t decided on whether or not he wanted to go with Dazai, but if it gets him out of this? Chuuya would attend a barbeque with the devil. “I’m really sorry.”

Chuuya’s mother purses her lips, wanting to keep him with them. He could understand why , but just not today. Any day but today. He just doesn’t think he could manage another minute with his family .

It looks like she’s going to say something else, when Kouyou starts talking before she can.

“Honestly? It’s probably best he does go off, wherever he’s going . It’s a hard day for all of us, and of all people I think Chuuya deserves to spend a little time to himself for whatever he needs to do.” He’s grateful for the help, but Chuuya wonders if she would be as supportive if she knew just who he’s going to see—

Still, Chuuya appreciates her, and mouths her a thank you, which she responds by shaking her head in dismissal. It almost makes him wonder if she’s going to want a favour from him in return for her help.

His parents frown, looking back and forth to one another before looking back to him, trying to decide on whether or not to allow him. They kept Chuuya pinned under their gazes, feeling like a child instead of being twenty. It had him rocking on the back of his heels like he’s waiting to find out if he could go play at a friend's house before dinner. 

It feels like hours before they make their verdict. In reality, he knows that it’s only minutes. A few ones possibly at that. But the anxiety welling up inside of him makes the time stretch on, until he finally gets his answer. Feeling taut, tight, and on edge.

Ready to snap at a given moment.

“Sure, go on.” His father says eventually. (He'd be lying if he didn’t say that a part of him feels upset that they said yes. Already sensing the spiralling doom he’s in for by going.) “But remember, please, that you’re leaving in the morning. So try to be home at a reasonable hour?”

Chuuya nods almost like a mad man. Elated, but almost on the cusp of shaking from the nerves and the cold. “Thank you. I understand, I’ll do my best.”

He gives his mother a kiss on the cheek, one last hug to his sister, and receives a rough pat on the back from his father. He waves to them as they leave him alone, still standing among the crowd. 

It’s kind of overwhelming in a good way that so many people came to mourn Hirotsu. To see the old man off one last time. 

There’s so many people here that he knew from his or Dazai’s family. People that Chuuya vaguely remembers seeing at Hirostu’s house, and people that he’s never seen before in his life. Everyone here shows that his old caretaker was well loved by those around him. That there were plenty of people that thought of him as a good man.

Chuuya can feel the pinpricks of tears behind his eyes, trying to forcibly shove his thoughts down and away. Tucking them in the back of his brain where they can only hurt him numbly. He’s so tired of crying, and it’s so cold he’s sure that his tears will just become icicles at this point. Frozen permanently on his cheeks showing off his sadness to the rest of the world. 

Chuuya also wants to at least look somewhat presentable when he sees Dazai, and not the pitiful mess he’s been all day and he saw earlier.

He’s always been rather snobby about his appearance. That’s just who Chuuya is.

And speaking of Dazai, when he looks to the front gate, he can still see him there. Standing with his phone in hand, ignoring everyone else that passes by him. Not a care in the world given to them.

It’s not fair that he looks so good just standing there alone. Chuuya always thought that black was the colour that suits Dazai the best. It’s just as dark and mysterious as he is, and it soaks him into its shadows. Drawing attention unintentionally to himself from anyone that happens to stumble upon him.

If he’s really honest, Dazai’s handsome in anything he wears. But it’s black that seems to be the very colour that brings all of his raw attractiveness to the surface.

None of these are thoughts Chuuya should be having. But what’s one moment of weakness? 

(Everything. It’s a single moment that costs him everythin g.)

Chuuya waits one moment— then two— taking a deep breath and gathering up the small amount of courage he possesses in the moment before pressing himself forward. Moving adjacent to the sea of funeral guests, as he makes his way over to Dazai.

And just like when they were younger, he doesn’t look up once. Chuuya’s sure now that he’s older, Dazai’s more in tune to his surroundings. He’s always been a little more than most people his age, but the older they got, the more that fact became apparent to Chuuya. He probably saw Chuuya from his peripheral vision, stalking towards him with a purpose that’s long since burned out in his bones.

The courage of a man walking to his death. One that willingly drinks the poison, knowing where that road ends. Or maybe they don’t in reality. Because how could anyone know for sure that they’re headed towards death with no help or assistance? They’re only focusing on being in the moment.

“ Hey ,” Chuuya murmurs, his voice almost lost in the surroundings of the other people around them. But Dazai hears him all the same. “So, where is this mystery lunch place?” It’s breathless, like he’s trying to hold his breath as he speaks. Because Chuuya’s terrified of losing this peace that feels so full but yet so thin. 

Even if Chuuya’s let go of the anger he’s felt for Dazai over the years, there’s still other things and feelings that don’t seem to be as far gone. Knowing they could be triggered by any onset of memories. Wishing he could just throw them all away and be done with them forever. 

All Chuuya wants to do is lock them away with the version of Dazai in his head he’s built up after so long.

“Didn’t I tell you, Chuuya?” Dazai says, eyes twinkling as he slides his phone away in his back pocket. “It’s a surprise. And unless you no longer want free food, I’m. Not. Telling.”

Dazai has the nerve to look amused, if not smug at Chuuya’s pout and huff of frustration. He’s always been like this. Finding amusement in secrets and surprises. 

“I thought you’d know by now that I hate surprises.”

“That’s true. But if I say where we’re going, you won’t want to go.” There’s an expression Dazai wears when he knows something the other doesn’t. A mischievous glint in his eyes that reminds Chuuya of an imp. And the smile curls up just a little much to be fake, but it doesn’t feel exactly real either. Like a smile that can see past everything you are. “And despite the surprise, I’m pretty sure you’d rather go with me, go back to eat with your family right now.”

And it always works to get him anything and everything he wants from Chuuya.

The impish smile turns into one of pride, all too happily watching Chuuya grumble in agreement as he turns away, facing an empty spot in the wall behind Dazai.

“So,” Dazai starts, pushing his lanky body off the wall, and pressing his hands into his coat pockets as he leans down to be somewhat around Chuuya’s height. “Since you’re here talking to me, and your family is no longer in sight, and you asked about my plans, are you interested in going to lunch with me after all?”

Chuuya frowns. He thought he made that clear? Then it occurs to him that Dazai’s just playing one of his little games. Trying to get Chuuya to openly admit that he sought him out . That this is the second time in not even twenty four hours that Chuuya’s the one gone willingly to meet him. It’s just a battle between Chuuya and his pride at this point.

He snorts childishly, looking back to Dazai’s eyes—trying to ignore the warmth reflective back to him in the irises— trying to put forth all the courage he can muster to make it believable .

“I’m only here for the free food. The company? Rather lacklustre.” 

“If that’s true, maybe I should change my plans and go somewhere that Chuuya hates so that it’s truly lacklustre . He wouldn’t even know the difference since he never knew in the first place.”

“ You wouldn’t. ”

“Last I checked, the slug isn’t the one paying .”

Dazai looks annoyingly and smugly satisfied in the way Chuuya opens his mouth to rebuttal, only to realise he really can’t. He’s right, he’s the one getting treated to a free meal at some mystery place. 

“You’re a bastard,” he opts for instead. “Truly vile and rotten .”

The male only shrugs off the insult, starting to walk off. 

“If Chibi is interested, he’s more than welcome to follow. If not, he can stay here and eat his tacky hat.” There’s amusement in his tone, and Chuuya instinctually clutches at his beanie, growling as Dazai walks aways from him. True to his word, not stopping.

Leaving Chuuya the options of following, or trying to get home. 

And well…

“Slow down, giraffe!”

There’s a small bout of pride that blooms in his chest to see Dazai slightly, but noticeably, deflate with the nickname. It’s a small victory, but even a minuscule win is a worthy one in Chuuya’s eyes at this point.

“Of all the things Chuuya’s called me, I would have to say, that is my least favourite.” Dazai pouts, making Chuuya smile as he shakes his head.

“Deal with it.”

Chuuya’s sure that Dazai is taking this insane route to fuck with him.

He knows Yokohama like that back of his hand, having grown up here. They both did, which makes him wonder if the reason Dazai’s taking them such an asinine route is to throw him off. 

The second he thinks he knows where they are, they turn down some street or alleyway, and Chuuya feels lost again. Wondering how they got here , before they turn onto a completely different street. Chuuya feels almost dizzy with the back and forths and round-a-bouts, when he finally finds a street he can recognise.

And his stomach drops .

Really, Chuuya can smell it before they get there. The ramen shop always had a distinct aroma, that with the right condition, Chuuya would swear he could smell for blocks.

(But that would only make Dazai call him some sort of dog or a bloodhound. )

The restaurant is soaked in so many memories, Chuuya feels like he could drown in them if he were to get too close. 

“It’s…a ramen shop .”

“This is really your big surprise, Hirotsu-san?”

The two boys looked up at the older male, who just closed his eyes and sighed. 

“Yes,” he said, as he ushered them inside. “I wanted to celebrate your first day at middle school. Is that so wrong?”

The teens looked back and forth to one another with a shrug before they decided to follow along, allowing the elder to push them inside.

Sometimes Hirotsu would swear up and down Chuuya and Dazai had telepathic abilities to talk to one another. Communicating perfectly in their brains, though he knew it was something more akin to that they had a whole language between them of facial expressions and body language movements. 

It’s endearing, he always thought. The way they could always communicate together perfectly in sync no matter what happens. Always joined at the hip, and watching their pining for one another as an outsider was always a treat.

Always having hope that one day …

Hirotsu used one hand to guide them both, and the other to open the noren to allow him to pass through. 

“Natsume-san!” he called out to the empty space. “I brought you the boys I’ve been telling you about!”

While Hirotsu talked to a voice coming from the back, Chuuya looked at Dazai who seemed to be nervous. He’d never been one for strangers, always finding them frightening. He would much rather surround himself with a small group of people, and then never meet anyone new ever again.

Chuuya wouldn’t label Dazai as ‘timid’, he had just never been anything close to a people person. Chuuya had always been the much more outgoing one of the two of them. 

Not something he’d ever minded.

At the sound of footsteps, he could feel Dazai stiffen as he started to curl up almost inside of himself. Chuuya wondered momentarily if Dazai was going to try and run for it. He had the look in his eyes he always had when he was going to take off running. Just the thought of having to chase him down wore him out, so he reached out instead. He took one of Dazai’s hands in his as he tried to give a reassuring squeeze.

One that reminded Dazai that he was still with him.

He seemed to appreciate it, not looking at Chuuya, but hesitantly squeezing back. Chuuya squeezed again, two times to ask if he was okay. Once again, he received a hesitant squeeze back saying he was okay.

It was strange to see Dazai so frightened of a new place. The look and feeling reminded Chuuya of the first time they met as kids.

“Natsume-san! I brought him!” Dazai yells, ducking under the noren as he enters the restaurant. “Can I get my reward now?”

Chuuya’s just shaking his head to try and clear him from the almost overwhelming wave of memories, when Dazai’s words start to register. 

“Wait— what? What reward?” Chuuya hasn’t even made it with both feet inside when he feels like he stepped into a trap. One that’s been long since set, and he’s only realising too late. One that's been long since set and sprung, and he's only realising it all too late.

Betrayal coats itself heavily on Chuuya’s features, and roots deep in his soul, unsure why of all the places in Yokohama Dazai would pick here . It seems like it would be the last place they would want to go to together. But— this was a place that Hirotsu took them to when they were kids. 

But then…there’s the part about the reward too that puts him on edge.

“ Dazai ,” Chuuya hisses, grabbing Dazai’s collar and pulling him down to almost eye level, unable to keep the emotion out of his voice. “What the hell are we doing here?”

Before Dazai can answer him with more than a smirk, another voice starts speaking. One he’s spent so much time sitting at the bar with, or at a table. With just Hirotsu or Dazai, but most times, all three of them together.

It’s one of their places—

“Dazai-kun! Welcome back! It’s been too long since I've last seen you! Is university treating you well?” Natsume says, emerging gracefully from the kitchen. Chuuya’s breath hitches, seeing that he clearly hasn’t changed a bit.

His hair is still the tri-colours he’s always found amusing, a friendly moustache that always seemed to be on the border of needing a trim— dressed warm for the weather, despite it being already quite warm inside. 

It all feels like a second home, and with Dazai being here— does he remember? Is that why he took them here?

“It has! Unfortunate to be back under certain circumstances, but that means someone else is back too!” Dazai seems almost like a child with how elated he is. Taking advantage of Chuuya’s shock to get out of his grip by simply standing then, he grabs Chuuya by the shoulders and shuffles him around so he’s in view of the old man. “I brought Chuuya! Now, you better hold up your end of the bargain. I want my free food.”

Dazai huffs like he’s pouting, and Chuuya’s starting to put it all together—

“YOU USED ME TO GET FREE FOOD?” Chuuya screams— there’s not any patrons inside to disturb luckily— wheeling back around to face Dazai with fury. “Gods! Dazai, you’re such a fucking cheapo.”

Looking at Dazai, he can definitely see the pout on his lips. If not more exaggerated by Chuuya’s yelling at him. Serves him right for backing Chuuya into a corner like this. Using him like a ticket for a free meal.

He’s half-tempted to start screaming more— or to hit him, when he hears a chuckle from behind them. He’d almost forgotten already that Natsume’s there with them, laughing softly at their interaction.

“Ah! Chuuya-kun, nice to know you haven’t changed in the last two years either. I was a bit worried that you would become all mopey like that one there.” he gestured to Dazai, and it takes everything that Chuuya has to not look back at the man. Knowing his expression would open a lot of questions, ones he’s not sure he ever wants answers too. Or questions he knows how to ask properly.

“Before you start yelling at him again,” Natsume says, raising both of his hands in defence, trying to cover for Dazai, “I put him up to this a while back. Dazai-kun comes in every so often when he’s in town visiting family. I asked him to bring you in. Or if you ever came to visit, if you came together I would give you both a free meal.”

There’s— too many bombshells. Chuuya isn’t sure how to process them all at once. There’s too many questions, and he’s not sure he could handle an answer to a single one.

Neither he nor Dazai are saying anything, and they don’t have to. They’re saved by the soft ringing of a small bell, and the strutting of a cat into the restaurant.

“Is that…Baki?” Chuuya asks, forgetting his anger and Dazai, getting down on the ground almost immediately to greet the cat. 

The small calico comes over to sniff him. He recognises his scent and jumps into his arms with a purr. 

“It is!” Natsume chirps gleefully, pride soaking through his words. “I’ve been taking care of him since you two found him in that alleyway five years ago. He has regular check ups and some of the patrons bring him little things. Our little Arahabaki has become a staple of this establishment. He’s almost like a mascot here. Brought in a lot of money for me, the little thing.”

As if understanding the words, Baki preens under Chuuya’s nails as he scratches him. Acting like he’s the little shining star, and knows it well.

“He missed you. Baki would keep coming up to me trying to make you appear.” Chuuya had almost forgotten Dazai was there. 

His chest feels tight at the words.

Chuuya was the one who found Baki. He’d found him in an alleyway, cowering and hiding from them under a dumpster. It took several tries to make the calico warm up to them, and he showed a preference for Chuuya pretty early on. 

Not that Dazai minded. He’s never been an animal person, especially around dogs, and it made Chuuya happy that he seemed to tolerate the cat so that’s what he cared about.

The problem was, their parents wouldn’t take the cat. They would only go as far as to take the cat to the vet and make sure that he had his shots, but didn’t want to keep him. Chuuya was in middle school at the time, and while he could somewhat understand why, it still hurt.

He felt for the cat, and didn’t want it to remain homeless in the streets where it could die alone. It’s a fate he wouldn’t want for himself, or wish upon the small cat. 

It was Natsume who offered to house him. He owns an apartment above the ramen shop, allowing him the space to keep Baki and let him be taken care of, as well as the space to let him run around.

Natsume was kind enough to take him in, and even two years later, Chuuya still can’t deny he still has an attachment to the cat.

“Smart thing, has a good memory then.” Chuuya decides on.

He doesn’t see Dazai’s nod, or the way he looks at him. Chuuya just really tries to ignore it.

“Since it looks like the two of you are here to stay, how about I work on lunch for you both? I’m sure you’re hungry after the day you’ve had.” There’s so much hope in his voice, and Chuuya just doesn’t have the heart to say no to him. He can’t find it in himself to deny and leave when the elder man looks so happy to see them again.

And he’d be lying if he didn’t miss him as well.

They both just barely have time to tell Natsume what they want before he’s gone. Disappearing back into the kitchen, leaving the two boys alone. Save for a small cat nuzzling against his hand.

They’re silent for a moment. Both of them trying to figure out what to say, and how to gauge their newfound acquaintanceship. It's a strange feeling after not being together for two years, as boyfriends or any sense. Making them feel more like reunited strangers with a complicated past.

Chuuya can’t shake the feeling of being set up. Warped into this without his consent. It’s not the worst thing, but when he looks at Dazai, it’s like he can’t see what he’s thinking. Despite their past and all they’ve been through, he feels so disconnected from Dazai sometimes. He hates the feeling of being cast out from a heart he used to know so well.

“I assume that he knows? That we—” that we broke up two years ago and haven’t seen each other since? And probably wouldn’t have for who knows how long if Hirotsu didn’t pass away? That we drifted apart and we don’t know each other anymore.

Dazai nods, confirming Chuuya’s thoughts. He wonders if Dazai feels the same disconnection that he feels sometimes. Or if he still has the ability to read him like an open book. Still able to know exactly what he’s thinking and feeling every second of the day. 

Chuuya remembers when Dazai would tease him about wearing his emotions and his heart on his sleeve for all the world to see. Something that always puzzled Dazai and he had struggled with. Sometimes it made Chuuya wonder if he would say to make fun of him, or if it was jealousy because that’s not something he’s capable of. But he’s never said that outloud.

Because Chuuya used to be able to read him just fine. He didn’t need to wear his emotions so outwardly, he just always managed to know what Dazai was thinking from the little things that most people wouldn’t think twice about.

These thoughts strike him hard knowing where Dazai took them. He tried to mask and dismiss the flashing expression of hurt from his face. Chuuya knows that Dazai could have any reason to not share how feels with Chuuya, but— not here. It’s wrong— he’s aware it’s a childish feeling, but it still lingers in him. Knowing they’re supposed to be open and honest, but Dazai’s hiding behind an unknown number of walls. 

Locking Chuuya out from him in their safe space hurts .

“I think he learned a while after,” Dazai says after a moment. His words are quiet, but honest. “I came here the day after? I think? Natsume-san asked where you were and I just— I didn’t have the heart to tell him then. I don’t think I could have found the words even if I wanted to.”

Chuuya nods, trying to focus all of his attention on Baki who seemed to be sensing his distress. Meowing softly at his hand.

“He gave me the deal then. Hoping that it would, I guess, entice me to go back to you.” He pauses, and gives a broken sort of laugh that Chuuya knows all too well. “He told me I looked horrible. The original deal was half-off. But when you went away to college and Tokyo, he raised it to be completely free. Sometimes I think he likes you more than me. Trying to do whatever it takes to get you back.”

Chuuya chuckles softly as well. It’s not the same brokenness that coats Dazai's voice. But it does come out a little more forced than he likes it.

“That sounds like him.”

Dazai has no reason to lie to him here .

That’s the whole point of the space.

At least, now with his words. Chuuya tries not to let it affect him or show how Dazai’s emotions feel like a completely different story, but— it’s hard.

But, the more he thinks about it— Chuuya’s eyes go wide as he realises why Dazai truly brought him here.

Chuuya frowned, looking down at his bowl, and then up at Dazai.