Thread by @arkastadt

this side of paradise pt 2

ꔫ

It's Christmas.

It's a holiday more annoying than anything, what with the strained dinner conversations and the house full of distant relatives acting civil for one night, but with Chuuya at the table this year, it might get... interesting.

(read pt 1 here:

https://twitter.com/arkastadt/status/1335676239961583620?s=21

) https://t.co/DWGCjfXHq1

Something else that's worth getting out of bed today is the fact that it's going to be the last Christmas living here. The penthouse Dazai's going to move into in less than a week is still a work in progress, but once all the walls are painted and the new furniture delivered,

there'll be nothing stopping him anymore from zipping up his suitcases and walking out of the door.

Not that it will make much of a difference -- Dazai has made it a habit to only stay in this house when it's absolutely necessary a long time ago... but it's /symbolic./

Dazai slides out of bed, ignoring the insistent buzzing of his phone as he goes to take a cold shower. Last night ended only a few hours ago. Chuuya was still awake when he came home from Yosano's place and so they made use of that short span of interrupted time. Repeatedly.

Dazai's insomnia stripped him of the luxury of ever feeling well-rested. He's used to it. Chuuya, on the other hand... he will probably need a few hours and three cups of coffee before losing his Speak-and-I'll-kill-you-glare.

When he comes out of the bathroom, his phone is /still/ buzzing, an incoming call from Akiko, and he picks it up with a sigh. "What?"

"Good morning to you too, sunshine," she says on the other side of the line. "And merry Christmas."

"You already told me that yesterday."

"Well, --" There's the sound of a busy street in the background, a car honking. "-- now I'm telling you again."

"Where are you?"

"Walking up the stairs to a hospital."

"What happened? Do you need me to get you?"

"Oh, relax. My nan missed the last couple of stairs and sprained her ankle. It's nothing serious, but father wants us to stay with her. That's why I'm calling. We can't come tonight."

"Understandable."

Spending Christmas alone in a hospital bed isn't all too festive.

"That won't be a problem, will it?"

Dazai huffs out a breath as he trots down the stairs. "Your grandmother is lying injured in a hospital. My father will understand, Kiko."

"I just don't want you to get more shit from him than you deserve."

"He will get over it."

"Send everyone our regards, will you?"

In the kitchen, Chuuya's so busy glowering at the coffee machine that he doesn't even bother acknowledging Dazai until he pinches his bare arm. He reacts with an offended gasp and a kick to his shin.

"Sure," Dazai eventually replies.

"Will do. Wish Ueda-san a speedy recovery from me."

"Why can I hear you smiling?" Akiko questions. "It's freaking me out."

"I'm not smiling," Dazai replies and watches Chuuya's brows crease with interest. "I'm hanging up now. Bye."

"Who was that?" Chuuya asks before leaning back against the counter with his cup of coffee.

Dazai's eyes drift over the leftover food on the table. "Akiko."

"Who is Ueda-san?"

"Her grandma."

"What's wrong with her?"

He shoots Chuuya a look. "You're awfully curious."

"I'm the perfect amount of curious, asshole," Chuuya immediately retorts and tries to kick him again, missing the mark by a few inches. "Now what's wrong with Yosano's grandmother?"

"For one, she still believes her granddaughter is straight."

"What? I meant -- why did you wish her a speedy recovery?!"

"Ah, she fell down the stairs. Poor thing. And now they can't come to our Christmas dinner. Poor us."

"They were still invited? Even though you and Yosano broke up?"

"Chuuya," Dazai says, tilting his head. +

"If you haven't noticed by now, my father doesn't exactly agree with that break-up." He shrugs. "It might even be a good thing. Less bothersome relationship politics."

Chuuya takes that in with a thoughtful sip of his coffee, letting Dazai work /around/ him +

as he goes to grab a mug of his own -- that little brat.

"Your other family is coming tonight too, right?"

Dazai hums.

"Are they... nice?"

"They're miserable workaholics who consider the holidays as an opportunity to mend their relationships in their favor."

Meaning, they will act friendly, but that's pretty much about it. "Don't worry, chibi," Dazai drawls, pressing a hand against Chuuya's navy shirt. "Hayashi loves you. They will all follow suit."

He's treading dangerous waters teasing Chuuya in the middle of the kitchen, +

where everyone could walk in at any given moment -- and a simple touch like this /is/ more than enough to make him squirm -- but it's too much fun to resist the temptation.

"I don't care about that," Chuuya huffs.

"No? You don't want to make a good impression?"

"/No/," is the breathy answer, and then when Dazai's hand slides even lower, Chuuya's eyes squeeze shut. "Stop teasing me! I'm supposed to go to the bakery in fifteen minutes!"

Dazai steps back. "I'm not doing anything."

"Uh-uh, except being a ginormous jerk."

"I'll see you at dinner, Chuuya."

Maybe tonight won't be so bad, after all. Dazai has a few ideas swirling around in his head about how to spice the whole thing up.

Even with Santa Claus coming to town, he has quite a few things to do. There's been an issue with the shipment of his new bed that he needs to take care of. He still needs to find a desk. Go to his barber. Step by his father's office not only to deliver the news, but sign papers.

As expected, the man leans back in his seat with a sigh that could only be described as disappointed.

As prepared, Dazai shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat. "It's not like I pushed Ueda-san down the stairs."

"This isn't funny," his father says. +

"These are delicate relationships we've been tending to for ages and you're trampling all over it." Dazai says nothing. "But it's not all lost yet. Maybe if Yosano sees that you're finally starting to care about your future, she'll consider giving you another chance."

/Highly unlikely/, Dazai thinks, /given that she's set eyes on Kouyou again./ But again, he remains quiet.

"Here," his father slides a paper across his desk, "your signature."

The labor agreement staring back at Dazai is a necessary sacrifice for both the penthouse and the +

freedom he'll gain soon. A small one, even. He might have never been interested in playing businessman, but that doesn't mean he won't be exceptionally good at it.

Dazai rolls the pen between his fingers and signs the thing.

When it's done, his father gives him a look.

"This is the first smart thing you've done in years."

Is this the part where he tells Dazai he's proud of him?

"Now get out of here. And don't embarrass me in front of the guests tonight."

"I'm not planning to," Dazai replies after getting to his feet.

If Chuuya can be quiet, that is. (Of course, he can.)

The rest of his day pales in comparison, so by the time Dazai opens the door to his house, he's almost excited -- at least, as close to excited as he'll ever come to feel. Earlier he sent Chuuya pictures of +

several desks that he's still deciding between, but Chuuya replied with question marks and then more or less bullied him about being a bad texter, so he still needs an answer.

Thankfully, he's right there in the living room, fussing with the pillows on the couch.

"Having fun?" Dazai asks.

"Time of my life," Chuuya mutters, then shoots him a frown. "Why the desks?"

Dazai makes sure there's no one in earshot, then says, "I wanted your input since you will be the one bent over it."

"/Oh./" Chuuya's furrowed brows melt into a nod. +

"Then the black one. Definitely the black one."

Smart choice. He looks ravishing in black.

On his way to his bedroom, Dazai neatly avoids Diabolo and Ryunosuke coming back from the backyard, hearing Chuuya do the opposite before he shuts the door.

It doesn't take long for his relatives to arrive, so after Dazai changes into a grey button-up shirt Hayashi gave him for his last birthday, he figures he can at least waste time with Chuuya downstairs -- Chuuya, who not only is gorgeous in black, but in every other color, too.

This time, it's a lovely shade of ruby, making the ice in his eyes pop.

As the various family members get welcomed with an overbearing hubbub, Chuuya staying back for now, Dazai decides to help out a little.

"Nakagawa and Atsuko Tsushima," he murmurs next to him.+

"My uncle and his wife. They own several casinos on the other side of the city."

Chuuya glances at him. "Are they from your father's side?"

"Yes. Everyone that will be here tonight is."

"Why just your father's?"

tw mention of suicide

"My mother's family hasn't shown face ever since she killed herself," Dazai says. "I guess they can't handle the shame."

Chuuya's lashes flutter before his curious expression shatters. It's not pity, though. Not from what Dazai can tell. "I'm sorry."

Dazai shrugs. "You don't have to be."

"What about Hayashi?"

"Her parents both died a few years ago. No siblings."

"Oh." Chuuya nods at another pair. "Who are they?"

"Tanji and Hagiwara Goro. My father's step sister and her husband..."

Tanji is also his most favorite one, simply because she doesn't care enough to drill him with questions. Meanwhile, Atsuko asks him the same question every single year. "Have you put a ring on it yet?" Dazai almost laughs when he gets to tell her that Akiko and him broke up.

Aside from the unchanging questions directed at him -- how are his grades? What are his plans for the future? Has he seen the Facebook post about someone's daughter's engagement? -- Dazai's mostly let off the hook as his relatives dig into Chuuya instead.

Chuuya holds his ground smoothly; even his sometimes vulgar nature seems to delight the people around him. Given that he was just as drawn to him from the moment they met, Dazai can't really blame them.

It's the deadly combination of his french accent and infectious laugh.

The dinner table splits when a few of the people go outside to smoke and Dazai uses the opportunity to get to his feet, placing one gentle touch on Chuuya's shoulder before leaving for the kitchen. Sure enough, he follows, his cheeks flushed, lips shiny from red wine.

"Hi," Chuuya says, almost shyly, as he joins Dazai at the sink. "Your relatives are..."

"Crazy?"

"/Loud/, talkative, but... nice."

"And they seem to like you," Dazai murmurs and dries his hands with a towel before lightly tossing it at Chuuya. "Told you they would."

Chuuya catches it with a scowl. "Don't /told you/ me. It's not cute."

"Oh no, however shall I survive hearing that?"

"Shut up." And when Dazai moves to step closer, he raises a threatening finger. ""/No/ teasing. There are too many people in this house tonight."

"Stupidly drunk people," Dazai points out with an innocent shrug, "but yes, there are many of them."

"It's risky," Chuuya adds as if trying to convince himself.

"And you like that."

"I do n-- okay, well..." Chuuya opens his mouth and closes it again, then crosses his arms.

"They'll ask where we are."

"You're putting the kids to bed. And I always leave dinners early."

"...where?"

Dazai can't help but smirk as he nudges his head towards the closest bathroom, in the hallway, not far away from where they're dining.

"You're despicable."

+

"Hm," Dazai says with a controlled grin and snatches a strawberry off the spongecake leftovers lying around, taking a delicate bite before offering the rest to Chuuya, "that's not the word I would use to describe myself."

Chuuya's glare never pales, even as he opens his mouth.

His boundless refusal to bend, give Dazai an inch, even when one part of him wants to, is intriguing. Dazai has met lots of people who would gladly take a turn in punching him, even more people who would bend over backwards to get more than a smile from him, +

but Chuuya's an unpredictable combination of both, always pushing back, still ending up with Dazai feeding him. In more ways than one.

"I can be nice," he says softly, "right?"

"Only when it benefits you," Chuuya mutters, but his voice isn't in it.

Lifting his hand to +

Chuuya's mouth, he raises his brow. A silent question. After a nod, Dazai uses his thumb to wipe away a crumb of cream that got stuck on his lip.

Most of his relatives are in the dining room. A few are outside smoking. The kitchen is blissfully empty.

He offers Chuuya his thumb and Chuuya lets his lips fall closed around it, tongue dancing across Dazai's finger as he sucks.

This mouth? Criminal.

Dazai cups his jaw, stopping him before this little display can escalate into something that might get them actually caught.

As fun as it is walking a fine line, he prefers Chuuya here, safe, and not sent back to France because someone from Dazai's family walked in on them and told his father.

"Bathroom," he says. "Five minutes."

Chuuya nods, and then fussing with the collar of his shirt walks away.

Dazai's already half-hard when he sits down at the edge of the bathtub. No surprise there. Chuuya might be a greedy, insatiable sex monster, but Dazai's just affected. Whether it's six in the morning as he stumbles down the hallway or at a party, Chuuya's gorgeous.

He has a great ass. Toned, lean muscles -- probably from ballet. And both his hands and his mouth are criminally skilled. But what kills Dazai the most is how much he enjoys himself, not for show, not even for Dazai, but just because he /does/, unashamed of his own desires.

It's the hottest thing Dazai has ever seen, and mind you, he has been with /confident/ people -- he lost his virginity and many other firsts to Akiko.

There's a quiet knock on the door.

He lets Chuuya slip inside. Then, as soon as they hear the click of the lock, +

-- NSFW FROM HERE ON --

Dazai's pushing him against the wall for a fierce kiss while his one hand is already working on his pants. Time is of the essence here, after all. Even when he was to be completely quiet, Chuuya's every bit as demanding and needy, chasing his lips with +

fervor and shallow, little breaths against his mouth. Before the pants come off, Dazai all but pushes him against the sink, grabbing the lube he left in the cabinet earlier, and only then he shoves down Chuuya's pants and briefs, just low enough to have free room for his hands.

Chuuya's fingers are gripping the marmor of the sink and his head is bent low, not looking in the mirror. Dazai plans to change that soon.

Their circumstances and the thunderous beat of his heart in his ears are alluring reasons to hurry up the entire prepping process,

but Dazai deliberately slows down when he sinks the first finger into Chuuya. He has been in control of his needs and emotions for a long time now, and he's not going to stop /now./ Chuuya's entire body tenses, then relaxes, his hips immediately pressing back in what little room+

Dazai's giving him here. He doesn't tease this time, aiming for Chuuya's prostate and not letting up when he finds it, instead adding a second finger when he's sure that Chuuya's loose enough -- something Dazai can basically feel him silently bitching about with the grind of his+

hips because neither of them speaks. Even fingering him open produces sounds, so talking, especially all the cussing and gasping and threatening Chuuya likes to do would be treading extremely dangerous waters.

Dazai waits until he's three fingers deep to lean over his back, +

his mouth an inch shy of Chuuya's ear before he seizes his jaw and with gentle fingers forces him to look into the mirror. "Look at you," he whispers, "getting fucked with my entire bloodline in the next room." Chuuya opens his mouth on a silent moan, trembling a little as Dazai+

grinds his fingers against his prostate. "And you like it." Chuuya tries to shake his head against Dazai's chest, but it's a pathetic attempt, sweet in its weakness. "Oh, I think I even have reason to believe you're getting more off on this than usual."

A sound comes from +

the other side of the bathroom door, and Dazai stills a little, making Chuuya /trash/ with frustration.

Footsteps, though after there's shuffling and a heavy thud like boots landing on the floor, they recede.

Chuuya's fingers digging into his arm make him aware that he +

has been neglecting his task at hand. Dazai apologizes with a kiss to Chuuya's neck that is pulsingly hot, a tear of sweat running down the length of it. Even if his muscles feel wound up and angry, Chuuya lets out a soft sigh at that, relaxing a little.

He's ready, and so is Dazai, has been for a while now.

But Dazai doesn't plan to finish this little thing against the sink, no. He slides out his fingers, making Chuuya hiss through his teeth, and then guides them backwards until he can sit down on the edge of the tub.

When Chuuya notices what's happening, he cranes his neck and manages a glare. "Are you really that lazy?" he whisper-snaps.

"Not lazy." Dazai wrenches down his pants, and strokes his leaking cock with lube-covered fingers as the other one grips Chuuya's hips, keeping him close.

"I just like feeling you squirming."

"I don't sq--" His mouth clamps shut when Dazai pulls him back and with his hands around his waist, guides him onto his cock. Chuuya's back tenses when the tip catches, feeling like he's holding his breath as he sinks down inch by inch +

until finally, Dazai bottoms out inside of him, his cock buried in unbelievable heat, and Chuuya's chest falls with a silent tremor running through his body.

"Beautiful," Dazai whispers into his ear, "now fuck yourself. Silently. You love doing that, after all, don't you?"

+

The broken noise that rips out of Chuuya is the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. Desperate. Angry. /Wanting./ His head tosses back against Dazai and he lifts his hips a little, but the slap of skin when he sinks down echoes through the small bathroom. They still.

"Let me help," Dazai whispers and bends down to tug on Chuuya's pants, then on his until they fall to the floor. " /A little./" His legs stretch, allowing Chuuya both more room and a much deeper angle before one hand settles on his hip, the other stroking the skin on his tummy.

Chuuya tries his best to bounce in his lap, but settles on a grind eventually, little rocking movements that push Dazai's cock straight into his prostate. The only thing Dazai assists him with is occasionally helping with the slide, avoiding any unnecessary noise.

Looking back later, Dazai admits he gets a bit carried away playing with Chuuya, torturing his nipples and avoiding his cock because that would be too /easy/ and the interesting thing about the two of them is that it's everything /but./ He only decides to put an end to the +

game, when there's the sound of footsteps outside the door. Yes, Dazai enjoy walking a fine line but the thread is a getting a bit thin to support them both. It takes three firm strokes from tip to bottom while pulling Chuuya down on his cock to make the pleasure snap.

Chuuya loves enjoying himself, but he's a team player, so he continues his rocks even when he starts trembling from oversensitivity. Taking mercy, Dazai pulls them back to their feet, against the sink, and finishes as he watches Chuuya bite his hand to muffle his lovely moans.

They didn't use a condom -- a development that happened last week after getting tested, so the clean up is a bit messier, but it also makes Dazai aware of the silent tremor /still/ running through Chuuya's thighs as he wipes him down.

"Hey," he murmurs, touching his arm. +

"Is something wrong?"

Chuuya doesn't look at him when he pulls up his pants and huffs out a, "Everything's fine."

"Chuuya."

"Dazai."

"You're shaking."

"That happens sometimes," Chuuya whisper-mutters and lightly kicks his leg. "Will you shut up now? I'm okay."

But Chuuya has been quiet. Quieter than usual. And Dazai feels something like dread blossom in his chest -- a very foreign, very strange feeling. "Did I hurt you?" Was it his /leg/? He tries not to stretch it too much when they're together even when Chuuya always says it's +

okay, but what if Dazai went too far this time? What if he --

"For fuck's sake, no." Chuuya's mild annoyance has bled into a glare that cuts. "I'm /fine./"

Dazai has always been good at reading people, their body language, the lilt of their voice. Right now, his brain and +

Chuuya are sending him puzzlingly mixed signals.

"Tell me," Dazai says, "if I ever --"

"What? Hurt me? Jesus, Dazai, I've done this enough times to know how to voice the things I like. Now, get out and make sure that no one sees that I'm still in here."

Dazai has somehow made a habit of kissing Chuuya's shoulder after they're done -- something about it feels /cathartic/ -- but he'd probably get his head bitten off if he did that right now, so after he makes sure he doesn't look like he just had a quickie in the bathroom, +

Dazai cautiously opens the door and slips out when the coast is clear.

As he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, he can't help but scowl at himself. Chuuya hides a lot of things beneath his cute little au pair boy exterior -- that's why Dazai is so drawn to him, and +

Dazai has been unwrapping them since day one like he unwraps his body every night before going to bed, piece by piece until the only thing left is the naked, ugly truth. But it seems like, he'll have to dig even deeper.

Luckily, he has claws for hands.

--

Chuuya has been accompanying Gin to her ballet lessons for several weeks now, though usually, he tries to be in and out of there as quickly as possible, spending the time waiting in the car or walking around in the neighborhood and listening to music.

Today is different.

Maybe the stars above aligned somehow or maybe it's just the fact that he gets laid on a regular basis, but today, after Gin hurries off to change, Chuuya decides to stay and watch. Just for a few minutes.

It's been a little over ten minutes, the little dancers doing a rond the jambe when Kouyou comes to stand next to him. "You dance."

"What?" Chuuya asks, startled.

"You have that look on your face. Like there's nowhere else you'd rather be than on over there yourself."

+

Oh.

"I --" Chuuya could lie, come up with some bullshit excuse. It would be easier. But dancing has been such an integral part of him for so long that denying it feels wrong. "I did," he eventually replies. "Not anymore."

Kouyou's eyes slowly travel over the length of his body, looking for the thing that's wrong.

Chuuya saves her the trouble. "Posterior ankle impingement. I had a bad fall and fractured it." And then continued to dance, ignoring the pain.

"Ah," she says, and that one word expresses more than enough. "You had to quit?"

"Yeah," Chuuya stares at the wall and sees himself, trying and failing over and over again, "I couldn't even dance en pointe anymore." In a matter of hours, he became worthless as a dancer.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Chuuya was hoping to avoid any walks down the memory lane but even so, he can't let it ruin his day every time he gets reminded that it happened, right? Life goes on. "I'm used to it now."

"You can stay and watch," Kouyou offers him with a rare smile. "Maybe you won't ever regain what you lost, but you can still have ballet in your life. You don't have to cut it out completely."

As nice as it sounds, the idea of watching but not being able to dance himself is +

simply cruel. To him, at least.

"Is that even allowed? Me being here all the time?"

Kouyou scoffs. "This school belongs to my mother. If I say it's okay, then it's okay."

At that, Chuuya's phone buzzes and he fishes it out of his pocket, reading the text with a frown.

D: Can you ask what Kouyou's doing after her class when you pick up Gin?

Considering, Chuuya's last text to Dazai was kind of dirty, the abrupt change in topics is... disorienting. Especially because it's about the woman standing right next to him.

"Hey," he says. +

"What are you doing after this class?"

Kouyou's brows furrow. "I have a lunch break. Why?"

"Cool," Chuuya replies with a shrug, hoping he doesn't sound like he's hitting on her. "Just asking."

C: getting lunch

C: why do you want to know?

D: Reasons, chibi. Reasons.

Those /reasons/ turn out to be Dazai waltzing into the room as soon as it hits three o'clock and the class ends, Yosano on his heels. Even knowing their history, Chuuya can't help but think that the two of them look like a power couple wearing matching black coats. They look hot.

(And a small part of Chuuya is oddly proud that at the end of the day, it's /he/ who crawls into Dazai's bed at night. He alone.)

"What are you doing here?" he asks as soon as they're in earshot, crossing his arms over his chest. "I have a driver."

"I sent the driver home," Dazai says. "We're taking you to lunch."

It's not a /you/ as in just Chuuya, but... he follows Yosano's gaze.

Kouyou's busy leaning down and talking to a young boy, but when he finally turns to run off in the direction of the changing room, +

she notices the new arrivals and visibly /freezes./ Then her surprise bleeds into a withering glare.

Yosano winks at Chuuya as she brushes past him, and Dazai's hand lands on his back, gently steering them out of the room.

"You wanna tell me what's that all about?"

+

"We were in the neighborhood."

That's obviously a lie, and maybe Chuuya's a little annoyed that Dazai's allergic to giving him a straight answer, but his stomach is growling already at the prospect of food, /so./ "Keep your secrets then."

Gin curiously glances between the +

four of them when she comes out with her bag, but her presence seems to, at least, diffuse the silent atomic war that's going on between Kouyou and Yosano. It's funny. Not once has Chuuya seen the dance instructor lose her calm during the lesson -- something that sounds easier

said than done when your students are easily-distracted, loud preschoolers who randomly do somersaults instead of listening to your instructions. But all Yosano has to do is smirk to make Kouyou look homicidal. Yet, here she is, still following them to the car.

Glancing sideways at Dazai, Chuuya supposes he knows a thing or two about that.

They pile into Dazai's Lexus -- the girls in the backseat with Gin in-between them, and Chuuya riding shotgun, squirming a little when Dazai smoothly grabs the back of his seat to reverse the car.

It's not even remotely sexual and still, his breath hitches a little. Chuuya lets out a forced breath. /Not now./

"So," he hears Dazai say, "any lunch preferences, Kouyou-san?"

"McDonalds!" Gin exclaims.

"You had McDonalds two days ago," Chuuya says.

That argument completely misses its mark as Gin's face lights up. "Yes, and I want another Chicken McNuggie!"

"Too many Chicken McNuggies can make you sick," Kouyou butts in with a gentle smile on her face. "I was going to grab a salad before you lot hijacked me."

Yosano scoffs. "Darling, if you didn't want to be here, then you wouldn't be."

"I only agreed because you /blackmailed/ me --"

"You're so dramatic, Ozaki."

"/Don't/ call me that!"

"Do you prefer darling?"

"All right, ladies," Dazai cuts in, "Caspian has great salads. +

We're going there."

"That's a great idea," Chuuya nods, fighting off an awkward laugh. "Caspian's salads are... /wow./"

Needless to say, he has never been to Caspian before.

Kouyou lets out an exasperated sigh behind him. "/Fine/, but don't make this into a /thing./"

"I have no idea what you mean," Yosano retorts innocently.

"Please, you make everything into things! And unlike you two, I actually take my job seriously. I don't need you showing up every week."

"I assure you I take my studies to become a surgeon /very/ seriously."

"Is that why you're partying every weekend?"

"Is someone keeping tabs on me?"

The rest of the ride pretty much passes in the same fashion, the two of them bickering like their lives depend on it, though, judging by Yosano's smirk on her lips, it's not necessarily a bad thing.

The restaurant is cozy and intimate, and the table they get seated at offers a beautiful view over Cosmo World, Yokohama's amusement park. And Dazai wasn't lying when he said the salads are good here. They are. To compensate for the lack of McDonalds, Gin gets to have +

potato wedges. Everyone's happy with their food. Even Kouyou -- well, at least until Yosano asks about her New Year's eve plans.

"Why do you want to know?" Kouyou demands with a small frown.

Yosano's smile doesn't waver, though. "Am I not allowed to? +

Or do you have secret plans you don't want to talk about?"

"/No./"

"Perfect, because Dazai here will host a cozy get-together in his new apartment. You should come."

"Consider it a small house warming party," Dazai drawls and takes a lazy sip of his water, "that you're now +

invited to."

"I told you, I'm not interested in your parties," Kouyou says, stabbing a piece of egg with a glare.

"It will be fun," Chuuya says. "These two aren't as bad as they look."

Yosano nudges her arm with her elbow. "See?"

Chuuya's phone buzzes in his pocket, and +

he fishes it out to see that it's a text. From Dazai.

D: Not as bad, huh?

Chuuya shoots him a puzzled frown. And gets ignored!

C: don't make me regret saying that

C: remind me again why we are texting when you're sitting right next to me?

D: Because we have to let the two disasters across from us talk it out without interrupting them.

C: oh

C: what's their deal anyway?

D: That's a very long story, chibi.

Chuuya's furrowed brows deepen, and he resists the urge to glare at the bastard. The least he could do +

is let him in on whatever glaringly obvious past they share.

C: and i have time right now ?????

Even though, Chuuya doesn't look, he can /feel/ Dazai's amusement, his thigh lightly pressing against him under the table, warm.

"Hello," Yosano's voice cuts through his thoughts.+

"Could you two please be so polite as to not stare at your phones when you're having lunch with your friends?"

Dazai lifts his hand. "It's work-related."

Yosano rolls her eyes, but she accepts that without arguments, and her accusing stare slides to Chuuya. "Well?"

"My parents," Chuuya lies. "Always needing to know what I'm up to. So curious. You know how it is."

"Oh, come on--"

"If you want to deal with two overprotective fathers who think you're dead in a ditch somewhere as soon as you forget to text for an hour, then be my guest, +

but since, I assume, you /don't/, let me sends them a few damn pictures while you --" his fingers wave through the air. "-- lead this very important discussion."

Yosano shuts up.

Dazai's thigh presses harder against him.

D: Cute.

C: shut up

C: so i'm listening

D: Kouyou was in the same year as us back then and they were always competing for everything.

C: oh my god they were school rivals

D: That is what I said, yes.

Chuuya rolls his eyes. Of course, the vine reference flies right past Dazai's head -- that happens /a lot./

C: one day i'll sit you down and teach you about every important thing you missed growing up

C: but moving on --

C: all this drama just because of high school shit?

D: Family politics played a role, too.

D: And a few incidents, but that's not my place to tell.

C: okay

C: so why the sudden u-turn?

D: Chuuya.

D: What does it look like?

And /oh./

That night, at the club, Yosano told him that they ended their little arrangement because she wanted /something./ Looking up, Chuuya sees that it was actually /someone./

Well. Chuuya's not going to lie, /sometimes/ he can be a little slow.

Whatever incident occurred between Yosano and Akiko back then might be cause for their constant word-sparring, but it doesn't stop Kouyou from ending up agreeing to go anyway.

--

Before the New Year's eve party, Chuuya has the luxury of being the first one -- aside from the family -- to see the apartment.

Well, it's more of a penthouse.

High ceilings. Spacious hallways that lead to even bigger rooms. Vast windows. And black marble floors.

Since day one, Chuuya has been aware that Dazai's family has money, their house is already proof of that, but the reminder feels like getting drenched in cold water all over again.

It's money that Chuuya will never have. In another life maybe, where he never got injured +

and went on to have a thriving career as a ballet dancer because all humility aside, he /was/ that good, he /could have/ achieved this level of success if only... if only he hadn't been so stupid. If only life had been fair.

Chuuya doesn't dwell on it for too long, not when +

NSFW

Dazai pushes him against that strikingly black desk and fucks his worries out of him, makes him forget for a while in all the best ways. Then their lunch turns into another round of christening Dazai's furniture -- a chair -- and because three orgasms are better than one, +

they follow it up with sex in the shower.

Moving out might have been excessive for the /100% casual no strings attached/ thing they have going here, but it was also /so/ worth it. Being allowed to be loud is... good.

By the time, the sun sets outside, Chuuya sounds like +

he just came back from a ten-hour heavy metal concert.

Dazai's on the phone in his super fancy, super-serious office, and Chuuya uses that time to laze around on the bed -- gigantic and with sateen sheets -- and browse through the course catalog of the universities in Paris.

As great as everything's going at the moment, his au pair year has an expiration date. In ten months, Chuuya will be back home. In ten months, he'll have to have at least some of his plans for the future figured out; a degree, a goal, what he wants to do for the rest of his life.

So, he might as well start now.

Somewhere behind Chuuya, Dazai's voice carries out of the office, telling whoever was on the other line a quick goodbye before the echo of his footsteps comes closer and closer.

The bed dips. Chuuya's ass gets pinched.

"Asshole," he mutters with a half-hearted scowl, scrolling through a seemingly endless list of degrees that seem way too smart for someone like Chuuya.

"What is Chuuya doing?"

He finally tears his eyes away, his throat tightening a little when he sees that +

Dazai's wearing sweats. Only his sweats. And, obviously, his bandages, but it looks hot in that mysterious, cryptic kind of way.

The bandages are a thing that Chuuya hasn't really asked about, feeling like it would complicate things. It's clearly something personal.

And Dazai has never breached that topic himself or made a move to get them off. Even an hour ago, in the shower, they stayed on -- something that was only possible because there was more than enough space for Dazai not to get soaking wet while pressing Chuuya against the wall.

Sure, Chuuya's more than curious about what's hiding underneath, sometimes a little terrified even, but this is just sex. (And maybe a hint of friendship.) Just sex has no place for this kind of intimacy.

That said, Chuuya hopes they can squeeze in another quickie before +

he leaves.

Dazai pokes his cheek, making Chuuya blink in hazy confusion. "Sorry, what?"

"I asked what you were doing," Dazai replies with a knowing smile, "while you were busy objectifying me."

Chuuya chooses to ignore that comment, hiding the heat flushing down his neck +

by turning back to the laptop in front of him. "I'm trying to decide what to study next year. What do you think suits me more: medicine?" Chuuya gives Dazai a mock-grin. "Or industrial engineering?"

Dazai's gaze feels heavy on him, almost pushing him down on the bed, as he +

considers the options. "You in a coverall would make a great picture."

"That's what /mechanics/ wear, idiot. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one?"

Dazai shrugs lazily as he braces his cheek on the palm of his hand, never looking away from him. "Then become that."

If only it were so easy.

Chuuya drops his head, letting out a muffled groan against the sheets. None of the degrees appeal to him. Not even a little bit. And he's supposed to spend the rest of his working days doing something he will probably hate? Or worse, just endure?

The thought alone makes him want to curl up in a ball and disappear.

For years, Chuuya worked himself dizzy for /one/ thing and one thing only, and that was ballet. He never even tried to pick up another hobby, another interest or a subject in school that he liked because +

he knew he wouldn't need it, not when his future was already planned out. He made sure to pass with decent grades, but that was it. None of it mattered. Everything he carefully built, everything he sacrificed, everything depended on ballet.

And now it's all gone.

Chuuya's left with nothing but a broken body, a hole in his life that seems like it will never fill again, and an empty future.

"Hey," he hears Dazai say, his voice crisp and sharp in contrast to the bleariness in Chuuya's head. A moment later, fingers cup his face and +

force him to look up again. "You will be okay. No one knows what they're doing with their life when they're fresh out of school."

"All my friends did," Chuuya weakly argues. "Majority of all students do. /You/ did."

"My career was set in stone the day I started school." +

Dazai's grip tightens ever so slightly, but his thumb that strokes down Chuuya's chin is shockingly soft. "As for your friends and the rest of the students, 95% of them will change their plans several times before ever deciding what to do. Some never figure it out."

"And what if I'm one of those who never figure it out?"

"Then you just chase after whatever makes you feel most alive," Dazai murmurs, "and do that."

That's pretty in theory, but complicated in practice. Not everything can become a profession. The things that make Chuuya +

gasp in breathless excitement are either unattainable or... nothing that would make his fathers proud.

"Whatever," Chuuya finally says and when Dazai's hand slips away, he rolls on his back, staring at the ceiling. "I still have a few months to decide. +

That's a problem for future-me."

Dazai's silent for a few moments. "You know, my university has great programs for international students. You could study here."

Chuuya's heart actually skips a beat. Slowly, he turns to Dazai, raising his brows. "Why would I do that?"

"Because you like Yokohama?"

"Yeah," Chuuya says with a nervous laugh, "I also like Amsterdam, but I'm not planning on going to university there...?"

Dazai's stare doesn't falter. "I doubt you know as many incredible people there as you do here."

On a trip with his parents and ex-boyfriend, Chuuya did meet a very cool dude once who was able to recite random Wikipedia pages by heart --/but that's beside the point./

The point being that Dazai's suggestion is absurd. Crazy. Totally ridiculous.

"I can't study in Yokohama."

"What's stopping you?"

"For starters," Chuuya says, "my parents live in Paris?"

"There are these things called /airplanes/," Dazai deadpans. "Very efficient creations."

"Do you even know how much flights from Paris to Yokohama cost?" When Dazai opens his mouth, +

Chuuya stops him with a finger. "Wait, no. Don't answer that. To /you/ it will seem like peanuts, but to me --" He huffs out a breath. "No. I --"

"Chuuya, breathe."

"I am breathing!"

"It was a suggestion," Dazai says. "That's all. Calm down."

"Okay," Chuuya snaps. "Good."

"Perfect," Dazai replies.

"Amazing!" Whatever craving was still lingering in Chuuya's stomach seems to have vanished into air.

This is so /weird./ It feels like a breach of their casual policy. Not even a breach, but a fucking /leap./ Why would Dazai even suggest something +

so... so --

/Dazai/, of all people!

Chuuya inhales a deep breath and gets off the bed, trying to remember where the fuck he lost all of his clothes. "I have to go. It's getting late."

"I'll drive you."

"It's fine. I can call Hatori." The family driver.

"Chuuya," he hears Dazai says as he picks up his pants from the floor in the hallway, "can you slow down for a moment and just talk to me?"

"There is nothing to talk about."

"You're acting like I just suggested we should adopt children."

Well, that's because it's on the +

same level of /couple-ness/!

Before Chuuya can even blink, Dazai's in front of him, placing his hands on his shoulders. "It was /just/ a suggestion."

Just a suggestion.

"A suggestion," Chuuya echoes and swallows. "Okay. Fine. I can live with that."

"Then let me drive you home."

Well...

With a nod, Chuuya slips out of Dazai's grip and walks down the hallway in search of his other clothing pieces. "If it's not too much of a bother."

"It isn't."

Perfect.

After getting dressed, they pile into Dazai's Lexus. Radio music fills the silence. Everything is fine. (Except there's this feeling in Chuuya's stomach that says it's not. Not really.)

--

+

The next day, a few hours before Chuuya's supposed to be at Dazai's for the party, he finds himself spread out on the floor like a starfish, watching the shadows his hand produces above him.

When his parents first mentioned adopting him after having him live with them for a +

while, Chuuya replied with, "what's the catch?" Because there always was one. A catch.

His first foster family had wanted the benefits that come with taking in poor, helpless kids. His second one had used him as a punching bag. The one before Arthur and Paul, had told him +

they'd think about making his stay permanent, but only if he stopped glaring so much, if he talked more during dinners, and only if he stopped sleeping with a knife under his pillow because that wasn't /polite./

It didn't take him long to figure out that to /survive/, he had to be /useful/. People are less hard on you when they know they get something out of it. Easy.

So when both Arthur and Paul's nervous smiles fell into something sad and heavy, Chuuya didn't understand.

/It didn't make sense./

Sometimes, it doesn't.

Then Chuuya's boyfriend, the person he considered his soulmate and best friend, cheated on him because he "wasn't the same confident and fun boy he fell in love with anymore" and he knew that the song would always remain the same.

There are exceptions -- his fathers are -- but as far as Chuuya's concerned, everyone else is always looking for something to take. So when Dazai makes /a simple suggestion/, Chuuya overthinks. A lot.

Maybe it was just /that/, a suggestion, but Dazai isn't a guy who +

does anything /simply/, nor does he /suggest./ He takes.

Chuuya lets out a pitiful sigh and scrubs a hand across his face. Talking to someone about this would make this a little easier, but as it is, his options are very limited. He's pretty sure his relationship with +

Tachihara doesn't run deep enough for this kind of topic yet, and considering they had sex as well, it just doesn't seem like the best idea to say, "hey, so what do you think Dazai wants from me?" while Chuuya's spotting him bench pressing.

No.

Not Tachihara.

For obvious reasons, everyone in this house is out of the question, too.

That leaves... Yosano?

It's honestly not that bad of an idea since she's Dazai's best friend and will know more about him than some outsider, but it also means her loyalties belong to him.

Chuuya doesn't want everything he says or asks to get back to Dazai later.

Then again, she is his only option.

Chuuya gets out his phone and clicks on the groupchat Dazai added him to after the Halloween party, then taps Yosano's contact.

It rings two times before she picks up with a bright, "Yes?"

"Hi," he says, "it's Chuuya."

"I am aware of that, darling."

"I was wondering if you could, uh, do my hair for tonight." It's a shitty excuse, but Chuuya can't be bothered to come up with something better. +

Yosano will learn that it's not about the hair soon enough anyway. "Do you happen to be good at that?"

"Yes," she replies, and even though Chuuya can't see her, he knows she's smirking, "I happen to be marvelous at everything I do. What are you thinking of?"

+

"A... sexy ponytail?"

"Spicy," Yosano comments idly. "I like that. Be here at nine. I'll send you the address."

"Great. Thank you so much, Yosano-san."

"Thank me when you get here. See you in a bit, darling."

According to google maps Yosano only lives one block away from the university clinic -- /makes sense/ -- in a elegant building complex. Entering, Chuuya sees that it's not as extravagant as Dazai's new place, but the foyer already screams /wealthy/, so it's more than enough.

Like with the call, Yosano's door swings open for him after a few seconds and she beckons him in with a smile.

"Make yourself at home." She leads Chuuya to her bedroom without much ado. "I promised Kouyou I'd pick her up, so I'll invite you for coffee and cake another time."

Chuuya can't help but waggle his eyebrows as he sits down at her vanity table. "You did?"

"Eyes front," Yosano orders, gathering his hair in her hand and starting to brush it. "Of course, I did. Did you have doubts?"

"Well, Kouyou didn't exactly seem very thrilled about +

the idea of coming to the party, so I guess?"

In the mirror, he sees a small smile on Yosano's lips, subtle but /loud./ "I happen to be good at seeing through people's facades."

Chuuya straightens his shoulders, biting his lip. "Speaking of facades... +

Can you help me understand some things about Dazai?"

It's not so much surprise in her gaze, but a simple /ah/ moment that passes over it. "/Some things/ could mean everything from /why he cuts all his food into tiny pieces/ to /why he wears bandages./ +

You'll have to be more specific than that."

"Okay." Chuuya clears his throat and rephrases the sentence in his head. "Did he ever date anyone? Like, aside from your fake relationship. Was there ever anyone else?"

"Nothing serious," Yosano says. "No."

"So he isn't a relationship type of guy," Chuuya concludes loudly.

Yosano's movements behind him pause for a moment before she continues, her eyes sharp. "This is not what I said. He couldn't have dated someone even if he wanted to because it would have sabotaged +

our act. Would you want to date someone who's pretending to be in a relationship with his best friend?"

"...no."

"See." Yosano waves her hand. "Don't jump to conclusions, Chuuya-kun. Now do I need to ask why you're so interested in all this?"

His brows furrow.

"Dazai really hasn't told you?" They're best friends. Chuuya assumed that Yosano would be the exception to the /this is supposed to stay a secret/ rule.

"Tell me what?"

"That we've been, uh, kind of, hooking up."

She digests that information without so much as blinking. +

"Dazai didn't tell me," Yosano says after a moment of silence. "If you entrust him with something, then that secret is safe with him."

He supposes that's good to know.

"So," she continues, "you now want to know if there's room for something more serious?"

"What? Oh god, no."

Chuuya lets out a hoarse laugh, shaking his head. "Don't get me wrong. It's great and all, but I'm not looking for anything more than fun. I'm only here until October, and I don't want my au pair year to turn into some cheesy dramedy where I fall in love with my host brother."

He sees Yosano frown ever so slightly. "So why are you asking then?"

"Sometimes he confuses me. Yesterday, he /suggested/ I could go to college here. In Yokohama." Chuuya finds her eyes in the mirror. "That's crazy, right?"

+

"You don't like Yokohama?"

Chuuya frowns. "Of course, I do. Just... moving here for several years seems a bit drastic."

"I get that," Yosano says then, shoulders dropping a little, "and I get why it confuses you, but knowing Dazai, he could have had a thousand reasons +

to make that suggestion and not mean what you think it does."

"Okay." Yosano steps back behind him and Chuuya admires the ponytail on his head, making his face look sharp and elegant, cheekbones high. He looks /hot./ "Because I want us to be on the same page, and I thought +

we were, but..." He trails off with a shrug. Asking someone to stay doesn't exactly scream /casual./

"Tell him that."

"I did! Every time I do, he always manages to take the piss out of it, though."

Yosano lets out a quiet chuckle. "Sounds like Dazai." Her fingers tug at +

the collar of Chuuya's oversized blazer. "Okay, you look smoking, and one of these days we're going to go shopping together, so you won't have to lie about needing me to do your hair anymore to talk about Dazai."

Chuuya's grin turns sheepish. "Sorry?"

"It's fine. Now +

come on because Ozaki won't be as forgiving if she has to wait for us."

The city is packed, honking cars and dressed up people everywhere ready to celebrate the new year, so they arrive a few minutes late, though when Kouyou spots Chuuya waving at her, she schools her +

expression into something less hostile.

Chuuya feels a little like Switzerland between the two of them, but, at least, they're all in one piece when the car pulls to a stop in front of Dazai's building, and something else replaces the mild amusement in his stomach.

/He's kind of nervous to see Dazai./

They texted, yes, but exchanging a few messages about whether Chuuya arrived safely in his room without the entire family noticed he got dicked down several times is much more different than actually seeing him again after he +

more or less made Chuuya freak out last time.

For once, the little party actually /is/ little. The music running is just loud enough to have a conversation without yelling, and Chuuya recognizes every face that he sees. When Dazai lets them in, Chuuya's brain completely +

gives up on working because when Dazai moves to give him a hug, Chuuya tries to give him a fist bump.

/A fucking fist bump./

"Um," he all but stammers out, deliberately not looking at the girls' faces, "I don't know why I did that. Sorry." Internally, Chuuya has already +

jumped off this very building 10 times, but he still forces himself to hug Dazai who feels more tense than usual against him before excusing himself to get drinks in the kitchen.

Dazai doesn't follow him.

+

This calls for alcohol. So much alcohol.

By now, he has seen most of Dazai's friends more than enough times to feel comfortable greeting them with a glass of champagne between his lips. No one bats an eye.

Correction, almost no one.

+

Oda --Chuuya secretly refers to him as the gentle giant-- places his palm on his shoulder, shooting him a quirked brow. "Woah, don't overestimate these. They're sweet, but dangerous."

"I've drunk champagne before," Chuuya replies, trying to ignore how his /very big, very warm/+

hand on him makes him feel by stretching his mouth into a playful grin, "and it's not the only thing that's sweet but dangerous."

Oda either chooses to ignore that little comment, or it flies past his head. "Then, at least, drink enough water."

"Duh." /Seriously, what's wrong with him today?/ "Hey, how's that book of yours coming along?"

"It's... going." Oda makes a face. "Truth be told, I've recently hit an impasse, and now I'm considering deleting every word and starting over again."

Just a second ago, Chuuya was +

thinking how much easier his life would be if he had just been born a writer. No career-ending injuries. No pain. No identity crises because you built your whole life on it. Seems like it's not that easy either, though.

Chuuya awkwardly claps Oda's arms. +

"I'm sure you'll figure it out. I don't know much about writing, and I know it's kind of personal but if you want, I could still take a look. Sometimes an outsider view can help."

It's probably the champagne that makes Chuuya give out advice like he has /any/ idea what he's +

talking about, but to his surprise, Oda smiles. "Dazai wasn't lying when he said you are a special one."

"Uh," Chuuya blinks and scratches the back of his neck "Dazai seems to be saying a lot of things these days."

"Hey, it's not often you hear something like that from him."

"But he has all these friends," Chuuya glances around the room, "so it can't be that much of a rarity, right?"

"And how often do all these friends get to see him when he disappears?" When Chuuya curiously tilts his head, Oda lets out a sigh. "Don't mind me. All I'm saying is +

that your presence has been good. For everyone. And I will take you up on that offer, but first, I need to --" Oda motions somewhere in the other direction, and Chuuya nods, letting him escape this conversation.

Okay, now he's confused /and/ tipsy.

/Whatever/, Chuuya thinks to himself and refills his glass.

One hour later, he's in the bathroom and giggling as he looks into the mirror and notices how fucking drunk he is -- he takes a few selfies to capture the moment -- but /to be fair/ he has all the reasons to be!

They're a little more than an hour away from the new year, and Chuuya hasn't exchanged a single word with Dazai ever since that embarrassing greeting! And okay, it's partly his fault, because he made sure to be in a super-duper interesting conversation with someone else +

every time Dazai was closeby, but damn it, Dazai can be very persistent if he wants to be, so it's not something that would usually stop him.

But he never even tried to approach Chuuya.

So now Chuuya's just completely trashed. /And even more confused./ This is why he +

swore off relationships for the next ten years. They're confusing. They fuck with your head and then leave you crying yourself to sleep because your boyfriend didn't like you being upset about losing your entire future and so he, /obviously/, went ahead and cheated on you.

Chuuya can't imagine going through something similiar /even if he wanted to./

And yet, here he is, pouting into his camera because his fuck buddy slash friend slash host brother has been ignoring him all evening long when all Chuuya wants to do right now is hear Dazai's voice.

It's because Dazai -- aside from being responsible for a lot of amazing orgasms -- is also Chuuya's friend. And he likes his friends.

(And because Chuuya gets extremely clingy when's drunk.)

He all but stumbles out of the fancy bathroom (with 48 new selfies) and flops down on the couch where Yosano, Kouyou and Higuchi are sitting -- /definitely/ not because it offers a great view over the patio where Dazai's currently having a smoke with Oda.

"Hey there cowboy," he hears Yosano say, "do you want a glass of water?"

"Mm sure."

He's handed a glass of water, so he lifts it to his mouth, drinking slowly. It's exceptional water. Maybe if he had listened to Oda, he wouldn't be so fucking drunk right now.

/Oh, well./

One of the girls says something, but all he hears is their laughter, so he turns to frown at them. "What's so funny?"

"You," Higuchi replies, grinning.

Kouyou looks a little concerned. "He's not going back to the Tsushimas like that, right?"

"God no," Yosano supplies. "Dazai will probably let him sleep here."

"Oi, I'm right here," Chuuya snaps and sets down the glass of water on the coffee table. "I'm perfectly fine to go home."

"Darling, please believe me when I say you aren't."

Chuuya lets out a vexed breath.

For some reason, Kouyou gets up and gently grabs his arm, dragging him to his feet. "I can't watch this. Let's get some food into you, okay?"

"Whatever," Chuuya mumbles, only going along with the plan because the prospect of food sounds criminally good right now. +

"'s all Dazai's fault."

"Huh?"

"Dazai," Chuuya says, probably louder than he should. "You know that bastard, right?"

"I do." He doesn't understand why Kouyou's laughing. Nothing about this is funny! "Yes."

"If he just had kept his stupid mouth shu--" He cuts himself off+

when Kouyou offers him a bowl with delicious-looking soba noodles, forgetting what he was going on about for a few blissful moments. "This is the best thing I have ever tasted," he says eventually, "like ever."

"Don't eat too much or you'll get sick. And drink more water."

"/Thank you mom/," Chuuya grumbles, then remembers where he trailed off. This is a /very important/ conversation, after all. "You know, I feel like Dazai and Yosano are the evil handsome irristably-charming best friends and we are their victims. Their poor ginger-haired victims."

Kouyou looks at him like he's lost his damn marbles, so he relents. "Okay okay Yosano's not that bad -- seriously! Have you seen this ponytail?" He whips his head back and forth for emphasis. "That's her doing!"

"That's great, Chuuya."

"But Dazai! Dazai is so..."

"Dazai is what?" says a voice behind him, and /funny/, it almost sounds like him, too.

/Wait./

Frowning, Chuuya realizes it's not Kouyou who said that, so he turns around and /oh/, speaking of the devil. A devil that's tall and gorgeous with those smoldering eyes that --

always seem to see everything that goes through his head. A devil that screams /complicated./

"Dazai is..." Chuuya starts again, staring back up at him and refusing to back down, "/very mean./"

"And Chuuya seems to be very drunk," Dazai remarks before giving Kouyou a smile. +

"Thank you for taking care of him. I've got him now." Then he turns back to Chuuya, hooking a finger in the collar of his blazer. "Now what should we do with you?"

Of all the things that popped into Chuuya's mind at that question, being forced to swallow a pain killer and +

drink /even more/ water wasn't one of them.

"First you ignore me all evening," Chuuya complains after his third glass, "then you make me miss the new year!"

"Come on, finish the glass," Dazai tells him, pushing his hands so that they lift the water to his mouth. +

"I wasn't ignoring you. I was trying to give you space."

"And why would I need that?!"

"You're not very hard to read, chibi," Dazai says with an infuriatingly gentle smile. "And we're not missing the new year. We still have ten minutes."

That makes Chuuya's head snap up. /Come to think of it, he's pretty sure he would have noticed if it had turned 12 already./

"Can we go and watch, or will you force me to go to sleep?"

Dazai rolls his eyes but helps him get to his feet. "You'll thank me tomorrow. Trust me."

Chuuya's too busy dragging them down the hallway and out to the patio, where most of their friends have already gathered to watch.

Every damn year, his heart races like crazy in his chest, even though, technically, it's just some stupid numbers changing. /Still. It's exciting./

Too late, Chuuya also notices that it's fucking /cold/, and he's out here, a decent patch of skin exposed to the cold. He puts his arms around himself, hoping it will warm him up when he feels a nudge against his elbow. Behind him, Dazai holds open his coat in a silent offer.

/A thick, warm coat./

He doesn't say anything when he lets Dazai wrap him in it, his arms settling around Chuuya's waist and pulling him even closer until they're perfectly molded to each other.

A heartfelt sigh escapes Chuuya.

They never stay longer in bed than necessary when they fuck, they don't cuddle or hold hands, so this is a new and unfamiliar terrain, but it feels so, so excruciatingly /good/ that Chuuya could cry right now.

It's one of the few things he does miss about relationships.

Getting to cling to someone all the time. Falling asleep against a warm chest. The small, simple gestures and touches.

But are these things worth all that stupid fucking pain?

For now, Chuuya chooses to push that question off and instead wiggles closer into Dazai's heat.

He can have this for one night.

Dazai lifts his left arm and shows him the watch around his wrist. "One minute left," he murmurs into his ear.

Chuuya's insides tumble and dance.

"You know, in Europe, we have this tradition," he finds himself saying, a little breathless, +

"where you kiss someone when the clock strikes twelve."

"Mm, too bad we're in Japan." Then Dazai's soft laugh rumbles against his back, though, and Chuuya hates how much he likes that sound. "Are you asking me to be your New Year's kiss, Chuuya?"

If he has the opportunity to share his first kiss of the new year with someone like Dazai, then he might as well take it, right? And yeah, everyone will probably see them, and put two and two together, but fuck all of that. Chuuya will deal with it tomorrow when he's sober.

Plus, he really wants to kiss Dazai right now.

"Yeah."

The hand on his hips spin him in place so that Chuuya can fist his hands in Dazai's shirt and stare up at him as Dazai slowly, smiling, counts down. "Five... four... three..." He cups Chuuya's chin, holding him in place.+

"Two.." As their lips crash together, the /one/ gets forgotten.

Around them, the world erupts into noises, whooping, yelling, the sound of honking cars and fireworks booming in the sky above, but all Chuuya can focus on is the steady beat of Dazai's heart against him.

+

He presses up on his tiptoes, tugging Dazai closer, letting him part his mouth with his tongue and make the kiss deeper because in the end, try as he might, Chuuya simply can't deny that /this/? It feels good. Maybe even better than everything else he's ever had so far.

Next to them, someone whoops again and Chuuya's pretty sure it's not about the new year this time, but he doesn't pay them any mind, not when Dazai's hands slowly slide up the length of his back, making him shiver. Others seeing them won't change anything. It doesn't matter.

Dazai's cheeks are flushed from the cold, eyes blown-wide, yet his voice is aggravating calm when he says, "Happy new year, Chuuya."

"Happy new year." Chuuya snags the finger that's tracing his jaw and tries his best not to look too dopey. "Let's make this a good one."

Because god, was the last one awful.

"It will be everything you've ever imagined," Dazai tells him, "and so much more."

Chuuya cocks his head, still playing with Dazai's finger. "Yeah, and how do you know that?"

"Because I'm Dazai Osamu and I know everything."

It's the ridiculous god-complex Chuuya would claim to loathe if it didn't make him grin so fucking hard right now. "Ugh, why do I put up with you?"

Before he gets to hear the reply--something obnoxious, he's sure--Ranpo bursts their little bubble by grabbing both their arms.

"Making eyes at each other /later/," he exclaims over the noise. "Pictures /now./"

So they end up being squeezed into the group of people huddling together, while Higuchi places her phone on one of the high-tables, then sprints back before the flash goes off.

Chuuya's trying not to roll his eyes when Ranpo elbows Dazai and murmurs a comment about /getting the boy/. Little do they know, this has been going on for a while now.

Then finally, the phone flashes and the moment, Chuuya grinning brightly as if he's never known any pain, +

Dazai's arm warm and reassuring around his waist, becomes endless -- at least, on someone's camera.

They take more pictures, though by the time the majority of people are passed out and it's time to call it a night, Chuuya has forgotten most of them, head heavy with booze and +

dragging exhaustion. The only ones still awake are Yosano, Kouyou, and Dazai, having spent the last hour just sitting in the kitchen and talking, though when Kouyou yawns for the fifth time in one minute, Dazai nods his head down the hall. "You two can sleep in the guest room."

She stands up without much of a reaction except silent resignation. "Only because I'm too tired to argue right now."

/Funny, considering she was happily sitting in Yosano's lap not even two hours ago./

"Good night boys. Don't be too loud." Yosano winks and follows Kouyou.

Even after all this time, Chuuya's stomach still flutters when he's left alone with Dazai. Everything always feels /more/ with him, intensified somehow. Even silence.

"You could join them," Dazai offers as he gets up and starts clearing away empty glasses. "The bed is big +

enough for all three of you."

Chuuya huffs. "Yeah, no thanks. I do not want my eyes scratched out."

"I'm sure there's still some space left on the couch."

"Don't be fucking stupid." He doesn't want Tanizaki slobbering all over him in his sleep.

"Then I guess you're stuck with me," Dazai says softly.

It sounds strange when you consider they've done far more "outrageous" things than share a fucking bed, but Chuuya supposes this is different than sex. And then there's obviously the /suggestion/ thing, they still haven't+

talked about.

Chuuya swallows his nerves and holds up his hand to Dazai until he pulls him to his feet. They end up a breath away from each other. "I guess I am," he murmurs before offering him a crooked smile. "Luckily, you look /strangely/ similar to this guy who has been +

giving me mindblowing orgasms for the past two months."

"Exploiting people for orgasms? I'm appalled."

"He offered," Chuuya jokes and loops his arms around Dazai's neck, shrugging. "Who am I to say no?"

"Just wait until Paul and Arthur hear about this ~"

Chuuya's protests+

get cut off when Dazai picks him up, the threats on his tongue melting into shrieking laughter as Dazai carries him into his bedroom and slam-dunks him on the bed like he weighs nothing.

"/Unfair/, you little bitch --"

"Who's really little here, huh?"

Chuuya grabs the +

nearest pillow and flings at him, but Dazai manages to catch it, tossing it aside carelessly before pinning Chuuya's wrists against the mattress. "I'm listening?"

"Still you," Chuuya snaps, but even to his own ears, his voice sounds breathless. Damn that bastard for knowing +

exactly how to push his buttons. "I still don't understand why my parents like you so much, by the way."

Dazai's become a regular guest in their facetime calls since every time they call, he's nearby. (And they seem to be happy that Chuuya has found such a great /friend./)

"I'm a delight to be around," Dazai says. "Of course, they like me."

"You just know what to say to make them like you," Chuuya retorts. He's already being pinned down here; he doesn't need to give Dazai the last word, too.

"I don't see the difference."

+

"Well, there is one." His hips rock up a bit, but Dazai's quick to push Chuuya back down, eliciting a small, frustrated noise in the back of his throat. Right now, being under that fucking jerk feels like someone's dangling a delicious strip of bacon right in front of his nose +

but not allowing him to have a taste. Well, maybe bacon isn't the right word. Dazai's better than bacon. The point is Chuuya wants something, /anything/ from him, but Dazai's in one of his annoying "let's tease the shit out of Chuuya" moods.

Dazai smiles knowingly.

"Not if the results are the same."

Hah?

Chuuya's honestly not even sure what they're talking about anymore so he hums deeply as if considering the argument. "If I agree with you, will you skip the whole foreplay thing and just fuck me already?"

Funny how time moves in +

circles because here they are, in Dazai's brand new penthouse, and still they'll have to be quiet if they don't want all of their friends to hear what they're up to. Why lie and pretend that he doesn't find that /hot/, though? The added layer of danger makes everything more int--

"This isn't foreplay."

Chuuya blinks. "Wait, what?"

"I'm not fucking you tonight," Dazai murmurs, his voice way too deep and raspy to deliver such disappointing news.

"You're not?" He wiggles helplessly, feeling like he just got thrown into cold water with his clothes on. +

"Do you want me... to fuck you?" Chuuya usually prefers to bottom, but hey, he wouldn't make switching things up if that's what Dazai wants.

Except Dazai shakes his head. Again. "You're way too drunk."

"What? I'm not drunk."

"Chuuya."

"Dazai," he echoes stubbornly. +

"You made me drink, like, two liters of water. I'm fine, I swear."

"I did that so your tomorrow will feel slightly less painful," Dazai says idly. "The only thing that makes you sober up is time, and since you were still drinking an hour ago, it's not looking good for you."

At that Chuuya feels an irrational jolt of spike through him. "Then why all this?" He pushes Dazai off him, and Dazai allows it. "Why the fucking teasing?"

Dazai's brows crinkle ever so slightly.

Chuuya gets up before he can answer, lifting his hands. "You know what? +

Nevermind. You're right. I'm going to wash my face."

Maybe it's better this way. Chuuya doesn't need the embarrassment of not being able to get it up.

Except that even while he's standing there, feeling ice cold water run down his cheeks, he can't shake the feeling +

of needing something. Dazai's teasing worked him up. And now he just feels so - so frustrated? Left high and dry? Let down? Which isn't fair. Dazai has no obligation to sleep with him. And Chuuya obviously doesn't want it to be an obligation.

So what the fuck is wrong with him?

He forces himself to take a few deep breaths -- in and out, in and out, in and out. Then he opens the door of the bathroom.

The feeling inside him is, kind of, uncomfortable, but he can live with that. It's definitely not the end of the world.

Dazai's changing when he walks +

in, offering Chuuya a great view of his back, though he's still too ashamed of his own reaction to properly appreciate it.

"I'm sorry," he says as he sits down on the edge of the bed, twisting his fingers in one hand. "I got too --" His head automatically shakes. Too /what/?

It's not a fucking excuse. "I'm sorry."

Dazai's gaze flickers to him, unexpectedly and undeservingly soft. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

Nodding, Dazai grabs one of his shirts and tosses it to him wordlessly. Chuuya catches it and starts stripping, feeling painfully awkward as he +

does, not because of his nudity but because the silence between them feels oppressive, bearing down on his chest like a few dozen pounds of bricks. He grabs his phone when he crawls under the sheets.

There are still a couple of hours left in France until midnight, but his +

fathers already sent him messages in their group chat, and Chuuya's not really surprised to see that he replied with a thousand typos and emojis. He also sent them those pictures they took outside.

His throat goas a little dry as he swipes through them and stops on one picture+

in particular. Their little group squeezed together, nothing special, except that Chuuya's not grinning at the camera but at Dazai. Dazai's returning his smile with something less drunk, but just as ferocious. His hand settled on Chuuya's bare stomach. Not an inch of space left.+

After staring at it for too much time, Chuuya forces himself to read further. Arthur specifically replied with a "👀👍👍💛💚💙" to that one.

Great.

Just great.

The bed dips next to him and he quickly leaves the cheat, casting a glance to where Dazai lies down.

It takes him a moment to notice that /something/ feels off -- and then another to realize that it's the bandages. Or, the lack thereof.

It shouldn't be surprising; Dazai has to let his skin breathe /at some point/ during the day, and it makes sense that he'd do it at night, +

Chuuya just didn't expect Dazai to do it tonight. In front of /him./

Though, not even a moment later, Dazai switches the light off, making him stare at his dark silhouette. "You don't need light to sleep, do you?"

"What am I? Twelve?" Chuuya forces himself to say with a snort.

"Considering your height, maybe."

"Asshole." Chuuya kicks him under the covers, but he barely reaches him with all the space that's left between them. It's so strange. One moment, Dazai makes sure to stay behind the line they've drawn; the next, he leaps over it. "No, I don't +

need light to sleep. I like it dark for as long as possible."

Dazai shifts, settling in somewhere across from him. "Then I guess I will try not to wake you in the morning," he finally says. "Wouldn't want a sleep-drived, hungover chibi haunting me."

Chuuya ignores the +

last comment in favor of frowning into the darkness. "How the fuck do you always get up so early when you go to sleep same time as me?" If not, later. Back at his family's, Chuuya always stumbled into him at the ass crack of dawn. No matter what time, Dazai was always awake.

"I don't sleep much," Dazai tells him, "so getting up is easier than lying in bed for hours."

"Oh. You're insomniac?"

"Yes, that's what they call it."

It feels like something Chuuya should have known at this point in their relationship -- friendship -- thing. And then +

it occurs to him that he never /asked./

"That must suck," Chuuya murmurs. Sleeping is his third favorite thing to do in the world. He can't imagine going to bed night after night and just not... being able to fall asleep. "But there's medicine for that, right?"

Dazai hums. "It often doesn't help." Chuuya yawns, and when Dazai speaks again, he can imagine him smiling a little. "Good night, Chuuya."

"--ight, Dazai."

He wraps his arms around the pillow under him and lets out a sigh. This doesn't feel so bad, actually. It's okay.

Except that five minutes later, Chuuya's still awake.

He shifts onto his back. Maybe it's just the position. Usually, he sleeps spread out across the entire bed like a starfish, but obviously, that's not possible right now.

Any minute now, sleep will descend over him --

Nothing.

Chuuya huffs quietly, annoyed that the drunken sleepiness he felt throughout the last few hours has vanished all of a sudden. In his most critical moment!

Again, he turns. Away from Dazai. Heart /racing/ all of a sudden.

God, this is so annoying.

After another eternity of /not/ sleeping, Chuuya's just about ready to fling himself out of the window. He w--

"Chuuya."

Oh. That's Dazai.

He turns his head even though it's too dark to make out anything. "Yeah?"

"Count to one hundred."

"I already tried!"

He hears Dazai open his mouth, but the silence lingers, making him scowl in suspicion. "What?" he whisper-snaps. "Spit it out!"

"You're going to freak out."

Chuuya would like to argue that he would /not/, but then again the last few days speak for themselves. "Just say it."

"Chuuya, no offense, but I'm too comfortable right now to chase after you when you run for the hills."

Wow.

He supposes he deserves that. A little.

"Fine," Chuuya says and sighs dramatically, turning away from him again. "Then I guess I'll just lie here and annoy the +

fuck out of you for the rest of the night."

Dazai doesn't reply, and for a while, Chuuya thinks this is it be it, annoyed at himself and the jerk next to him, but then without any warning, two arms slide around his waist and pull him back into a solid, warm chest.

"Freaking out yet?"

"Maybe," Chuuya breathes out, but doesn't move away. The opposite, actually. Dazai's skin is so /hot/ that it would be criminal not to press back and feel that toe-curling heat envelop him like a second blanket.

The arms around him tighten.

From personal experience, Chuuya knows that this isn't as much cuddling, as it is Dazai holding him.

"Your brain releases oxytocin when someone holds you," Dazai murmurs, breath soft against his neck. "It has a calming effect on your body; makes you fall asleep faster."

Chuuya sighs a little dreamily. Yeah, it definitely works. "Can we talk --" He yawns -- "--bout it... tomorrow...?"

Dazai doesn't ask what /it/ means. "Whatever you want, love."

"Mmm."

This time, he drifts off in mere seconds. The last thought on Chuuya's mind is if someone ever held /Dazai/ to help him fall asleep.

--

+

Chuuya snores.

Out of all the little truths Dazai could have gotten wrong about him, it's this one. He snores, arms spread out, mouth slightly agape, chest rising and falling peacefully with every new grunting sound.

Dazai's fascinated.

Not by the act itself. That is annoying, though once Dazai closes his eyes and pretends he's listening to the sound of the sea, it's half as bad.

No, what fascinates Dazai is the fact that he didn't see it coming. Granted, that might have been his own mistake. When thinking +

of snoring, the image of a middle-aged drunkard rotting away on the couch in a white tank top comes to his mind. Not Chuuya. Lithe, graceful Chuuya who carries himself like a black swan with each step. But, Dazai supposes, that is the danger of stereotyping and even a man +

like him can fall into that trap sometimes.

Next to him, Chuuya smacks his lips, grumbles something under his breath, and then turns to his side, one hand reaching out to grab the nearest thing -- which happens to be Dazai's arm -- and curling into a ball.

/Cute./

Dazai avoids lying in one place and doing nothing when he can, it gives him too much time to think, but right now getting up would be crucial. Chuuya looks too comfortable to ruin that.

So Dazai exhales and squeezes his eyes shut again, finding that place that's not sleep, +

but not consciousness either, and lets himself doze. Just for a few minutes.

--

When Chuuya cracks his eyes open the next morning, the room spins a little.. His head feels heavy, throat dry. Not for the first time in his life he curses past him for being such a brat.

He's known for years that his body needs less alcohol than the average 18-year-old-guy, and still, every damn time, he makes the same fucking mistake. Chuuya tries to lift his head. That's when he notices that his hands are clutching something. An arm. Dazai's arm.

Some of last night's memories flash through his mind. The midnight kiss. An unholy amount of shots. Cuddling.

/Oh./

"Chuuya?"

Did he say that out loud?

"Hi," he murmurs and sheepishly unclenches his fingers. "Morning."

Dazai uses his free hand to rub across his face +

before glancing at him. "You talk in your sleep."

That he is aware of.

"Sorry," Chuuya turns and grabs the bottle standing on the nightstand, downing half of it in one go, then flopping back on the sheets with a sigh, "I dreams /a lot/, and sometimes words slip out."

Dazai looks more amused than annoyed. "It's fine. It was very... insightful."

"I didn't say something /weird/, did I?" He's always been somewhat scared that one day, while sharing a bed with someone, he'd have a sex dream and make noises.

"No. Did you dream of anything weird?"

Chuuya frowns, trying to remember. "I think someone kept chasing me. Cops or something. I dream of that a lot, though, so no?"

"You just kept mumbling random words. It was funny."

"My ex used to say it was annoying as fuck," Chuuya says with a huff of laughter. "The talking and the snoring. Did I snore?"

He lets out a little breath when he feels Dazai's finger touch his bare thigh, slowly traveling up the length of it in soft, stroking motions. "No."

+

"Ha," Chuuya grins, "take that, Romaine."

"Romaine?"

"The ex in question --" Dazai's hand slips under the oversized shirt he's wearing; Chuuya feels his breath hitch at the featherlight touch on his tummy. "-- though, I'd rather not talk about, uh, him right now."

"Agreed," Dazai says and pulls him forward with his hand around his waist, making Chuuya's heart stutter and spike all at once. With a firm grip on his back, Dazai kisses him, gentle and slow and maddening, refusing to give in to Chuuya's pathetic attempts at deepening the kiss.

When he tries to slide his fingers in Dazai's hair -- and get him closer, damn it -- Dazai catches his wrist and rolls them over instead until he's above him, eyes dark and huge as he tsks. "Patience is a virtue, Chuuya."

"Fuck virtue," he breathes out. "Who cares about that?"

"I do, and since you want /me/ to fuck you, you do as well."

Sometimes Chuuya wishes he could be that kind of person who takes things slow, savors them like a glass of red wine, but it's not who he is. When he wants something, it's like a physical craving, +

like it will tear him apart from the inside if he doesn't listen.

Chuuya swallows. "What if I can't?"

"Of course, you can." Dazai slowly intertwines their hands, then presses them down against the mattress. His mouth lowers until Chuuya can feel his warm breath ghost across +

his neck. "I can teach you how to be patient." Chuuya's mouth parts on a breathless gasp as Dazai bites the delicate skin, not gentle, before sucking, his tongue lavishing the spot with obscene finesse.

"If you, /fuck/, leave me a hickey, I'll kill you --"

He feels more than +

sees the stretch of an amused smile against him. "A hickey is nothing compared to the way you clung to me yesterday."

That -- that's not what Chuuya meant! Well, at least, not /only/ that. It's about Dazai's family, too. Chuuya doesn't want Hayashi to ask more questions than +

necessary.

"I did /not/ cling!"

"Oh?" Dazai shoots him an arched brow before descending on his jaw, peppering it with little bites and sucks that go straight to Chuuya's groin. "Then we must have experienced two different nights."

Until now, he was certain that his +

memories were still intact, but that might not be the case, after all.

"It's the a-alcohol," Chuuya tries to mutter even though his voice betrays him, hitching with every open-mouthed kiss that Dazai presses to his skin. "'t makes me fucking needy."

"I guess it made up for +

the fact that you spent the first half of the night running away from me."

Chuuya's chest stutters. He's really bringing that up /now/?

"You were, ah, doing the same thing, asshole --"

"I wasn't avoiding you," Dazai murmurs and nibbles at the sensitive spot under his jaw +

that makes his toes curl every time. The bastard sure does know his way around by now! "I just wasn't chasing you."

How does he always manage to twist words in his favor?!

"Whatever," Chuuya hisses, straining against Dazai's hands to let him know that he /gets/ it, +

teasing can be hot, but he would really like to get on with it now! "Same fucking thing."

With his arms, Dazai pushes away from Chuuya's face and cocks his head daringly. Chuuya squirms, immediately wishing he was back down here.

"Talk to me. What are you so afraid of?"

Chuuya's mouth parts. "What, like, right now?"

"Preferably within the hour," Dazai drawls, "so my friends won't destroy my brand new kitchen in our absence."

That makes him realize he doesn't have the slightest clue how late it is. Or how early. There's no clock in the room.

nsfw from here

That's the least of Chuuya's concerns right now, though. The biggest one being /this bitch/ in front of him making him /talk/ as some sick form of foreplay torture.

Chuuya considers his words, which isn't all too easy when he can feel the bulge of Dazai's cock,+

not entirely hard yet but distracting enough, if he rocks up his hips a bit. Chuuya's gaze wanders unconsciously and ends up on the arms keeping him pinned to the bed. It's still fairly dark in the room thanks to the thick, dark-brown curtains saving them from the light, but +

tw self-harm scars

he makes out the beginning of a dozen thin, white scars anyway.

"Eyes up here," Dazai tells him, squeezing his hands, and Chuuya has to blink his surprise away as his thoughts become even more tangled. /Were those...?/

"I, uh," he tries, "I know you said +

it was just a suggestion, but," he feels his eyes descend again and forces himself to look at Dazai instead, pushing everything else aside for later, "asking someone to move to the other side of the globe didn't feel very casual to me."

Dazai's face betrays nothing, but he nods

as if to say Chuuya should go on. So he does. "I like you," he murmurs, genuine. "I like what we have right now. I don't want to ruin it by --" He shakes his head. "-- making it into something /more/ when it's already good enough as it is."

"This path has more than one exit," Dazai says, making him frown. "What if we don't ruin it? What if we make something already good into something fantastic?"

/What if.../

A /what if/ isn't worth all that fucking drama.

Chuuya stares back at him, jutting out his chin.

"I don't need fantastic."

The thought is nice, sure, but... he doesn't want to spend the rest of his au pair year worrying about what will happen /after/, or having awkward family dinners with the guy it didn't work out with. He /just/ wants /this./ Nothing more.

"Okay."

If Dazai is disappointed by his answer, he doesn't show it.

"Okay?" Chuuya echoes, puzzled. "That's it? You have nothing more to say?"

"My turn in the truth game, huh?" Truth what now? "That's fair," Dazai murmurs and to Chuuya's surprise, leans down to kiss his +

shoulder, slotting his knee between Chuuya's legs and giving him some much-needed friction. "I'm fine with it. We did agree this to be something casual, after all."

Exactly! Chuuya still doesn't understand why this turned out to be a question in the first place. Dazai doesn't +

exactly seem like the type to develop for feelings after fucking someone a few times either.

"And as I said..." Head thrown back, Chuuya hears Dazai speak above him, his hips rolling down on Dazai's knee over and over for pressure. "I'm a patient man. I can wait."

Wha...?

His confusion doesn't linger for long, Dazai dissolving his thoughts into white noise the moment he presses him further down into the mattress and kisses him. Chuuya's torn, pulsing need coiling in his belly as Dazai builds the intensity with each slide of lips until +

he lets out a wet gasp against his lips and Dazai invades him, licks inside his mouth, lets his tongue drag against Chuuya's, and delights in the way Chuuya's whole world seems to reduce to /this/, to /Dazai/, every thought and worry he ever had vanished into irrelevant dust.

It's infuriating how good Dazai is at this, so unfair, because all it takes is him to firmly press his entire weight against him as he undoes him with his mouth, and Chuuya's ready to do just about anything to get his cock inside him.

And that's how it goes.

Dazai takes his sweet, sweet time preparing Chuuya -- too much time, but knowing that complaining and whining will make the bastard move even slower, Chuuya settles for quiet, whimpering moans and gasps, and the occasional insults that slip past his tongue.

By the time, Dazai /finally/ slides his cock inside him, Chuuya's not sure whether to cry out of relief or scream at him to go faster, feeling like he's been on the edge of an orgasm for hours and still miles away from it at the same time.

Dazai fucks him with slow, deep +

thrusts and silences his noises with slick, mind-numbing kisses that pull Chuuya even deeper into his haze. When he comes the first time, he muffles his cry by biting Dazai's shoulder, drunk on the feeling and smell and sound of Dazai all around him. Because one is never enough,+

Chuuya digs his nails into his back and tells him to go faster, legs wrapping around his torso to change the angle, swimming in the bliss of his first orgasm and the mild discomfort of being oversensitive.

He's close again, so close, when there's a loud laugh and hushed +

voices somewhere in the other room. Chuuya's brain is /mush/, but he manages to /cringe./ "Are we loud?" he whispers.

"We're fine," Dazai murmurs into his neck. He keeps his rhythm, but it's a bit slower, less frenzied, like the knowledge that there are still a bunch of +

people in the apartment pulled them both down to earth. "The walls here are thick."

Chuuya nods, but not even a moment later, there are muffled noises right outside the door, footsteps and then a whispered, "Should we knock?"

/Jesus christ./

Chuuya grabs Dazai's shoulders.+

"Did you lock the door?!" Physically, he's ready to push him off and hide under a blanket if worst comes to worst. Mentally, he would rather die than stop now.

Dazai looks way too /amused/ for this shit. "Nope."

"Definitely," says another voice -- it sounds like Tanizaki. +

"/You/ knock," replies the other one -- Higuchi, maybe? "I'm scared."

Chuuya pinches Dazai's skin. "Do something!"

"They won't come in."

"And what if they do?!"

"I'm willing to take that risk."

"You --"

"I don't wanna go in," Tanizaki whispers. +

"We should just ask him like this."

"Okay, yeah. That's a good plan."

Chuuya lets out a little breath, thanking whatever god is up there, even if it means he has to endure Dazai's stupid smug expression.

There are three swift knocks on the door. Then, "D-dazai-san?"

Chuuya shouldn't be surprised by now, but he still has to muffle his moan when Dazai chooses /that/ moment to mercilessly grind into his prostate. "Yes?"

"Oh, good. You're alive. Is Chuuya-san okay?"

"Chuuya is perfect."

Chuuya wants to /murder/ Dazai -- but later, because+

right now he's /so/ close to coming again that it /hurts./

"We were, uh, wondering how your stove works?"

"It doesn't," Dazai says /calmly/ and grabs the back of Chuuya's thigh -- how the fuck does he manage to stay calm when he's balls deep in Chuuya?! +

"The electrician is only coming on Thursday. You're better off ordering in."

Chuuya's thankful for the hand that clamps over his mouth because when Dazai pushes his left thigh all the way against his chest, his cock slides /deep/, ruining him with every grind.

"Oh, okay." +

Tanizaki still sounds nervous as shit and if Chuuya wasn't so busy getting railed right now, he'd laugh. "Then thanks..." He trails off like he wants to say more but eventually, /finally/, their footsteps retreat into the other direction.

Dazai's thrusts gain speed and fervor +

and Chuuya feels like his lungs are on fire, but then Dazai slides his hand from his mouth to his forehead, brushing away his sweaty bangs and of all the things, /that's/ what trips him over into his second orgasm, his muscles spasming wildly. Dazai finishes a few moments later,+

dropping his face on Chuuya's sweat-soaked shirt and allowing himself to breathe for a few moments. A quiet, muffled laugh escapes him. "That was..."

"Funny," Chuuya finishes, having to smile despite himself. "Very funny, Dazai."

end of nsfw

Lifting his head a fraction, Dazai‘s eyes find him and even though he stays silent, his expression speaks louder than any words. /You liked it./

Yeah, Chuuya did, but he’s not about to say that out loud. Thankfully, Dazai lets him.

For once, Dazai is the first +

one to move, slipping out of bed and disappearing in the bathroom while Chuuya lazes around, grabbing his phone and avoiding the prospect of leaving this room. Sure, they weren‘t exactly caught in the act, and yes, most of their friends are probably well aware what‘s going on +

between them, but that doesn’t mean he‘s looking forward to greet them and act like all of them aren’t well aware he got his shit rocked a few moments ago. He has a dignity.

Dazai isn‘t much help. After he helps Chuuya to clean up, he drags him out of bed and pushes a pair +

of grey sweatpants into his chest since Chuuya has nothing to wear of his own — except yesterday‘s outfit but he can‘t put that on. Not right. The pants look ridiculous on him, and combined with Dazai‘s oversized shirt, Chuuya feels like one of those rappers from 2000.

Chuuya tugs at the shirt, scowling deeply. „I feel stupid.“

„You look fine,“ Dazai forces him to walk to the door, his hand on his hips. „A little like eminem, but much prettier. A pretty eminem, if you will.“

„/Thanks/,“ Chuuya deadpans.

He might try to rap +

„love the way you lie“ and „mockingbird“ every time he‘s drunk and alone, but that does /not/ mean he wants to be compared to that man!

Dazai doesn‘t care about that though, instead leading them out of his room and into the kitchen where all the noise comes from.

Not everyone stayed to sleep over last night, but there are still quite a few people here. Yosano, sitting on the counter. Kouyou, chopping a tomato next to her. Ranpo talking to Tanizaki and Higuchi.

And they all turn to them when they come into view.

„Good morning.“

+

"Good afternoon," Ranpo says and raises his cup of coffee -- an obscene amount of cream on top. "Do you want breakfast or did you two already eat?"

When would they had the time to e-- oh.

Chuuya rolls his eyes. Dazai touches his back before heading to his Friday. +

*fridge. "Are you ordering?"

"Yup," Yosano chirps, not looking up as she taps away on her phone. "You want in?"

Chuuya feels his stomach growl in response. "Please. I'm starving."

Ranpo opens his mouth again, grinning, but Chuuya shoots him a scowl. "Don't even try to."

"You're no fun," Ranpo replies with a mock-pout. "What's the point of friendcest if we can't take the piss out of it?"

"/Friendcest/?"

"It's what we say when someone in our circle hooks up," Higuchi butts in, ever so helpful.

Everyone seems unfazed by the conversation, +

so Chuuya relaxes his expression, both happy and a little surprised at how casually they're all handling it. "Does this happen often?" he can't help but ask. They're not /that/ big of a friend group, right?

Ranpo takes a sip of his diabetes-bomb. +

"I have slept with 71,4% of the people that were here last night. I'm still working on Oda."

Chuuya lets out a choked laugh, then glances at Higuchi and Tanizaki who nod like that's common knowledge.

"What can I say?" Ranpo shrugs. "I'm a bit of a whore."

"Same," Chuuya says, and even though it shouldn't be surprising anymore, his chest still falls with relief when they chuckle quietly.

He finds that he really likes Dazai's friends -- /his own/ friends. Ranpo considers him part of the group as well.

It's not like Chuuya never+

had friends before. He always had someone to talk during lunch at school. He got along well with the other dancers. But somewhere along the way, while he was wasting away in his bed after breaking his ankle, he realized most of these friendships were as shallow as a dirty puddle.

None of them were ever deep enough to have conversations like this.

Part of Chuuya is a little sad that of all places, he found his /circle/ nine thousand kilometers away from home, but if it means one thing, then it's that he should just enjoy it as profoundly as he can.

--

The temporary relief of moving into his own place doesn't last long. Classes pick up a few days after New Year's Eve, and when Dazai isn't on campus, he's in his father's office, working as his /apprentice/ -- the only position he could have been offered without offending +

the other employees that didn't get into the successful company because they were born into it. Dazai doesn't mind. He never wanted anything to do with it in the first place. Too bothersome. Too dull. But now that it pays for his bubble of freedom, he's willing to play nice +

and execute whatever tedious tasks land at his desk every day. The only useful thing this job accomplishes is making him look forward to spending his free hours with Chuuya even more. That's it.

Dazai's replying to a, frankly brainless, e-mail that got forwarded to him when +

the phone on his desk rings. It's the secretary's number, so Dazai picks up with a simple, "Yes?"

"Tsushima-san, Tsushima-sama has requested your presence in his office."

Dazai has told the guy repeatedly not to call him that, and the fact that he refuses to, whether it's +

because his simpleton's brain is too forgetful or because he fears it would insult the chairman, pisses Dazai off. Not a lot of things do.

"I will be there," he says, "and Tanaka-kun?"

"Yes, Ts--"

"Next time you call me Tsushima, I'll write your termination notice myself."

Despite carrying the assistant title around his neck, Dazai has only had to talk to his father one time -- on his first day, so this vaguely feels like being ordered into the principal's office back in school. Maybe a tad worse.

The man seems to be already waiting for him, +

gesturing for him to sit down.

Dazai does.

Gen'emon pours two glasses of scotch before pushing one towards him. "Talk. Do I need to find another assistant?"

"The work is fine." It's easy, almost /too easy/ for someone like him, which is the problem.

"Do they respect you?"

Dazai suppresses a laugh. "No."

He's the prodigal son of the chairman. The seniors think he is a spoiled brat. The rookies most likely just hate his name. But respect? No.

"I wouldn't either," his father retorts and leans back in his chair, "but you will have to make them +

if you dream of ever sitting where I sit right now. Use your fucking brain for once in your life. You still have one, right?"

Dazai could probably go out of his way to show them that he's more than that. The problem is just that he doesn't plan to take over the seat.

"I'm pretty sure it's still there, yes."

His father doesn't seem to appreciate the sarcasm as he shoots Dazai a dark look before turning to his screen, typing something. "I told the Nobukos you would accompany their daughter to the upcoming charity gala," he informs him.

"Don't make me regret that decision."

"/I/ didn't tell you I would take her."

"That's why I didn't ask for your input." Gen'emon's gaze slides over to him, heavy. "Or is that too big of an obligation for you? You can't handle being someone's date for two hours?"

Of course, it's not. Dazai spent the last eight years of his life dating someone for his family's sake. What are two hours compared to that?

But last time it started like this, too. First, it's a charity event. Then they start talking about how cute their babies would look.

"One night," Dazai says. "That's it."

It makes his father chuckle. "Use that tone with someone else. Preferably, Nobuko-kun, so she won't leave you for someone else like Yosano did." He must catch Dazai's surprise because he puffs out a breath and takes a swig of his drink. +

"A friend of mine recently saw her hand in hand with someone. How bad of a boyfriend did you have to be for Yosano to immediately look for a replacement?"

"I told you. Our teenager romance hadn't been real for a long time before we broke up."

"And I'm telling you, +

one day when you'll have to raise an ungrateful brat yourself, you will understand that you act like a child. Who cares that you didn't love her anymore? Suck it up and do what you have to do like the rest of us." His father points a finger at his own chest. "Do you hear me +

tw // drugs, suicide attempt

complaining about working day and night just to have my son skip his classes and do drugs until he ends up in the hospital? /No./ Grow up and learn how to be a man, Dazai."

/Technically/, that is not true, because Dazai hears about it every time +

he's forced to have this conversation, but for the sake of getting out here sooner rather than later, Dazai says, "Yes, father. I will grow up and learn how to be a man. Anything else?"

"No," he gruffs out. "Just don't do anything stupid with Nobuko. Her mother is --"

"-- one of the company's lawyers," Dazai finishes for him as he pushes out of the chair. "I am aware, father."

He's heard it all before.

When the door falls shut, Dazai feels both relief and something acidic, sharp settle in his chest. Talking to his father does that.

Back at his desk, he's almost happy about the load of e-mails in his mailbox, making a game out of how passive-aggressively he can reply to someone without being /actually/ rude. A good hour has passed when his phone buzzes in his pocket, and he fishes it out to see a text +

from Chuuya.

C: tonight. you and me + a bottle of red wine

C: ?

And just like that, his chest feels light.

--

Chuuya isn't a fan of January. It's slow and heavy and cold, and just keeping everyone from the beautiful wonder that is spring. Last year, it was even worse. But right now? It feels all right.

Fingers wrapped around the barre, Chuuya inhales sharply. His eyes fall closed. +

He stretches out his right leg, pointing the toe -- it stings, but surprisingly less than he anticipated -- before dropping into plié. His leg moves backwards, flexing and --

The music turns off.

Kouyou walks out of the little side room frowning at her phone before she +

notices him standing. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you --" Her brows furrow even more. "Are you even supposed to do that?"

/No/, but who exactly is supposed to stop him here?

"It's just warm-up exercises," he says with a shrug, refusing to let go of the barre. A fucking +

stationary handrail shouldn't make him as happy as it does, but here he is, feeling his heart gallop wildly at the thought of doing even /more./

Kouyou gives him one of her /whatever you say/ looks before rubbing her forehead with a sigh. "Are you going to that charity thing?"

Bending his upper body down to his legs, Chuuya hums. "Yup. Hayashi's making me go. Are you?"

"Yosano asked me to come."

"And you don't want to because...?"

"Because there are going to be a bunch of bigoted pricks present," she snaps. +

"Those people made my transition into a gossip scandal, and now I'm supposed to shake their hands and act like I'm happy to be there?"

"You can say no." Chuuya pauses for a moment to offer her a sympathetic smile. "I'm sure Yosano will understand."

Kouyou scoffs. +

"I know that. I'm still going, though."

Chuuya laughs a little as he moves back up and stretches his right arm over his head towards the bar, delighting in the way his muscles /burn./ "We can get drunk and just eat all their food."

"And have you jump Dazai in public?+

Especially when he's there with a date?"

Chuuya's arm falls. "He has a date?"

Kouyou's lashes flutter, and she opens her mouth as if she said something she shouldn't have. /Probably because it's exactly what happened./ "You didn't know?"

"No," he says. /He didn't./

+

"Oh. I thought you did."

"It's all right." Chuuya looks into the mirror and rolls his shoulders, taking deep and even breaths. "It's not like we're together."

"Okay," he hears Kouyou say even though it sounds like a /whatever you say./

It /is/ all right. Chuuya would be a +

hypocrite if he suddenly got angry over Dazai bringing a date to a charity gala after all the effort he went through to make sure they're both on the same page. As long as it's just a date for /the night/, Chuuya's fine. And as long as Dazai's not planning to fuck them.

Because /that/ would not be all right.

Kouyou's phone buzzes and she reads the message with a small sigh. "Come on, they're here."

Even though she specifically said it would not become a thing, Dazai and Yosano picking them up for lunch /totally/ became a thing.

Between his classes and the new job at his father's, Dazai doesn't have much time, and this one hour twice week is one of the few times Chuuya spends with him outside of bed. He's still not sure where Yosano and Kouyou are standing -- sometimes he'll catch them exchanging +

besotted grins, and other times they'll argue back and forth over something insignificant as the correct color of a fucking lamp -- but most of the times, they're fun to be around, hence why Chuuya now even spends time at the ballet school even when Gin isn't here.

(And because on days like these, he gets a few minutes of tentative exercise in.)

Chuuya lets go of the barre and nods. "Let's go then."

He spends lunch debating which pictures to upload on Instagram, the girls helping him out from the other side of the table while +

Dazai's busy talking to one of his colleagues on the phone -- someone incompetent judging by the irritation in his voice. Over the last three and a half months, the photos in Chuuya's camera roll have piled up, and it's been ages since he last posted anything on social media, +

his last post showing him first on stage in the middle of an arabesque, illuminated by dramatic lighting, and the next one showing Chuuya relaxing with a bathrobe and face mask afterwards. /Simpler times./

But he's here now in a beautiful city surrounded by all these strange +

and wonderful people so he might as well post them, show all his /friends/ back at home that /hey, he's still alive and doing great, thank you very much, motherfuckers./ Or something like that.

In the end, Chuuya settles for five pictures. +

One of him walking down a street in china town, half-turned and grinning into the camera, another of him, Yosano and Ranpo that was taken at the club on Halloween, the New Year's Eve group picture, a snapshot of him eating ramen, and finally, a mirror selfie with Dazai -- taken +

only a few days ago, both their hair in several ponytails that stick up like little palms while Chuuya's sipping on an iced coffee and trying not to smile. He just hopes that Dazai doesn't use his Instagram anymore because that one was /not/ meant to see the light of day.

Dazai doesn't talk much in the car either as he drops off Kouyou and Yosano -- both at the latter's place, mind you. His silence doesn't bother Chuuya. It's one of the things he has learned about him throughout the last months. Dazai might know how to use his words to get what +

he wants, which sometimes means that he talks a lot, but when they're only in each other's company, Dazai likes to be quiet, observe and listen rather than speak. It's fine. Most of the time Chuuya has enough on his mind to fill the silence, and when he doesn't, he's able to +

enjoy the quiet moments, too.

By now, Chuuya knows a few of Dazai's tells, and today it's not just the silence. Today something is wrong. He keeps checking his phone. His fingers keep reaching for a spot under his bandages, scratching absently. And Chuuya even hears him mutter+

an insult under his breath when the car in front of them doesn't move as soon as the light turns green.

It's probably just a bad day. Everyone has these, so Chuuya lets him be for a while, looking out of the window instead and trying to memorize as much of the city as possible.

/A little more than eight months left./

It seems like a lot, but considering it feels like Chuuya just got here yesterday, he's certain the rest of the year will fly, too.

He's glad when they arrive in front of Dazai's building, not wanting to ruin his own mood as well.

Dazai's quick in undressing, leaving his coat crumpled on the shoe cabinet. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Sure."

Chuuya makes sure to properly hang up the coat, knowing Dazai would be annoyed by the wrinkles later, before heading to the kitchen and helping himself to a +

glass of water. There isn't much else in the fridge, which makes Chuuya wonder what the hell or /if/ Dazai's even eating when he's by himself. He doesn't like any of the answers that come to him.

In the other room, he hears the shower switch off.

Luckily for Dazai, +

Chuuya has a few ideas on how to get his mind off whatever is bothering him.

In the bedroom, Dazai's sitting on the edge of the bed that faces the wall on the other side, typing something into his phone. A roll of gaze is lying beside him.

Chuuya clears his throat before +

speaking as he lingers in the doorway. "Hi."

"I'll be right up," Dazai replies, though he doesn't turn around. "Give me a moment."

Chuuya shakes his head. It sounds like this /thing/, whatever the hell they're doing, is an obligation -- which it isn't. He isn't so fucking +

needy that Dazai feels like he has to sleep with him, right?

So Chuuya climbs on the bed and crawls over to Dazai before carefully wrapping his arms around him, placing his chin on Dazai's bare shoulder. It's probably breaking a thousand rules that he set in his own head, but +

Dazai helped him when he had trouble sleeping on New Year's, so the least he can do is try to help him in return. It's not like this is a love declaration anyway. Friends hug each other all the time, right?

"Are you okay?" Chuuya murmurs.

For a moment, he feels Dazai tense.

Then his body slowly relaxes, pressing back into him. "Is that worry in Chuuya's voice?"

It would be easy to fall back into their usual bickering, let Dazai distract him with his teasing, but Chuuya stays strong. "Yeah, maybe. I just want to know if you're all right."

"Well, I am."

Chuuya squeezes him in admonishment. "You know, it's okay to admit that you're not, right?" he mutters. "You're human." And sometimes humans feel like shit.

Dazai turns his head a bit to look at him. "What's the point in that?"

"Talking about it can make it +

easier." Chuuya shrugs. "And if the person on the other end is as nice as me, they might offer to help you feel better."

"Feel better how?"

Chuuya offers him a toothy grin. "I could blow you."

"/That/ is your idea of making it better?"

"Yeah, there's nothing in this world that a good blowjob can't fix."

Dazai might not be convinced, but at least, he looks amused as he grips Chuuya's chin, which proves the point. Sort of. "Or, you're just a little sex monster."

"So you /don't/ want me to suck you off?"

"Do whatever you want, chibi. I'm --" Dazai's eyes fall closed and he lets out a soft sigh. "-- just tired."

If he says it like that -- /again/, of course, Chuuya's not just going to do whatever he wants. It doesn't work like that. And this is supposed to be about /Dazai/, and+

making /him/ feel better. Not Chuuya.

"Wait," he says, and untangles from Dazai. "I might have just the right thing for that."

Dazai is silent when Chuuya practically runs off, looking for the jacket -- and more specifically, the contents inside -- that he left hanging in +

the corridor. He comes back with a little plastic bag of weed and all the other essentials, waggling them with a smirk. "What do you say?" he asks. "You, me and a joint?"

Dazai narrows his eyes. "Where did you get that?"

"Tachihara."

Dazai's eyes narrow even more.

"Relax," Chuuya says with a huff. "I told you a thousand times we're just friends now."

"Like we are just friends?"

They /are/ -- in a way.

Climbing back on the bed, Chuuya leans closer and cups Dazai's cheek. "You're the only friend I want to do /this/ with," he murmurs +

before brushing their lips together, copying the silly teasing thing Dazai always does, not yet a kiss, but the phantom touch of one, building tension until one of them snaps. (It's safe to say that Dazai somehow managed to completely change his kissing policies.)

But Dazai won't have it, grabbing Chuuya's jaw with perhaps a little more force than necessary before catching his lips and kissing him in a way that makes him gasp for breath.

It's over way too soon.

Dazai gives him a lazy smile before nodding towards the little bag. +

"Go on then."

Chuuya only listens to the idiot's orders because it was his own idea, in the first place.

They relocate to the living room because he doesn't want to get any weed on the bed, so he sits down on the floor next to the table and gets to work. In hindsight, +

carrying it around with him might not have been the smartest idea, especially in Japan, but since he rarely ever uses the public transport anyway, he figured the chances of getting randomly controlled are pretty low.

Chuuya prods Dazai for any experiences with drugs, and +

isn't surprised to hear that Dazai has a fair share of them. Rich kid like that? That's almost a given. Though, Chuuya has no room to judge -- his experiences were simply less fancy.

They order take out for later, Chuuya finishes rolling the joint, and finally, they go outside +

tw drugs (for the next few tweets as well)

and settle down on the couch that's on Dazai's patio.

Chuuya lights the joint between his lips, takes a long drag, and then exhales slowly, blowing the smoke out as he leans back. The last few times he smoked with Tachihara, which +

was fun, but doing this with Dazai, especially after he had a bad day, feels more intimate than everything else they've done so far -- and they've done a lot.

After taking two more drags, Chuuya wordlessly hands him the joint.

He can't help but watch Dazai as he lifts it to +

his mouth.

Dazai's beautiful. And not in the simple "oh, he's pretty" kind of way, but in a more sharp, cutting sort of way. His cheekbones are high and pronounced. His hair is perfectly messy with a hint of curls at the edges. His lashes are stupidly long, and --

Dazai's beautiful.

And sometimes Chuuya forgets, so used to being with him that it becomes normal, but then in moments like this, he looks at him and remembers all over again.

/So fucking beautiful./

"You're staring," Dazai suddenly says and nudges Chuuya's hand with his.

Chuuya takes back the joint and shrugs. "Just admiring how pretty you are."

"Huh?"

"Don't make me repeat it," he grumbles before taking a drag and deliberately staring straight forward.

Thankfully, Dazai doesn't, but his thigh presses against Chuuya's, which feels nice.

Slowly, everything's starting to feel nice. Despite having smoked hundreds of times, to this day Chuuya still can't pinpoint the exact feeling of being high. He just knows that he feels... heavy, like gravity is pressing him deeper into his seat.

Chuuya shifts a little, +

content when their arms are pressed together as well. He likes the feeling of Dazai. Solid. Grounding. /Good./

He's not sure what possesses him to say, "Did you know that I tried weed for the first time with my ex-boyfriend?"

Dazai glances at him. "I didn't."

"Well, I did.+

I'm pretty sure I didn't even feel anything, but I pretended to be high just to..." He shakes his head and huffs out a dry laugh. "... convince him that I wasn't an inexperienced loser."

"I'm starting to get a picture of your ex, and it's not very good."

Chuuya hums. +

"He was an ass."

"Is that why you broke up?"

"That," Chuuya says, "and because he cheated on me."

For once, he stares back at Dazai and hopes that he puts two and two together, hopes that Dazai realizes even if Chuuya /wanted/ something serious, he couldn't.

Dazai does understand, that's clear from the light in his eyes, but his reaction should be different. He shouldn't look so... /pleased./

Chuuya scowls.

"I'm sorry," Dazai /lies/ and places his big, stupid hand on his thigh, sliding it down to squeeze his knee. +

"You deserve the whole world and nothing less."

/Unfair,/ Chuuya thinks, not even being able to hear the words when all he can feel is Dazai's fingers kneading his flesh. "Yeah," he mumbles, "so true."

Dazai gently pries the joint out of his hands, but then his other hand +

cups the back of his head, and /oh/, Chuuya knows exactly where this is going. Intoxicated, he watches Dazai take a drag before leaning into him, connecting their lips. Chuuya opens up, allowing the smoke to rush into his lungs. As it tears through him, his hands curl in +

the shirt Dazai threw on before they went outside. Dazai kisses him, tongue slipping into his mouth, and Chuuya's head spins with all the sensations that pump through his blood while they share this one breath.

When they break apart, at last, Chuuya breathes out the smoke, +

though, he immediately tries to kiss Dazai again which makes Dazai /laugh/ against his mouth, and hearing that sound, so genuine despite everything, makes his heart soar.

"Easy," Dazai murmurs, but he helps him get onto his lap, sliding one hand under Chuuya's sweater and +

softly stroking his back as Chuuya straddles his waist. Dazai's other hand holds up the joint in silent offering.

Chuuya only takes a small drag before puffing it out, lashes fluttering. "I'm done."

God knows why, but Dazai is incredibly tolerant when it comes to all sorts of+

substances, so he finishes the joint by himself, which is /annoying/ when all Chuuya wants to do is make out with him for the next five hours, though he silently endures it by playing with the collar of his shirt.

When Dazai /finally/ stubs out the stupid thing, Chuuya almost +

cries from happiness as he slides his arms around Dazai's neck and crushes their lips together. Chuuya has kissed people before when he was high, but never like this--every little breath, every shiver, and slick slide of lips heightened until it feels like he's drowning in Dazai.

He lets out a startled gasp when Dazai's hands travel lower to cup the back of his thighs and then he gets up, carrying Chuuya.

"Please don't fall," he whispers into Dazai's cheek, clinging tighter to him.

"I don't intend t--" Dazai wobbles a little as he enters his +

penthouse, but after a second, he steadies himself. "Heh, just kidding."

Chuuya bites his face for that.

In the living room, Dazai surprisingly places him on the floor instead of the couch, but that's fine with him. Chuuya would be happy with just about anything right now.

+

Though he can't resist arching his brow and smirking mockingly as his hands tighten around Dazai's neck. "Are you going to fuck me on the floor?"

"Remember how I told you we'd use every single piece of furniture in this apartment?" Dazai asks as he stares down at him. +

"I keep my words."

"I'm not sure floor qualifies as furnit--" Chuuya's word dissolve as Dazai crushes their lips together, pressing his chest against him and basically pinning him to the floor. Dazai likes to do that, he noticed, making Chuuya play by /his/ rules, +

breaking Chuuya apart with mindless teasing until he can't even think straight anymore, /dominating/, which Chuuya doesn't mind, not when he always ends up blissed out by the end of it, it's just... different. New. Usually, it's Chuuya who calls the shots, simply because it's +

easier to get off that way. After all, no one knows his body better than he does. But it's hard to deny that /this/, letting Dazai take over while Chuuya just gets to shut off his brain and /enjoy/ is actually kind of nice. He could get used to it -- maybe.

-- nsfw from here on --

Chuuya's brain melts into liquid because of Dazai's slow and deep kisses, because of the way he grabs Chuuya's thigh and fits himself between his legs, rubbing their clothed erections together, and probably because of the joint.

But it's just so /good./

Chuuya doesn't think he can ever get enough of this. He could just go on and on and on and --

Whimpering breathlessly, he slides his hands into Dazai's hair, pulling at the roots until Dazai has no choice but to pull away from him, not looking very pleased as he does so.

"I still want to suck you off," Chuuya tells him with heaving lungs.

"Greedy," Dazai mutters but he sits up above him, "but if you want it that badly."

"You know," Chuuya slips his fingers under his shirt and then fingers the waistband of his briefs, "you should be more +

careful with how you treat the guy that's about to have your dick in his mouth."

"Are you threatening to bite my cock off?"

"I just might," Chuuya snaps as he tugs off the only thing that separates him from what he wants, his heart thundering in his ears.

"Dying by your hand doesn't seem that bad."

Except that Chuuya doesn't want him to die. He wants to make Dazai feel good. So after the briefs are off, discarded somewhere on the floor, Chuuya cups the back of his thigh and leaves a trail of kisses on his pale skin, +

inches shy of his cock. Above him, Dazai's still. Even when Chuuya's lips travel higher, dragging against his shaft, his lashes fluttering as he stares up, holding Dazai's gaze. Even then, his control never slips. Part of Chuuya hates it. Another part sees it as a challenge.

He's good at giving head, he likes doing it just as much as he likes Dazai's cock, so it should be easy, really, except that Dazai's stubborn, but luckily for him, Chuuya is, too.

His hand wraps around Dazai's cock, thumb smearing the precum welling from the tip down his length

before licking a wet trail to meet his fingers. Chuuya wants to drag it out, make Dazai suffer a little, but patience hasn't ever been his strong strut, and his cock, thick and warm, is right there -- Chuuya wraps his lips around the head and sighs happily.

It's not a gasp or +

a moan, but Dazai's next breath is a little more strained. A moment later, he pets Chuuya's head, long fingers driving through his hair and tucking it behind his ear as Chuuya just sucks at the head for now, rubbing his tongue against the frenulum over and over, eyelids heavy +

with the heady desire that throbs through his system.

"You like this," he hears Dazai murmur, "don't you?"

Chuuya exhales a wet breath and pulls away only to say, "So what if I do?" He doesn't wait for a reply before pressing his mouth back against Dazai's cock. +

They stretch open and his length slides into Chuuya's mouth, deeper than before, delaying whatever stupid comment Dazai was about to say by a hissed out groan, fingers tightening ever so slightly in his hair.

Chuuya does like this a lot, getting to hear every reaction and +

breath from up close, feeling his muscles tense, cock twitching in his mouth. He likes the stretch of his jaw and the way it feels sore and tired afterwards, like after a good workout. It just makes Chuuya feel good, like he's doing something right for once in his life.

Not that he's going to tell Dazai all that. He's already smug enough as it is.

"If I let you, you'd probably do it day and night, huh?" Dazai continues.

With his mouth wide open, sliding up and down the length of Dazai's cock, a guttural moan rips out of Chuuya. /Yes./

Dazai's fingers scratch at his scalp and his thumb brushes his ear shell, playing with it. "Just sit on your knees and suck cock all day." Chuuya doesn't exactly nod, but he bobs his head eagerly which might as well be a nod. It's not his fault that the idea, the prospect of +

doing nothing but /this/ makes dizzying, nearly painful heat stir in his belly, his hips unconsciously rocking even though they meet nothing but air. "Like you were made just for me." Breathing heavily, Chuuya pulls back only to yawn open his throat and let his cock slide down +

the deepest yet, blinking up at Dazai when the tip hits the back of his mouth, swallowing. The sound he rips out of Dazai is beautiful, raw, and low. The whole moment feels a little unreal, suspended in time. Everything feels so hazy. Chuuya pulls off, allowing himself a moment +

to breathe, enjoying the feeling of Dazai massaging his scalp. Then Chuuya shifts, bracing one arm against the floor before squeezing Dazai's cock and opening his mouth again. By now, Chuuya has enough experience and skill to be confident in his deepthroating abilities, so +

when Dazai's fingers move to cup his face as his cock slides home, Chuuya closes his eyes, letting him. As he starts thrusting, slow but deep, Dazai starts speaking again, something about his mouth and how it's criminal, but right now, Chuuya's too far gone in his head to hear.

He feels nice, and warm, and --

He really has to fucking sneeze.

For a moment, the whole fucking world stills as Chuuya fights his own reflexes, truly terrified that he's about to actually bite off a fucking dick, his hand pushing Dazai's thigh away with an urgent whimper.

Chuuya's almost ready for the worst to come when Dazai's cock slides out of him, /thank Jesus/, and his mouth still half-open, his hand a few milliseconds too late, the sneeze rips out of him. /Loud. And gross./

For a few seconds, everything, even their breathing, is +

utterly silent. Then above him, Dazai makes a low sound in the back of his throat --

And Chuuya looks up horrified, but instead of disgust or perhaps annoyance, he realizes it's a sound of /laughter/, and seconds later, he feels it bubble in his throat as well.

Uncontrollable and feverish laughter.

Chuuya's not sure whether the tears in his eyes come from his pitiful attempt at trying to hold it in, or from his wheezing right now, but it honestly doesn't matter.

"/Stop/ laughing," he hears Dazai gasp out somewhere above, though his+

voice cracks with a snort, too. "You were about to -- about to --"

"You started it!" Chuuya exclaims and presses a hand against his mouth when the fucking giggles threaten to burst out again. Shaking his head, he says, "I'm sorr- sorry, I'll just --" He squeezes Dazai's thigh +

and tries to tug him closer again, opening his mouth, but he just ends up laughing again, pressing his forehead against Dazai's leg as his chest shakes silently.

Dazai cards his fingers through his hair. "You are /not/ going anywhere near my dick like this."

When Chuuya doesn't stop, he forces him to look up, and the grumpy frown on Dazai's face doesn't really help with his current situation. "Will you stop now?"

"'m sorry," Chuuya wipes a stray tear from his eye, "I just think I'm really high right now."

"Color me surprised."

Dazai kneels down, tugging at his shirt until Chuuya obediently lifts his arms and lets him tug it off, throwing it over his shoulder.

"Aren't /you/?" Chuuya wants to know as Dazai works on his pant next.

"A little," is the murmured answer.

"Doesn't it ever get tiring to have such a high tolerance? Your mind working around the clock?"

Dazai only looks at him when Chuuya's fully naked, squirming because it's cold on the floor. Dazai's mouth lifts into a half-smile. "You have no idea."

"One day, I'll get you +

really drunk," Chuuya slides his arms under his shirt and around his back when Dazai's lips descend on his neck, "and then -- uh, then I'll --"

"Then what?"

"Then I'll take care of you while you experience the g-glorious feeling of being empty-headed --"

Dazai's hand has been steadily wandering down his thigh, but when it reaches his ass, it suddenly stills, and he lets his head drop on Chuuya's chest, groaning loudly.

"What?!"

"The lube," Dazai whispers. "I forgot the lube."

Jesus, such dramatics.

"It's literally +

in the next fucking room," Chuuya grumbles and tries to push Dazai /up/ with a hand against his chest to make him move his damn legs.

Dazai shakes his head, hair tickling his neck. "That's so far away."

"You know what else is far away? My orgasm, Dazai. That's far away if +

you don't get up and just get the damn lube!"

Dazai shoots him a mean look. "Says the guy who sneezed on my cock."

"And I'll do it again," Chuuya snaps, now fully pressing Dazai away from him which is harder than it sounds like. "/Come on/," he whines, "I want to get off +

while I'm still high."

"So much about making /me/ feel better," Dazai says before he finally gets up and disappears down the hallway.

Ha.

Well, Chuuya's not flawless.

For whatever reason the bastard takes /ages/ in his bedroom -- probably out of spite -- so Chuuya +

stretches to fish his phone out of his pants. He has enough time to reply to his text /and/ pick out a playlist that he lets run on the /wonderful/ surround system here before Dazai comes back, carrying lube and something else.

"The arctic monkeys?" Dazai asks. "Really?"

Chuuya scowls. "Why not?"

"It's cliche."

"Well, excuse me, but I don't want to have sex listening to Cardi B, and -- is that a /blindfold/?"

Dazai holds it up with a dangerous smile. Black and discreet. "It is." When he sees Chuuya's frown deepen, Dazai's smugness pales +

a little, and he spreads his fingers across his thigh, rubbing his skin soothingly. "We don't have to. It can make the experience more... sensual, though. I assumed you would like that."

And that makes Chuuya's stomach's twist with guilt, and curiosity, and something else +

entirely. Just... a bunch of emotions that Chuuya can't even begin to make sense of right now. "I /would/, I think," he says, tugging Dazai closer because /seriously/ it's getting cold down here. "I just didn't expect it, 's all. It's... new."

"You've never tried before?"

You can't exactly bring a blindfold to a 2 am hook up with some random person you met through an online dating app, or to someone from a shabby club. And the sex with his ex never went beyond... "normal" stuff.

"No."

"Do you want to?"

The idea is as intriguing as it is +

intimidating, but looking at Dazai above him, Chuuya realizes he trusts him. A lot. He's not a random hook up. He's... Dazai.

"I guess," Chuuya says with a shrug.

"That's not a yes."

"It's not a no either."

Dazai sighs like /Chuuya/ is the one being unreasonable, but +

he does grab the blindfold and lets Chuuya take a scrutinizing look before he gently slips it around his face. The dim lighting of the living room disappears, plunging Chuuya into darkness. /Obviously./

"And?" he hears Dazai ask.

"Well, I can't see shit," Chuuya deadpans.

The laugh above him is /soft./ "Yes, Chuuya, that is the paint."

"Just do your thing." Chuuya finds the familiar outline of Dazai's arms and relaxes a little when he feels lips press against his collarbone. "And talk to me."

Dazai's voice is grounding in the darkness.

So Dazai talks. His topics range from everyday conversations like the morning lecture that he hates to telling Chuuya how beautiful he looks as he takes his fingers. They've done this so many times now that Dazai knows exactly where to push and how much pressure to apply to +

make Chuuya unravel, so that he soon has Chuuya panting around four fingers, clinging to Dazai's neck as he listens to the words whispered into his skin.

Dazai wasn't lying about the blindfold intensifying everything. Not only that, but it makes the whole experience +

more intimate and raw. When Dazai finally pushes his cock inside, pressing Chuuya's left leg against his chest, it feels like he's drowning in the staggering sound of their heartbeats, sobbing breaths, and the slick sound of kissing and skin meeting skin.

It's /overwhelming/ in the best way possible.

They fuck, nice and slow, and Chuuya wonders how he's ever supposed to touch another person again when his body is so used to Dazai that the mere idea of /someone else/ feels like coming off the best drug he's ever had.

Later, after Chuuya wakes up from his five-minute post-sex powernap, they just lie around on the floor, wrapped up in a blanket. He stills feels sleepy, and not for the first time, he wishes he could just stay and spend the night instead of going home to his au pair duties.

It's brattish, yes, considering he is, in fact, here because he has a job, and it's not like he can just spend an entire year doing nothing except having fun and fucking his host brother, but the Tsushimas have been so generous so far that he sometimes forgets that.

Getting up and putting on clothes sounds worse than taking a plunge into the arctic ocean right now, so Chuuya presses his face into his hands and ignores that he will have to exactly that within the hour. Instead he thinks about when he'll see Dazai next and repeat this. /With +

the blindfold./

And that reminds him.

"The charity thing," Chuuya says, glancing at Dazai who's just been running his fingers up and down the length of his arm for the last few minutes. "Who is your date?"

If Dazai's surprised that Chuuya knows, he doesn't show it. +

"Nobuko Sasaki," he replies, and then smiles. "Why, are you jealous?"

Chuuya huffs as he rests his chin on his hands. "/No./ I just heard that you're going with someone. Did your father come up with the idea?"

Dazai lets out a breath. "Yes."

"You're don't have to +

date her, though, right? This isn't going to be another Yosano thing?"

"No. I will not do that again."

And that's all he needed to hear. Everything else doesn't matter.

"Then I hope she's cool."

"Not cooler than you."

--

+

If Dazai was prepared to treat the "date" with Nobuko as a one time favor for everyone involved, then she's the complete opposite, digging her perfectly manicured claws into him the moment she spots him.

The last time they saw each other, Nobuko was quiet and reserved, +

complimenting Yosano's skirt with flushed cheeks. Since then she seems to have grown balls the size of Jupiter, which is why, as she links arms with him, Dazai feels bulldozed for a few seconds before catching himself.

"-- should come with me to the luncheon next week. +

I'm sure they would love you."

"Nobuko-chan," Dazai says as they stroll past vaguely familiar groups of people, nodding politely now and then, "I just got out of a relationship, and I'm not planning to immediately jump into a new one."

She snorts dryly. +

"Please, do you think I'm completely stupid? I know that you and Yosano-san were just faking it."

Huh.

"Do you now?"

"Let's just say one of my friends had a lot to say about you after a weekend out of town," she says with a coy shrug before snatching a glass of champagne +

from one of the waiters. "Either you were cheating or pretending, but Yosano-san would never be stupid enough to be with a guy that cheats."

Dazai tried to pick people that were miles out of his family's circle whenever he spent the night with someone other than Yosano, but +

this just goes to show that you can never be careful enough.

"If you know that we didn't actually date," he says, "then you should also realize that we stopped the charade for a reason."

Nobuko's smirk bleeds into a frown. "Don't tell me it's because you fell in love."

"That..." Dazai unconsciously scans the grand ballroom until his gaze lands on a tiny redhead in the distance, sitting at his family's table and fiddling with Ryuu's collar. "... is not relevant." Tearing his eyes away, he levels a cold smile at Nobuko. "I'm too old to be +

playing pretend.“

„Just a few outings together“ she says like she didn‘t even hear him. „It‘s not a big deal.“

„Your family is that bad?“

„This isn‘t just about them. It‘s about /me./ See, I want to go places, and that is ten times easier with the heir of an empire +

by my side."

"Your mother is a lawyer for that company," Dazai points out. "You don't exactly have to climb the social ladder."

"But /you're/ Dazai Osamu. You and your friends are like --" She waves her hand. "-- these untouchable legends around town. I want in on that."

"Then we'd have to like you, which we don't."

Nobuko rolls her eyes, taking a sip from her champagne. "I don't want to be liked, I just want everything that comes with it. Do I need to remind you that the relationship between our families is /crucial/? From what I heard, +

your father isn't very happy about your break up with Yosano. I bet he would be even less happy if he heard how you treated the daughter of his company's lawyer."

Dazai can't help but laugh. She's actually trying to bribe him.

"What do you want to do? Run to your mommy and +

tell her that I tugged on your ponytail?"

"I can be very creative," she says and lifts her glass in salute. "Cheers."

Dazai can handle whatever his father throws at him, but he's been trying to build a tentative ceasefire, mostly to spare himself of unnecessary damage and +

to keep the small bubble of freedom that he got with his apartment. Clearly, he didn't try hard enough, because here is a girl with a goal and she's willing to let all of it crumble to get what she wants.

Of course, he has options.

For the first time in a while, Dazai actually has something at stake, though, something he doesn't want to lose -- and isn't that funny? He /wants./ For the most part of his life, he wasn't sure he was even able of wanting anything.

It's a realization to muse over later.

"You can think about it," Nobuko says cheerily. "Just consider if a few hours of your week mean /that much/ to you. I'll go say hi to a few of my mother's colleagues in the meantime."

A young waiter offers him a glass of champagne. Dazai downs it.

+

Once that's done, he takes a look around the room, trying to find someone or something. Preferably, Akiko. Or, Chuuya. But the ballroom is swarming with people now, the buffets declared open, and the table that was occupied by Chuuya just a moment ago is now empty.

So Dazai heads to the bar instead.

He wastes some time there, staring at the bottom of his glass as facts and probabilities run through his mind, only realizing how much time has passed when a hand lands on the back of his neck.

"What are you doing?" he hears his father ask.

"Having a drink." The grip on Dazai isn't violent or painful, but it's firm enough to drag him away from the bar. If anything, it's just dehumanizing. He got so used to being touched gently that Dazai finds himself suddenly thankful for the bandages between him and his father.

Ironic, really, considering why he started wearing them in the first place.

"I thought we discussed that you're here today with Nobuko." His father doesn't look at him as he leads him through the crowd of people. "Or was something about that unclear?"

"Relax, old man. +

She wanted to say hello to a family friend, and I used that time to grab a drink. Or, does accompanying someone to a charity gala mean that you're not allowed to separate for more than five minutes?Must be a new rule that I missed."

Dazai almost runs into the man when he stops.

His voice when he speaks is calm. "I asked you for one thing, Dazai. One single thing. What was it?"

"Not to embarrass you."

"And what did you do?"

"I didn't embarrass you."

"Then why is Nobuko strolling through the ballroom /alone/? Why is her mother asking me why her +

daughter's date is getting trashed at the fucking bar instead of being with her? Why can every parent in this room say something good about their kid except me because my son is as always off doing god knows what? Don't you think that's embarrassing for me?"

If you put it like that.

Dazai shoves his hands into the pockets of his suit, but he can't quite come up with the perfect quip to reply to this argument. His brain fails him.

"So can you just do what I fucking tell you for once?"

"Probably."

"I'll introduce you to +

some important people. Only talk if it's necessary, or else you'll scare them away as well."

That sounds doable, right? Right.

Most of the people at the table are old men with balding hair. Nobuko and her parents are there as well, the seat next to her obviously reserved +

for him. His father sits down next to Hayashi, and as Dazai's gaze wanders further, it meets Chuuya's, who smiles sadly as if to say /I'm sorry you have to talk to boring business moguls/ and Dazai smiles back as if to say /I'm sorry I can't talk to you./

It's enough. +

That one smile is enough.

--

As Chuuya watches the girl, Nobuko, grin up at Dazai and laugh loudly at his joke for the tenth time in less than twenty minutes--seriously, he isn't even that funny, the only thing keeping him from snapping like a territorial dog is the smile.

It was small and fleeting, but probably the most genuine expression on Dazai's face tonight. And it was directed at /Chuuya/ -- not Nobuko.

Somewhere in the back of his head, he's aware of how childish he is. After all, casual fuck buddies means /casual fuck buddies./ Chuuya +

has no right to be annoyed that Dazai's pretend date seems to be just as besotted with him as -- as everyone else. It's just not that easy to watch Dazai, who spends his nights with /Chuuya/, be with someone else in front of everyone. Casual or not.

It makes Chuuya feel small. /Like some unimportant side piece./

And it's one of the many reasons why the two of them would never work out in an actual relationship. /This/ is and will always be Dazai's world, and as easy as it is to pretend otherwise, Chuuya isn't part of it.

A piece of popcorn hits him in the forehead, making him turn and scowl at the culprit across from him.

Ranpo.

"Stop tha--" Chuuya starts but before he can even finish the sentence he gets hit with another one. This time it's /Gin./ "Don't follow Ranpo's example!" he snaps. +

"He's an awful role model."

Ranpo ignores him in favor of giving Gin a small high five. "Good job, kiddo."

Gin smiles brightly, though it turns more sheepish when she sees Chuuya's glare.

"At least, just throw it at me. /Not/ your family, okay? They're having +

very important adult conversations."

"I'll give you one thousand yen if you hit Dazai," Ranpo immediately says.

"You don't need one thousand yen, Gin," Ryuu butts in quietly. "Don't listen to him."

Chuuya smiles. "Exactly."

"How boring," Ranpo sighs.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Chuuya asks. "Shouldn't you be talking business as well?"

"I have an assistant who does that for me. I thought that maybe you could make this evening entertaining, but all you're doing is staring at Dazai."

"I am not -- ! +

And keep your voice down!"

Ranpo smirks into his hand. "Ah, right. No one is supposed to know. For how long do you think will you be able to keep up this charade?"

"For as long as possible," Chuuya mutters as he stares at his empty plate.

Gin tugs at Ranpo's sleeve. +

"Why is Chuuya staring at big brother?"

"Yeah, Chuuya," Ranpo drawls. "Why are you?"

Chuuya makes a face. He really should be more careful in front of the kids. "Because he, uh, has funny hair."

Gin's eyes go wide. "It sticks up in all directions!"

"It does!"

At that moment, Oda comes back with his third plate of food, but instead of digging in himself, he slides it towards the middle. "I can see all of you eyeing my curry," he explains.

"What if I was eyeing you?" Ranpo asks.

"Then I'd tell you to visit an eye specialist."

"But I like what I see."

Chuuya takes a generous scoop of the curry and glances at Oda, curious to see how this will play out. (It's nice to see other people being oblivious for a change.)

"It is very delicious," Oda agrees.

"I wasn't talking about the curry."

It takes Oda a few seconds to reply, but the smile that stretches on his face is amused. "You never really stop, do you?"

"Not until I receive a better explanation than the ones you gave me."

Chuuya's a bit lost, but he gets distracted by the fact that Dazai gets up from +

the table, excusing himself to go to the bathroom. Chuuya's first thought is to stand up as well and -- he's not even sure what it is that he wants to do. Have a quickie somewhere? Sure. But it's more than that. Dazai will never say it out loud, but he's always a little +

on edge whenever his father is around. Chuuya never got to the bottom of what the hell happened to Dazai's face that one time -- and knowing him, Chuuya probably never will, but their relationship is clearly strained and Dazai working for him doesn't seem to help much. So right +

now, Chuuya just wants to be there for him. He wants to be a friend -- and if that involves risky bathroom sex, he won't mind either.

But getting up right after Dazai would be awfully suspicious.

So Chuuya forces himself to stay put, settling for opening their texts instead.

He's just about to write something along the lines of "do you want to go out for a quick smoke later" when, out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Nobuko get up as well and excuse herself.

And all his preservation instincts fly out of the window. /Fuck being careful./

+

"Oi," he cuts into whatever the fuck Ranpo and Oda are currently discussing animatedly, "can you look after the kids for... a few minutes? I need to use the restroom."

Ranpo smirks knowingly. "Sure, Chuuya-kun. Just try not to traumatize anyone in there."

Chuuya bites the +

curse on his tongue, and simply nods. As he gets up, he hears Ranpo says, "We are a good team, right, Oda?"

/He does ship them a little./

As he weaves his way through the crowd, Chuuya forces himself to walk slower than he actually wants to, his heart thundering in his ears.

It's beyond ridiculous. Maybe Nobuko actually needs to go to the bathroom. Maybe she needs to take a phone call that her family isn't supposed to overhear. Maybe --

Maybe Nobuko is glowering furiously at whatever Dazai is telling her before spinning around and stomping away.

Great. Now he feels bad. Did he just witness Dazai blowing her off? Or...

Dazai scrubs a hand across his face, looking tired, but when his eyes fall on Chuuya, he seems to relax.

"Hi," Chuuya says when they're within speaking distance. "Are you okay?"

"I'm bored out of my mind," Dazai places a hand on his back as they set a gradual pace, destination unknown, "but other than that, perfect."

Huh.

Chuuya glances up at him from the side. "How's your date going then?"

"Nobuko and I had very different expectations for tonight."

"She likes you?"

"Not me. Something else," Dazai says. "Don't worry about it. I took care of it."

Chuuya's not sure what that means, but Dazai's steps become faster and faster, and -- "Where are you taking us?"

"Somewhere private. With a door."

Chuuya can't help but smile as he does his best at keeping up. Their destination sounds good. Then again, he'd just about follow Dazai anywhere.

--

When Dazai comes back from the "bathroom", he can't help but give Nobuko one of his less polite smiles, the ones that /cut./

It didn't take him long to figure out the name of the friend she mentioned earlier, even less to call said friend and talk her into giving him +

tw drugs

some... /interesting/ information about Nobuko, like the fact that she regularly does coke with her dear university friends -- something her mother would /love/ to hear, he's sure. And just like that, her threats hold even less danger than a tiny chihuahua barking its+

mouth raw.

Dazai might be scared of dogs, but even he can recognize that those tiny creatures are ultimately harmless.

And so is Nobuko.

The cold smile she offers him upon his return promises there will be more to come, but she isn't the only one who is creative.

Dazai will handle it.

--

Out of all the winter months, Chuuya always found February to be the slowest despite the fact that it has the fewest days. The holidays are over, but spring still seems too far away. It just /drags./

This year, however, he feels like it /gallops./

Maybe because this time, he doesn't have to cram for exams that he always marked down as unnecessary anyway, and neither does he have to follow a rigorous training and diet schedule. He just... enjoys his time.

Most of the time, taking care of Ryuu and Gin doesn't feel like +

working. They can be a handful, sure, especially when they have their five minutes where losing a sock means the end of the world, but they're also quite intelligent for their age, so Chuuya definitely got lucky.

He spends his free hours with friends. Kouyou. Tachihara. +

And, of course, Dazai.

His work and class schedule allows less and less space for the two of them, but they somehow make it work. It means Chuuya gets only a few hours of sleep at night because staying is never an option and mornings at the Tsushimas start at the ripe hour +

of six, but Chuuya does what needs to be done and simply forces himself to wake up nonetheless--even if it feels like physical torture.

On Japan's national foundation day, he finds himself sprawled over Dazai's couch when his phone buzzes with an incoming call from his dad.

+

His fingers hastily drive through his hair — a futile attempt to make sure he doesn‘t look too fucked out — before Chuuya accepts the call with a wide grin.

„Hey, dad.“

On the screen he can only see Paul, sitting at their table in the kitchen. Usually, it‘s always the two +

of them calling, but Arthur is probably just sleeping in. (Chuuya totally takes after him when it comes to that.)

„Hey, kiddo.“ Paul waves into the camera, the image a bit distorted. „How have you been doing?“

„I‘m great. I finally went to cosmo world yesterday after, like, +

four months.“

„Did you ride on the ferris wheel?“

„Yup. A little boring if you ask me, but it sure looked pretty.“

„Did you go with Dazai?“

Not this again.

„/No/,“ Chuuya says. „I went with Kouyou.“

Ever since he sent those New Year‘s Eve pictures his dads have been +

annoying him about Dazai — those, and probably the fact that Dazai is present during every second call, but Chuuya chooses to ignore that.

„Who is Kouyou again?“

„The dancing instructor.“

There‘s a brief pause. „You‘re not dancing again, are you?“

Chuuya’s jaw clenches. +

„No, dad. I‘m not.“

„The doctors said you —“

„I know what the doctors said. I was there.“

„I‘m just making sure. Your health is more important than ballet, Chuuya.“

He just nods. „Anyways, is dad still sleeping? Because I have something he’d /love/ to see.“

„About that...“ Paul grimaces and that alone sends Chuuya‘s heart racing. „Something happened.“

„What?“

„He‘s in the hospital right now — it was just a cold, but it got a bit worse over the last few days. You know how easily he gets sick. So /don‘t/ worry, okay?“

+

"Dad is in the hospital," Chuuya snaps, getting up from the couch to pace through the room. "Of course, I'm going to be worried! When did he -- why didn't you tell me sooner?!"

"Because I wanted to avoid /this./"

"Is it bad?"

"The doctors said it's pneumonia. +

But I just got back from the hospital and he was fine. Tired, but /fine./"

Chuuya nods, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. "Good. That's good."

"They'll probably release him in a few days, so I don't want you losing any sleep over this, okay?"

That's so much easier said than done. /Fuck./ Chuuya hates being -- /here/, thousands of miles away, utterly helpless to do anything, but wait.

"If it gets worse --" He starts. /Then he'll take the first flight home. Consequences be damned./

"It won't," his father says.

Chuuya wants to say /you can't know that/, but the words are glued to his tongue. He can't /think/ about that, let alone utter it.

"Okay," he murmurs and scrubs a hand across his face. "Do you think I can call him?"

"He's probably sleeping right now. We can call him later. +

Together?"

"Sounds good."

"I'll keep you updated."

"/Please/," Chuuya all but /begs/. "It's bad enough that I'm on another continent. Don't keep things from me, dad. I can't --"

"I know, Chuuya." His voice is always so fucking calm. It used to piss Chuuya off. +

In fights, he'd be screaming his lungs out, but Paul would never even do as much as raise his voice. Right now, though, he's grateful to hear that quiet confidence. It's reassuring. "I promise."

Chuuya blows out a dry breath. "Thanks."

"Tell Dazai I said /hello/."

"Sure."

"We'll talk later."

"We will."

And with that, the line goes dead.

Chuuya doesn't even know what to do with himself, so he just squats down and buries his face in his hands. /It's only pneumonia/, he tells himself. /He'll be all right this time as well./

/He will be all right./

"Chuuya?"

/He will be all ri--/

"Hey." A hand on Chuuya's shoulder jerks him out of his thoughts, and he spins around, only to have Dazai steady him with a gentle grip around his arms. "What are you doing on the floor?"

He blinks a few times. +

"I was just... thinking."

Dazai's frown deepens, but it mixes with an amused grin. "Thinking? While dramatically sitting on the floor?"

"Yeah."

Chuuya doesn't want to talk about it. Talking about it would make it more real and right now -- he wants the opposite.

And Paul said it would be all right. So there's no need to tell Dazai about it.

"I was doing stretches," Chuuya says and raises his arm over his head, pushing the phone call out of his head, before looping them around Dazai's neck, pressing himself against the lean muscles. +

"And then I got tired, so I decided to take a break."

Dazai arches one brow. His hands slide down the length of his back, then settle on his hips, thumbs rubbing small circles into the skin. "And what were you stretching for?"

"For you."

Chuuya pushes himself up to reach +

Dazai's mouth, feeling something in his chest unlock, something like /relief/, when his lips part for him, Chuuya's hands moving to tug impatiently at clothes, trembling a little.

"Already?" he hears Dazai breathe out somewhere between neck kisses and sweatpants coming off. +

"We just --"

"/Please./" Chuuya swallows. "Just... please."

Dazai wordlessly nods and crushes their mouths back together, pulling both of them down on the couch.

And as he eagerly returns every kiss and touch, asking for even more, a part of Chuuya wonders if he's an awful +

son for doing this, so shortly after receiving the news that his father is in the hospital. Other people -- /normal/ people would sit down, maybe cry, or talk to someone about it. And here /he/ is, literally begging Dazai to fuck him, to make this pain in his chest go away.

The guilt is almost crushing enough to make Chuuya falter.

Almost.

Instead, he lets himself forget about even /that/, pushing the guilt far, far away until the only thing on his mind is Dazai, and how good he makes Chuuya feel.

--

Whenever Chuuya's at the ballet studio, Kouyou's always there as well, which means that even if he wanted to suddenly get up and dance, he couldn't.

And then, one afternoon Kouyou's late for a doctor's appointment, and suddenly Chuuya's all alone. Him and all that free space.

Sitting on the floor, Chuuya regards the exit. He should leave. Go home. But Dazai's still at work. And back in his room, he'd just lie in his bed and try not to worry about the fact that his father's /still/ in the hospital. Twelve days after he was supposed to go home.

Somehow his pneumonia turned into a lung abscess. Chuuya facetimes him every single day, and his father sounds /fine/, keeps saying it will be all right, but everything about this shitty situation makes Chuuya want to scream with frustration.

He wants to go home, but both +

of his fathers insist he should stop worrying so much.

He wants to stay, and the guilt is suffocating.

So when Chuuya gets to his feet, he doesn't walk to the exit. He needs a distraction, something to keep his mind off all the crap that's happening in his life.

He already stretched and warmed up -- he always does when he's here because it's the only thing he's technically allowed to do -- so Chuuya chooses one of his dancing playlists, leaves his phone on the floor, and closes his eyes.

His movements almost happen automatically.

He /dances./

Even after nearly a year, every little step and flex of muscle feels like second nature, like finally coming home.

Chuuya doesn't have his ballet slippers. He's lost a considerable amount of muscle mass. He's lost some of his flexibility. +

It burns. The back of his ankle throbs distantly. But Chuuya? He feels alive.

The music blares through the empty room, Chuuya matching the beats step by step, spinning, his back arching, mouth twisting into a breathless smile as his blood pulses with excitement.

/Why did he wait so long to do this again?/

His arms spread. He twirls, and -- just as his toes push off the ground for a jump, a sharp jolt of pain shoots through his ankle. Chuuya loses his footing, stumbling over his own feet and clumsily falling forward. +

Not at all graceful and lithe.

He glowers at his right leg before climbing to his feet again. "Come on," he tells himself as he gets back into position. What's a little pain compared to the flip of his stomach every time he dances? It's not like it can get worse than +

losing your entire ballet career, right? "Just ignore it."

/One. Two. Three./

Chuuya breathes through his nose, and his knees bend before he presses off the floor. /Up. Up. Up./ His body wobbles as he lands, it hurts, but he pushes through it, picking up pace.

But the pain doesn't go away. It spreads in violent flares until one particular press of toes almost punches the breath out of him, and he all but crumples to the floor, eyes stinging with unshed tears.

His forehead resting against the floor, Chuuya curls his hands into fists.

He's trained his body to withstand pain for so long, so why -- why isn't it working anymore? He did /everything./ He got up early. He trained every day. He spent years bringing his form to perfection. He killed himself, and still it wasn't enough. One mistake, and -- and --

tw // self-harm

a choked out scream rips through him, and Chuuya slams his fist into the floor. Pain immediately spreads through his knuckles, but at least, it overpowers the one that /really/ hurts. So he does it again. And again.

Somewhere in the back of his head, he knows +

how silly he must look, throwing a temper tantrum because he fell down a few times, and the absurdity makes him laugh, even as tears stream down his face.

This is so stupid.

He's so stupid.

"Why can't you just work?" he whispers to himself. "Why...?"

There is no answer except his own ragged breathing. Of course, there isn't. So eventually, when that overpowering rage inside his chest ebbs away into simple exhaustion, Chuuya slumps into a crouched seat, +

driving a hand over his ankle.

Getting mad over stuff he can't change anymore isn't going to make anything better. /This/ is what he got. /This/ is what he'll have to live with whether it seems unfair or not. The only thing Chuuya can do is get up and start over again.

--

Every second Sunday Dazai's more or less forced to attend family luncheons -- something he would have deemed unnecessary considering he has the utmost privilege of seeing his father at work five times a week anyway, and considering Hayashi and the brats aren't important +

enough to make the trip... if not for the fact that he, at least, gets to see Chuuya. They have to keep it child-friendly when Dazai's family is in the room, but he has long given up on pretending that the only reason he enjoys Chuuya's company is the sex.

Dazai doesn't necessarily understand that feeling inside him. It's new, and strange, and terribly annoying. Sometimes he hears Chuuya laugh a little too loudly, voice cracking with a snort that startles even him, and Dazai's stomach /flips./ A reaction so absurd that Dazai +

would have looked for a solution to make it stop if it only didn't feel so good at the same time. So instead, he finds himself leaning into it more and more every time. He's never felt something quite so devastating and physically affecting about anyone, except maybe when he +

tw // mention of suicide

fantasizes about dying, though, thinking about it, these two things are polar opposites if anything. The idea of death is comforting. /Reassuring./ Chuuya and everything about him, on the other hand, terrifies Dazai.

/That/, and the fact that his father is currently away on business are ultimately convincing enough to make Dazai attend the luncheon. Now if only Hayashi would take the kids and make herself scarce, leaving Chuuya, him and the food alone, that would be great. Though, the bubbly+

grin on her face as they sit down at the table promise that she's going to do anything /but./

Wonderful.

"How are exams going, Osamu?" she asks before taking a sip of her mimosa.

"Good."

"Do you still have some left?"

"I took the last one yesterday."

His eyes briefly+

meet Chuuya's, the shared memory of Chuuya sucking him off under the desk while he was studying for it passing between them. It didn't help Dazai work faster, but it did make something as dull statistics more exciting. Chuuya absently licks his lower lip, mouth curving into a +

small and private grin before he redirects his gaze on his sushi.

"Congratulations!" Hayashi exclaims. "How did it go?"

"I think I'll pass."

"Of course, you will. You're a smart young man, Osamu."

For the sake of being civil, Dazai offers her an idle smile in reply.

"At least, you'll have some off time now that you work for your father. How's that been treating you, by the way?"

"It's fine."

"I know Gen'emon can be a very... demanding man --"

"That's one way to describe him," Dazai drawls.

"-- but that's because he worked so hard +

to get where he is now." Hayashi shrugs, her smile paler than usual. "I think he just wants the same for you."

Right. Perhaps, that has always been the core of all their problems. He had this one specific image sculpted of his son. /Hard-working. Tough. Manly./ And even before+

the two of them lost Dazai's mother and with her, the one connection that bound them, he failed to meet every single one of these expectations.

Dazai lets his glass of champagne dance between his fingers as he gazes at Hayashi. Even years later, she's still not any less blind.

"Let's leave it at /demanding/," he says.

Hayashi nods enthusiastically. "So, do you have any plans for your semester break? Aside from working, of course."

/Lots of./ He just can't mention any of them in front of her.

"I might take one or two more naps."

As if remembering that Chuuya's sitting at the table as well, she turns to him with a wide grin. "It's Chuuya-kun's birthday soon, isn't it?"

"Uh," Chuuya says, "that's still, like, two months away."

"It's never too early to plan a birthday! +

Have you already thought about what you wanted to do?"

Chuuya shrugs. "Go out to... dinner?"

Hayashi looks confused by his lack of interest. Dazai understands it, has gone out of his way to avoid his birthdays himself, but he does have a few ideas to make it special anyway.

It's simply worlds away from what Hayashi's most likely thinking.

"Dinner, yes, and afterwards you could invite your friends. Or, I could ask around and see if we could rent you a cl--"

"No big parties," Chuuya cuts in, his voice firm but polite. "I -- I almost forgot, but +

I still have those tickets to Mount Fuji from Fitzgerald's weird lottery." /Ah./ Dazai remembers that little present. "I guess I could use up some of my vacation time on my birthday if that's all right?"

Hayashi gives him a beaming smile. "Of course, that's all right, honey. +

A trip to Mount Fuji sounds lovely! I've already been there a couple of times. I can make you a list of things you should definitely see!"

"That'd be great."

"Who's going to be your plus one then?"

Chuuya blinks slowly, opens his mouth. "Uh..."

Dazai takes a sip of +

his champagne.

Hayashi's eyes travel between the two of them in silence before she lets out a, "Oh!" Chuuya smiles weakly. "Oh, you're going to together. That's great! That's... amazing."

"Dazai's the one who dragged me to that party," Chuuya says, scratching the back of his+

neck. "It's only fair that I take him, right?"

Chuuya glances at him and Dazai holds his stare with a smile of his own. "Sounds fair to me."

Hayashi somehow manages to turn the conversation around to some prissy client of hers she had to deal with the other day, but +

Dazai can't help but wonder if this is the point where their luck runs out. Hayashi might be blind at best, willfully ignorant at worst when it comes to her husband, but this? It's not hard to figure out once you start looking. Chuuya's almost every day at Dazai's apartment.

Dazai doesn't even see Akiko, his best friend, as often as he sees Chuuya.

If Hayashi suspects anything, she doesn't say anything, happily chatting away.

After lunch, Dazai could drive home -- /should/ at least try to be more careful -- but he stays anyway, helping Chuuya +

clear away the dishes. When the sound of Hayashi's footsteps recedes down the hallway, he hears Chuuya let out a soft breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't think things through when I mentioned the trip."

Dazai shrugs. "Taking a trip together isn't illegal."

Judging by the +

frown tugging between Chuuya's brows, he's not as naive to think so either. "Does no one in your family know?" he asks instead and reaches up on his tiptoes to put away a plate, though he jerks back like he was shot,pressing his lips together.

"No," Dazai replies with a frown.+

"Are you feeling okay?"

Chuuya nods wordlessly, grabbing the clean silverware instead. "Do you think Hayashi would... mind? If she found out about us?"

"Depends. Would she mind that you're a guy, or would she mind that you're her au pair?"

"Both?"

"No, and yes."

Dazai never cared and still doesn't about what /Hayashi/ would think. It's the fact that she could tell his father and that? That's a completely different discussion.

"Can I ask you something else?"

"Chuuya's curious."

"That a yes?"

"It's not a no."

Chuuya's not happy about that little line, but he gets over it. "Why don't you like her? Hayashi, I mean."

"I don't dislike her. I just don't care about her."

"Okay," Chuuya mutters, "then let me rephrase. Why don't you care about her? She's been married +

to your father for how many years now?"

"Eight."

Chuuya raises his brow as if to say /exactly./

"She married my father. That had nothing to do with me."

"So what, you just ignored her all these years?"

"You make it sound like that's something bad."

"It's not... +

I guess I would have just gotten lonely. Or tired from doing that."

"I wasn't interested in a stepmother if that's what you're asking." Even less in a stepmother that was naively blind. Some things are simply more unforgivable than others.

Chuuya lets out a sigh. +

"I'm chaperoning one of Gin's friend's birthday tomorrow."

Dazai understands the implication behind it. "Are you free afterwards?"

"No. I promised Tachihara I'd help him prepare for one of his gigs."

"... Sunday?"

"Told him I'd go to his gig as well."

/Fuck Tachihara./

"Monday then," Dazai says. "After I get home from work."

The look on Chuuya's face would amuse him if he wasn't aware of the fact that the two days seem so long for them for two entirely different reasons.

"Can't we just..." Chuuya trails off though, shaking his head. +

"Nevermind. Hayashi's home. And I'm technically not off until five."

Dazai can't help but tug him closer anyway, stroking his hand up and down the back of his thigh. "Two days, Chuuya. You'll survive."

"/You'll survive/," Chuuya echoes in a voice that does /not/ sound like +

Dazai at all before he lets his forehead drop to his chest, muffling his grumbling. "I know I will. Doesn't mean I want to."

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," he murmurs as he slides his fingers through Chuuya's hair, and silently realizes: /Oh. It really does./

--

+

"How do I look?"

"Great."

"What about my teeth? Is there anything stuck there?" On cue, Tachihara opens his mouth, granting him a perfect view. "I shouhn't ha' eaten salach bfore," he tries to say like that.

"Like anyone would see," Chuuya mutters, but dutifully +

checks anyway, giving him a thumbs up when it looks good.

"Yeah, but the concert is going to be recorded. And people will take photos. I don't want to be known as the guy with kale in his teeth!"

"You're not going to be known as the guy with kale in his teeth."

Tachihara nods, but his expression screams /unconvinced/, so Chuuya places his hands on his shoulders as he says, "You're going to be known as the guy with the great voice."

"With the great voice."

"And the insanely good songs."

"Good songs..."

"Tachi, you'll be fine."

"I know." Tachihara shrugs weakly. "It's just a few hundred people. No biggie, right? Totally doable. Cool, cool, cool."

Chuuya can't help but grin. Underneath layers of smirks and macho behavior, Tachihara's still just a kid getting the jitters before his first concert.

It's cute.

Before he can reply, Chuuya's phone buzzes in his pocket, and when he sees that it's his father calling, his expression falls a little. "I have to get this. I'll be there in a minute, yeah?"

"Yeah. Thanks, dude." Tachihara bumps his shoulder before turning away.

Chuuya's been both going out of his mind over his father's hospitalization and trying to distract himself with any desperate measures available, which is why the last two days were hellish. No Dazai. No sex. Just Chuuya and his thoughts. (And the new, annoying pain in his ankle.)

Pulse racing, Chuuya holds the phone to his ear. "Hi, dad. Is everything all right?" It doesn't have to be. They usually talk around this time of day, but /if/... then he has to hear it right away.

"Not really," he hears Paul's voice say. Chuuya finds the nearest wall, +

grabbing it for support as he feels his hands beginning to shake. "Your father has been getting worse."

"But he's still --"

"Yes, yes. I'm with him right now, but he's... he's not doing so well. The doctors are talking about surgery."

A tear rolls down Chuuya's cheek, +

and he hastily wipes it away before pressing out, "I'm going to book the earliest flight I can find."

"I think that's for the best."

The two of them have been so adamant about Chuuya staying here, reassuring him that Arthur will be fine, that a flight home isn't necessary, +

that these simple words tell more about the severity of the situation than anything else. Chuuya feels more tears, warm as they fall and blur his vision.

"Chuuya," his father says, "let someone else drive you to the airport. And don't panic just yet, okay? It'll be all right."

"Yeah," he forces out, "yeah, okay."

"Do you need help with the plane tickets?"

"No, I'll figure it out myself. Just... stay with him."

"I will. Call me before you board the plane, okay?"

"Yeah."

When the line goes dead, Chuuya tries to keep it together; he tries not +

to fall apart, but he fails miserably.

It's just too much. Everything feels too much.

He doesn't tell anyone goodbye; there's no time for that and Tachihara will understand. Chuuya catches a cab outside the bar and rattles off an address, telling the driver to floor it.

--

Akiko declared that they're going to do a movie night over the phone half an hour ago, so when Dazai's doorbell rings, he expects to find his best friend on the other side.

Not Chuuya. Eyeliner smudged around his eyes like he has been crying.

+

Every single one of Dazai's instincts immediately snap alert. "What happened?" He reaches out to touch Chuuya, maybe tug him closer, do /something/, but he pushes into the apartment before Dazai can move. "Chuuya --"

"I need to --" His voice hiccups shakily. "--ook a flight. +

But it keeps declining my payment. And I can't call my father because -- because he's --" Chuuya's chest stutters when Dazai gently cups his face, forcing him to slow down a little.

"Breathe, Chuuya," Dazai tells him.

"I can't," he shakes his head, tears pooling in his eyes,+

"I need to book a flight! Now! But it's not working!"

"Look at me."

"Dazai, I --"

"Look at me, and slow down. The world isn't going to stop just because you take a three-second break."

Dazai watches as Chuuya visibly forces the air out of his lungs, and then into them.

"Now. Why do you need to book a flight?"

"My father," Chuuya whispers, and his voice makes his chest clench tightly. Dazai's heard him snap and yell and mutter bitter comments, but not... this. He sounds /defeated./ And Dazai hates that he's virtually powerless to do anything +

about it. "He's in the hospital and he's --" Whatever his condition might be, Chuuya doesn't get the words out of his mouth, voice cracking. "I need to see him."

A plethora of questions immediately shoots through Dazai, but he pushes all of them aside for later, and instead +

lifts Chuuya's head ever so slightly. He can't do anything for his father but plane tickets? Easy. He can do that.

"We'll get you your tickets."

Chuuya's nod is a fragile little thing, but he lets himself be guided to the office, silent as Dazai turns on his computer +

and gets to work.

The earliest flight is boarding right about /now/ which means they'll have to take the one five hours later. At times, like this Dazai wishes he would have started sucking up to his father earlier, maybe then he could have taken the company jet. As it is, +

they're stuck with normal planes, but Dazai makes a silent promise to himself to change that soon. Even if it means reconstructing himself a little more after that man's image. Some things are worth the damage.

Chuuya comes back from the bathroom, eyes still red but at least, +

not sporting any make up smudges anymore, and his gaze falls on the printed documents. "Two tickets?" he says, though he makes it sound like a question as he looks up at Dazai. "You don't have to."

"I'm not going to let you fly alone in this state." Being in another country +

when someone you care about is sick is already scary enough. Chuuya doesn't need a twelve-hour flight all by himself on top of that.

Chuuya sits down, and wraps a blanket around himself that Dazai gave him earlier. "What about work?"

Dazai shrugs. "I'll figure something."

"I...." Chuuya's mouth parts and closes around unspoken words before he pulls up his legs and whispers a quiet, "thank you."

It's at that moment, that Dazai hears the sound of his door opening, followed by the familiar sound of stilettos clacking against his marble floors.

Ah, shit.

The movie night.

"Hello?" Akiko's voice sings, her steps coming closer. "You better be decent. I've seen enough dicks today already."

"In here," Dazai calls.

"Oh, so he /lives./ Care to explain why you've been ignoring my last ten messages? It's not like I'm the --

-- /oh./" Akiko stops short in the doorway of the office. "Chuuya's here. Has anyone ever told you, boys, that it's /rude/ making me the designated third wheel? I could have called Ozaki and made it into a foursome..." She trails off when neither of them cracks a smile. +

"All right. Something happened. Are you going to let me in on it or am I supposed to figure it out myself?"

Dazai's not sure how much Chuuya's willing or ready to share just yet so he lifts the tickets with a contrived smile. "Change of plans. I'm going to France."

She arches one perfect brow, and Dazai gives her a /long story/ look that will be enough for now.

"Cool," Akiko says and lets her bag drop. "I'm going, too. I've always wanted to visit the city of love."

Chuuya huffs out a breath. "This isn't some sort of vacation --"

"Trust me, darling, I can see that, /but/ you look like you're going to break apart at any moment," her gaze travels to Dazai," and you will be too focused on Chuuya to take care of yourself, and therefore, you both need /me./ So I'm going."

Dazai doesn't mind, especially +

because her presence could be used in both their favor if anyone asks, but he looks at Chuuya first before replying. "Is this okay with you?"

"Whatever," he mutters before getting up. "I need to grab a few things before we leave. Can we stop by the house?"

"Of course."

Chuuya's the first out of the office, leaving Dazai and Akiko alone.

"You are in /so deep/," she says with a look. It's not disapproving, but full of honest concern, and Dazai doesn't appreciate it one bit.

"His father is sick and in the hospital. What I'm supposed to do? +

Give him a pat on the shoulder and send him off?"

As she pushes away from the desk, Akiko smiles. "Most people would drive them to the airport, not accompany them to their doorstep a few thousand miles away."

"Because most people don't have the means to."

"Or the heart."

Dazai frowns as he follows her. Deep down he knows he cares for Chuuya; knows he's not immune to the human parts of him that rekindle whenever they're together, but... sometimes he wonders what will happen if he leans too far into this /feeling/. He wonders if he'll fall.

--

This entire day -- or night -- feels like a blurry nightmare. Somewhere between getting the phone call before Tachihara's concert and ringing Dazai's doorbell, Chuuya's mind turned on autopilot and has since refused to switch on, leaving him in a drowsy, anxious state +

throughout the flight. He sees Dazai and Yosano trying their best to distract him, talking about this and that, asking him for input on what movie to watch, and offering him snacks -- ones he would usually love. But even if Chuuya wanted to talk right now, he simply couldn't.

He keeps staring at his phone even though it won't ring thousands of miles up in the air.

It will ring once they land, though.

And Chuuya doesn't know if he's ready to hear whatever will be on the other end of it.

So he just looks at it, foolishly hoping for +

a sudden superpower that will grant him the ability to make wishes come true.

At one point, he dozes off, slipping into a deep sleep that, at least, makes all his fears and worries disappear for a while as he leans into the warm and solid thing next to him.

Chuuya all but startles awake when the plane jerks a little, and when the turbulences quiet down, he notices that the /thing/ he's been clinging to like his life depends on it, is, in fact, Dazai's arm. With heavy eyelids, Chuuya first blinks up at him, then down to his phone.

Dazai must notice his gaze because he turns his head a little. "Are you comfortable?"

Chuuya nods, more interested in the black pages on Dazai's screen. "What are you reading?"

"It's called /deathless./"

"Is it about zombies?"

He feels Dazai's chest rumble with a soft +

puff of laughter. "No, it's about a Koschei the deathless and Marya Morevna. A Russian folklore with a few... modifications."

"What kind of modifications?"

"Koschei is a handsome young man instead of the hideous, old fart that he's usually portrayed as."

Chuuya smiles, and immediately feels a stab of guilt, making him sigh heavily. "I didn't you know were into this kind of thing."

"There's a lot you don't know." Dazai's free hand tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, and Chuuya's eyes flutter shut, leaning further into +

him and trying to disappear inside his warmth. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm just tired," he murmurs.

"We can push the seat back, so you can stretch out --" Dazai starts to move, but Chuuya clutches tighter around him, refusing to move.

"No, no, stay --"

Dazai freezes.

Chuuya swallows, and whispers, "Just like this."

Dazai doesn't say anything, but his body slowly relaxes again, allowing Chuuya to melt against his side. And for a while, they remain like that. Dazai reading. Chuuya not quite sleeping, not really awake either, only catching +

the occasional phrase from the book. After some time, Dazai gets out his earphones and wordlessly offers one to him. Chuuya accepts, and listening to soft, relaxing music, holding onto Dazai, he manages to fall asleep again.

--

Dazai can feel Chuuya all but swaying with high-strung energy when the plane touches the ground, his leg tapping like he's trying to drill a hole into the floor, and eyes darting over to his phone over and over again -- so much that Dazai considers stealing it.

(For the sake of everyone involved, he decides against it.)

"Hey," he says instead (like a fool). "You're going to be all right."

Chuuya can't even look at him. "You don't know that."

It's the truth.

Dazai's not sure when he started being someone who makes frivolous promises, then again his common sense seems to flee whenever it comes to Chuuya.

"You're right, but whatever happens... you have us."

Chuuya opens his mouth, and then his eyes dart to him, wide and terrified.+

"I'm scared, Dazai. What if -- what if my father calls and it's -- it's --"

/What if it's too late?/

"What if he calls and says that the surgery went well?"

"Don't give me stupid fucking hope."

"I'm giving you realistic probabilities."

They had lots of time over the flight, and part of that, they spent talking about his father's condition. Dazai is still mildly annoyed that he heard about it this late.

He would have assumed Chuuya would trust him enough to tell him about personal matters like these, but what aggravates Dazai, even more, is that he should have noticed Chuuya's strange behavior himself.

He's always been good at reading people, so how come he suddenly misses something so obvious when it comes to the /one person/ that actually matters? "90% of lung abscesses heal without any complications."

The plane comes to a stop, and Dazai barely listens to the captain's goodbyes, though he can't help but frown when the passengers start clapping.

Akiko, who has spent a good portion of the time sleeping with a silky black blindfold and her airpods, turns to shoot Chuuya a questioning look. "The fuck?"

"It's... a thing here." Chuuya cringes. "Don't ask me. I don't get it either."

His expression falls when his phone chimes with several messages. Dazai silently watches him open them, so he doesn't expect Chuuya to grab his hand, squeezing it desperately as he reads, and finally, finally, lets out a long breath.

"Dad says the surgery went okay," he whispers before turning to Dazai. "He's still asleep, but he's -- he's /fine./"

Dazai brushes his thumb over the delicate skin on Chuuya's hand. "Told you."

As people around them move to get up, Akiko grabs her traveling bag and squeezes Chuuya's shoulder. "I say this calls for a celebratory glass of champagne. Or coffee. Or both."

Dazai skips the champagne, ignoring the fact that he's made this choice because he will be meeting Chuuya's fathers soon /in-person/ which he doesn't want to do reeking of booze, but he's content watching Chuuya and Akiko down a fun-sized bottle each before they call a cab.

Because of the time difference, the night in Paris is just beginning, making the last 24 hours feel never-ending. Tomorrow, Dazai will have to call his father.

Hayashi already knows, having made Chuuya a thousand tearful promises that it's okay and that she would be more than welcome to have him back /if/ or /when/ his father gets better, but Dazai asked her to leave Gen'emon to him.

Yosano's presence will make things /easier/, but not uncomplicated. For now, though, Dazai just breathes in the foreign night air and focuses on the present. Today, he's on Chuuya's side of the world, and he's itching to see what he will find here.

During the ride, Chuuya's a bit more talkative, pointing out a few shops and buildings they pass. Dazai feels Chuuya's spine stiffen when they pull up in front of the hospital, the tension not leaving him throughout the whole process of finding his father either.

A talk with the receptionist and a phone call with Paul later, they're all walking down a dimly lit hallway. Then at the very end of it, someone steps out of one of the rooms. The man is tall, rivaling Dazai's height, with long, braided, blond hair, and elegant features.

The thing that makes him stand out as Chuuya's parent is the way he carries himself, though.

That much, Dazai can see before Chuuya kicks off at the speed of sunlight and runs into his father's open arms, throwing himself around him.

Dazai swallows, feeling like he has to look away. Next to him, he hears a muffled sniffle, and when he turns to Akiko, she's wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

"Are you crying?"

"/No/," she snaps with a glare. "I just have something in my eye."

"Mm."

Dazai doesn't blame her.

After seeing Chuuya so defeated, Dazai much prefers the sight of him clinging to his father. Somewhere deep down, hidden behind layers and layers of obscure lies, something else lingers, though. Something that feels like festering jealousy.

Dazai's simply not sure if he wants to be the one doing the hugging or the one getting crushed in a hug. He doesn't want to find out.

Once Chuuya unwraps himself, he talks to his father in hushed French before eventually turning around and waving the two of them closer.

Dazai doesn't get nervous because that would require caring, but he supposes, this is one of these moments that are crucial. This is Chuuya's father.

And if this /thing/ is supposed to ever go beyond casual sex -- and Dazai's planning to make Chuuya realize that it /does/ -- then this man, and the one lying in the hospital bed right now, will be an essential part of Dazai's life someday.

Luckily, Dazai has always managed to make a good impression on parents - on everyone's except his own, that is.

"Dad," Chuuya says. "Meet Dazai and Yosano. Guys, this is my dad."

His father offers both of them a smile, then gives Dazai his hand.

"I'm glad to finally meet you in person, Dazai, even if it is under such circumstances."

The shake is firmer than he expected.

"Likewise, sir," Dazai replies in French.

"Call me Paul." Then he turns to Akiko. "I've seen you in photos. +

Thank you so much for being on Chuuya's side."

"Don't worry about it," Akiko drawls. They were in the same French class back in school, sharing the highest marks. "It's the least we can do for him."

Chuuya looks more relaxed than before even though his gaze keeps darting to the room Paul came out of. "Would you mind waiting a bit outside?" he asks, scratching the back of his neck. "I know, it's shitty, but it's late; only family is allowed."

Akiko waves her hand. +

"Don't worry about us."

"We'll get some more coffee," Dazai adds. "Call me when you're ready?"

Chuuya holds his gaze, nodding silently as if to say /thank you./

The little touches and gestures have probably spoiled Dazai too much because right now, he has to press his nails into his skin, creating crescent moons, because all he wants to do is go over there and +

kiss him, but they're miles away from that future, and according to Chuuya, they will reach it.

It's a gamble, and Dazai is willing to bear the costs, even if he has to hurt for it.

--

"I like how devoted your friends are."

Chuuya only half-listens as he enters the room and sees his father lying in the white hospital bed.

His skin has acquired a ghostly pallor, looking nearly translucent in contrast to his ink-black hair, and there are a shit ton of tubes and wires, but -- but, he's still breathing, he's still here, and that's the most important thing, right?

"He hasn't woken up yet?"

"It was a strenuous surgery," Paul says as he settles down in the chair next to him. He seems perfectly okay, but when Chuuya takes a longer look, he can spot the cracks in his armor. More wrinkles on his face than usual. Eyebags.

His braid looks like it was done days ago -- and that must truly mean something.

Swallowing, Chuuya looks away and grabs Arthur's hand instead, squeezing as if his body will warm up if he tries hard enough. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here. +

I should have come back the second --"

"Chuuya."

He looks up, on the verge of tears again because this is /so/ fucked up. These are his parents. The people who gave him a proper home when he was ready to give up all hope. And what does Chuuya do? He -

"You couldn't have known this would happen."

"But he always gets si--"

"And you can't throw away everything every time it happens. We are your parents. You are our kid. We're supposed to look after you, not the other way around."

Chuuya lets out a long breath, one that he seems to have been holding for weeks now. "I just want him to be okay," he murmurs.

"He will be. Give him time."

They just sit there for a few silent moments, but when Chuuya accidentally yawns for the fifth time, Paul gets up.

"Call your friends, and get home. Get some /sleep./ Only come back when you don't look like a dead man standing anymore."

"But dad --"

"I'm not asking you."

Chuuya would argue more, but his father does have a point.

If he stays here any longer, he will fall asleep, and he has Dazai and Yosano waiting somewhere for him, probably just as exhausted.

"I'll stay here until your father wakes up," Paul says, guiding him out of the door, "and come for a change of clothes in the morning. +

Do you need a key?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Here. There should be food in the fridge, but if you can't find anything, I can give you some money for food--"

"That's fine. I have my own."

"Chuuya --"

"Dad," he huffs. +

Back in Yokohama, Chuuya actually managed to save up quite a lot of the monthly salary he gets because every time he's out with Dazai or the Tsushimas, they insist on paying.

And his father probably has enough worries than paying for a three people meal right now, /so./ "I've got it. Really."

"You're still as stubborn as ever," Paul grumbles as he pulls Chuuya into his chest and ruffles his hair.

"Not going to change any time soon."

"Good."

--

There's this weird, bubbly feeling tingling in his arms when Chuuya, for the first time in months, unlocks the door of his home.

Dazai -- and Akiko -- are about to see his whole life, and even though it shouldn't be anything crazy by now -- after all, Chuuya is living in /theirs/ -- it still feels... huge somehow. Probably because Chuuya never anticipated this to happen.

Stepping inside, the smell is the first thing that hits him. A healthy mix of his fathers' colognes, vanilla candles, lemon grass, and -- /home./ Just home.

"And this is it," Chuuya murmurs and awkwardly steps to the side as they all pile into the hallway.

It's not /tiny/, but it is a tight fit compared to what both of them are probably used to. Chuuya glances around the apartment, looking for any changes. As far as he knows, everything should be the same aside from a few new curtains +

that Arthur passionately texted him about.

Nothing has changed. Their cozy kitchen, filled to the brim with pots and kettles and decorations that aren't really necessary.

A living room with a hideous yellow couch. And --

"Baki!" Chuuya crouches down and spreads his arm as his favorite animal in the entire world runs towards him. His french bulldog.

Her tail is wagging so hard that she all but topples over in front of him, wheezing and woofing excitedly. "Hello, my darling! Hey, beautiful! +

Hello --" She jumps onto him, trying to lick his face, and Chuuya laughs as he tries to pet her -- which is harder than it sounds when she's having the most epic meltdown of the century. "Have you missed me? Yeah, I missed you too! I missed you so much!"

Yosano crouches down next to him, still in her heels, and stretches out her hand. "Aren't you a chunky little darling?"

Chuuya lets out a breathless giggle, and glances at Dazai, brows furrowing when he sees him staying five feet away from Baki.

Come to think of it, he's never seen Dazai even pet Diabolo once, but he always assumed it's just Dazai's nature. /This/ speaks for something else, though.

Dazai's eyes meet his, and Chuuya sees his walls go up as he summons a half-smile before offering Chuuya a hand to help him up. His nose crinkles. "You smell like dog."

"Baki smells wonderful," Chuuya retorts. "Don't insult her."

Dazai holds up his hands.

Huffing, Chuuya tries to shake out his muscles a little. It's been long, god knows how many, hours, and yet he still can't get rid of the tension; he won't be able to until his father wakes up.

Chuuya lets Dazai and Akiko check out the rest of the apartment and snoop around as he checks the fridge for something edible, too exhausted to even care that they might discover something embarrassing in his room, considering the state he left it in on the day of his flight +

to Yokohama, like a fucking bomb of clothes exploded there.

There's some leftover chicken soup, and even though it's midnight, Chuuya grabs and places it on the stove to reheat it. /Time isn't real anyway./

Somewhere in the other room, he hears Yosano say, "Awww, look at his chubby cheeks!"

Chuuya rolls his eyes.

"That's a mean expression he has going there," Dazai remarks next, sounding vaguely amused.

"He looks like he wants to punch whoever's behind the camera."

+

The photo they're most likely talking about was taken on Christmas eve in front of the Eiffel tower. Chuuya's first year with Paul and Arthur, and his first Christmas that he actually got to celebrate like in the movies, except back then the whole affair made his blood boil.

Chuuya had been so used to being tossed away like a wet rug every time that when the opposite happened, he didn't understand. And he /hated/ that. He hated not knowing their motives, he hated their carefree smiles, and he hated -- well, he hated pretty much everything.

So when they asked some random tourist to take a photo of the three of them, Chuuya made sure to show them exactly /how much/ he hated it, as if part of him /wanted/ to be abandoned again. /Sooner rather than later./

Because being left by people you've known for a few months is easier than being left by someone you've grown to love.

Thinking back, Chuuya can only shake his head. Over the years, his fathers put up with a lot of shit from him, and still, they never left.

The rich smell of soup thankfully lures Dazai and Yosano away from the framed pictures on the walls and into the kitchen. Together, they sit down at the table and eat, quietly discussing the plan for tomorrow. First, the hospital.

If Arthur wakes up and feels better -- /when/ he does, Chuuya could imagine taking the two of them out and show them around the city. Yosano already announced she'd have to fly back in two nights because of her job. Dazai's stay depends on his phone call with his father.

And whether Chuuya will return... well, that's still up in the air.
He has no doubts his fathers are going to tell him to go back to Yokohama and finish his au pair year, and it's not like Chuuya wants to stay in Paris and bide his time until college starts. He has friends there.

He still has things left to experience, things to do. He hasn't even said a proper goodbye to everyone.

Glancing at Dazai, thoughtfully slurping on his soup, Chuuya's chest tightens.

He's isn't ready to end /this./ Whatever this is. Not yet.

He thought they still had some time left until, at least, October, and -- Chuuya's not ready.

Life doesn't give a shit whether someone's ready or not, though; it simply /happens/, and if his father's condition doesn't get better...

Chuuya wouldn't ever be able to live with himself if he simply went back to Japan.

By the time they're finished eating, a thick layer of exhaustion settles over all of them, making it impossible to keep their eyes open, let alone /move/, so Chuuya drags himself to work on preparing the couch.

He feels a bit guilty for making Yosano sleep there, but he can't exactly give her his parents' bed, and the couch isn't big enough for two people. With a dapper huff, Yosano accuses him of worrying too much, and even declares that she's slept in worse places.

A picture-perfect princess like her, it's hard to imagine, but Chuuya knows there's far more to her than meets the eye.

When, at last, the door of his room, -- all tidied up since he last stood here -- falls shut, engulfing him in darkness, Chuuya swallows around the fluttering nerves in his throat as he walks to his bed. A bed that has Dazai in it.

It's not huge, which means they'll be pretty close, which isn't that big of a deal anymore, really. It /isn't/ but... Chuuya's 99% certain that his father will check in on him later when he comes home, and he'll be met with /them./ Together.

Whatever.

He's too fucking tired to give a fuck right now.

Once Chuuya crawls under the sheet, he blindly reaches for Dazai. "You awake?"

There's the rustling sound of shifting, Dazai rolling over to face him, he assumes.

"Yeah."

"Hi."

"Hello." Chuuya rests his head on his pillow. +

"I like your home."

"Thanks. I like yours too."

He feels Dazai snort sofly. "I especially like your bedsheets. Spiderman, huh?"

/Oh god./ Even though it's too dark to make out anything, Chuuya clasps his hands over his eyes anyway, groaning under his breath. +

"They're from when I was nine!" He got them during his superhero phase -- though /that/ technically lasted up until a few years ago -- and never bothered to throw the sheets away because Arthur always insisted they could keep them for "just in case."

"Mmm," Dazai hums and somehow manages to find his cheek and pinch it. "I saw your Halloween pictures too." Chuuya groans even louder, though when he realizes how that must sound like from outside the room, he stifles it, his embarrassment bleeding into muffled laugher. +

"You do make a very cute spidey."

"Shut up," he hisses with aching cheeks, slapping Dazai's hand away though it only makes Dazai grab his waist in a laughable attempt at suffocating him in his chest, "like you /didn't/ wear stuff like that as a kid! I bet you loved batman!"

"I never watched those superhero movies," Dazai says. "Too unrealistic for my tastes."

"What kind of kid even pays attention to that?" Chuuya huffs as he tries to wiggle out of this damn octopus.

"Me."

"So you were always this pretentious?"

"If you mean /smart/ then yes. +

was born smart."

"/Not/ what I meant." It does make him wonder what Dazai's childhood looked like. Probably a lot fancier than Chuuya's, yeah, but also /shallow./ Kind of empty. Dazai's friendly with Hayashi, but that's just an act, according to him.

Dazai's father is... his father, and not a nice one. He barely talks to Ryuu and Gin.

That childhood sounds hollow. Lonely.

"Marvel and DC might not be super realistic," Chuuya murmurs, "but they're fun. We should watch them someday."

"We haven't managed to /actually/ finish a single movie so far," Dazai ever so helpfully points out. He's not /wrong./ Movies always end up in /orgasms./

"Well, aren't geniuses supposed to be good at multi-tasking?" Chuuya whispers, pressing his hand against Dazai's chest and letting them trail up slowly. "What's stopping you from fucking me /and/ watching a movie?"

Dazai mirrors the touch on his hipbone.

"I'd be an idiot to pay attention to anything other than you, when you're naked and making all those lovely sounds."

Chuuya squeezes his eyes closed. Why is it that he /always/ ends up worked up, no matter how innocent the conversation starts out as?

And why does Dazai always have to sound so -- so /romantic/! He's aware it's mostly just flirting and Dazai being way too good with words, but sometimes it feels like more. /So much more./

"Good night," Chuuya blurts out in a breathy whisper.

Dazai's brief silence speaks for his surprise at the abrupt change of direction, but he does get out, "Night, chibi" a few seconds later, and slowly his fingers slip away from him.

Chuuya immediately misses his touch, even if it's for the best right now.

Every body part of Dazai is really distracting, and here in Chuuya's bed, right next to the living room and too far away from the bathroom, they'd be stranded with just a few tissues and lube that Chuuya'd have to look for first. So sleep it is.

As exciting and nice as the prospect of sex would sound right now...

Sleep.

Chuuya lets out a deep breath and stretches out his legs, too exhausted to even notice he's tangling them with Dazai's.

/Sleep./

--

Before he stepped on the plane that would take them to Paris, Dazai made an unadorned but rational prediction. He assumed that stepping foot into Chuuya's word would sate his endless fascination -- /somewhat/, at least, because there can only be so much a person can want, right?

Instead, for the first time in a long while, Dazai finds himself dead wrong.

If anything, eating in Chuuya's kitchen, sleeping in his bed, discovering a side of him that's different, a little wrinkled but that much more real and, at its core, still the same, only makes Dazai hungrier, makes him crave even more.

He wants the little details, no matter how unimportant they seem to bystanders. He wants to look at every framed picture and memorize all twenty-one different pouts and grumpy glares until they're etched into his brain. He wants to be the one to talk Chuuya down when he's upset.

He wants to be on the other of the hallway when Chuuya runs into someone's arms. He wants mornings like /this/, seeing Chuuya snore with his mouth open and arms thrown out like a starfish, for the rest of his life.

He's never wanted anything like he wants this.

Like he wants Chuuya.

Across from him, Chuuya's eyes flutter open after a particular heavy snore, and Dazai realizes that he wants it so much, it even hurts a little. Is that what /falling/ means then? Did he lean too far out?

"Morning," Chuuya mumbles, stretching out his arms and nearly punching Dazai in the face because it was lying on his chest a moment ago. "Stop looking like that."

"Like what?" Dazai asks.

"Like /that./" Chuuya frowns hazily. "'s creepy."

After his fourth yawn, he rolls over and checks his phone, sitting up once he must read the time, a heavy sigh leaving his chest. "It's almost twelve. My father's probably home from the hospital."

Bearing news. Ones that could make or break everything.

"Do you want to talk to him alone?"

To his surprise, Chuuya shakes his head. "I... Can you come with me?"

As if Dazai could ever say /no./

And so over coffee and croissants, Dazai watches as Chuuya's face lights up like the sun itself when Paul informs him that his husband not only woke up last night but has felt a tiny bit better since.

Dazai spent the last day hoping for this outcome, though admittedly, for the wrong reasons. If Arthur got worse, Chuuya would no doubt remain here, and that would disrupt all of Dazai's plans.

It would have ruined /everything./ It's a selfish reason to wish for someone else's recovery, some people might even call it inhuman, but Dazai has never pretended to be anything other than that.

Judging by calculating looks sent Dazai's way, he's now certain that Paul also saw the two of them in bed this morning. Dazai woke up with a handful of hair in his mouth, which means they spent the entire night entangled. Dazai doesn't particularly mind +

that his father knows... /something/. But the look in Paul's eyes has changed. Yesterday, he seemed tired, but kind. Now, his eyes are sharp. Measuring.

It reminds Dazai of himself.

Paul drives all of them to the hospital, and again, Dazai and Akiko pay a visit to the gift shop to give Chuuya and his family some much-needed privacy. Yosano's inspecting glass figurines on a shelf when Dazai's phone rings with an incoming call.

He finds himself a quiet corner before picking up.

"Father."

"Dazai," his voice is calm, /too calm./

"Explanation. Now."

The tricky part is leaving Chuuya out of this as much as possible.

Dazai can handle his father, but the thought of getting /Chuuya/ caught in the crossfire between them makes his stomach curl with dread. So instead he spins the truth that is already out there in, what he hopes will be, his favor.

"Akiko insisted on accompanying Chuuya when he flew back to France, and I couldn't leave her to go alone, could I? Her parents wouldn't want that."

He can practically hear his father think even from thousands of miles away. "Is that so?"

"/Yes./"

"Perhaps if you took such care of her earlier, you two would have still been together." Dazai doesn't even bet an eyelash at that. That's /nothing/ compared to what he anticipated. "I expect you back at work tomorrow."

With the time difference, it leaves him with only /today./ Not much, but enough to make sure that Chuuya will be fine. And that he will return.

"I can do that," Dazai says, and then he tentatively adds, "Thank you, father."

"Don't thank me. +

Sort out your fucking priorities instead. For once in your goddamn life. And, Dazai?"

"Yes?"

"You owe me a favor now."

"Fair enough."

The line goes dead.

As soon as he hangs up, though, Dazai's phone buzzes again, this time with a message from Chuuya, telling him that Arthur would like to meet the two of them.

"Are you nervous?" Akiko asks, elbowing him when the elevator doors slide shut.

"/No/," Dazai says.

"Really? +

I was when I met Kouyou's mother. A tiny, little bit."

Dazai frowns. "You already met her mother?" When did that happen, and why has he not heard about it?

"Yes, and she loved me. +

Well, she said I had good posture and would look great in a ballet costume, which I assume means as much as that." When Dazai's scowl doesn't ease, she clicks her tongue. +

"Perhaps if you would make more time for your awesome best friend once in a while, you would have known earlier. I was going to tell you on our movie night."

"I'm sorry, I... am still acclimating to my new schedule."

"I know," she says. +

"Your dad's keeping you busy, huh?"

The elevator hums and Dazai nods wordlessly.

It's not the difficulty of the work; it's the amount of it. And the fact that Dazai would prefer doing anything else. It gets tiring after a while.

As they walk down the same hallway they did yesterday, she links her arm with his. "I'm more than aware that you sometimes disappear, darling, and with your father, and classes, I realize that it can probably get a little much."

"I just have to get used to it," Dazai murmurs. +

"It will be fine."

"You're human. It's okay not to be, once in a while."

Funny, that's what Chuuya said, too. It's the fact that Dazai struggles with something so simple and mundane that, frankly, embarrasses him, though. He's smarter than 99% of the population.

He knows how to pull people's strings. He doesn't lack anything. And still.

When they enter the hospital room, Arthur, awake and sitting up in his bed, is the first to notice them. His smile is weak but genuine. "Dazai," he says. "And Yosano?"

Dazai nods as he shakes his hand with one of his best smiles, aware that Chuuya's watching everything with a muted grin. "It's lovely to finally meet you in person, sir."

"You're looking good," Yosano adds. "I'm glad to hear the surgery went well."

"I was lucky," Arthur says, folding his hands together. "You're studying to become a surgeon from what I heard, yes? I'm sure you'll get to see these kinds of things a lot more up close soon. Nasty things."

"Oh, trust me, I can't /wait/ to dissect these nasty things."

Dazai uses the time to give Chuuya a once over. He looks lighter, fewer shadows on his face, like a weight has fallen off his shoulder. /They all got lucky./

"Dazai," he hears Arthur say next. "You are so much taller than you looked like in the video chats. +

Chuuya, honey, you should have told us your friend is a giant."

Chuuya's smile bleeds into an offended scowl. "He's not even /that/ tall!"

Dazai teasingly pats his head. "Don't be jealous. +

Maybe if you start drinking one glass of milk each day until your birthday, god will grant you some inches --"

"Fuck off, asshole."

"Chuuya, be nice," Arthur reprimands him. "I thought that living abroad would, at least, help with the cussing."

"Oh, he's polite," Dazai drawls. "Just not to me."

Yosano claps his shoulder in support. "Dazai's /special./."

Chuuya ignores both of them in favor of crossing his arms. "You two raised me. Of course, I'm going to cuss."

"Language can be so much more beautiful than insults, Chuuya," Paul says, and Dazai finds himself agreeing. Well, he wouldn't say /beautiful./ But /useful./ Words can be very useful.

"Should we ask the nurses for more chairs?" Arthur asks, already glancing out of the door. +

"I'm sure sleeping on that tiny couch was awful. Or did one of you sleep on the floor?" He innocently looks between Yosano and Dazai.

For once, Dazai finds himself waiting for Chuuya to speak.

Paul most likely saw them, and lying about it... well, it surely wouldn't look /good./

"Uh," Chuuya's the first to say, "Dazai slept on my floor." He scratches the side of his neck -- one of his ticks when he's nervous. "You said it yourself. Dazai's tall. +

He would have never fit on the couch."

"Oh," Arthur says with a nod. "Now that I think about it, yes."

"And besides," Chuuya adds, "I was going to show them a bit around the city if you don't mind?"

His father's face immediately softens. "Of course not, honey. +

Go ahead, and have fun. It's not every day you visit Paris, huh?"

"I am going to take so many pictures," Akiko announces. "I've dreamed of visiting ever since I was a little girl."

Arthur smiles. "Well, you took such good care of our son that --"

"/Daaad./"

"-- that our home will always be open for you whenever you want to visit."

"Be careful," Akiko says with a wink. "I will take you up on that offer."

"We don't mind. Right, Chuuya?"

Chuuya's eyes flicker to Dazai as he nods. "Not at all."

--

There's not enough time for Chuuya to show them everything he would like to, but knowing Dazai and Yosano, he doubts they want one of those typical sightseeing tours anyway -- except the Eiffel Tower. Yosano insists on seeing that.

They'll be fine with a bit of shopping and then a cozy brunch somewhere. So that's what they do.

They stroll through Montmartre, take pictures in front of the Sacré-Cœur, +

ride the subway, each with new pair of retro sunglasses they bought from a pretty pushy but funny gentleman, Chuuya posts a mirror selfie of them to his snapchat story, they check out a few stores in Marais and, at last, stop for a dessert break in a cute, little café.

Chuuya's eyes all but roll back in his head as he takes the first bite of his paris-brest -- his, arguably, most favorite pastry in the whole wide world. Sweet, holy jesus invades his taste buds. Fuck, he's missed this.

"Gosh," Yosano moans around a macron, "this is delicious. Do you figure I can buy the entire shop and take it back with me tomorrow?"

Dazai's grin is slow. "If you ask nicely."

Right. Chuuya nearly forgot about that. "What'd your father say?" he asks, glancing at Dazai.

"He expects me home tomorrow."

Now that Chuuya feels more... like himself instead of the empty shell that he has been before his father woke up, he can't help but feel guilty that the two of them had to accompany him here.

Yosano doesn't seem all too upset about it, but Dazai had to miss work. Surely, his father didn't simply accept that?

"We'll make up for this short visit with next time," Yosano cuts through his thoughts. "How about next Christmas? Does it snow here?"

Chuuya makes a face. +

"It hasn't in years."

She sighs. "Well, snow's not that important. Do you think your fathers would mind having us here on the holidays?" Before he can answer, she shakes her head. +

"Wait, we'd have to stay in a hotel anyway. Ozaki would claw out my eyes if I go to Paris without her again. She already threatened me, like, three times. How was I supposed to predict this would happen?"

/Next Christmas./

Technically, that's ten months away, but it's a crisp reminder that Chuuya's time with them is limited. He looks at Dazai and finds him already staring unabashedly. Chuuya tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Crumbs."

"...oh."

"Here, let me." Invading his personal space, Dazai brushes his thumb against Chuuya's lower lip, making his whole body buzz with this one simple movement, the air in his lungs growing hot. When Dazai leans back, he drapes one arm over the back of his chair as he considers him.

"Have you already decided whether you're going to come back?"

It takes Chuuya a few embarrassing moments to get his thoughts in order. "I talked about it to my dads. They want me to go back and finish the au pair year."

"But?"

Chuuya drives a hand through his hair. +

"I guess I'm just nervous that this will happen again. Arthur is immunocompromised, so flu season is always hard on him, but I..." He glances between the two of them, worrying his lip between his teeth. "Am I a bad person for still wanting to go back?"

"Darling," Yosano says, sliding her hands over the table to grasp his, "you are allowed to think of yourself once in a while."

"But they're my parents --"

"And they want you to live your life," Dazai says calmly. +

"If something happens again, I'll personally fly my father's company jet to get you back here as fast as possible."

Chuuya lets out a breath. Whatever choice he makes, he will never be 100% satisfied. Something will always feel /wrong./

Still, he says, "I'll stay for another week or two until my father is released from the hospital, but afterwards..."

Yosano squeezes his hands. "You'll come back to us?"

"I'd like that, yeah."

When his gaze flickers to Dazai, his brown eyes soften. "We'd like that, too."

Chuuya's phone buzzes with a notification, and he fishes it out of his pocket, assuming it's a text from his dads, or maybe Kouyou who's been offering him support through messages, or literally /anyone/ but /him./

"Why do you look like you want to drop-kick your phone across the room?" Yosano questions next to him.

"My ex just replied to my story," he murmurs, holding his thumb an inch shy of his screen, /this/ close to opening it, even though the only thing he should do is /block/ him. Never think of that motherfucker again.

"Is that a good or a bad thing?"

Chuuya momentarily lifts his eyes and sees Yosano try to pin her best friend with a glare that demands an answer, but Dazai's eyes are only on him. "The one...?"

Chuuya nods wordlessly.

Something rhapsodically dark passes over his face, but as always, Dazai's quick to flatten any genuine emotion whatsoever by cocking his head lazily. "Well, are you going to open it?"

Chuuya wants to say no, but curiosity is a tempting and lecherous thing.

Lethal, too, but satisfaction is even stronger, right?

"I want to know what he said." A breath later, Chuuya finally opens the damn thing. "I'm not going to..." He trails off upon seeing the two short texts.

Romaine: so you're back

Romaine: want to grab a coffee?

/What part of the picture he posted even remotely suggests that he wants to meet the motherfucker that cheated on him?/

"He wants to see me," Chuuya scoffs, "for /coffee./"

"Well, tell him to eat shit," Yosano says nonchalantly.

"Tell him you already had coffee," Dazai says. +

"Better one."

As amusing as that sounds, Chuuya has an even better idea.

Without thinking much of it, he grabs Dazai's hand, intertwining their fingers -- admiring how aesthetically pleasing they look together for /one/ single moment -- before he snaps a picture of it.

As he uploads it to his story, deliberately leaving Romaine on /read/, he hears Yosano snicker. "Atta boy."

He feels both vindicated and a little childish once he's done, but sue him, Chuuya needs this /one/ fucking win.

"Okay, but now I need to see pictures. Pronto," Yosano demands, and Chuuya grudgingly finds Romaine's instagram because he deleted all of their photos together the day before his flight to Yokohama. As soon as she gets a good look, Yosano lets out a laugh. +

"Please, don't tell me you dated one of those guys who takes pictures squatting down with a bottle of beer?"

"I was /fourteen/ when we met." And clearly, stupid as shit.

"Look at this travesty." +

She shows the next picture to Dazai, and Chuuya pointedly turns away, pinching his nose as he wonders what went through his fourteen-year-old head back then. Okay, it wasn't /all/ bad -- they had their good moments! -- but looking back now... it gives him the heebie-jeebies.

"Dazai's so much prettier," Yosano comments as she hands him his phone back. "You leveled up, darling."

It's strange comparing Dazai to Romain because not only is /this/ not an actual relationship or anything of the sort, but it's also a completely different part of his life.

It's windy outside when they leave the shop, heading for the metro, and Chuuya rubs his hands together, starting to regret the decision not to have put on a fucking beanie or something.

Next to him, Yosano accepts a phone call with a tired, "hello, mother" before finding a more quiet corner. Chuuya blinks when all of a sudden Dazai places his wine red scarf around his neck, which is, actually, so much better, but --

"You'll get cold," Chuuya huffs, already trying to wrestle out of it, but Dazai is, to one's surprise, one persistent bastard.

"The bandages keep me warm." He slaps Chuuya's hands away and readjust the scarf. "You need it more than I do. +

And I don't want to be around cranky Chuuya."

"I'm not fucking cranky."

"Because now you're warm. You're welcome, by the way."

Chuuya rolls his eyes and kicks his shin before glancing around the scene, trying to find something to keep him entertained while they're waiting for Yosano to finish her call. He finds it not even three seconds later. "Look, there's a photo booth."

"Wow," Dazai deadpans, "we don't have these at home."

"You're so annoying," Chuuya mutters, but grabs his wrist nonetheless, tugging him along. "I meant, let's go and take pictures. It will be like a printed memory from your first time in Paris."

"I will not fit into this thing," Dazai grumbles behind him.

"You're not /that/ tall." However, Dazai /is/ that tall, and his head bumps against the roof of the thing, making his spine curve.

"Well, fuck, just sit down," Chuuya says as he looks through the options, clearly not facing the same size problems.

Once he's picked out the 4x4 option, Chuuya turns back, trying to find a place to squeeze himself into, but Dazai's faster, seizing his waist and pulling him onto his lap, close and tight.

"Dazai," Chuuya complains, "I was going to show them to my dads!"

"No one's going to see," Dazai murmurs, one hand skimming the length of his chest and pulling him even closer into his warmth. "You're so tiny. It will look like you're standing."

Chuuya turns to shoot him a /this isn't fucking funny/ glare but finds himself only inches from Dazai, so close he can smell the coffee he had earlier.

Even a thousand similar moments later, he still isn't used to the way his stomach flips whenever he has Dazai in his space, so close it hurts a little bit because of the dizzying effect it has on him.

"Asshole," Chuuya breathes out, trying to stare him down and failing when his treacherous eyes flicker to Dazai's lips, full, curved into a sardonic half-smile, a bit chapped, and so, so perilously close.

His hand intuitively slides into Dazai's rich brown hair, gripping thick strands of it as he gives in to the pull in his breastbone and presses forward, brushing their mouths together, a bruised whimper in the back of his throat tearing out when Dazai sucks his bottom lip into +

his mouth until it buzzes; neither of them aware of the flashes that go off right in front of them.

Chuuya feels like his chest is exploding with things he wishes he could say but can't put into words -- /thank you/ and +

/I like you/ and /you make my head spin/ and /I can't imagine not seeing you ever again once October comes/ and /I'm terrified/ -- so he doesn't. He just clings to Dazai and lets his body speak for itself, hoping that Dazai will somehow understand anyway.

Because he always does.

Their chests heave as they break apart, Chuuya resting his forehead against Dazai's for a few endless moments before Dazai breaks the tender silence between them. "So much about showing them to your dads."

"Please."

Chuuya huffs, voice pitifully ruffled, and then clears his throat. "We'll just have to try again," he declares before attempting to flatten Dazai's now tousled hair, sticking up every which way because Chuuya likes to get handsy.

Despite his best efforts, Dazai still looks criminally rumpled, mouth swollen and eyes glazed, but it's the best Chuuya can do right now. "Do not ruin this again."

"/You/ kissed me," Dazai points out as he gets up to pay for another round of photos.

Chuuya feels his neck flush with color because /yeah./ That one's on him. "I know."

This time they manage to get a few /decent/ pictures together, Chuuya holding up a peace sign like the basic bitch he is (sometimes), +

and sticking out his tongue in the next one, on the verge of laughter because Dazai's hand is secretly tickling him.

/These/ they can show to their families. The other ones, however...

The first picture shows Chuuya and Dazai simply staring at each other, maybe a second before they got distracted, and the other three are pure, uncensored making out photos. Even as he scowls at them, Chuuya can't help but admire their side profiles. They look /hot/ kissing.

He might have no idea what to do with his future, but, at least, he has /this/ going for himself.

When Dazai gets a look, he clicks his tongue. "I'll send them out with my Christmas postcard next year."

Chuuya can't even laugh at the joke because even if he wanted to, Dazai wouldn't be able to do that. And it's unfair.

How is a picture of two guys kissing considered wrong, but it's totally acceptable to be forced to date someone just because your father wants to secure a fucking business relationship?

"Don't," Chuuya says softly and pushes two of the pictures into Dazai's hand, splitting this memory in half and dividing it between them. "Keep them safe instead."

Two for Chuuya. Two for Dazai.

--

Since it's Dazai and Yosano's last night here and their flight is scheduled for early morning, they decide to order food and stay in for the evening.

Even his father joins later, bearings news that Arthur is doing slowly better, and that, according to the doctors, he should be released in a week's time. /Hopefully, this time without any more complications./

All it takes is one fucking trip to the bathroom, and suddenly, a recording of one of Chuuya's ballet performances is running on the TV -- a reenactment of /the firebird/, everyone's eyes glued to the screen.

There's a reason why Chuuya had his fathers take down all of the pictures of his performances as well. He already has to live with the knowledge that he'll never be able to feel that flutter in his stomach again when the lights dim and the crowd goes quiet, +

he didn't want to be reminded of that every time he went to the kitchen or back to his room. But even though seeing himself on the TV screen feels like a punch to the gets in slow-motion, Chuuya's still able to breathe around the pressure. It's manageable.

"Wow," Chuuya says, not surprised to also see an album with pictures lying on the couch, "you guys aren't noisy at all."

"Guilty as charged," Yosano admits unabashedly, "but can you blame us? You were exceptional, darling."

Yeah, he /was./

His father nods around a glass of wine. "I couldn't possibly deny them to watch you dance."

He ignores both of them in favor of casting a glance in Dazai's direction on the other side of the couch -- something that most likely has to do with Baki not leaving Chuuya's side.

Dazai's usually quick to notice someone staring, but right now, he doesn't even blink once as he stares at the TV.

Something in Chuuya twists so painstakingly that he has to dig his nails into his palms to keep himself from shattering apart right here and now.

He'd give away /everything/ just to have someone look at him like that again. Like they're seeing magic happen in front of them. Like they're witnessing stars falling from the sky. He'd do /everything/ to relive what it felt like to be worth millions one more time.

Admiration wasn't the reason why he loved ballet so much, but fuck, he's human, and being able to feel good about himself was part of dancing. A great part.

When the orchestra finally plays the last note in the video, Chuuya lets out a breath, folding his arms over his chest. +

"Can we watch spider-man now?"

Admittedly, he does feel a little lonely on his side of the couch, not even being able to cuddle up with Dazai, let alone spend the entire movie making out when his father's present, but he does get to shower Baki with pets and kisses.

There's that. Chuuya stretches out his limbs when they put the movie on pause for a snack and toilet break, and before he can even finish yawning, Paul and Dazai suddenly disappear in the kitchen. /Together./

Dazai's good with his words, so he should be fine, but fuck, so is Paul. Now that Chuuya thinks about it, they're both similar in a weird sort of way - and oh god, he does /not/ want to think about that.

The news of his father waking up was so overwhelming that all thoughts of last night were pushed away by instant relief, but they totally fell asleep cuddling, and there's a 99% chance that Paul saw.

And now they're /talking./ Chuuya prays to god it's not one of those /if you hurt my son, I will make you regret it/ speeches because that would be /so/ wrong.

Yosano must think the same thing because she shoots Chuuya a smirk and says, "I wonder what they're talking about."

"Smart people stuff," Chuuya murmurs, mindful of the thin walls, "hopefully."

"I don't blame your dad. +

If I didn't know you, I'd have taken you two for a couple as well."

Baki arches her neck, and Chuuya indulges her in more scratchies. "We talked about this. It's not like that."

"So you don't feel anything for him?" Yosano questions. "Nothing?"

Chuuya narrows his eyes. +

"Are you asking as /Dazai's/ friend or as /mine/?"

"...both."

"Of course I feel things." Before she can take that as some sort of confession of love, he continues, "but Dazai's more like a best friend to me." A best friend that he never had before. +

Chuuya had friends and acquaintances. He had a boyfriend. But he never had /this./

"You fuck all of your best friends?"

"Jesus christ, keep your voice down," Chuuya hisses, then scratches the side of his neck. "I have a... high libido. And Dazai is good. It just works."

Yosano looks at him like he's stupid, but thankfully, stays quiet. Because Chuuya's petty, he asks, "So what about you and Kouyou? Have /you/ put a name to it yet?"

"Yes," Yosano says without missing a beat. +

"We've been officially together for a month now."

"What?!"

"Not everything has to be as complicated as you two make it."

"You've got it backwards. We're trying to keep it /easy./ Because that's what relationships are. Complicated."

Yosano rolls her eyes. +

"If it's right, darling, then it isn't. And /you/ are trying to keep it easy. Not Dazai."

Okay, when did a friendly conversation turn into this fucking interrogation?

"What happened to being /my/ friend?" Chuuya asks.

"I'm always going to be on Dazai's side, first." She shrugs. "And I'm not going to apologize about that."

"Well," Chuuya snaps, "Dazai agreed to this just as much as I did, so I don't see what your problem is."

He never gets to hear her answer because a laugh echoes through the apartment -- /his father's/ laugh. It makes Chuuya frown. Dazai's not that funny.

"Looks like your dad likes Dazai well enough," he hears Yosano say. "Too bad it's not anything serious, huh?"

His father and Dazai choose that moment to come back, quietly chatting between themselves like Chuuya isn't even there.

/Great./

He barely manages to pay attention to the rest of the movie, not when Yosano's words keep dancing through his brain.

Is it really so wrong to want something easy for once?

Everything else is already so messed up, and he just wants this /one/ simple fucking thing for himself. This one thing.

Chuuya's the first to announce that he's heading to bed as soon as the credits start rolling, disappearing in the bathroom. He's even grouchy enough not to care where Dazai will sleep tonight. Seeing as he's such good friends with his dad now, he might as well sleep in his room!

Chuuya forcefully brushes his teeth and half-laughs, half-glares at the reflection in the mirror before spitting out the paste. /It's been a long day./

Although when he enters his room, Dazai's already there, sitting on his bed. It's a funny picture.

Dazai looks a little too big, too fancy to be on the shitty bed he's had since he turned fourteen, like he was cut out of a fashion magazine and placed here, not belonging. If Chuuya wasn't annoyed right now, he'd laugh.

As it is, he stops a few feet in front of Dazai, crossing his arms.

"Is something wrong?" Dazai asks, even though the bastard is too good at reading people to actually need an answer.

"What did you and my dad talk about?"

"Stuff."

"Stuff?" Chuuya echoes. +

"What does /stuff/ mean?"

The asshole /shrugs./ "The weather. My degree. Does it matter?"

"Yeah," Chuuya snaps. "He's my father, and you're --" He makes an indecipherable hand gesture, hoping that it will be enough.

Judging by the way Dazai cocks his head and raises his brow, it isn't. "I am /what/, Chuuya?"

"... my friend," he finishes lamely.

"Ah."

Chuuya's /not/ going to have a repeat of the conversation he had earlier, so sighing, he just drops it, walking over to his closet to find something more comfortable to wear for the night. A moment later, there's a scratch at the door and a gentle /woof./

"Can you open the door?" Chuuya asks. "Baki wants to come in."

Except that Dazai doesn't move.

He turns to shoots him a glower. "Hello?"

Dazai holds his stare. "Can she stay outside?"

Chuuya arches his brow.

"I don't get along with dogs."

"Yeah, I can see that," Chuuya mutters and walks over to open the door, but only to give Baki a few scratches and try to gently push her in the other direction. "I'm so sorry, baby, not tonight," he tells her, hugging her to his chest.

"I'm sure Yosano will be happy to give you cuddles, though, okay?" Baki gives him heart-wrenching puppy eyes, and Chuuya is barely strong enough to carry her to the living room before all but running back to his room.

"I'm sorry," Dazai says when the door falls shut.

And Chuuya immediately feels guilty as he sits down next to him. It's not like Dazai is to blame for his shitty mood right now. He didn't do anything wrong.

"Don't be," Chuuya says, and looks at him. "You don't like dogs, huh?"

Dazai lets out a low laugh. "/No./"

"Want to tell me what happened?"

"There's not much to tell. A stray dog once attacked me as a child, and now they can smell my fear. I have become their target."

Chuuya wants to smile, but can't, more puzzled than anything. +

"Why would your family have Diabolo when you're scared of dogs?"

Dazai trails his index fingers across the mattress. "Because Ryuu wanted one."

Chuuya's chest falls.

Dazai's families didn't care. They just... ignored his fear and got a dog anyway.

Chuuya has never been good with words, so even if he tried, he wouldn't find the right ones, but what he can do is cup Dazai's cheek and stroke his thumb down his pale skin, before tentatively leaning into a feather-light kiss, soft and slow.

It's not how they usually do this, yet still good in its own way.

Chuuya promised himself not to go there tonight. His father is a wall away, and it never stays at /one/ kiss. It always becomes something deeper, more urgent, and --

Chuuya forcefully pulls himself away, gripping his pillow.

Dazai blinks slowly. "What was that for?"

"Can't I just kiss you?"

"No."

Chuuya bites his lip, fighting the urge to go right back in, press against Dazai until they're covered in each other -- he squeezes his eyes shut and wiggles a few inches back. What were they talking about it?

"Huh?"

Dazai's amusement is a little pale as he stands up. "I'm going to brush my teeth.

Chuuya nods and crawls under the sheets, sliding his arm under his pillow and turning to his side.

/What they have is good, easy, /perfect/, he thinks. /Why would he want to ever change that?/

--

Chuuya's sleeping so deeply and adorably that Dazai wishes he could just let him rest for the time being. However, that would mean going back home without any goodbyes whatsoever, and Dazai's only so selfless.

Getting him to wake up at seven in the morning is a whole other ordeal, full of grumbled insults and sleepy sighs before Chuuya eventually all but falls out of bed.

Compared to that, the rest of the morning flies by; the breakfast, the ride to the airport, and walking to the last possible point before they have to go their separate ways. For now.

Chuuya still looks grumpy and tired, a black beanie hiding half of his face, but he seems to sober up when Akiko places her hands on her hips with a nod. "All right, boys, I'm not going to torture myself and watch you two suck face, so I'll leave you to it."

She gives Chuuya a brief hug. "We'll see you soon, right?"

"Yeah," Chuuya says and then waves her off.

Dazai narrows his eyes. Is he seeing things, or is there a tension between the two of them that hasn't been there before?

He's been lucky so far to have both of them get along quite easily, despite their first wreck of a meeting but maybe his luck is starting to run out. Bit by bit.

Once Akiko has disappeared behind the gates, he turns to Chuuya. "You are going to come back, right?"

Chuuya scoffs.

"I wouldn't lie about that." He shoves his hands into the pockets of his navy blue bomber jacket. "Besides, I still have some unfinished business in Yokohama. I have to come back."

Dazai can't help it; he tugs at one loose and curly strand of Chuuya's hair, taking in the little scowl between his brows and bottling it, burying it inside his ribcage. "I'm never sure about Chuuya. He can be very surprising." A force of nature, if you will. A hurricane.

"Mm, it's what you like though," Chuuya murmurs and then presses up on his toes, a wince passing over his features -- so fleeting, Dazai nearly misses it. "Just fucking kiss me already, and then /go./ The plane won't wait for you."

Dazai smiles against his mouth, making sure to bite his lip for that comment, though judging by the little noise in the back of his throat, Chuuya enjoys that.

"We should have webcam sex while I'm still here," Chuuya murmurs into his mouth, staying there for a moment and sharing his air before pulling away, "or else, I'm going to /die./"

"Only if you put on the set you bought yesterday."

Chuuya smiles mischievously. +

"Why do you think I bought it?"

"I'll see you soon then," Dazai says and forces himself to walk, letting go of Chuuya, and eventually turning around completely.

It won't be long until they see each other again -- two weeks, max -- but even that time frame looms over his head like a gigantic, ominous sign telling him to figure something out before the /two weeks/ turn into /forever/ once September ends.

Because their time /is/ limited.

And Dazai has leaned out too far by now, gravity pulling him down into an unfathomable, uncertain future.

The first thing that Akiko says when he finds her checking out the perfumes in the duty-free shop, is, "you have to do something about this."

Oh, he knows.

Dazai knows.

--

Being back in Paris, especially after Dazai and Yosano leave, leaves a strange taste in his mouth -- his whole body, really.

Chuuya's back home, sleeping in his own bed and talking to his family every day, not just via facetime, and yet he feels lonelier than he has in a long while, a little like coming home after a good party and reminiscing about all the fun you had there.

His father is still in the hospital and Chuuya's moping about missing Yokohama makes everything more that much more complicated, his longing to go back riddled with festering specks of guilt.

Apparently, he's not even subtle about it because one afternoon, after they come home from the hospital -- Arthur's last day before his release -- his father says, "How about we book your ticket later?"

Chuuya bites his cheek, trying not to /grin/ at the mere thought. "Really?"

"Son," Paul says with /that/ look, "you still have your au pair year left to finish. You wouldn't want to quit halfway through, would you?"

"No..."

"Your father has been doing better. You clearly want to go back --" Chuuya cringes. Damn. +

"-- and I don't see a reason to rob you of any more time there than necessary."

"You're not /robbing/ me of anything, dad," he mutters. "This is and will always be my home."

So together, they sit down, and with Hayashi on the phone, they work out a convenient date for the flight back.

Six days.

Six days have never felt longer.

--

He texts Dazai every day; sometimes they call too when Chuuya feels even more bored and, frankly, needy than usual, and, well, by now, he's so strung out that hearing Dazai murmur what he will do to him once he's back gets him hot enough to finish within minutes.

One day, when he's doing groceries, he meets an old classmate, though her fucking smile when she asks him about his plans feels /so condescending/ that Chuuya screams into his pillow after he comes home.

Needless to say, he can't wait to get back to Japan.

(And needless to say, Chuuya, for the love of him, can't imagine what the hell he will do with himself once his au pair year ends. Probably, get therapy.)

--

Arthur finally comes home, and the part of Chuuya that still feels guilty for wanting to go back relaxes, giving him some room to breathe around all these warring emotions inside him.

It's such a goddamn relief that Chuuya dances through his room that same day, quietly because his dads don't need to worry about /this/ on top of everything else, but animatedly enough for the pain to make every step afterwards hurt like a bitch

The thing about pain, though, is that it ironically grounds Chuuya.

It tells him that he's /doing/ something, /living, running, racing/ towards a distant future. It means he's not /stuck/, but moving. So sometimes, when his ankle throbs, he pushes even harder.

He doesn't stop for one goddamn second.

--

The day before his flight back, the three of them eat dinner together, and Chuuya's more than familiar with the subtle shift in the atmosphere when his fathers exchange glances, then turn to him.

With a /look./ It's /that/ look -- the one they wore before Chuuya got to hear /the talk/ for the first time, all the times, they taught him about politics and social issues, or the day he came out as bisexual -- though, that was ten times easier than the fucking sex talk.

"So," Paul says from the sink where he's doing the dishes, "we wanted to have a little talk."

"No shit," Chuuya mutters, already having heard enough.

Maybe they saw him dancing? Is that it?

No, if they did, then Arthur wouldn't look so amused right now.

"Your father thinks you'll emigrate to Japan," Paul casually says.

Chuuya's mouth parts.

Arthur shoots his husband a /really?/ scowl before turning to Chuuya, folding his arms. "I mentioned the /possibility/ of you /thinking/ about it. +

It's obviously the place you are from, and everything is new and wonderful and exciting, and young love always feels gigantic --"

"Huh?" Chuuya scowls.

First, he's puzzled, completely fucking clueless about what they're on about, and then -- /young love/ -- oh god, they think that -- "No," he says, shaking his head, "no, no, you've got it all wrong."

That makes Arthur stop, and he curiously tilts his head. "We do?"

"There isn't /love/ or anything," Chuuya says. "I - I like my friends there and all, but doesn't mean I want to /move/ to Yokohama later."

"Chuuya," Paul says, "you don't have to lie to us."

"I'm not." He holds up his hands. "I swear."

"Honey, it's not that uncommon to get a crush on someone from your host family. That's what I read, at least. We get it. You and Dazai spend a lot of time together. Things happen."

"I'm not dating Dazai!" Chuuya snaps.

"You aren't?"

"/No./"

Paul looks part disappointed, part amused as he dries off the plate in his hands. "Son, I saw you two."

Chuuya presses his eyes shut. /This is even worse than the sex talk, he's sure./ "That was --" He scratches his wrist. "I was /upset/ and scared, okay? +

Friends hug, you know!" And he's really not about to tell his parents about all the mindblowing but /casual/ sex they have.

Neither of them looks 100% convinced by this.

"So you still plan to come home after the year ends?" Arthur asks. "No eloping?"

Some of the tension in his spine melts away, Chuuya letting out a huff of dry laughter. "Not that I planned to," he mutters, scrubbing a hand across his face. "You know what happened last time I was in a relationship. I don't..." He shakes his head. "I don't want that again."

"Well, Dazai does seem like a decent young man," Arthur says and makes a face. "I always thought something about Romaine felt off, but you were so in love, you would have started hating us if we said anything back then."

"I wouldn't have," Chuuya says, and then once he thinks about it. Okay. Well, /maybe/ he would have. Four years ago, his relationship with his dads was way less stable than it is now.

Arthur sighs with a little smile. "We want you to be happy, Chuuya. +

That's our biggest wish for you, but we also want you to be careful."

"Yeah, of course. I know."

"So even if you do end up getting involved with Dazai --" He raises his hand before Chuuya can open his mouth to argue. "-- I said /if/. +

With Dazai or anyone else, remember that one person isn't the world. Think about what /you/ want first and foremost."

"Any other embarrassing things you want to mention while you're at it, or can I go now?"

"You can go."

"/Thank god./"

--

The flight back to Yokohama thankfully passes quickly and without any delays, probably because Chuuya accidentally sleeps through the entire thing, preparing for the awful feeling of being jetlagged yet again.

Hayashi's supposed to pick him up, and /no/, Chuuya does not feel disappointed that Dazai didn't even offer to come to get him. No obligations, right? And Dazai's probably busy anyway.

It's totally fine.

It does make the whole business of getting off the plane and walking through the airport a lot more tedious and less exciting. Last time Hayashi found him pretty quickly after the baggage claim. This time, however...

Chuuya's been spinning in circles trying to spot her in the mass of people, feeling a little like a lost child in the grocery store, when someone taps his shoulder. He turns, expecting to see his bubbly host mother but instead standing in front of him is --

"Dazai." +

Chuuya's too stunned for a moment to do anything but drink in the sight of him, feeling like he hasn't seen him for months instead of two measly weeks. Then Dazai smiles, and Chuuya throws himself around his neck, pressing his own grin into the soft material of his black coat.

Dazai's arms slide around his waist. "Missed you too, love."

/Love?/

"You asshole!" Chuuya pulls away and half-heartedly slaps his chest. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"There's this thing called a /surprise./"

"But Hayashi said --"

"I might have mentioned to her that I would be in the neighborhood anyway," Dazai says with a shrug before taking his bag. "I can also mention that your plane has been delayed." He mock-tsks. "These damn commercial flights."

They don't even make it out into the street before ending up pressed against each other in the car, Chuuya on his lap, slotting their mouths together over and over in near-bruising kisses as his hips roll down against Dazai.

It will be a hassle to make himself look presentable later, but at that moment, Chuuya simply doesn't have the capacity to care.

Dazai drives his nails through his hair, and Chuuya sighs at the shivery scratch that crawls over his scalp, mouth parting in wordless invitation.

Then that hand pulls, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make him gasp and press closer. Dazai's chest rumbles with deep laughter, maybe not the best reaction but still sexy in a weird way before he tugs Chuuya away from him, even if it's just a few inches.

"You," Dazai tells him with a rasp, "are like a leech."

Chuuya's brows tug into a breathless frown. "Thanks?"

"I..." For a moment Dazai simply looks at him, his expression not revealing anything other than mild amusement before he shakes his head and nods to the passenger seat.

"As much as I'd love to continue this, I don't want you to get a fine for public sex on your first day back."

"Fine." Reluctantly, Chuuya climbs off him and slides into the seat beside him, his lips still buzzing with a glowing tingle. "You would get fined too, you know.

Is that not important?"

"Not as much," Dazai says, as he smoothly pulls out of the parking lot and merges the car into traffic.

"Right."

Chuuya wonders how someone can be so smug yet care so little about himself. An aggravating paradox.

Dazai asks about Arthur and how he's doing and listens to every little detail that bursts out of Chuuya even though it surely must bore him to death.

They decide not to throw in a brief quickie, after all.

All it would take is one look at the airport's online site, and Hayashi would know it's a lie -- in all honesty, Chuuya would still take that risk /but/ there is a certain... anticipation in waiting a little longer.

It's a bit like edging except that being denied an orgasm, Chuuya's being denied Dazai's cock.

Out of pure habit, Chuuya almost leans over and kisses him goodbye when they're in front of the house. Just in time, he remembers where they are.

"See you tomorrow?" he asks, hopefully.

It's already too late to pretend to go anywhere, and he'll survive one more night of not being fucked out to his wit's end -- probably -- but anything more than that will be a challenge.

"Tomorrow."

Dazai flicks his nose, making him huff and roll his eyes before he gets out of the car.

/Tomorrow./

Chuuya can't wait.

--

Throughout the last few months, they have slid into such a comfortable routine with each other that usually, Chuuya doesn't even think twice about everything that involves having sex with Dazai.

Don't get him wrong, he still dresses up in pretty things because looking into the mirror and seeing someone smoking hot and handsome in it makes Chuuya happy. And because having Dazai devour him with his eyes isn't too bad either.

So it's not like Chuuya shows up at his penthouse with crumbs on his shirt every time. /But/... even he has lazy days, and being able to get railed when his hair is a little greasy and the circles under his eyes dark without worrying that it will put off Dazai is nice.

Tonight, though... tonight his stomach is fluttering with nerves and anticipation, so Chuuya goes all out when he gets ready for the dick appointment of all dick appointments. He cleans, moisturizes, and oils his skin until it's as soft as a baby's butt.

He uses his favorite shampoo, one that makes his hair smell like cherry blossoms and citrus flowers. He does a few squats. He dances through his room in underwear while blasting Beyonce's /Halo./

Hair still wet from the shower, Chuuya considers the clothing options that he laid out on his bed earlier.

He grabs a shirt, a revealing lacy top, and holds it in front of his chest, eyeing himself in the mirror with a frown when his phone goes off.

Chuuya accepts it without having to look at the caller ID -- a few weeks ago, before Paris and before his father got sick, Dazai changed his ringtone for himself to /sexy bitch./ Considering Chuuya rarely ever has his phone unmuted anyway, he didn't bother to change it.

He only regrets it a little.

"Hey," Chuuya greets him. "Black or red? Choose one."

"Black."

He hums. Good ch--

"Chuuya," Dazai says, "I won't make it today."

Chuuya's happy humming stops, and slowly he lowers the top dangling between his fingers. +

"Oh. Did something happen?"

"My father happened." Dazai's voice sounds tired, and even though there's a cold flare of disappointment in Chuuya's stomach, the concern overshadows it.

"He decided it's time for me to start representing the company, so I'm going on a /spontaneous/ business trip to Ibaraki. I can't say no." Because Dazai took off to Paris without permission. /Because of Chuuya./ "I'm sorry. If I had known --"

"Don't," Chuuya hurries to say, shoving the clothes back into his closet. "It's not your fault. I get it."

"I'll make it up to you when I'm back."

Chuuya allows himself to smile as he flops down on his bed, not caring anymore that his hair will get flat and ugly. +

"For how long? Do you know?"

"Eight days."

Man, they just saw each other after two agonizingly long weeks. This sucks.

"Well," Chuuya tries to say with more enthusiasm than he feels, "more webcam sex? We're good at that by now."

Dazai's laugh is brittle and quiet. +

"I guess we are. I have to go now. The jet is waiting, but I'll shoot you a text when I land."

"Okay," Chuuya says. "Good luck, and have a safe flight."

"Thanks, love."

When the line goes silent, Chuuya squeezes his eyes shut and presses his hands against his face, a sigh leaving his body. So much about the hot, long-awaited sex today -- or the whole week. It's starting to look a lot more like a movie, junk food, and his own fucking hand.

--

" -- obviously didn't work."

Skimming the message on his screen, Chuuya tries his best not to grin like an idiot.

"Are you even listening to me?"

He starts typing his reply, but that's when, out of nowhere his phone gets confiscated, and Chuuya's met with Kouyou's indignant glare. "What is so important you can't even --"

"You really shouldn't read that --"

Her eyes fall to the screen, doing exactly what he said /not/ to do, and -- "Oh my god," she snaps, a painful wince passing over her face. "Gross! I did not need to see that! Ever!"

Stealing back his phone, Chuuya makes a face. "I told you not to read it."

Chuuya shrugs and returns his gaze to his screen. Where was he? /Opening his mouth wide./ Right.

"Can you stop sexting Dazai while you're at the hairdresser with /me/?"

Continuing to type, Chuuya shoots her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. +

It's just that every time I'm free, /he/ is busy, and every time /I/ don't, he is free, and I --" His fingers pause so he can clench them into fists, eyes squeezing shut. "I am /dying./ I am bursting. I am --"

"You're horny," Kouyou cuts in with a wave of her hand. +

"I got it the first time around. Thanks."

Again, Chuuya winces. Usually, he at least pretends to keep his shit together in front of her because Kouyou has become something like a big sister to him, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and +

right now, Chuuya's too frustrated and wound tight to filter his thoughts, let alone words. "Sorry."

Flipping her long hair behind her back, Kouyou shakes her head. "I'm surprised Dazai even takes that job seriously."

It's not like his father gives him much of a choice.

"Well, he's trying. And he's good at it."

"You should have seen the Dazai /I/ knew in school."

It piques Chuuya's interest enough to tear his eyes away from his phone. "What was he like?"

"A ticking time bomb," Kouyou mutters. "He went to every party there was, got drunk, or /worse./ He had a thing for antagonizing people for his own amusement. And..." She puffs out a vexed breath, folding her hands together.+

"... even though I knew their relationship was fake, I couldn't stand seeing him hook up with someone else when Akiko was in the other room. It was /disrespectful./"

"And because you liked her."

The glare she throws him makes him shut up.

"Dazai was a bastard." Kouyou juts out her chin. +

"He had this special way of seeing inside you, figuring out what you want, and then taking his sweet time turning it into dust. For a long time, I was convinced he was the fucking devil."

/Wow./

Chuuya's no stranger to Dazai being an ass; he experienced that first hand in their first few weeks knowing each other /but/ he wouldn't go as far as calling him the devil. Aggravating, sure. Too smart for his own good, yeah. But not this.

If anything, Chuuya would think of him as kind. Good. The things Dazai has done for him...

"So what," Chuuya can't help but ask, "you hate him, but still spend every week having lunch with him? Just because of Yosano?"

"No," she says, "because he /was/ all that. Now..." +

Chuuya watches her muse over her words. "I wouldn't call him changed, but he does put more effort into his actions. Into his life. The Dazai I knew didn't care about what happened to him. +

He was hellbent on self-destruction and didn't care who became collateral damage in his path. This Dazai /does./"

Huh.

All of Dazai's "are you okay?" flash through Chuuya's head. All the times Dazai made him laugh and forget about his worries for a moment. All the times +

Dazai knew exactly what food he would like when they ordered. Because he /remembered./ Dazai booking tickets to Paris without even a second of hesitation. Dazai holding him and helping him fall asleep.

It doesn't sound like the guy Kouyou described.

When Chuuya doesn't say anything, Kouyou lifts one shoulder in a one-sided shrug. "Perhaps he grew up."

Chuuya has more questions, a thousand of them, but before he utters them, the hairdresser appears, profusely apologizing for keeping them waiting, and he doubts +

that Dazai's antics are appropriate conversation material.

--

Dazai didn't think his week could become much worse, and then, earlier today, he had the misfortune to run into Nobuko in the lobby of the hotel he's staying at.

What a /funny/ coincidence.

At least, she seemed just as surprised, and therefore didn't have much to say to him aside from an "oh" and "hello, Dazai." Considering he still has two nights left here, that might change.

When he finally enters his room after several hours out and about, he lets himself linger against the door, chest rising and falling heavily. Sometimes he wonders how one can be so good at talking to people yet so incredibly tired of it. His bones feel heavy, dragging him down.

The smile he has worn for the past hours cuts through his skin and hollows him out, leeching away everything warm.

The only motivation to move through the fog in his mind and the impending party tonight is the little video date with Chuuya and the fact that Dazai has plans.

tw // mention of self harm

For himself. For the rest of his life -- because the thought of working under his father for the next years, centuries, even, makes him crave the sharp, stinging pain of a razor blade. Plans for Chuuya and him.

His laptop is already on his bed, and two minutes and a text later, Dazai's screen goes from black to Chuuya's face, pixelated but nonetheless gorgeous, his hair in a high ponytail, waving around as he grins into the camera.

"Hey there, stranger," Chuuya says. +

"Long time no see."

Dazai's eyes flicker to the time in the bottom right corner. "Exactly twenty-six hours."

"See, /long./" Somewhere outside the screen, Chuuya grabs a handful of chips, stuffing them into his mouth. "Are you done for tonight?"

There's a hopeful glint in his eyes that /finally/ they might have time for something more than a thirty-minute call or sending each other dirty texts while they're both busy. Dazai's fingers clench when he shakes his head. "Sorry, love. Shibuwasa-san invited me to a club."

"A club," Chuuya echoes, clearly trying to stifle the disappointment in his voice. "That sounds fun."

"It's just business."

"Hey, I don't mind. Maybe, for once, you can be the one sending me drunk voice notes."

Dazai doubts that will ever happen.

Alcohol and his medication don't mix well together. At home, he can push his limits, but he's not going to do here with a bunch of strangers who see him as an entrance ticket to his father's empire.

"Sure," he lies. "Maybe."

Chuuya pops another chip in his mouth, pulling one knee up to his chest. It's bare, which means he's either wearing the booty shorts that he likes to show off now and then or...

"Would you do me and favor and switch off the main light in your room?" Dazai asks.

Chuuya's eyes narrow knowingly. "/Why./"

"Oversaturation."

"Fine." Chuuya stands up, and sure enough, Dazai's suspicions are confirmed as he's granted a splendid view of Chuuya's bare thighs under the shirt he's wearing.

One particular step lets it ride up, and gods above, that ass should be /criminal./

Dazai hopes he didn't forget to lock his door.

"Satisfied?" Chuuya asks once he's back.

"Not quite." Dazai's nudges his head towards the screen. "Shirt off."

-- nsfw from here :-) --

Chuuya lets out an annoyed huff even as his arms already cross, fingers gripping the edge of his shirt before pulling it over his head and carelessly tossing it away. "Since when do /you/ run the show?"

"Do you want me to stop?"

Chuuya raises his chin. "No."

It's why Dazai will never get enough of this, of /him./ Chuuya's lightning and thunder, boundless, a force of nature in everything he does, so feeling Chuuya bend for him, and /enjoying/ it, makes their relationship that much more satisfying.

"Hands on your chest," Dazai instructs. "Play with yourself."

Chuuya's throat bobs as he swallows and obeys, eyes fluttering when he rubs the pad of his fingers against his nipples, making them nice and hard, before tweaking and pinching them.

His lips press together to contain what must be a moan.

Dazai nods, his own hand rubbing over the growing bulge trapped in his slacks. "Just like that."

"What about you?" Chuuya asks, a little breathlessly.

"What about me?"

"Aren't you going to lose all those fucking layers?"

"I'm content just the way I am right now."

"But I want to see you."

Dazai's mouth curves into a smile. "Focus on yourself, Chuuya. Don't stop until your chest is /sore./"

"Asshole," Chuuya growls, but his skin flushes with rosy colors as he rolls his nipple between his fingers over and over again, switching between them and letting out tiny, choked breaths.

"Do they hurt?" Dazai asks.

"A little."

"Like if I was there?"

Chuuya shakes his head in frustration. "/No./"

"Then you know what to do."

Chuuya lasts about a minute before his pleading eyes zero in on Dazai through the screen. "They're sore, okay? They're sore, Dazai. Please --"

"Roll back until I can see all of you."

Dazai supposes there is a certain perverse mystery in not seeing all of someone, when things are left up to the imagination, but this is not the case here. Not with Chuuya.

No fantasy or dream could even come close to the sight that he makes when he slides his chair back until he's in full view, his cock full and hard and straining against his belly.

"Beautiful," Dazai murmurs, the blood in his veins heating as he watches Chuuya dig his nails into his skin in order to stay put.

"/Dazai/ --"

"I want us to come together."

The heated glower on Chuuya's face dissipates into something zealous and rhapsodic, his eyes growing huge and dark on the other side of the screen as he breathes out a, "Okay."

Refusing to tear his eyes away from that bewildering sight, Dazai undoes his belt and wrenches down both his slacks and briefs, just low enough to be able to grip his cock, stroking himself slowly while his free hand reaches for the traveled-size bottle of lube he brought along.

"Let me see," Chuuya demands, his tone bordering a pitiful plea. "I want to see, too."

The laptop webcam only covers Dazai up to his mid-frame, so everything below... Chuuya can't see. Dazai could tilt his laptop, but where would be the fun in that?

"Patience, love." He does decide to take /some/ sort of mercy, so Dazai nods towards him. "You can touch yourself. Just like I would, okay?"

Nodding furiously, Chuuya's slick hand slides up and wraps around his cock, eyes fluttering shut as his fist moves from top to bottom in a maddeningly slow pace /because that's what Dazai would do if he was there./

Chuuya's listening, being good, so good for /him/ even though it would be easy not to. Just thinking about it makes Dazai's dick twitch.

Slowly, with each thorough stroke, thumb rubbing the slick head of his cock, Chuuya's fist speeds up. Dazai matches his pace.

The pressure inside his stomach, thick and warm and heady, mounts.

This is so much better than getting off alone. Everything is so much better with Chuuya there; everything so much more bearable and colorful, simply because of this /one/ human being.

Chuuya's breath hitches at the same time as Dazai's; their heartbeats synchronizing even though they're thousands of miles away from each other. Always.

As wonderful as it is to watch Chuuya work his hand around his cock, faster and faster, what does Dazai in is his face, so alive and full of raw, honest emotions. No matter what or where or why, Chuuya always gives all of himself to the cause.

His are eyes half-lidded and trembling as he violently tries to keep them open on /Dazai/, mouth parted around silent, breathless, moans, back arched, hips bucking up into his own fist as if it was actually Dazai on the other side touching him. As if they were actually together.

"I- I'm close." His broken voice is the most beautiful thing Dazai's ever heard. "Please--"

Dazai tilts the laptop camera down, granting him a view of what he's doing, his hand trembling with the fire building inside his veins as he strokes himself.

"Oh my god --"

Dazai tilts it back up, arm quickening, and at the same time as Chuuya's head tosses back, muscles going taut, Dazai feels his lungs stutter with the intensity of the orgasm that rips through him.

On the screen, Chuuya jerks himself through his high, streaks of come landing first on his chest, then his lower belly with a few final strokes.

What Dazai would give to be there right now, clean him up and kiss him raw. /Worlds./ He'd give up worlds and empires.

"Wow," Chuuya breathes out, his arm looking a little wobbly as he scratches a spot next to his eye. "Who knew a handjob could be so exciting."

Grabbing napkins from his nightstand, Dazai lets out a puff of breath. +

"You weren't wrong when you said we're getting good at this."

Chuuya offers him a blinding grin before he bends down, disappearing from view. "I'm still dying for the real thing."

"Trust me, love. I know."

"Is this a post-sex thing now, too?" Chuuya shows back up on screen, brows arched.

"What thing?"

"The /love/ thing."

"It never was only a sex thing."

Dazai watches him closely, waiting for -- for /something/, but as it often is the case with Chuuya, he dismisses it with a puzzled shrug and a "/okay/." It seems like Dazai has somehow fallen for an idiot.

But it's /his/ idiot, and he couldn't give up on it even if he wanted to.

They talk as Chuuya cleans up and gets dressed, about the club Dazai's going to, about work, about Chuuya's adventures on the playground with Ryuu and Gin, about his trimmed hair.

And Dazai craves to do /this/ for the rest of the night. Talk about everything. About nothing.

How something so mundane is able to make Dazai feel so utterly sick with longing, will never make sense to him.

Then again, everything that involves Chuuya and Dazai's feelings for him is beyond any logic.

They say their goodbyes when someone knocks on Chuuya's door -- Ryuu, he informs Dazai later via text.

Dazai still has some time to kill before he's supposed to meet Shibuwasa, so he opens a file on his computer, one that was created on the flight back from Paris.

His father is not only powerful but also brilliant, which means that /one/ favor would turn into two and ultimately into ten because he would always find something wrong in his son and turn it around until he could take and take and take. It's something Dazai would do.

It's efficient. Clever.

But there's only so much a person can give. Dazai won't work under Gen'emon for the rest of his life; he can't.

And so, as he was sitting on the plane, watching the place where Chuuya remained and the place he would eventually return to get smaller and smaller, a plan started forming in his head.

Gen'emon doesn't want Dazai to become the face of his company someday. No.

In fact, there's a high chance his father actually despises the idea. No, what he wants above all is a son he doesn't have to be ashamed of. A son that accomplished something.

And even though, Dazai admittedly wasted a good portion of his youth wasting away at the bottom of a colorless, rotten well... he still has time left.

Perhaps his father will never be proud of him, the train for that having long passed already, but maybe, he can at least one day think of him as something more than a waste of life.

And Dazai doesn't have to work in Gen'emon's company for that -- not forever, at least.

He just has to present his own game plan for a thriving career and success and money. His /own/ business proposal.

So, as the clock on the wall of his hotel room ticks away, Dazai calculates numbers, does research, puts his thoughts into words, and, for once in his life, he /hopes./ It's a dreadful, pulsating thing that trickles into his system like a drug and fills him with silly fantasies,+

but god, do they taste good.

All Dazai has to do is get through this trip. All he has to do is get home and refine his proposal until he can present it to his father, his own kingdom. And then, Dazai can have it all. Perhaps he could even be free someday.

--

-- TW for drugs and non-consensual drug use / roofies / roofying for the following scene --

Throughout the last few days, the task Dazai was sent here for seemed mundane enough.

Play nice with the airline representative the board has been working on partnering with, talk about numbers and products, and basically summarize everything that was already known to each party but in fancy, convincing words. Dazai's a pro at that. Easy.

Except that it seemed /so/ simple, it blinded Dazai, and the fact that Shibuwasa was here with a completely different agenda flew right past Dazai's head.

It starts with a complete change of demeanor, Shibuwasa going from a collected, almost boring sales representative to the recklessly smug daredevil that offers him a line of coke in the bathroom.

But what ultimately gives him away is that Nobuko shows up not much later, some guy with abnormally greasy hair in tow.

And the smirk on her face screams trouble.

She plops down in their lounge as if it belongs to her. Dazai takes a sip of his drink. +

"Should have known you'd come running at the mere mention of powder."

"Seems like I'm not the only one who came, though," she retorts with a shrug. "You're here."

And Dazai politely /declined/ the line. +

He has done coke before, but that was years ago during a time where he just wanted to disappear into the sun. Now ruining himself and the reputation of the representative his father chose doesn't fit into his plans anymore.

Not that he voices any of these arguments.

It's both easier and more amusing to keep Nobuko thinking otherwise.

"Not for much longer," Dazai says and makes a show of looking around his surroundings with a look of distaste. "This scene is boring me to death."

Nobuko lets out a shrill, fake laugh, making her look stupid even when swathed in neon lights. "You're that scared? I wouldn't have taken you for a coward." Then she gets to her feet, balancing herself on the shoulder of the guy next to her. "Thanks, Dostoevsky-san. +

Anyways, don't be scared, Dazai. I'm just here to have fun and dance with Shibuwasa since he's the only one here who understands what the word means."

"That is my cue," Shibuwasa chimes in, nodding along to the rhythmic beat booming over the speakers, "to get up and dance."

/Dance./ The look Shibuwasa sends him in passing is one that screams that whatever has been happening tonight is only the tip of the iceberg.

Dazai indulges himself in the fantasy of imagining them snorting a tiny bit too much into their ape brains, just enough to pass out and for cops to storm the club.

It does give him the best chance to leave this shithole before he gets dragged into, though, and Dazai moves to do th --

"Oh, you're not actually going to leave, are you?" the guy -- Dostoevsky asks, tilting his head lazily. "How rude."

The gleam in his eyes says he knows too much, says he doesn't care what will happen to him. Dazai looks at him and sees a greasier, ganglier version of himself.

"Sorry, was I supposed to make conversation with local cryptid first? My mistake."+

Dazai gets to his feet, dusting off his pants. "I'll remember it next time."

Dostoevsky twists his drink between his fingers, wearing that /I know something that you don't/ smile. "And here I was about to tell you why Shibuwasa is acting off."

It doesn't make Dazai rock to a halt -- because he wasn't moving yet, but it does make him glance down at the guy.

He's a virtual stranger, brought along by someone as irrelevant to the partnership deal as /Nobuko./ Now, why would /he/ even have the slightest idea about any of this?

"Let me guess," Dazai says. "The deal will fall through?"

Dostoevsky's smile gains an edge of amusement.

"So they weren't lying. You are sharp."

Dazai's pushes away the first concern that arises -- whether he is actually to blame for this or not, coming back from a business trip with a botched deal that was 99,9% secured before, won't look god in front of the company.

Instead, he meets Dostoevsky's stare. "And I'm not the only one, it seems," he replies.

All of these things can be dealt with later. He takes his glass and takes a sip, stalling for time and --

Dazai's pulse thunders in his ears as a strange, salty flavor washes over his mouth. He only swallows what's necessary, spitting out the rest as quickly and carefully as possible before placing the glass back on the table.

Why in the world did he even take off his eyes of it in the first place?

"The airline wasn't planning to sign for months anyway," Dostoevsky provides. "They just needed a valid, legal reason to back out of it."

Hence the drugs. +

They wanted to feed them to Dazai, then make a scandal out of it. Considering his school reputation, it's not a bad idea -- except that things since then have clearly changed.

And Dazai just... he didn't expect them to try to /roofie/ him.

His bones grow cold at the mere idea, making Dazai's feet move before his brain can even react.

It doesn't matter why the deal fell through. It doesn't matter why this Dostoevsky guy is here, attempting to drug him. None of this matters. /Dazai just needs to get out./

His lungs feel tight, so tight he can barely breathe around them --

He needs to get out.

His surroundings whizz past him in a loud, fuzzy blur. Whether it's because that sip of his drink was enough -- was it even /one/ or did Dazai simply not notice it before?

-- or whether it's because his feet are moving at a dizzying speed, he doesn't know.

What he does know is that the air feels good, cold, and harsh, but finally clearing some of that space in his lungs.

What he also knows is that he's leaning against some dirty wall, taking sobbing breaths, and desperately clinging to the phone that's he's pressing against his ear with a bruising force.

"Hmm 'ello?"

The built-up air softly rushes out of his mouth.

"Hey..."

"Daz -- ahh--" It sounds like Chuuya yawns. "-- ai? Is that you?"

"Yeah. Did I wake you?"

"Kind of," his sleepy voice mumbles, "but 's fine. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I just need..." /to hear something, anything not to fall apart right now./ "...something to help me fall asleep."

He's in the middle of the city in a dirty alley wall, one that a thousand clubbing goers probably used as a pissing spot judging by the smell. But right now, his legs feel paralyzed, rooted to the ground.

He should be running, trying to get away as far away as humanly possible from this place, from these people, but Dazai's legs are wobbly, trembling violently, and the only thing that keeps them from buckling is the oblivious person on the other end of the line.

On the other line, Chuuya yawns again, shifting loudly before replying. "Thought you were partying?" Then there's a surprised gasp. "'s this your drunk booty call?!"

No.

"You can call it that," Dazai murmurs, pressing his forehead against the cold wall.

"Are you in your bed?"

"No."

"In your bathroom?"

"I'm not in the hotel yet, chibi."

Chuuya lets out another muffled gasp. "You're still partying? 's surprisingly quiet."

Dazai finally pushes away from the wall, heart in his throat as he takes a careful look around. +

"I'm on my way home how."

To his relief, the main street is more crowded, a dozen groups of people huddled together, some just about to enter, others only outside for a smoke.

"Call your driver," Chuuya tells him.

Out of all the days, Dazai stupidly decided to give his +

driver a night off /today/, but maybe if he's lucky, he might still reach him with a call.

Dazai slumps against a street light, muscles still tense and shaking, his brain still providing him with one scenario of what could have happened after another, reminding him +

that even though he might get away unscathed tonight, there will be consequences to be carried. And yet, exhaustion trying to drag him down, Dazai stands. He still stands.

-- end of the TW for drugs & non-consensual drug use / roofies / roofying --

Dazai’s one of the lucky people that rarely has to deal with hangovers, but the next morning that lucks runs out and leaves him high and dry over the toilet in his hotel bathroom.

Last night, after getting a hold of his driver, he got home in one piece.

Aside from a searing headache, Dazai felt fine, /lucid/, and even fell asleep faster than usual.

Why his stomach decides to rebell /now/ escapes him, but thanks to the intensity of the cramps and the nausea, Dazai doesn’t really have enough thoughts left to even wonder.

Technically, he still has a day left. Technically, he's supposed to report only good news to his father when he's home. Technically, he should have stayed, and turned the situation yesterday.

The lingering knowledge that this might sabotage everything makes his bile taste that+

much more bitter.

For the longest time, his father called him a failure, a disappointment, an utter disgrace to their name what with the teenage rebellions and all the desperately childish cries for attention when he was younger.

Dazai always believed those were the words of a man who lost his wife and was left with an unstable child in return. Sitting on the floor, his body trembling and sweating, it strikes him that all this time, his father might have just been telling the truth.

--

When Chuuya wakes up, it's still dark outside, and a half-lidded glance at his phone reveals that it's around two in the morning. The spot next to him is empty, which is strange considering Dazai said he'd come to bed not much later.

And given that Chuuya broke his rule of never staying over -- because Dazai tired him out so much that he all but dozed away in the bathtub afterwards -- and given he will have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to drive back to the Tsushimas and wake up the kids, he expects +

that Dazai actually comes to bed, and, at least, makes up for the lack of sleep with cuddles.

Chuuya should go back to sleep while he still can, but now that he's half-awake and /alone/ in a gigantic bed that someone as small as him simply shouldn't sleep in all by himself, he gets up anyway, wrapping a blanket around himself.

The hallway outside the bedroom is dark, but there's a faint light seeping through the crack of the door at the end of the hallway.

Dazai's in his office.

The room is overflowing with stacks of papers, files, and documents -- something that was not the case last time Chuuya was here, though admittedly, it's been a while.

Dazai's in the middle of, having a silent staring cost with his laptop and absently chewing on a pencil when his gaze flickers to Chuuya. Surprised.

Chuuya rubs his eyes and leans against the doorframe, hugging the blanket closer to his body. "What the hell are you doing?"

"...working."

"At two in the morning?"

"It's not that late."

/Fine./ It isn't. Chuuya supposes a lot of people get work done in the middle of the night, but somehow, whenever he went home, he never imagined Dazai to spend his free time... working.

Has he been doing this all along?

"Is your father making you do this?" Chuuya asks.

/Is this some sort of punishment for going to Paris?/

Dazai's expression softens, arms stretching behind his back before he pulls out one of the many folders from the pile on his desk and places it there for Chuuya to see. "It's not for him, but for myself."

Chuuya takes a few steps closer to read. /Executive summary. +

Implementation. Goals and Outlook. Billing and Scheduling./ Aside from a few basic economy classes, he never dealt with anything business-related, but this does suspiciously look like some sort of plan.

He glances at Dazai. "You want to... lead your own project?"

"I want to lead my own business."

Oh.

/Oh./

Chuuya feels himself grin. "Really?"

"Really."

"Hey, that's great." He takes the file into his hands again, hesitating to open it, but Dazai's nod tells him to go on.

There's more text, but pictures too, and Chuuya starts getting a vague picture of what Dazai's working on.

"A speakeasy-bar," he hears Dazai provide across from him. "If there's one scene I'm well versed in, it's this. Drinks. Entertainment. Games. Discreet. Mysterious."

Sounds like someone Chuuya knows.

"It's perfect," he murmurs, flipping through the pages. It's not just him being supportive... he's actually impressed by the idea, the picture the proposal is trying to paint becoming clearer and clearer with each word.

"When are you going to tell your father about it?"

"Friday."

"Hey, that fits." Tanizaki and Higuchi have been trying to find a day for a /cocktail night/ for ages, and, at last, they settled on next Friday. "We can celebrate afterwards."

Dazai doesn't look that convinced, and /that/ is an unusual sight.

Chuuya sits down, brows furrowing. "You don't think he's going to like it?"

"The idea should be fine, but the timing isn't ideal."

Right. Something went wrong on that business trip. +

Chuuya didn't get to hear the details earlier, Dazai only briefly mentioning it and then successfully distracting him with sex, but he didn't sound very happy about it.

"It's going to be fine," Chuuya insists, settling deeper into the chair and crossing his legs under the blanket. "Everything looks great, you are great, and he's going to think so too. And if not..." Then Chuuya might just punch the shit out of his host father.

"...then fuck him. You can pull it off without your father."

Dazai's chuckle is dry. "It's not a hotel chain, but it would still cost a few dozen million yen. It depends on his support."

"Then you'll just have to be very convincing, which, as you might know, is one of your many abilities."

"Hmm."

Stifling a yawn, Chuuya pillows his chin on his knees and watches Dazai sort through a few documents.

Without looking up, Dazai says, "You know you can go to sleep, right?"

"'s fine."

It's clear that Dazai /cares./ After everything, the least Chuuya can do is stay and offer moral support.

Dazai's eyes narrow. "You sure that you want to sacrifice your precious sleep?"

Chuuya stares back and gives him a resolute nod. Yes, he will most likely regret it, but right now it doesn't matter.

"Fine. Suit yourself then."

Dazai's a quiet and collected worker, but under all those ridiculous layers Chuuya can see how tense and exhausted he is.

So around the four o'clock mark, Chuuya forces him to take a break and massages his shoulders, trying to get, at least, /some/ of the tension to drain out.

Dazai's not very happy about it, stiff even, but with each push and twist of hands, Chuuya feels his muscles relax under him, and smiles to himself.

Sometimes Dazai looks up, lashes fluttering, asking him for a synonym, and other times, he explains the logistics, wondering if it makes sense out loud. Chuuya doubts he's much help, but hey, Dazai doesn't complain.

By the time Dazai calls it a night, it's six, which means that sleeping would be useless. Chuuya does a few jumping jacks to stop himself from curling up on the floor and taking a five-minute power nap.

In the end, what ultimately helps him stay awake is the shower he takes with Dazai. Ten thousand times better than any energy drink.

When Dazai steps out to leave, Chuuya stays for a few minutes longer, letting the hot water rain down on his skin.

Once out, he speed-dries himself while looking for the clothes he left in the apartment somewhere, half-jumping because the towel around his waist is a little too long.

He finds his leather leggings and cropped sweater in the kitchen, which makes sense, yeah, considering yesterday's affair started right there, waiting for the pasta to boil turned into kissing and kissing turned into Dazai blowing him and that turned into getting fingered on +

a chair.

/Fun./

"Five more minutes," Dazai announces like he's some sort of moderator commenting on the reality show that is Chuuya's life. The only reason he doesn't snap is that the idiot also hands him an avocado toast with a fried egg—his favorite.

As Chuuya tries to squeeze his ass into the tight pants, he shoots him a scowl. "Since when do you have food in your fridge?"

"Since you came back from Paris."

"Okay," Chuuya says slowly, not any brighter but also too much in a hurry to solve the difficult puzzle that is Dazai's brain sometimes. "I'm ready."

It's still dark outside when they pull out of the garage, a fine mist hanging in the deserted streets, but considering the time, Chuuya's not only awake but also in a half-good mood.

Maybe his rule of /not sleeping over/ shouldn't be a rule, after all.

--

"I'm busy, Dazai, so make it quick."

Dazai spent days debating whether he should create a powerpoint, or perhaps take his father to see the place he intends to turn into the bar right away, but both these things would require patience and participation.

Gen'emon does not possess either.

Instead, Dazai stuck every word and idea and plan into twenty pages, which he now hands over to his father even as they walk past office walls and doors.

"Imagine a place where people can lose themselves in for one night," he says around the thunder of his heart in his ears. "A bar in the style of a speakeasy. Not just a mainstream club, not for everyone, but --"

His father holds up his hand, making Dazai's words grind to a halt.

"You want to open a bar?"

"More or less, yes."

It is, in fact, more than /just/ a bar. It's about the atmosphere. About the possibility to forget about the colorless, mundane reality for a few hours. About bending rules and social conventions.

Shaking his head, Gen'emon slaps the file back against his chest, his pace not once slowing down. "I give you the chance to become the chairman of an international and successful hotel chain, and you want to open a bar?" Dazai's breath falters.

"And who's supposed to fund all this fun? Let me guess. Me?"

"It's a /proposal/," Dazai says, returning the file once again. "You can read through it when you have more time. It's an opportunity to start and grow my own business."

"Your own," his father scoffs. +

"How am I supposed to believe that you can handle an entire business when you can't even represent this company without sabotaging crucial deals?"

"It was doomed to fail before I got there. I told you that." Repeatedly.

Though it didn't seem to get through then, and it doesn't seem to get through it now. The elevator doors slide open, and his father sends him one last cutting scowl, letting out a sigh as if he is looking at the most disappointing thing in his entire life. He probably is.

They're still close enough for Dazai to hear him mutter, "Fucking bar..." before the doors slide shut, and Dazai's left standing there and watching the button glow red.

He took a chance on himself. How very stupid.

--

Dazai was supposed to pick him up tonight, but he texted him saying he'd run late, so Chuuya asks Yosano and Kouyou for a ride.

He still talks to Yosano now and then, exchanging outfit pictures and memes, but he can't help but feel like there's an undercurrent of tension ever since Paris.

As if Chuuya's an awful person for simply wanting a casual relationship -- not to mention, that they /both/ agreed to keep it simple from the very start.

Tonight, she seems to be in a merciful mood, choosing to flirt with her girlfriend rather than antagonizing Chuuya, which is fine with him.

The apartment that Higuchi and Tanizaki share is near the landmark tower, and even though he isn't surprised anymore, their wealth, feeling so nonchalant and effortless, never cease to make him feel ridiculously small in comparison.

Once he's back in Paris, in his humble three-bedroom apartment with his dads and Baki, Chuuya will only be able to /dream/ about this.

Tanizaki lets them in with his cheeks already flushed and splotchy, giving Chuuya and Kouyou a tour of the place. It's bigger and louder than expected; Chuuya doesn't know half of the people present; +

and it's much less of a /cocktail night/ and instead more of /let's wreck this place until someone calls the cops on us/ kind of party.

Chuuya settles on beer and cigarettes for now, telling Higuchi about the Paris trip and that his father is already feeling much better now.

The living room is crowded with people playing drinking games and dancing around, so Chuuya mostly tries to listen to people he's speaking to, but when he hears several voices yell the name "Dazai!" he perks up.

Higuchi waves him away with an understanding smile, and so Chuuya finds himself pushing past people, only slightly tipsy -- /tipsy/ not drunk! Ultimately, Chuuya finds him in the kitchen, eyeing a near-empty box of pizza.

"Here you are," he says, bumping Dazai's hip.

"I was starting to think you would ditch us."

Dazai opts for a glass of water instead, offering Chuuya only the barest hint of a smile. "You need a place to sleep tonight, and I doubt you'd like to wake up on the sticky floor."

True. +

Chuuya's free tomorrow, so he informed Hayashi he would be staying over, though the plan was always to sleep at Dazai's. "How thoughtful of you. So, how did it go?"

"It... remains to be seen."

"You didn't pitch the idea?"

"He still has to read through it."

"Oh," Chuuya says, "well... /good./ If your father takes his time reading through your proposal, it means it's important. And once he does, I'm sure he'll approve."

/Happy/ seems too positive of a reaction for a man like Gen'emon Tsushima, but Chuuya doesn't see why he wouldn't like Dazai's idea either. It's profitable. Bars are always overcrowded and therefore needed. Dazai's reputation will make people /die/ to check it out.

And it's simply genius.

Wrapping his hand around Dazai's wrist, Chuuya tugs him along. "Now, stop hiding in the kitchen, and let's do something fun."

Barely an hour passes before Chuuya switches to wine, which might not be hard liquor, but enough to cling to Dazai like a lifeline, feeling touchy and needy.

By now, their relationship is hardly a secret, so when Dazai pulls him on his lap, hands rubbing up and down the length of his thighs, Chuuya doesn't complain, instead melting into his warmth, wiggling his ass side to side just to feel that soft puff of breath against his neck.

A few of their friends join them on the couch, and even though there's an animated conversation happening, Chuuya only half-listens, too busy playing a dangerous game of teasing with Dazai, and then suffering the consequences.

So when someone -- no, Higuchi utters his name, he has to pull out of his Dazai-induced haze to orientate himself.

"Huh?"

"I mean, you're basically a couple now, right?" Higuchi asks.

"They aren't," Tanizaki says, then looks at them. "Right? You aren't."

"Uh, /no./" Chuuya straightens his shoulder, tugging his brows into somewhat of a frown. He's aware of how rich that must sound when Dazai's arms are currently wrapped around his waist, but god forbid you show affection to your fuck buddy slash friend in public!

"Oh," Higuchi stammers out, her cheeks reddening as her gaze darts behind Chuuya, then back to him. She winces. "I just assumed -- uh..."

"Well, stop assuming." Chuuya makes a /what the hell/ gesture, though he doubts it gets across. "We're just having fun. That's all. +

I thought you people were familiar with the term casual?!"

He figures that's the end of the story since Dazai doesn't offer any stupid comments either. It /should/ be the end of it. There's nothing more to discuss.

Except that Dazai doesn't really offer much of anything for the rest of the night. Chuuya only notices how much he liked the hand squeezing his knee once it slips away.

(What he doesn't realize at this very moment is that /this/.... this is how it starts.)

--

The door of Dazai’s apartment falls shut with a firm thud, cutting off the wind of the storm brewing outside and bathing the two of them in ripe, heavy silence as they undress.

Chuuya brushes a strand of loose hair out of his face, and sighs. “You’re angry.”

"I'm not," Dazai replies.

"Yeah, because you haven't been ignoring me all night or anything."

That earns him a nasty look. "What does it matter when it's /just fun/, huh?"

Chuuya's eyes fall shut for a moment. /God fucking damn it./ He can't believe he's forced to have +

this argument all over again. Following Dazai into the kitchen, he considers his words, which is harder than it sounds. He doesn't want to come off like an inconsiderate jerk, but he doesn't want to keep repeating shit over and over either. It's a fine line to balance.

"I thought we both agreed to it," he finally says, settling on the other side of the bar, watching Dazai check the fridge. "Casual. That's all it was ever was supposed to be. Am I wrong?"

"That was before..."

"Before what?"

"Before /everything./" Dazai turns, +

wearing a crystalline frown. "Tell me. Were all your casual relationships like /this/?"

Chuuya feels a little lost. "I don't know. I've never had one before." Boyfriends? Well, one, but yes. One night stands? Totally. Friends with benefits? Not so much.

"I did. +

And it was never like this."

"What kind of reasoning is that?" Chuuya huffs. "You know, I've had an /actual/ boyfriend too before, and it was never like /this/ either." As soon as the words are out, whizzing through the air like bullets, he regrets having said them.

It is the truth; Dazai isn't in any way comparable to Romaine; it just sounds infinite times harsher than he meant it to.

Dazai's finger tap against the counter of the bar. "Right. Pretty hard to live up to a guy who cheated on you, hm?"

"You know I didn't mean it like that. +

I just --" He sucks in a deep breath, a loose cannon in his chest waiting to go off because this is fucking /unfair./ "I mean, what do you expect from me, Dazai? /You/ said it would be casual the first time it happened. /You/ said it's okay when I told you I don't want a +

fucking relationship. /You/ said --"

"I know what I said."

"Then what the hell is your problem?!"

"The problem is that I fucking love you!" Dazai shouts back, and --

Chuuya's muscles freeze. +

The conversation's been heading here all along, he realizes; why else would someone /not/ want a casual relationship, but -- but /hearing/ it out loud is like watching a river go up in explosive flames -- it's /not/ possible -- it's --

"No, you aren't," he stammers out.

And that's not the right answer.

Dazai's voice is as quiet as the soft patter of rain against the window outside. "I think I know better what I feel and don't feel."

"No," Chuuya says, shaking his head again and again, "you /think/ you --" He can't even say it out loud. +

It sounds ridiculous. "-- you think you do, but you don't."

"Stop patronizing me." And now Dazai sounds /hurt/, and that's even worse because the last thing Chuuya ever wanted to do was hurt him in any way, but what is he supposed to do here?

"You're /Dazai/," he whispers. +

"You're --"

"I'm what?"

He's the future heir of an entire goddamn empire. According to Kouyou, he's the fucking devil. According to everyone else, he's everything but someone who falls in love with his fuck buddy. Chuuya knows there's so much more to him than that, and yet.

/And yet./

When he doesn't say anything, Dazai cracks a tight-lipped, bitter smile, and it breaks Chuuya's heart.

"You've made up this entire persona around me, but refuse to actually look at who is in front of you. Is it really that unbelievable that I could love you?"

Chuuya scrubs a hand across his face. /No./ "I'm sorry."

The only thing in reply is silence.

Dazai just dropped a bomb of epic proportions between them, and there's no way around it anymore, no way to get back to where they were before. It's impossible to ignore. +

And there are only so many potential outcomes.

"I just..." Chuuya grips the counter with a white-knuckled grip. "I told you about my ex. I don't want that ever again."

Dazai's gaze flickers to him and softens. "Chuuya," he says. +

"If that's your only concern, then I've got news for you because I haven't thought about anyone else since the very first time I saw you. Ever since, it's just only you. It's always going to be /you./"

/No.../

It's not the only concern. /God, if only./

"People always say that and then..."

"I'm not just some /people/," Dazai snaps, and before Chuuya registers what's happening he's in front of him, clinging to his shoulders like he will die if the words don't get out. "I'm Dazai. I'm the guy who would fly across the world +

every day to see you. I'm the guy who would burn it down for you. And I'm telling you I would /never/ --"

"Stop," Chuuya says. "Just stop."

"Why are you so afraid?"

"It's not just that, okay?" Chuuya withdraws from his grip, taking a few steps and trying to clear his head.+

"Sure, you would fly across the world, but it's not that easy. Long-distance relationships simply aren't that easy! A-And what if your father makes you date someone else again, huh? What then? I don't want to be on the other side of the world imagining you with someone else."

"I would say no."

"It's not that easy! What if it's /that/ or this penthouse? Or your trust fund? Or your family? I don't want you to choose me over your life. I don't want you to risk your whole future every time you're together with me."

"So what," Dazai asks flatly. +

"You want me to spend the rest of my life doing what my father wants me to do?"

"/No./ No, you're twisting my fucking words. I just want you to do things at your own pace, and not because you feel like you have to /for me./"

Maybe Dazai doesn't hear him. +

Maybe he's just too stubborn. "You've listed a dozen reasons why you don't want this, and none of them were that you don't feel the same."

Chuuya swallows.

"Look me in the eye," Dazai says, "and tell me you feel /nothing/ and I will drop it. I will leave you alone."

Chuuya doesn't want to, every nerve in his body screaming when he slowly lifts his head, meeting Dazai's gaze. He doesn't want Dazai to leave him alone. He doesn't +

want any of this. "It's not that easy."

"It is. Just a simple /yes/ or /no./ That's it." Dazai takes his hand between his fingers, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles into his skin, and that touch alone is nearly enough to break Chuuya. "That's all I need," Dazai whispers.

No matter how much Chuuya might want it, there's no way back anymore. They crossed that line ten minutes ago.

Chuuya squeezes his hand, water pooling in his eyes. "No."

Dazai's eyes flutter shut, and he nods. "Thank you."

He hates that Dazai lifts his hand and kisses it, mouth feather light against his skin, before he, true to his promise, steps away and /leaves him alone./ Chuuya hates that there are now tears streaming down his face, while Dazai's just quiet. He hates that it feels like +

he's doing the biggest mistake of his life even though he knows it's the right choice. Dazai deserves someone who 100% loves him without any /but/s or /if/s. Dazai deserves someone without all these issues and doubts and /back and forth/s. Dazai deserves someone who isn't Chuuya.

"I can't do the casual thing anymore," Dazai says somewhere. There but miles away.

Chuuya nods, and then nods again, pressing a fist against his mouth because the crying makes it hard to breathe. "Yeah."

/He's losing his best friend. The best friend he ever had./

"Do you want me to drive you home?"

Even if he wanted to, Chuuya wouldn't be able to speak, so he shakes his head and then pushes away from the counter, but -- Dazai --

"I'm sorry," Chuuya whispers.

The warmth in Dazai's eyes that still lingered moments ago has died out. +

He shrugs, unfazed. "Don't be."

Chuuya nods. He gets that. He understands that Dazai has to do this now, that he has to protect himself even if it's by pushing him away, so he bites down the consuming urge to cross the distance and hug him, apologize until his mouth bleeds, +

or just do /anything/, anything to reverse this, anything to take them back to a time where it was still simple and uncomplicated even if it's selfish. He bites it down, and instead increases the distance between them until he's standing outside in the pouring rain, +

trying to use his phone to call the family driver. Until there's so much distance between them, Chuuya doubts they'll ever come into each other's orbit again, and that future -- that future hurts more than anything else he's ever experienced.

--

-- NSFW scene ahead --

"Ah, shit --" The legs on Chuuya's shoulders shake violently, trying to clamp shut, and he doubles his effort, creating a tight suction with his lips as his fingers speed up. She -- Tsujimura, he keeps reminding himself -- curls her hands in +

the sheets before a broken, stuttering gasp rips out of her as she rocks her hips down to meet him over and over, chasing her own orgasm. "/Oh my god/, don't stop -- fuck -- /yes/ --"

Chuuya doesn't stop. Not until Tsujimura gently pushes his face away, at least.

Chest heaving, he sits back on his knees, watching as she wipes a hand over her sweaty forehead and lets out a breathless laugh. "Okay, so you weren't lying about being good at this."

"So glad you agree." Chuuya /is/ good at giving head, no doubt there, but as he glances down +

at himself, and to be more precise, the lack of hard-on there, his confidence pales like a wilting lily. /Did he drink too much? Is that it?/

If Tsujimura notices anything, she's polite about it, wordlessly pulling him up, then down for a kiss, hand sliding down his stomach.

Chuuya meets every slick brush of tongues with eagerness, trying to not think, but just let his body react naturally. God knows how many times he got hard without so much as a touch in the last few months --

But that was with Dazai and --

Tsujimura pulls away, blinking. +

"Is something wrong?"

Aside from the fact that he's thinking of his ex-fuck-buddy slash friend while hooking up with someone? No.

"I'm fine." Chuuya makes a face, grimacing. "Just --"

Her eyes wander down, then back up. She shrugs. "It happens sometimes with booze. +

Let me see if I can do something about that."

She flips them over, pressing her whole body against him as she kisses him, wet and open-mouthed, before going lower and lower.

Physically, everything she does feels good. Her lips are soft, just the right amount of pressure and +

friction. It's just that --

Chuuya bites down on his teeth, refusing to go /there./ Not here. Not now. Not ever.

All he has to do is relax and enjoy the pleasure that /is/ rolling through his blood vessels, no matter whether his dick agrees or not.

And then Tsujimura pulls off, making Chuuya's eyes flutter open with hazy confusion. "You know," she says nonchalantly, "I have toys. I could fuck /you/ if you're up for it."

He braces himself on his elbows. If this was any other time, he'd agree in a heartbeat. +

As it is, today is not Chuuya's night. (Not his week, either.)

Scrubbing a hand across his face, he lets out a sigh. "I'm sorry. I think I'll just go home."

"Oh."

Chuuya slips off the bed, feeling even worse than before Tachihara forcefully dragged him out of the house +

and to the club so he would stop /moping/, which is ironic, really, because it's not like /he/ got rejected. The days that followed afterwards sure felt like it, though. "I'm really sorry."

"Hey, I came more tonight than you so..." Tsujimura trails off in a shrug. "Do hope +

-- end of NSFW scene --

that you'll figure out whatever is keeping you so tense. You have my number if you ever want to give it another try."

As nice it is that she's so cool about it, it doesn't make finding his clothes and getting dressed any less awkward.

He was hoping the night air would help with all the complicated emotions nuking his brain, but even as he steps outside, Chuuya still feels heavy and listless and so, so exhausted. The only thing that sounds appealing right now is crawling into bed and never coming out again.

He's not sure what devil drives him to take out his phone and press down to call a number -- not just any number, but /Dazai's./

Maybe it's because every time Chuuya felt bad, Dazai was there to distract him, make him laugh again, and now that they're not even speaking anymore,+

Chuuya has no idea how to fix himself anymore. Maybe he simply misses Dazai. (/So much./) Or maybe Chuuya is too drunk for his own god.

In the end, it doesn't matter because he waits and waits and waits. Dazai never picks up.

/Peep./

"Hey," Chuuya says, "it's me. Chuuya. Which you can probably tell... unless you deleted my number --" /What the hell is he even talking about?/ "-- anyways, I don't know why I'm calling you. I guess, I miss you. And I know that it's selfish of me to ask but +

if there's any way that we still can be friends... or just talk once in a while because I --" /miss you so fucking much./ "-- I don't want to lose you over this. So yeah. Call me. Or don't..." He trails off, so close to deleting the entire thing, but not actively doing anything+

to stop it from sending.

Later, after swiping out of his contact list and calling himself a cab, Chuuya shoves his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket and stares up at the endless sky, waiting for a shooting star that never comes.

--

Chuuya tries the whole /have sex with someone else/ thing again five days later. This time it's at one of Tachihara's gigs -- he should really stop ditching those -- and with a guy named Tetchou.

Chuuya has never thought of himself as someone with a preference, /but/ +

maybe he's gotten so used to Dazai, and his height and build and that jackass with a soft heart demeanor that hooking up with someone who has dark hair and is a head taller than him won't hurt.

It, more or less, works. Chuuya's body works just like it should. Tetchou doesn't +

mild nsfw

complain either. Everything's /great./

Except it isn't.

Chuuya doesn't feel comets exploding in his chest when he comes because Tetchou doesn't make him ride out the high for long enough, and the way his hands cup the back of Chuuya's thighs is all wrong, and +

Tetchou's lips don't make his whole face buzz from the mind-numbing pressure against him, and --

It's nothing like it should be.

It's all fucked.

The physical memories of Dazai are stubborn stains, and no matter how much Chuuya scrubs his fingers to the bone, they won't get out.

--

Chuuya spent his last Sunday with Kouyou, trying to distract himself but actually complaining about how much everything sucks, so when a new one comes around, he nearly forgets what it means.

Until the doorbell rings and Chuuya is so nice to open the door.

/Oh./

"Dazai."

For a few moments, Chuuya stands there, dumbstruck, like this isn’t /Dazai’s/ house he’s in. Then his brain finally reboots and he blurts out an awkward “oh, hey” before stepping aside, cringing at his own words.

“Hey,” Dazai replies far more smoothly as he shrugs off his +

cream-colored coat — /new/, Chuuya thinks, and toes out off his shoes.

“How are you?” Chuuya asks in a feeble attempt to make this situation a tiny little bit less tense.

“Fine. Busy.” Dazai turns around, finally looking at him and Chuuya feels like he’s falling off a cliff.+

“What about you?”

“Same as always.”

Chuuya opens his mouth — he wants to tell him how much he’s missed him, that he has trouble sleeping at night, and that it always makes him think of Dazai, but he can‘t say any of this because everything‘s different now.

"Well," Chuuya scratches back of his head, "dinner will only be ready in about half an hour, so..."

Dazai nods. "I know. I wanted to talk to you."

"You did?"

"Oh, okay. Cool. We can go to my room unless...." Unless Dazai's not comfortable with that? Chuuya has no idea +

how to act around him with everything that happened. It's not like Dazai's feelings bother him -- no one can control that, for fuck's sake -- it's just unexpected and new, and even though it would be easy to act like nothing's changed, Chuuya doesn't want to hurt him more than +

he already did.

Dazai looks amused. "Your room is fine." By now, though, Chuuya knows how great of an actor he is, and the easy smile on his face is pale in comparison to the expression he wore /that/ night. That was real.

Once the door falls closed, Chuuya sits down on +

his bed. Dazai makes himself comfortable at his desk. Two weeks ago, Chuuya wouldn't have even batted an eyelash at the picture, now his heart is thundering in his ears, the room feeling a thousand times smaller than it actually is.

"Sorry I never replied to your call," Dazai starts. "I've been working, and classes started again."

/The call./

Chuuya forces himself not to look away, even if he'd rather get swallowed up by the fucking ground. "Don't worry about that. I was, uh, drunk anyway."

"I noticed," Dazai says, the corner of his mouth curving up. "I wouldn't mind being friends with you."

For the first time since that night Chuuya feels a bashful flame of hope flicker inside him. "Yeah?"

"Yes. I realize now that I overreacted."

"You just said what you felt.+

You're allowed to do that."

"I know, but I had a rather unpleasant week back then, and everything piled on top of each other, and I..." Dazai trails off, and folds one leg over the other before meeting Chuuya's stare. "I'm seeing things clearer now. +

And I think I am already starting to get over the whole /love/ thing."

It takes a few seconds for the words to register. Chuuya blinks.

Okay.

That... was fast.

But that's good, right?

Chuuya schools his surprise into a more neutral smile. "Wow. I'm..."

"Relieved beyond words? Happy? Ecstatic? Yes, me too."

"You're not lying to me, are you?" he /has to/ ask because this is Dazai, and nothing is ever easy with Dazai.

"I might be slightly exaggerating /but/ the point remains that whatever is in here --" He points at his chest.+

"-- is nothing this here --" Dazai's finger nows lifts to his head. " -- cannot deal with. An obstacle, yes, but not the end of the world. Quite pathetic, actually."

Chuuya wouldn't say that hearing Dazai call his feelings for him /pathetic/ is nice, /but/ he figures it's +

better than radio silence. And it's what Chuuya wanted, in the end. Having Dazai back as his best friend. It's /good./ It is.

"Great," Chuuya says, pressing out a smile. "I'm glad that you feel... better now."

"Like someone recovering from syphilis."

/Uh, okay?/

"The only condition that I have," Dazai says, "is no sex."

Chuuya nods. "Yeah, I get that." It's reasonable. Totally doable.

"Perfect." Dazai stands up. "I forgot that I have to call someone, but we'll see each other at dinner, yes?"

As Chuuya watches him stroll out of +

his room, phone pressed to his ear, he can't help but frown. He should be happy about this outcome, but something feels off. He's just not sure /what./

--

There was a short period of time before Chuuya and Dazai started hooking up, in which they were only /friends/, so /this/ shouldn't be all that different.

Except it is.

It takes more than an entire week for them to see each other again which Chuuya understands. He does. Dazai has work, class, and other friends. (And more likely than not, seeing Chuuya brings up certain feelings even if the idiot insists he's already starting to get over them.)

So yes, not hanging out every day makes sense, but it doesn't make it any less hard to adjust to, like going from two-hundred-and-fifty miles per hour to ten.

On top of that, Chuuya's dealing with his own shit. His sex life -- or, lack thereof, to be more precise.

It leaves him more than a little frustrated. Having to settle for shower handjobs by himself after months of good, honest, and exciting sex is... hard.

And to make matters even more difficult, Dazai decides that the first thing they should do together as new friends is +

go shopping. Being in public instead of an intimate setting like Dazai's penthouse? Yup, makes sense. Watching Dazai strip out of his clothes over and over as he tries on different suits while getting fitted for a new one? Not so much.

Chuuya pretends to be busy on his phone +

even though all he does is refreshing his Instagram feed, but at one point, his gaze accidentally wanders, and Dazai's fucking ass is right in front of him, and --

He squeezes his eyes shut.

Surely this is some sort of punishment, right? Dazai's way of saying +

"too bad you said no to all of this."

Yeah, too fucking bad.

"So," Chuuya says in an attempt to distract himself, "you know how it's my birthday at the end of the month?"

Dazai hums. "You're turning nineteen, right? Sometimes I forget how young you are."

Not /that/ young.

"Yeah, and you remember how I told Hayashi I could make use of Fitzgerald's gift for my birthday? With... you?" Dazai looks over his shoulder, waiting for him to continue. "Is that still on? Because if you don't want to anymore, I can ask Tachihara to come with me. Or Kouyou."

Dazai's mouth opens, but at that exact moment, his phone starts buzzing. "Excuse me for one moment," he tells Chuuya, and picks up, his thoughtful expression melting into a warm, colorful smile. "Hey."

Chuuya's brows furrow.

"No, don't worry. +

I'm not doing anything important right now."

It's not like Chuuya is /right here/, but okay.

Dazai's turned away again, but he nods repeatedly, even letting out a raspy chuckle here and there. "I'd say... the color red. Wonderful. I'm looking forward to it. Bye."

"Hot date?" Chuuya jokes out of pure habit. He doesn't really consider whether it's too soon, and he also doesn't expect Dazai to stiffen in front of him as he shoots Chuuya a weird look.

"/No./ Just... work."

Just work?

Since when does Dazai use /that/ voice for work? +

Every time Chuuya heard him speak about working for his father, it was always combined with a muttered insult. And Dazai's acting strange, refusing to look at him.

Chuuya's not saying it /is/ a hot date, but it certainly wasn't work. Just why would he lie about this?

Sure, Dazai dating other people feels rushed, and the mere idea makes his chest feel tight -- because it's so ridiculous after all the dramatics they went through -- but... Dazai could tell Chuuya. He doesn't have to /lie/ about it.

"Back to your question," Dazai says. +

"I will have to check with my calendar first, but it should be fine."

"And you're fine with it too?"

Dazai shrugs. "Yes, Chuuya, I will survive sharing a bed with you. My poor little heart will not break."

Chuuya rolls his eyes. "Fine," he huffs. +

"Then it's a date." He winces. "Or..."

Dazai shoots him another nasty look as he puts on a pair of deep-blue slacks.

Chuuya holds up his okay. "Geez, okay. I will shut up now."

"Appreciated. Now, how do I look?"

--

Towards the end of April, Gen'emon hosts a company-internal function at the house. It's a small affair, one that Chuuya wouldn't be part of if he didn't have to look after the kids.

He snatches a chicken skewer from one of the waiters flitting around before heading towards +

the place where he last saw Gin and Ryuu, the backyard.

As he's about to make a right turn, Dazai comes out of the kitchen, and Chuuya's mood immediately brightens. "Hey, want to hide in the backyard with me and the kids?"

Before he can get a reply, someone else stumbles +

out behind him, a young woman, not looking much older than Dazai. She giggles under her breath as she says, "Thank you for... the napkin" before walking away.

"I'll be there in a second," Dazai calls after her, then turns to Chuuya, offering him only a remnant of the smile +

he wore a moment ago as he fixes the collar of his /unbuttoned/ shirt. "Sorry. I can't ditch, or my father will lose his head."

Right.

Chuuya nods. "It's fine."

"I can stop by later?" Dazai presses his lips together as if he just remembered something. "Or, tomorrow. +

We can grab lunch?"

"Sounds good."

"Perfect."

Chuuya can't help but notice how tousled Dazai's hair looks as he walks away. /Like someone drove their hands through it./

On the way to the backyard, an odd, heavy weight around his heart, Chuuya comes to two conclusions.

One: he almost walked in on Dazai and someone else.

Two: he's... jealous.

+

And that's completely ridiculous.

Why the hell would Chuuya be jealous?! Okay, so maybe /he/ wants to be the one sneaking around with Dazai, blood pumping as they trade(d) secret kisses in the kitchen and fucked in the bathroom, but --

But that was /then./

He gets why they can't do that anymore -- at least, not without hurting Dazai.

Chuuya forces out a breath as he finds the kids, Gin pushing her brother on the swing. He refuses to dwell on this. Dazai's allowed to hook up with other people. Date them. (/That/ scene earlier +

wasn't dating, though. Was it?) Dazai is allowed to move. Fuck, Chuuya should be /happy/ about it, so why the fuck isn't he?

/Because/, a tiny voice in the back of his brain whispers, /he doesn't just miss the sex. He misses the tiny moments in-between. The breathless jokes. +

The laughter that Chuuya hid in the warmth of Dazai's neck. The "loves" and the "chibis." The knowledge he'd have someone to turn to no at any hour at night, someone to turn to when it literally felt like his world was about to come crashing down./

Because the truth is that +

bit by bit, day by day, Dazai has been slipping out of his life ever since that night. They might call it /friendship/ and /new rules/ but in reality it's /distance/. Plain and simple.

Does it make Chuuya selfish for wanting all these things without ever putting a name on it? +

Probably.

Does it make him a coward? Yeah.

Does it stop him from craving it anyway? No.

Chuuya entertains the kids for a while, but once the sun sets, the air gets chilly, and Ryuu wants a cup of tea while Gin wants a piece of the chocolate cake the cooks have made, so back inside it is. He keeps his eyes solely on the food, he /does/, but +

it's impossible to ignore /Dazai/ and the way he's feeding that same girl from earlier cake right there in front of everyone, and -- Chuuya's stomach /revolts./

He turns away.

Her delighted laughter reaches his ears anyway.

"We can get some more later," he tells Gin +

and walks both of them as far away from that fucking room as possible before Chuuya does something stupid.

--

He can't fall asleep that night. Not because of the noises downstairs -- growing up sharing his room with a few dozen kids, he learned how to ignore that -- but +

because every time Chuuya closes his eyes, the image of Dazai fucking someone else appears. And he turns, forcing himself to think of something else, of anything, but it's like someone carved it into his skull, forcing him to see what he doesn't want to.

With a sigh, Chuuya gives up on any rest and reaches for his bottle of water, only to see that it's empty.

Great.

He slips into a pair of bunny slippers and ignores the nervous flutter of his stomach. Just a trip downstairs to get water.

/That's it./

Chuuya opens his door and freezes.

Dazai's standing in front of it, hand raised as if he was just about to knock. "Oh," he lets out in a breath, surprise coloring his face. "I wanted to tell you good night."

Chuuya looks for any sign of that girl, and his chest +

falls involuntary (even if she could be waiting downstairs at this very moment.) Then his eyes flicker back to Dazai. "I thought you'd be busy tonight."

"I am," Dazai replies with a casual shrug, "but not busy enough for important things."

Chuuya's frown narrows. +

This is what he doesn't fucking understand. How can Dazai claim to be getting over it, then say shit like /this/? How can he fool around with some girl and still end up in front of Chuuya's bedroom door at the end of the night? Unless --

/Oh./

Unless...

Unless this has been his plan all along.

/You have to be fucking kidding me./

Chuuya spent years dancing on a stage. So he knows a thing or two about /performing./ Lashes fluttering, he lifts his fingers and tangles them in Dazai's collar before ever so slowly stepping into +

his personal space until they're only one shy breath apart. "Hey," he whispers and swallows audibly, "I miss you."

Dazai's tense all around him, eyes huge as he stares down at him, but his hand comes to rest on Chuuya's neck, keeping him away. Keeping /deliberate distance./ +

"All you have to do is say the word."

"I fucking knew it!" Dropping the act, Chuuya pushes Dazai away, leaving him stumbling into the wall. "You've been doing all this shit on purpose!"

Dazai's face doesn't fall, though. Not like it /should/! "Specify /shit/, Chuuya. +

Don't be shy."

Chuuya's only answer is a glower.

"What, cat got your tongue? Then let me try. You probably mean Minako-kun? See, I simply don't understand why you would call her that awful word. Unless..." His smile is slow and satisfied. "... you're /jealous/?"

Chuuya forces his eyes shut, shaking his head. He should have known Dazai was fucking bluffing the moment he started acting like everything was fucking fine. He should have known nothing that has to do with Dazai could ever be /easy./

"It doesn't mean what you think it does."

"Chuuya, do you even listen to yourself?"

"Shut up."

"You looked like you wanted to rip her head off every time you saw us together. Every time you so much as heard me talking about /somebody else./ Is that how you act with all your /friends/? Lucky them."

"Is that how /you/ act with everyone you /love/?" Chuuya hisses. "Manipulating them just to get what you want?!"

The vicious glee in Dazai's eyes pales. "Making you jealous is hardly manipulation, Chuuya."

"Well, it's not fucking fair either!"

"All I did was show you what you're so terribly afraid of," Dazai says, the glare on his face blindingly cold. "Make with that what you will, but make up your mind."

Chuuya's jaw clenches. "You're really going to tell /me/ to make up my mind?"

It's Dazai who keeps switching faces. Not the other way around.

And still, the bastard has the audacity to nod. "I never took back the words that I said, and I'm not going to do it anytime soon."

"Neither did I."

Except Chuuya did.

Not out loud.

Never uttering the actual words.

In a thousand different variations.

But he did take back his /no./ He crumpled it between his fingers and tossed it over the wall, and now they both know it.

"Get out of my face," Chuuya whispers.

Dazai smiles like he expected that reply. "Self-awareness is the first step, Chuu~ya."

Chuuya bangs the door shut.

Well, fuck.

He's in love with that bastard.

And it just became a fucking game.

--

"Hey, dad. Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"Remember Dazai and Yosano's last night in Paris? We were watching spider-man, and then you and Dazai disappeared in the kitchen. What did you two talk about?"

It's April 27th.

Two days before his birthday.

One day before the trip to Mount Fuji.

And Chuuya is /this/ close to calling the tourist office and canceling the whole thing because Dazai's supposed to be his plus one, and right now? They're not fucking talking.

Chuuya's never been a fan of celebrating his birthday, but even he doesn't want to spend the day in a passive-aggressive tug war with Dazai.

So either he cancels the trip (disappointing, but he'll survive), or make up with that idiot (very bad idea).

He's not sure what +

about asking his father /this exact/ question is supposed to do for any of these options. Then again, deep down Chuuya knows what he wants to hear.

On the other end of the line, Paul chuckles. "Is there anything you want to tell us?"

"Answer the question first. /Please./"

"Dazai asked me what he could do for you once you returned to Yokohama. What kind of things calm you down. Your favorite dishes here. Favorite movies." Chuuya's breath goes still. "I doubt he didn't already know all that, but it made a good impression. He cares for you."

"Oh."

"Do we have to talk about eloping again? Your father still isn't 100% convinced."

Chuuya huffs out a breath, more confused with himself than ever. His eyes feel glassy as he murmurs, "long-distance relationships suck, dad."

"They can be challenging, yes."

No, they /suck./ And Chuuya's needy once he's in for something. Like a leech. Very hard to get rid of. He'd be completely miserable with one meeting every two months.

"You're supposed to agree and talk me out of it," he mutters, drawing patterns into the sheets of his bed.

"I don't want you to live thousands of miles away from home. I also don't want you to return to Paris and start resenting everything around you for what you left behind. Find the happy medium. You're a smart young man. You can do it."

/Happy medium?/

With someone like Dazai?

It seems impossible.

Dazai's either his favorite person on the planet, or the guy Chuuya could strangle. They either fly over the highway with three-hundred miles per hour, or they fucking crawl. They tried doing the /happy medium/ thing. It doesn't work. It's always either +

standing on top of the world and howling at the sky or falling down into an unforgiving abyss. Only highs or lows. Never something in-between.

But.

If Chuuya finds it hard to imagine an actual, long-distance relationship with Dazai, then thinking of spending the +

rest of his life without him is even worse.

And that is exactly what's going to happen once September comes to an end. Chuuya will return to Paris. Dazai will stay. They'll go their separate ways, maybe find someone else, maybe someone who's less complicated, someone who +

isn't so scared. They could be happy. Eventually. Just not like /this./ Not with each other.

The mere visual makes the beating thing inside Chuuya's chest wither.

He doesn't want someone else.

And he doesn't want Dazai to love someone else.

"I have to do something," Chuuya finally says, sitting up. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Good luck."

To take that leap, he'll need it. Everything he ever wanted, everything he could dream of is on the other side of that fucking fear chained to his bones. +

It's so close, Chuuya can almost taste it. All he has to do is take a run, spread his arms, and hope that Dazai will somehow catch him.

Pulse thundering in his ears, Chuuya makes the call.

--

"Let me guess. You're replacing me with Tachihara?" Dazai says after picking up.

"No --"

"With Kouyou then?"

"/No./ Will you shut up for a minute, and let me speak, damn it?"

Dazai sighs. "Fine. I'm listening."

However, the only thing he can hear is silence.

"Chuuya?"

Dazai hears him clear his throat, swallow loudly, and then, only then --

"You win."

Oh.

"I'll need you to elaborate on that, Chuuya," he hears himself say even as the two words make his whole world spin. "What exactly are you referring to? The ten consecutive wins in +

sea battle? The one --"

"Why can't you make it easy, huh? For once in your life?"

Dazai smiles. "Because I want to hear you say it."

He hates that Chuuya decided to do this over the phone when Dazai could be getting drunk on Chuuya's explosive frowns right now, make him +

glare even harder just to chase it away with a kiss.

"I-I'm not saying anything yet! I just meant that -- that we can talk about it. See if it could work out. Or something!"

"I like /or something./"

It's more than Dazai ever expected to ever get -- before and after Chuuya.

"Good. Because it's all I'm giving you right now."

"Okay."

"So," Chuuya says commandingly, "tomorrow. Airport. Six o'clock. Not a minute later. And then we'll have four days to figure it out." At last, he releases an audible breath. "Yeah?"

"Yes, chibi."

"Then... I'll see you tomorrow."

"I can't wait," Dazai says, and every syllable is true.

The first thing he does once the line falls quiet is pinch himself.

He never wakes up.

That means, it's either a very deep sleep -- a great rarity -- or that this is real.

Option A seems far more likely.

For a man who stood in front of Chuuya and told him to make up his mind, it's an odd thing to say, but delivering a perfectly crafted pile of bullshit with confidence and actually believing in it are two very different topics.

Chuuya's jealousy wasn't hard to read. His jaw muscles kept locking. He couldn't look at Dazai. He didn't even try to make his smile reach his eyes.

Facts.

But even then, he still refused to admit anything, refused to give him an inch.

So yes, somewhere logic said that +

Chuuya would come around, that the whole month of charade, would pay off in the end, but the moment, the door banged shut in his face, all Dazai could hear was the "no." Over and over.

Fact is that Dazai always planned to break off their casual relationship at some point.

If not for the fact that it /hurt/, then for the fact that /distance makes the heart grow fonder./ Sometimes, people don't see what's in front of them until they lose it. It's a universal experience that happens time and time again.

Fact is that Dazai never planned for it to +

hurt as much as it did. It wasn't supposed to happen after that disaster of a business trip. It wasn't supposed to make him feel emotionally hollowed out.

Fact is that Dazai had all these plans to make someone love him, but in the end, he still ends up trying to wake up +

from a dream that isn't happening because all this time, he never believed Chuuya would actually say /yes./

And now that he did... everything seems to shift into place.

--

Having to meet his father a few hours before their trip -- and the start of something bigger, something new and exciting -- seems to be the universe's way of keeping the scales balanced.

Dazai's not exactly upset as he enters the elevator. He doubts there is anything that +

could ruin his high right now. It is bothersome, though.

Still, he keeps his expression neutral as he walks down the hallway that leads to Gen'emon's office. Better to keep the man happy for now.

He knocks, waits, and enters.

His father gestures at the desk. "Sit down."

--

Chuuya scowls as he considers the few dozen bouquet options in front of him. They're all very pretty, but they're also a bit /much./

And he wants to keep it casual. Easy. Happy medium!

Then again... he's dying to surprise Dazai with a few flowers. It's a sweet gesture, right?

The flower shop lady with the racing green apron grins when she approaches him, probably smelling his uncertainty from miles away. "For a colleague, friend, or someone special?"

"Someone, uh, special, but it's new so nothing too fancy."

She nods as if customers tell her +

that all the time before leading them to a section of smaller bouquets and single flowers, launching into names and symbolisms. Chuuya won't lie, he forgets about half of it once she mentions the spray roses.

He told himself not to get roses.

But they're peach-white and cute.

So he gets the spray roses.

The shop's right outside the airport, leaving him with another half an hour to spare before he's supposed to meet Dazai. Today, Chuuya doesn't really mind, facing the sky and basking in the last rays of light that the sun has to offer.

--

Dazai waits for his father to speak first, but instead of words, he slides something towards him.

Not just something.

The business proposal.

Gen'emon hasn't uttered a word about it ever since first rejecting the idea, so why he decides to return it now escapes Dazai.

"I finally had time to read through it," his father says with a curt nod towards it, making Dazai flip it open. "It's... well, good might be laying it on thick, but it's profitable. I can see which direction you were thinking of going with it."

The pages are covered in +

corrections and footnotes, most likely suggestions from his father.

"I would like to give you the necessary funding to start this "

Dazai blinks a few times, then looks up at his father. "Why the change of heart?"

"Even I can make wrong choices sometimes, Dazai."

Surely Dazai must be dreaming now? He pinches his thigh. Nope. Awake.

"Where's the catch?" he asks because he isn't stupid. Nothing from his father was ever free. It always had a price tag attached.

"You have to fucking work it," Gen'emon snaps, "that's the catch. +

Obviously, it's the first draft. We'll have to revise a lot of it. You'll be drowning in paperwork, son, but by the end of the year, you'll be the owner of a business. How about that as a catch?"

Dazai's smile is slow to appear, but once he feels it, it's unstoppable.

So close.

He's so close to having it all.

--

Chuuya feels like he's going to throw up.

It doesn't make sense for him to be so nervous. Technically, they've been through all of the stages before.

They kissed. They had sex. They even flew together. +

Dazai said the words, and yes, okay, Chuuya has yet to, but considering everything they've been through, it shouldn't be that big of a deal anymore, right?

No, /wrong./

So wrong.

He's about to shit his fucking pants.

Chuuya checks his phone. /Ten minutes./

This is awful.

Eyes squeezing shut, he tries to remember whether he felt like this with Romaine? Was he this nervous? Like the world only stopped and ended with this one thing, this one person?

Not that he remembers.

After that fucker cheated, most of their memories became tainted, that betrayal stealing every laugh and smile they ever shared. So even if it's hard to imagine now, hard to compare someone like Romaine to Dazai, maybe back then Chuuya felt just like this.

Stretching out his legs, Chuuya stares at the ceiling. Ten minutes have never felt longer.

--

Dazai glances at his watch. There's still an hour left, but he plans to stop by a bakery before driving to the airport, pick up a box of custom-made paris-brests. Chuuya's favorites.

His father slaps another pile of documents on the desk. "Your calendar better be free for the next two days. This will take a while."

Riiiiight.

"My calendar will be /empty/," Dazai tells him, "as soon as I'm back from my vacation. You got that notice, yes? I saw your +

assistant leave the papers on your desk."

"That was before you became a business owner, Dazai. A fucking vacation can wait." /So close./ "And you're not talking about going on vacation with that au pair boy at our house, are you?"

The taste of fear and Gen'emon Tsushima have always, always come in a package. Over the years, Dazai has learned to forget it's even there, lingering, but sometimes, at moments like this, the flash of dread that rolls through him is so powerful, he almost chokes on it.

"Why are you asking?"

Gen'emon rolls his eyes. "Because you shouldn't associate yourself with people like that. Especially not if you want to make it in this world." Dazai's entire throat goes dry. "I saw him wearing a skirt a few days ago. Seriously, I don't know what +

Mariko was thinking when she hired him." He shakes his head. "Letting him work with the kids dressed like that."

Dazai can handle every blow his father could ever give him, every insult or intoxicated punch but this -- this he isn't sure he can handle.

"He's better with kids than I am."

His father blows out a brow. "Then learn a thing or two from him. Just not too much."

/So fucking close./

"He hasn't been trying to pull anything funny on you, right? Because I swear I heard Hayashi tell me something about his birthday."

If Dazai so much as breathes wrongly, his father might come to a few very dangerous conclusions, and if there's anything that's worth /losing/ for, it's this.

Keep Chuuya out of it. Keep him as far away from Gen'emon as possible.

(How didn't he realize this sooner?)

"Well, I made a joke about going with him --" Dazai forces his mouth to smirk. "-- but I think he didn't understand my humor. I actually had plans with Ranpo-san and Kunikida-kun."

His father nods approvingly. "Well, postpone it."

"Consider it canceled. A worthy sacrifice."

Gen'emon dives into technicalities, and it's at this moment, that Dazai realizes he can't have both.

He can't have Chuuya and this.

He never was going to.

He just deluded himself, and Chuuya, into thinking he could.

--

It's been forty minutes.

Dazai's humor can be very odd, Chuuya's used to that, but being intentionally late just because Chuuya told him yesterday not to be isn't really that funny.

They have a fucking flight to catch.

It's not funny.

"Damn it, Dazai," he mutters, and his fingers tremble as he presses the phone to his ear for the twentieth time today. "Pick up. Just pick u--"

"Hello?"

Chuuya frowns, then checks whether he's even calling the right number because the voice isn't Dazai's.

It's definitely Dazai's number.

"Sorry," he says, "did you find this phone?"

"That depends on your definition of /finding/ --" The speaker breaks off in a giggle -- they sound drunk, Chuuya thinks. There's muffled noise of music and shouting in the background. +

"A little birdie gave it to me!"

"Was it a guy named Dazai?"

"Mm, that sounds familiar."

"Tall, dark-haired, handsome?"

"Oh yes! That's him!"

"Can I please speak to him?"

"Ohhh," the speaker slurs, "tough luck, stranger. He took my friend home, like, five minutes ago."

Something in Chuuya's chest shatters.

"Two friends actually!" the person on the other end exclaims. "Wait, three!"

Chuuya hangs up before they can say anything else, shoving the phone into the pocket of his jacket.

"This is the final boarding call for passengers of the +

372A. Please proceed to gate 3 immediately. The final checks are being completed and the captain will order for the doors of the aircraft to close in approximately five minutes time."

Chuuya rolls the stray roses between his fingers before throwing them away.

"I repeat. +

This is the final boarding call for passengers of the flight 372A."

Grabbing his things, he gets in line behind three guys that don't look much older than him. He wipes away one stray tear.

/And this is how it ends./

--

// end of part 2

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