Thread by @quirkzone

💔all because of you💔

((canon adjacent skk inspired by 'songs i can't listen to'))

He hasn’t heard the song in ages. Not since that night--that /last/ night. When Dazai held him so tightly, like he might just vanish beneath his fingers. And Chuuya let him, leaning into those

deceptively gentle hands, pretending that he could have it forever.

It was when they were laying in bed--Chuuya’s bed--with Dazai’s hand running through Chuuya’s hair. He hummed a familiar song, one of /their/ songs.

And maybe it was stupid to have /songs/ together. But they

were young and confused and surrounded by nothing but bloodshed and violence. It was the one /normal/ thing they had as two teenagers in the mafia.

Dazai hummed the song, lulling Chuuya into the foggy place between sleep and wakefulness. When Chuuya relaxed into his arms,

Dazai trailed off, his voice quiet and broken, whispering words into Chuuya’s hair that would haunt him for years.

/You’re the only thing that made my life beautiful./

He spoke like he was already gone. Like he had already left Chuuya to pick up the pieces and wonder why he

didn’t say anything. Why he didn’t at least tell /Chuuya/.

And Chuuya wanted to blame Oda. He wanted to blame him /so badly/. But he couldn’t. He just /ached/ and pretended that he didn’t until he convinced himself that it was true.

And he really did open a bottle of Petrus

that night. Drowning his pain beneath the guise of being /relieved/. Being /free of him/. And no one questioned it.

And even four years later, the sound of that song makes his stomach /churn/. Tachihara didn’t know--how could he?

Chuuya would sooner perish than admit that he

let Dazai get under his skin. He would rather let his body waste away under the intense chaos of Corruption than admit that he fell in love with Dazai and /still hasn’t gotten over him/.

But just the sound of those chords makes Chuuya defensive and angry like a wounded animal.

His skin prickles with memories and every lyric feels like a punch in the gut. Like another piece of him is being taken apart.

And then, that /same night/, Shibusawa covers Yokohama in fog and Chuuya jumps out of an airplane to save the /idiot/ he fell in love with. It feels

like a fresh wound and he punches Dazai as hard as he can, hoping that the pain would ease.

It doesn’t.

And then Dazai touches his cheek with so much /gentleness/ when he speaks.

/How beautiful,/ he says.

It /stings/.

It all reminds Chuuya of the nights Dazai was gentle

with him, back then. When he would touch Chuuya like he was precious, like he /mattered/. Those rare nights when he was more gentle than he was with /anything else/.

Chuuya refuses to look the bastard in the eyes when they fall to the ground. He doesn’t acknowledge the hand

Dazai presses to the back of his head, or the way he wants to lean up into it. When he collapses into Dazai’s lap he feels /safe/ and he /hates it/.

It’s almost a relief when he wakes up and Dazai is gone. Almost.

And Chuuya goes home, barely able to stay vertical and aching

everywhere. He collapses onto his couch and let's unconsciousness take him.

The sound of his lock clicking makes his eyes snap open. He groggily stumbles to his feet, a red glow already surrounding him. He ignores the protests of his body as he walks toward the door.

Dazai has his hands up as he stands in the genkan, smiling placidly.

"It's just me," he says and Chuuya holds in a scoff, if only just. The red light does not fade as he forces himself to cross his arms and lean against the wall in the hallway.

“I know.”

Dazai laughs softly, shrugging as he looks Chuuya up and down. Like he cares.

“I guess I deserve that.”

“What are you doing here?” Chuuya asks, too tired to play this game again. He just wants to sleep and maybe listen to old songs and reminisce. He can’t /do that/ if Dazai

is there to ruin the memories and make them hurt more than they already do. Dazai shrugs, putting up that annoying front of his.

“I wanted to check up on my--”

Chuuya’s teeth clench and the red gets brighter as he storms forward. He grabs Dazai by his shirt and Dazai’s

fingers on his wrist disable his ability, but he doesn’t let go. He glares, teeth bared. He still feels raw and hurt and alone. And Dazai is just making it /worse/.

“Don’t,” he snaps. Dazai tilts his head with a little frown.

“Don’t what?”

“I’m not your /anything/. Don’t act

like I am.”

He feels like he could collapse at any moment but he refuses to do it now. In front of him. He’s been vulnerable /enough/ today and he can’t do it anymore. Dazai’s hand settles more firmly on his wrist and he pouts. His touch /burns/.

Chuuya yanks his hand away,

stepping back.

“Chuuya, I…”

Chuuya shakes his head.

“I’m not in the mood,” he says, feeling the exhaustion slump his shoulders a bit.

“I just...wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Chuuya laughs, a bitter, hollow sound, and rolls his eyes.

“Oh I /bet/ you did,” he hisses. “Drop the act, Dazai. You don’t care about me, so /why/ are you here?”

“I do care about you,” Dazai says and Chuuya almost believes him. He /wants/ to believe him, but he learned that lesson the hard way already. It’s just self preservation.

“No you /don’t/,” Chuuya says, shoulders shaking from rage or fatigue or desperation he isn’t sure. But he ignores it. “You didn’t check on me after the Guild fight so what’s different /now/? You didn’t just start caring about me overnight.”

“I never /stopped/ caring about you.”

“Oh /fuck off/, Dazai.” Chuuya’s shoulders draw up and he takes a step forward, threatening /something/. “I don’t want you here so /leave/. Whatever it is you came for, you’re not getting from me tonight. So cut your losses and get out.”

He turns away, expecting to hear the

“You still make the world beautiful, Chuuya,” Dazai says. “And I want...I want that again.”

Chuuya shakes his head. He’s too tired to keep his emotions in check and he wants to just /punch/ him for taking Chuuya’s heart and just doing whatever he wants with it, but

he just stands still.

“That’s not fair.”

“What’s not?”

“Everything you do is unfair, you /asshole/.”+

And Dazai has the absolute /gall/ to look a little guilty and Chuuya can’t take it anymore. He punches the wall--his wall, his /nice/ wall--and leaves a fracturing crack beneath his fist. His entire body screams in pain but he ignores it. “You don’t get to do that,” he growls.

“I’m not--!”

“You /are/! Fuck, Dazai, you don’t get to disappear and then show up four years later acting like it didn’t happen. Like you didn’t just /leave me/!” He’s shouting now, even though his throat is raw and sore. He relishes the genuine frown on Dazai’s face for all

of a few seconds before his own voice cracks and wobbles and he can’t shout anymore. “You don’t get to act like you didn’t rip my heart out and run away with it.”

“I...didn’t know you felt like that.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not. I’m serious.”

And that makes it all /worse/.

It cuts deep and Chuuya lashes out. He hits the wall again and a terrible /crack/ echoes through the condo.

“How could you /not know/?” he demands. Dazai, for once in his life, looks lost for words. Chuuya sneers, crossing his arms tight over his chest, hugging himself like he

might fall apart if he doesn’t. “How could you not know that I was in love with you?”

Dazai freezes, like he’s been doused in cold water and Chuuya doesn’t /care/. He hopes it hurts Dazai as much as it hurts him. Because he wants Dazai to feel what he did, to /hurt/ like did.

“You loved me?” Dazai asks, his voice soft and brittle. Chuuya laughs softly, looking away and holding himself tighter. It’s safe if he pretends like it was just /then/. Like he /stopped/ loving him. It’s safe if Dazai thinks it was /in the past/.

When the silence grows long

and tense, Chuuya shrugs.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?” he asks. “If all you wanted was for me to /admit it/ or something, you got what you came for. You can let yourself out. Go laugh with your agency buddies or whatever.”

He turns away again, ready to pass out and lick his wounds in /peace/.

“I didn’t think anyone could love me.”

“What?” Chuuya sighs, turning around again, leaning heavily against the wall, avoiding the cracks. He’s exhausted.

“It didn’t occur to me that someone /could/ love me.

I didn’t know.”

“It didn’t /occur/ to you?” Chuuya asks. Dazai has this annoying habit of always being able to throw him off. Even when he’s /sure/ he knows what’s going on in a situation, Dazai can flip it on its head and Chuuya is just left to watch everything shift.

Dazai shrugs and when he speaks, the tone is nonchalant but the words are so pained.

“I thought I was convenient.”

“Convenient?” Chuuya asks, a sharp burst of laughter breaking out of his chest for just a moment. “Nothing about you is /convenient/, Dazai.”

Dazai purses his

lips, huffing out a breath.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how /did/ you mean it?” Chuuya asks. “Because I can have whoever I want. I /know/ how I look. So why would I keep /choosing you/ if I didn’t love you?”

Dazai shrugs again, hands out and helpless.

He almost looks /small/ and Chuuya wishes he could take any bit of joy from it.

“I thought...I just thought it was easier, since I already knew about Arahabaki.”

“You thought that I was dating you just because you knew I have a monster inside me?”

Dazai freezes again and

Chuuya just /knows/ he’s going to hate whatever comes out of his mouth.

“...Dating?”

Chuuya holds himself tighter, leaving bruises in his own skin from how tightly he grips his sides. He isn’t sure if he'll fall apart or attack if he lets go and he really doesn't want to

test it out.

“Yes, Dazai, /dating/!” he growls. “Did you seriously just think we were /fuck buddies/?”

The silence is telling and heavy. Chuuya shakes his head. “Unbelievable,” he mutters. “We had /songs/. We...you slept in my bed more often than you slept in your own.

Was all of that a lie?”

“Chuuya…”

“Was that seriously all I was to you? I was just /convenient/?” Chuuya asks. “I knew you were an /asshole/ and I knew you were going to hurt me eventually but that...that’s cruel /even for you/.”

Dazai shakes his head and there’s something desperate in his eyes, the need to be /understood/ and Chuuya closes his eyes. He won’t be manipulated anymore, he won’t let this man hurt him any more than he already has.

“I’m /sorry/,” Dazai says. And Dazai has never apologized to

him about /anything/ before. Chuuya shakes his head, ignoring the skip in his heartbeat. No. /Not again/. But Dazai just keeps going. “You weren’t convenient to me. You’re one of the only people I’ve ever cared about. I just...I couldn’t think of a reason that I could mean as

much to you as you do to me.”

It’s /present tense/ and that's confusing. It settles around Chuuya’s shoulders, a beautiful poison trying to pull him in again. Trying to draw him into Dazai’s arms again. He shakes his head again, stepping back.

“You’re an annoying asshole and you can’t take anything seriously. Why the fuck would I put up with everything you did just for the sake of convenience? Why would I have done any of that if I didn’t love you?”

“I...it makes sense /now/,” he says. “But back then...if there

was something worth wanting I knew that it would disappear the moment I obtained it. So, when you were still always /there/ it just made sense that I had yet to really have you. Not the way I /wanted/ to have you.”

“Talking about me like a /possession/ really isn’t the winning

strategy you seem to think it is.”

“This isn’t about winning.”

“It’s always about winning with you.”

“Well it isn’t right now,” Dazai snaps, finally sounding a little exasperated. Good. “I tried to understand then, but I just couldn’t figure out why anyone would fall for me.”

“Because that would have been stupid, right?” Chuuya asks. “You’re telling me I was /stupid/, but newsflash I already fucking know that.”

“I’m not saying anything about /you/, Chuuya! I wasn’t--I’m not exactly a /good person/. And I was worse then, so why would I ever think

that someone like /you/--”

“I’m not a good person either, Dazai! I’ve got a monster inside me. I /am/ a monster. So by your fucked up logic, why would I ever think anyone could love /me/?”

The emotions are welling up in his chest and he knows he’s going to burst soon enough.

He can’t hold this hurt in much longer because every breath he takes aches and throbs and he just needs to scream and /break something/.

“You’re different.”

“I can’t fucking /stand you/,” Chuuya hisses, flinching away when Dazai reaches out, taking a step into the condo.

“You’ve got so many pretty words to get into my head. It’s not gonna work anymore.”

Dazai pulls his outstretched hand into a fist and presses it against his forehead, groaning and closing his eyes.

“Listen to me, Chuuya. Stop trying to figure out what I /really mean/ or what

I’m /not saying/ and listen to what I /am/ saying.”

Dazai actually looks frustrated now, running his hand through his hair and messing it up. Chuuya glares at him, his voice going low and guarded.

“Why the fuck should I? I don’t owe you anything,” he says.

He’s let Dazai hurt him more than he would ever admit. Too many times falling for sweet words and soft touches. He’s not a kid anymore, he’s not blinded by affection. He loves Dazai, but he knows better than to let that drop his walls around him now.

“That’s true,” Dazai says

softly. “You don’t owe me anything, but I still...I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m obviously /not/ alright, jackass. But why do you even /care/?”

“I don’t know!”

Chuuya blinks a few times, shrinking back against the wall with a glower.

“Then why don’t you go /figure it out/ and leave me alone?”

“Because if I leave now, we’ll never have this conversation.”

“I’m /done/ with this conversation, actually.”

Dazai shakes his head, stepping closer. Chuuya doesn’t retreat, if only because he can’t feel his legs

anymore. Some small, desperate part of him doesn’t /want/ to move away, either. He doesn’t even comment on Dazai’s shoes still being on because he's within arm’s reach now.

“I want to fix...this.”

“You can’t fix what was never there, right?” Chuuya asks. “You didn’t even think

we were together, so there’s nothing to fix.”

“I hurt you.”

Chuuya huffs, rolling his eyes and looking away.

“I’m pretty used to that at this point.”

“I’m…” Dazai trails off, shrugging helplessly as he looks around Chuuya’s apartment. “I’m better now.”

Chuuya hates to admit that he /does/. He noticed it the first day when Dazai was chained up in the Port Mafia headquarters. He looks better. He even seems to have people that care about him and it hurt the first time Chuuya realized that. Dazai isn’t especially loyal--not the way

Chuuya is--but he /cares/ about the detective agency.

He still puts on masks to cover up the darkness, but it’s better. And that darkness will never really be gone, there’s nothing he could do that would erase it all. But it’s better. And Chuuya looks over his face.

He seems sincere, and his eyes are clear and determined.

Chuuya feels his lip start to tremble so he presses them together and looks away. He’s /not/ letting Dazai play with his heart again. “I think I loved you then,” Dazai says, like he’s /trying/ to break Chuuya down.

“I never would have admitted it but...I don’t know if I ever stopped, either.”

Chuuya stares at him, eyes wide and finally fully caught off guard. All the emotions are written over his face and he /knows it/. Dazai’s eyes widen and his eyebrows furrow.

“Chuuya--”

“I wanted to hate you /so bad/,” he whispers. “I’ve wanted to hate you this whole time and I can’t.” He takes in a shaking breath, looking into Dazai’s eyes even if he doesn’t want to right now. “If I let you in again, you’ll just leave. Because that’s what you

always do. You always leave me and even knowing that I can’t stop loving you.”

“Wait, you still…?”

Chuuya finally closes his eyes, shaking his head.

“Loving you /hurts/, Dazai. And it never stops.”

Dazai sighs, looking away.

“I’m sorry.” There it is again.

Chuuya pushes himself against the wall, body drawn tight like a bowstring.

“If this is a joke or if you don’t mean it then leave right now,” Chuuya says slowly. “If you leave now we can pretend this didn’t happen and nothing will change. But if you stay and you hurt me again

I’ll /never/ forgive you. I’ll make you hurt the way you hurt me and nothing you say will ever change that.” Chuuya looks up, expression as guarded as he can make it. “So what are you gonna do?”

Hope is so hard. Hope /hurts/. But he wants it. He can’t let it go, even now.

After everything Dazai has done, there’s a reason Chuuya couldn’t let him go.

Dazai pauses, looking Chuuya over for a long moment. Chuuya waits for him to step back, for the door to close so he can just let it all out. So he can get over it and heal alone.

Dazai’s palm is warm against his cheek and Chuuya blinks his eyes open. Dazai’s lips follow and Chuuya freezes up before relaxing into familiar warmth.

Dazai’s lips are still soft and his hands holding Chuuya’s face are softer than they used to be.

Chuuya lets himself lean into it, his eyes drifting shut as he kisses back. Dazai presses close, pushing Chuuya firmly against the wall.

His eyes sting, but he ignores it. Slowly, he reaches his arms up to wrap around Dazai’s neck.

Dazai’s hands drift down, grazing Chuuya’s sides and he hisses, body tensing. Dazai pauses and Chuuya tries to pull him close, to kiss him again, but Dazai pulls away.

“Let me take care of you.”

“You /were/.”

Dazai chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to Chuuya’s forehead.

“You used Corruption for a long time. Let me help.”

Chuuya huffs, rolling his eyes but letting himself be led to the bathroom. Dazai has the good sense to not try to pick him up. Chuuya is tentatively letting him in, but he’s not under the delusion that Dazai is miraculously

all better. That he won’t fuck up and that he won’t hurt Chuuya again. But he wants to see him /try/.

Dazai averts his eyes once they’re in bathroom, nodding to the tub he’s filled with warm water. Chuuya shoulders past him. He slowly strips his clothes,

wincing when the movement jostles his injuries.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” he grumbles when Dazai doesn’t look at him.

“I know that,” Dazai says, but he sounds unsure. Chuuya glances over his shoulder and Dazai is looking away.

It might be the pain making him delirious, but Chuuya would swear that Dazai is /blushing/.

“Are you /embarrassed/?” Chuuya teases. His voice is rough and raw, but that doesn’t keep Dazai from pouting, turning to him.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“After you broke into my place and made me pour my heart out to you /now/ you’re worried about making me uncomfortable?”

He doesn’t seem to have a response to that so Chuuya huffs, nodding toward the bathtub. “I thought you wanted to help. Get over here.”

Chuuya slowly sinks into the water, sighing softly when his muscles finally start to relax.

Shuffling beside the sink draws his attention up and he sees Dazai stripping his coat and shoes, laying them gently on the counter. He looks from the water to Chuuya’s face before biting

his lip, pensive.

Slowly, he unwraps the bandages. The scars aren’t new, but he actively chooses not to react, like that might scare Dazai into stopping. Dazai unwinds the last of the bandages on his forearms and kneels down beside the tub.

His hands go to work, familiar movements cleaning the remaining blood from Chuuya’s body and washing his hair. “I haven’t forgiven you,” Chuuya says into the tranquil silence.

“I know.”

Chuuya lets the warm water and Dazai’s hands relax him, slumping in the tub with

his eyes closed.

He hasn’t felt this secure with another person since Dazai was still in the mafia. And maybe it’s a bad idea to let himself feel safe with him again, but he wants to think it’s possible.

Dazai dries him off once he’s clean and Chuuya lets him. He takes extra

care in drying Chuuya's hair thoroughly. He doesn’t try to dress Chuuya, another good choice. Dazai disappears into the kitchen when Chuuya searches for something comfortable to wear.

When he hobbles out of the bedroom he finds Dazai with the miso from Chuuya’s fridge heated up

with some rice. Dazai smiles self-deprecatingly.

“I’m still not very good in the kitchen.”

Chuuya isn’t surprised. He sits at the table, eyeing Dazai as he waits for Chuuya to start eating. He hums, tentatively eating the food. It’s good--he made it after all.

“I bet you still eat too much canned crab.”

Dazai leans on his hand, bracing his elbow on the table.

“Probably.”

“Are you not eating?” Chuuya asks, feeling himself growing drowsy, but fighting against the heaviness in his eyes. “There was enough miso for both of us.”

Dazai looks away. Chuuya glares. “I’m not gonna eat alone. Get some food.”

Dazai does. They eat in a comfortable silence and Dazai notices the way Chuuya sways a little, fighting off sleep. He smiles and it isn’t hiding something. It isn’t covering up something dark or sinister

or painful. It’s just a smile that makes Chuuya’s heart beat a little faster.

“You should sleep."

Chuuya shakes his head, and the exhaustion hits him full force. It makes him say things he’s trying to keep inside.

“I don’t want to go to sleep and wake up with you gone again.”

Dazai’s eyes are pained as he reaches out to run his fingers through Chuuya’s hair.

“You won’t.”

Chuuya’s brows furrow, blinking quickly even as the exhaustion tugs at him. Sleep sounds /so good/.

“Why should I believe you?”

Dazai leans forward to press his forehead

against Chuuya’s with a sigh.

“I made my decision, Chuuya. You made me make a choice. So, I’m not going anywhere.”

Something finally snaps and Chuuya’s eyes slip closed and he bites his lip. Tears slip down his cheeks and he reaches out to grip Dazais’s shirt tightly.

He pulls him closer, making him stumble around the table.

“You’d better not,” he says, pressing a kiss to Dazai’s lips. Dazai kisses him back, hands gentle at the back of his head. The kiss is slow, lazy.

“You should rest,” Dazai says against him and Chuuya knows he should.

He grips Dazai’s shirt tighter.

“You’re coming, too.”

“You want me to?”

“Would I be doing /any/ of this if I didn’t?” Chuuya asks.

“I suppose not.”

Dazai lets himself be dragged into the bedroom and pulled down onto the bed.

Chuuya holds him tight even as he drifts into unconsciousness.

He feels Dazai’s fingers in his hair and for one, terrible moment it feels just like that night. Like the night he left and Chuuya's heart clenches, but he passes out before he can hold tighter or say something.

It’s late morning when he finally wakes up, trying to remember how he got there. He remembers the night before in pieces. He remembers /Dazai/.

His eyes snap open and he looks beside him to find Dazai sleeping peacefully. His hair is a mess and his shirt is terribly wrinkled.

Chuuya knows, from many sleepless nights, that Dazai has a hard time sleeping and that he doesn’t sleep very often.

So, seeing him completely vulnerable is...new. He shifts to get into a more comfortable position, the bruises all over his body aching.

The movement stirs Dazai who hums and reaches out.

He pulls Chuuya close, smiling into his hair. In the sleepy morning, Chuuya lets him. He can’t trust him with his heart yet, he can’t let him in yet, but this is okay for now.

This is good. Just this moment, when nothing matters and nothing hurts.

“Morning,” Dazai whispers. Chuuya grunts softly, leaning into the embrace.

It’s not perfect and it never will be. But for now, for them, it’s enough.

END