Dazai having a secret little notebook full of poetry about Chuuya.

About how beautiful he is, how when the sunlight reflects off his hair it glitters gold. When the moonlight covers the horizon his eyes sparkle like the stars in the night sky.
Of how strong and passionate he is. How he’s loyal beyond belief. How he snores when he falls asleep after using corruption, but in an adorable way.

Pages and pages scribbled in this little book of his.

He never tells Chuuya any of these things, never finds the courage.
When he leaves the mafia, he places it on his bed with a note for Chuuya to find.
“Hey Chibi, I know you probably hate me right now, and I deserve that. I want you to have this. I won’t be seeing my muse everyday so I’ll have nothing new to write. Consider this my farewell gift to you. Forever yours, Dazai”
———

Chuuya’s never been more angry in his life, if this is some sort of prank he’s going to obliterate that dumb idiot partner of his, if it’s not he’s not sure what he’s going to do.

He bursts into Dazai’s room the minute he gets home, rage boiling through his veins.
“Oi dickhead, enough of the jokes. I know ...” His words trail off as he takes in the room. It’s empty, desolate except for one thing. A little notebook on the stripped bare bed.
Curious Chuuya picks it up, reading the note on top. All the anger leaves him instantly, being replaced by a bone deep dread, feeling like a stone is settling in his stomach.
He thumbs over the words, reading and rereading them but he can only focus on one— farewell.

He can feel the tears starting to well in his eyes, fighting against gravity to not fall down his cheeks.
Chuuya snatches the notebook up, clutching it tightly and retreating to his own room, locking the door behind him and sinking to the floor.
The moment he hits the ground the tears start falling, cascading down his cheeks like a waterfall. No matter how hard he wipes at his eyes they just won’t stop.
He doesn’t know why he left, there had to have been a reason, knows deep down something must of happened. He can’t process that logic in his current state though.

Chuuya only has one thought— was I not enough to make you stay?
It plays on repeat in his head until he falls asleep where he sits.

He’s awoken the next morning by the harshness of the sunlight shining through his window. A glaring beacon highlighting his despair.
Moving is a challenging task, limbs stiff from the slumped over position he slept in. His joints crack as he stands up, a /thump/ sounding when he makes it to fully upright.
His eyes flicker to the noise. /The/ notebook. He couldn’t bring himself to look inside last night. The grief was too overwhelming. Now he thinks he might be able to.
He drags his tired and sore body to the kitchen, flipping the coffee maker on. He slumps over the kitchen counter while he waits, idly fiddling with his mug and glaring at the book.
Coffee in hand, he flips open the notebook. The smell alone helping him feel more alert.

The first page alone has his heart clenching in agony.
“Chuuya, if you’re reading this it means one of two things. I’ve finally found the courage to speak the words that have been stuck in my heart for so long, or I’m gone, and like the coward I am I left this for you.
Before you I never saw colour so exquisite, always found all the sappy pretty words people wrote to be dreary, a waste of time.
You changed that, changed so many things for me.
Made the world brighter, gave me a reason to wake up everyday and see it through.
Every word written in these pages is about you. The things I couldn’t say, the feelings that were always prevalent in my heart, all of it.
It was always you Chuuya.”
The tears are falling freely again, wet splotches staining the page. Chuuya isn’t sure he can go any further. What is this. It reads almost like wedding vows.

Is Dazai trying to stomp on the remainder of his broken heart.
Taking in a stuttering breath he turns the page. He only has to read a few lines to figure out what it is. Poetry. Every line, every new page he flips to. Poetry. About him.

Elegant words, painfully beautiful descriptions, delicate and haunting verse.
They range from happy to downright painful. Page after page. He takes his time going over every one. Ignoring the rapid beating in his chest, the crushing weight of every emotion waging war in his head.
His coffee has gone cold next to him, completely forgotten in favour of the paper in front of him.
Reaching the last page, he finds it blank aside from a tiny drawn arrow in the far corner. He turns it over, confused as to why Dazai would do so, unless there’s maybe something on the other side.

There on the back cover he finds it.
“Hello again Chuuya.
I have no idea how you must be feeling right now, what thoughts are running through your mind.
I’m so deeply sorry for any pain I’ve caused, any wrong I’ve done, for whatever hurt you’re currently going through.
If any part of you can forgive me, would ever want to see me again after this, I’ll be waiting.
Forever yours,
Dazai”
Below it is an address, a safe house they used just after Chuuya joined the mafia. On a mission that went wrong. It was the first time they failed. He remembers it clearly. Patching Dazai up and then falling asleep in his arms.
He remembers he felt /safe/, truly safe for the first time in years.

The likelihood of Dazai still being there is incredibly slim. Chuuya is not wasting this chance though, it might be the only one he ever gets. It’s more than worth the risk.
He doesn’t even bother changing, he just gets up and leaves. Flying from building to building, following the quickest route he can, not caring if anyone sees his frantic state. If his face is blotchy from the tears. He should of been there yesterday.
It takes him less than five minutes to fly to what is basically the other side of Yokohama. Landing not so gently on the balcony, he takes a second to catch his breath before entering.

This is it.
Praying to whoever will listen that Dazai is still there, he opens the doors, stepping inside.

There, sitting at the dining table, casually drinking coffee and reading the paper is Dazai.
For the first time in the last twelve hours he feels the tightness in his chest start to recede. He made it, Dazai is here, really here.
“Hey Chibi” is said with such relief, as if he wasn’t expecting him to come, that Chuuya does the only thing that feels right in this moment— he tackles him into a hug.
The chair breaks at the impact, leaving Chuuya sprawled on top of Dazai. It breaks all the tension in the air, causing both of them to start laughing.

Once they calm down, Chuuya says the only thing that matters.
“I love you. I also really fucking hate you right now for what you put me through, yet I still love you. I’m forever yours Dazai.” He seals his declaration with a kiss, sighing when Dazai’s arms wrap around him.

“And I’m forever yours Chuuya.”
There in each other’s arms everything feels right, like this is where they belong. Two halves making a whole. When you find the last piece of a puzzle that you’ve spent your life working on. The perfect fit.

/fin.

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