In his whole life, Chuuya has never met someone quite as /infuriating/ as Dazai.
The man is made of contrasts — all honed angles and round edges. He’s razor-sharp smiles and soft brown curls.
He’s an alpha but, when he said it, he uttered the words that as if he was ashamed
The man is made of contrasts — all honed angles and round edges. He’s razor-sharp smiles and soft brown curls.
He’s an alpha but, when he said it, he uttered the words that as if he was ashamed
As if alphas are supposed to be strong and he’s not.
And, well— no one better than Chuuya can understand that feeling, but that’s another story.
Anyway, in the few weeks the brunet has been swinging by the cafe, Chuuya learned something: Dazai smiles often, but never for real.
And, well— no one better than Chuuya can understand that feeling, but that’s another story.
Anyway, in the few weeks the brunet has been swinging by the cafe, Chuuya learned something: Dazai smiles often, but never for real.
He’s alabaster skin covered in bandages and flecks of gold glowing in the irises, he’s ripples of hazelnut in the darkness of his hair.
He’s handsome, that ehtereal beauty rooted in pain — like he was never meant to stay on this earth for long.
He’s handsome, that ehtereal beauty rooted in pain — like he was never meant to stay on this earth for long.
When they first met, there was a gut feeling torturing Chuuya — like he really /did/ save Dazai’s life that morning — that stuck with him ever since.
It remained under his skin like a bruise that just won’t fade.
It remained under his skin like a bruise that just won’t fade.
And maybe this is all just Chuuya — dreamer, naïve Chuuya. 22-failure-of-an-Omega Chuuya — imagining things.
Could be.
Ane-san always told him he worries too much about others.
/However/, for some reason, he can’t but worry for this odd, beautiful boy that tip-toed into his
Could be.
Ane-san always told him he worries too much about others.
/However/, for some reason, he can’t but worry for this odd, beautiful boy that tip-toed into his
life with a strange coffee order, no money and a bottomless sadness in his eyes screaming to be noticed.
And they don’t /know/ each other that well, Dazai is barely a regular at all, but—
But it’s not like Chuuya would be /opposed/ to the idea.
And they don’t /know/ each other that well, Dazai is barely a regular at all, but—
But it’s not like Chuuya would be /opposed/ to the idea.
“Good morning, losers~”
A voice drags Chuuya out of his head as the cafe’s door opens with a chime.
/Speaking of the devil/.
The first thing Chuuya notices are the usual bandages that cover Dazai’s willowy body and his tousled hair — unkept as usual. /Begging/ for someone
A voice drags Chuuya out of his head as the cafe’s door opens with a chime.
/Speaking of the devil/.
The first thing Chuuya notices are the usual bandages that cover Dazai’s willowy body and his tousled hair — unkept as usual. /Begging/ for someone
to have Dazai sit down and brush that damn hair for him.
(And Chuuya would volunteer — Secretly. Just because he hates disheveled people.)
Then, he drinks in the oversized grey jacket and a black turtleneck.
Not an /ounce/ of effort in that outfit, but he’s learned to never
(And Chuuya would volunteer — Secretly. Just because he hates disheveled people.)
Then, he drinks in the oversized grey jacket and a black turtleneck.
Not an /ounce/ of effort in that outfit, but he’s learned to never
expect effort from Dazai unless the world is ending or there’s something in it for him.
Still, a smile crosses Dazai’s face as he pushes into the cafe, reaching for the counter as if he owns the place. It reminds Chuuya of a stray cat, always
Still, a smile crosses Dazai’s face as he pushes into the cafe, reaching for the counter as if he owns the place. It reminds Chuuya of a stray cat, always
finding its way back to the place it considers safe.
And it’s in /that/ moment that a strange warmth wraps Chuuya’s heart.
It’s /there/, homely and ever-present, even if the redhead ignores it and greets the newcomer with a scowl.
“You here again, shitty Dazai?”
And it’s in /that/ moment that a strange warmth wraps Chuuya’s heart.
It’s /there/, homely and ever-present, even if the redhead ignores it and greets the newcomer with a scowl.
“You here again, shitty Dazai?”
Dazai chuckles as he pushes into the space.
“What? I can’t even stop by my favorite cafe, now?”
Chuuya scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“/Favorite/,” he echoes.
It earns him back a dramatic sigh.
“Ah~ And here I thought Chuuya would be happy to see me!”
“What? I can’t even stop by my favorite cafe, now?”
Chuuya scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“/Favorite/,” he echoes.
It earns him back a dramatic sigh.
“Ah~ And here I thought Chuuya would be happy to see me!”
“I’m never happy to see you,” Chuuya grumbles, even though he /does/ turn to the espresso machine to prepare a triple-shot vanilla latte.
/A four-shots espresso/.
Sure. The fucker played him alright.
Because Dazai has the sweetest tooth Chuuya has ever seen and
/A four-shots espresso/.
Sure. The fucker played him alright.
Because Dazai has the sweetest tooth Chuuya has ever seen and
/that/ order— that order was a cry for help.
(“I needed to chase some demons away,” Dazai once explained himself.
He said it like a joke, but Chuuya wasn’t so /sure/ about that.)
“Busy day?”
Chuuya shrugs the question away as he pumps three shots of vanilla into a paper cup.
(“I needed to chase some demons away,” Dazai once explained himself.
He said it like a joke, but Chuuya wasn’t so /sure/ about that.)
“Busy day?”
Chuuya shrugs the question away as he pumps three shots of vanilla into a paper cup.
“Not much.”
“Did they leave you alone again?”
“Akutagawa’s in the back taking inventory, but it’s been a quiet day.”
Dazai hums in approval. “So you can go on break now?”
/Ah./
Chuuya stalls, balancing his answer.
Dazai is /interesting/, Chuuya wasn’t lying when he
“Did they leave you alone again?”
“Akutagawa’s in the back taking inventory, but it’s been a quiet day.”
Dazai hums in approval. “So you can go on break now?”
/Ah./
Chuuya stalls, balancing his answer.
Dazai is /interesting/, Chuuya wasn’t lying when he
offered him to be friends, but he’s also flirty as hell and an /alpha/.
And Chuuya—
He’s not an idiot.
/He knows how these things go./
He just wonders how far they’ll go with this friendship before Dazai /asks/ for things — and answers — that Chuuya can’t give him.
And Chuuya—
He’s not an idiot.
/He knows how these things go./
He just wonders how far they’ll go with this friendship before Dazai /asks/ for things — and answers — that Chuuya can’t give him.
Chibi?” Dazai prompts. Chuuya can hear him shifting, laying against the counter with all his weight.
When he swallows, his throat is /dry/.
“I guess I can take a cig break.”
Dazai /beams/.
It’s a little too stretched to be fully genuine, but Chuuya will /take/ what
When he swallows, his throat is /dry/.
“I guess I can take a cig break.”
Dazai /beams/.
It’s a little too stretched to be fully genuine, but Chuuya will /take/ what
he can get. “Good.”
“/Good/,” Chuuya replies to himself, finishing off the vanilla latte and placing it in front of Dazai. “Gimme a sec, yeah?”
“Considering those short leg goes of yours, I will give Chuuya /two/ seconds~”
“I hope you /choke/ on that latte,” he volleys back.
“/Good/,” Chuuya replies to himself, finishing off the vanilla latte and placing it in front of Dazai. “Gimme a sec, yeah?”
“Considering those short leg goes of yours, I will give Chuuya /two/ seconds~”
“I hope you /choke/ on that latte,” he volleys back.
/God/.
This can’t work for long — Chuuya thinks that as he sees Dazai wrap his hands around the warm coffee cup, and he /hates/ himself for it. He hopes he’s wrong.
“Hm, I wouldn’t mind. Chibi’s coffee is always the best.”
“Yeah, sure. Pay up and quit the bullshit”
This can’t work for long — Chuuya thinks that as he sees Dazai wrap his hands around the warm coffee cup, and he /hates/ himself for it. He hopes he’s wrong.
“Hm, I wouldn’t mind. Chibi’s coffee is always the best.”
“Yeah, sure. Pay up and quit the bullshit”
He says that even though he /knows/ Dazai won’t pay anything.
Dazai’s ongoing tab gets paid every two weeks by a so-called Mori Corp — Tokyo based, shady as hell.
Chuuya doesn’t /ask/, and Dazai doesn’t explain, and everyone is happy as long as the tab gets closed regularly.
Dazai’s ongoing tab gets paid every two weeks by a so-called Mori Corp — Tokyo based, shady as hell.
Chuuya doesn’t /ask/, and Dazai doesn’t explain, and everyone is happy as long as the tab gets closed regularly.
Dazai doesn’t bother with a reply.
Chuuya scoffs, throwing his yellow apron aside and fishing for a pack of cigarettes he keeps behind the counter.
No one will mind, anyway. The café’s empty, as it always is before the usual wave of office workers washes in for lunch break.
Chuuya scoffs, throwing his yellow apron aside and fishing for a pack of cigarettes he keeps behind the counter.
No one will mind, anyway. The café’s empty, as it always is before the usual wave of office workers washes in for lunch break.
And Chuuya would /love/ to say that he cares enough about this job to not leave the place unattended with Akutagawa for even a second, but he /doesn’t/.
“Oi, Akutagawa. I’m taking a break,” he shouts.
Dazai flashes Chuuya a half-lidded smile that sends a /shiver/ down the
“Oi, Akutagawa. I’m taking a break,” he shouts.
Dazai flashes Chuuya a half-lidded smile that sends a /shiver/ down the
redhead’s spine.
“You sure Baby Vampire can manage alone?” he drawls.
“He /better/.”
“I’m not sure he heard you, though…?”
“And /that/, Dazai, sounds like an Akutagawa’s problem.” He rubs his eyes as he circumnavigates the counter to reach the brunet’s side. “Let’s go.”
“You sure Baby Vampire can manage alone?” he drawls.
“He /better/.”
“I’m not sure he heard you, though…?”
“And /that/, Dazai, sounds like an Akutagawa’s problem.” He rubs his eyes as he circumnavigates the counter to reach the brunet’s side. “Let’s go.”
To be completely fair, no.
Chuuya is not sure that /Akutagawa Ryuunosuke/ is the best person when it comes to client-facing roles.
See if he /cares/, though.
It’s not like the kid is stupid, and the place has been empty for hours so he can manage while Chuuya takes five
Chuuya is not sure that /Akutagawa Ryuunosuke/ is the best person when it comes to client-facing roles.
See if he /cares/, though.
It’s not like the kid is stupid, and the place has been empty for hours so he can manage while Chuuya takes five
fucking minutes.
When they walk out together, with Chuuya’s apron and Dazai’s latte waiting for them on the counter — silent reminders that they meet on borrowed time, never for long, never enough for it to /mean/ something —, Dazai is a solid presence next to him. The brunet
When they walk out together, with Chuuya’s apron and Dazai’s latte waiting for them on the counter — silent reminders that they meet on borrowed time, never for long, never enough for it to /mean/ something —, Dazai is a solid presence next to him. The brunet
holds the door open for Chuuya when they step into the sidewalk outside the cafe.
A little gesture of chivalry that the alpha knows will earn him a cigarette in return.
And Chuuya is left to wonder if his scent blockers work when they walk so close — arm against arm.
A little gesture of chivalry that the alpha knows will earn him a cigarette in return.
And Chuuya is left to wonder if his scent blockers work when they walk so close — arm against arm.
“Chibi’s heartless.”
“I’m not Akutagawa’s /mother/.”
He shivers at the word— how it tastes on his tongue. Dazai doesn’t seem to mind, though.
(How can he? Chuuya dodged every question regarding his second gender.
He fears it will come back to bite him, though.
Someday.)
“I’m not Akutagawa’s /mother/.”
He shivers at the word— how it tastes on his tongue. Dazai doesn’t seem to mind, though.
(How can he? Chuuya dodged every question regarding his second gender.
He fears it will come back to bite him, though.
Someday.)
Dazai shrugs the comment away, slipping one hand in his coat’s pocket.
Under the gentle fall sun, the first thing Chuuya notices are the dark circles under Dazai’s eyes.
It’s a tiredness that builds from within. He always looks on the verge of breaking like precious china.
Under the gentle fall sun, the first thing Chuuya notices are the dark circles under Dazai’s eyes.
It’s a tiredness that builds from within. He always looks on the verge of breaking like precious china.
“I’m just worrying for Baby Vampire. He likes you.”
Chuuya shrugs, slipping a cigarette out of the pack. “Bet.”
/He likes you./
The lighter clicks in the silence as Chuuya leans in, one hand cupping the flame.
/I know. The question is, do *you* like me?/
Chuuya shrugs, slipping a cigarette out of the pack. “Bet.”
/He likes you./
The lighter clicks in the silence as Chuuya leans in, one hand cupping the flame.
/I know. The question is, do *you* like me?/
The tip of the cigarette kisses the flame, sizzling.
The soothing, familiar taste of nicotine fills Chuuya’s lungs.
/And if you like me— *how* do you like me?/
“He /does/, Chibi,” Dazai insists, light-hearted. “By the way, I know I’m giving him a hard time. He’s not that bad.”
The soothing, familiar taste of nicotine fills Chuuya’s lungs.
/And if you like me— *how* do you like me?/
“He /does/, Chibi,” Dazai insists, light-hearted. “By the way, I know I’m giving him a hard time. He’s not that bad.”
“So you’re aware that you’re an asshole?”
Dazai snickers.
“Of course. It’s fun.”
“/Sure/,” the redhead says, rolling his eyes.
“But that morning…” His voice trails off, and a smile crosses his face. “The morning we met, I’m glad I found Chuuya.”
Chuuya’s heart hiccups.
Dazai snickers.
“Of course. It’s fun.”
“/Sure/,” the redhead says, rolling his eyes.
“But that morning…” His voice trails off, and a smile crosses his face. “The morning we met, I’m glad I found Chuuya.”
Chuuya’s heart hiccups.
Warmth glazes over his skin, and automatically he shifts closer to the alpha.
“I’m glad too.”
“Chuuya’s a kind person.”
“Damn right I am.” Chuuya smiles. “You, on the other hand, are /shameless/. Do you often offer to pay with kisses, shitty Dazai?”
“Are you jealous?”
“I’m glad too.”
“Chuuya’s a kind person.”
“Damn right I am.” Chuuya smiles. “You, on the other hand, are /shameless/. Do you often offer to pay with kisses, shitty Dazai?”
“Are you jealous?”
Chuuya hesitates, taking a long drag of smoke. His nostrils flare as he breathes it out.
Then, he passes the cigarette to Dazai as if the question didn’t bother him — more importantly, unwilling to acknowledge the implications of that /intimate/ gesture.
No, he’s not jealous.
Then, he passes the cigarette to Dazai as if the question didn’t bother him — more importantly, unwilling to acknowledge the implications of that /intimate/ gesture.
No, he’s not jealous.
But he /is/ worried about the direction this is taking.
(Whatever this is, it will crush. It always does.
Because Chuuya is /never/ what people expect him to be, in the end.)
“I’m worried whenever you pretend to care about Akutagawa,” he concedes. “Shit happens when you do.”
(Whatever this is, it will crush. It always does.
Because Chuuya is /never/ what people expect him to be, in the end.)
“I’m worried whenever you pretend to care about Akutagawa,” he concedes. “Shit happens when you do.”
Like the time Dazai asked Akutagawa an impossible brew — vanilla, strawberry, banana, ice cream and coffee ‘and make it taste good, Akutagawa-kun~!’. Spoiler: it tasted awful.
Akutagawa was /mortified/.
Or the time Dazai roasted Akutagawa about his love life. Or the time he
Akutagawa was /mortified/.
Or the time Dazai roasted Akutagawa about his love life. Or the time he
pulled the ‘you should offer me free stuff, I’m practically your mentor’ shit.
Or when he called him Baby Vampire to his face — and never stopped.
Every time, /Chuuya/ is the one that has to explain why Akutagawa will need at least a couple of days off due to stress.
Or when he called him Baby Vampire to his face — and never stopped.
Every time, /Chuuya/ is the one that has to explain why Akutagawa will need at least a couple of days off due to stress.
However, now, Dazai offers him his most charming grin and Chuuya would like to punch him because—
Gods, he almost looks /innocent/ when he smiles like this.
He’s holding the cigarette a millimeter away from his mouth, the filter barely grazing his lips. White against pink.
Gods, he almost looks /innocent/ when he smiles like this.
He’s holding the cigarette a millimeter away from his mouth, the filter barely grazing his lips. White against pink.
His lean fingers hold it elegantly, and the redhead finds himself /staring/.
Only when the brunet’s lips wrap around the filter and he inhales, eyelashes fluttering as he does, Chuuya manages to tear his gaze away.
“I just don’t want Baby Vampire to scare away the clientele.”
Only when the brunet’s lips wrap around the filter and he inhales, eyelashes fluttering as he does, Chuuya manages to tear his gaze away.
“I just don’t want Baby Vampire to scare away the clientele.”
“Hah. You already do a great job all by yourself.”
“Wrong~ I only scare them away when they’re flirting with you, Chibi.”
As he says that, Dazai /tries/ to wink in what, no doubt, should be an attempt to be charming.
Chuuya only clicks his tongue, unimpressed.
“Wrong~ I only scare them away when they’re flirting with you, Chibi.”
As he says that, Dazai /tries/ to wink in what, no doubt, should be an attempt to be charming.
Chuuya only clicks his tongue, unimpressed.
“Who’s jealous now?”
Dazai chuckles. “Jealous? No, no. I’m /considerate/.”
“Hah?! /How/ is that considerate?”
“It’s my civic duty to protect those unfortunate souls.”
Chuuya rolls his eyes, accepting the cigarette Dazai is offering him back and placing it between his lips.
Dazai chuckles. “Jealous? No, no. I’m /considerate/.”
“Hah?! /How/ is that considerate?”
“It’s my civic duty to protect those unfortunate souls.”
Chuuya rolls his eyes, accepting the cigarette Dazai is offering him back and placing it between his lips.
He wonders if Dazai can /taste/ him, because he /can’t/. No trace of the alpha lingers on the cig, not even his scent.
There’s only space for the strong taste of mint and nicotine, the cellulose pushing against his tongue and the paper under his teeth.
“And from what, exactly?”
There’s only space for the strong taste of mint and nicotine, the cellulose pushing against his tongue and the paper under his teeth.
“And from what, exactly?”
“Your shrimp-ness, of course.”
Chuuya does his best to suppress a smile. “Ah.”
“Your short temper.”
Chuuya tilts his head to the side, puffing out smoke. “That’s fair.”
“Chuuya also looks like a horrible kisser.”
Chuuya does his best to suppress a smile. “Ah.”
“Your short temper.”
Chuuya tilts his head to the side, puffing out smoke. “That’s fair.”
“Chuuya also looks like a horrible kisser.”
“You don’t know that,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes at the comment.
Not that Dazai must know, but people /actually/ swore by the contrary.
Chuuya’s kisses are /nice/. He /can/ use his mouth.
It’s everything else that doesn’t work.
Not that Dazai must know, but people /actually/ swore by the contrary.
Chuuya’s kisses are /nice/. He /can/ use his mouth.
It’s everything else that doesn’t work.
It’s everything else that is /nothing/ an omega — or a man, or a functioning human being — should be.
Dazai shrugs. “Chibi refused to kiss me, so I have to base myself on assumptions.”
“Spectacularly /wrong/ ones, asshole. Please, don’t /ever/ become a detective.”
Dazai shrugs. “Chibi refused to kiss me, so I have to base myself on assumptions.”
“Spectacularly /wrong/ ones, asshole. Please, don’t /ever/ become a detective.”
Dazai’s eyes rest on Chuuya’s face for what feels like a lifetime, and /anxiety/ swells in the omega like a wave as he waits.
“I can always get evidence?” He tries, expectation clear in his voice.
And see? /See/?
How is Chuuya supposed to know if Dazai is /serious/?
“I can always get evidence?” He tries, expectation clear in his voice.
And see? /See/?
How is Chuuya supposed to know if Dazai is /serious/?
What kind of odd dance is this?
Because the truth it, sometimes, Dazai Osamu freaks him out, but Chuuya can’t stay away.
And if Dazai /does/ mean it, Chuuya is not ready to admit that he is— well, damaged goods.
Because the truth it, sometimes, Dazai Osamu freaks him out, but Chuuya can’t stay away.
And if Dazai /does/ mean it, Chuuya is not ready to admit that he is— well, damaged goods.
The only thing he can think of doing is to shove the cigarette back to Dazai, shuddering when their fingers touch, hoping he didn’t /notice/.
(If he does, after all, Dazai is merciful enough to hold back on the commentary.)
“/Ugh/. Shut up.”
(If he does, after all, Dazai is merciful enough to hold back on the commentary.)
“/Ugh/. Shut up.”
And he /knows/ it’s not the right answer, but it certainly feels like it when Dazai rolls his head back and explodes into a heartily laugh.
It’s probably the /first/ one Chuuya heard from him, and if he could physically /grab/ a sound and store it safe forever he /would/.
It’s probably the /first/ one Chuuya heard from him, and if he could physically /grab/ a sound and store it safe forever he /would/.
He would safeguard it like a treasure, reminding Dazai on occasion about how beautiful his voice sounds.
But he can’t, and the laughter dissolves into thin air. Silence settles between them like dust.
“Chuuya…” Chuuya /flinches/. “I actually came here today to talk to you.”
But he can’t, and the laughter dissolves into thin air. Silence settles between them like dust.
“Chuuya…” Chuuya /flinches/. “I actually came here today to talk to you.”
The omega blinks, taken aback. “Ok…?”
“I—“
“/Yes/?”
Dazai gnaws at his bottom lip, tossing the cigarette on the ground and pressing the tip of his shoe over the stud. They both know Chuuya’s going to sweep that anyway at the end of his shift.
“I—“
“/Yes/?”
Dazai gnaws at his bottom lip, tossing the cigarette on the ground and pressing the tip of his shoe over the stud. They both know Chuuya’s going to sweep that anyway at the end of his shift.
He side-glances at Chuuya as he balances his words.
And when Chuuya thinks he can’t /take/ it anymore, and will have to force it out of Dazai…
“I was looking for a roommate.” The alpha hesitates. “To cut the expenses, y’know.”
“/Ah./“
“Aren’t you living with your sister?”
And when Chuuya thinks he can’t /take/ it anymore, and will have to force it out of Dazai…
“I was looking for a roommate.” The alpha hesitates. “To cut the expenses, y’know.”
“/Ah./“
“Aren’t you living with your sister?”
Slowly, Chuuya nods.
“Yeah.”
He’s staying with Kouyou until he can afford a place of his own.
Dazai knows it because Chuuya told him, but he never expected the alpha to be living /alone/.
Damn, rent in Yokohama is crazy and the guy goes about throwing his wallet in the river!
“Yeah.”
He’s staying with Kouyou until he can afford a place of his own.
Dazai knows it because Chuuya told him, but he never expected the alpha to be living /alone/.
Damn, rent in Yokohama is crazy and the guy goes about throwing his wallet in the river!
“Have you ever considered… I don’t know, a change?”
Chuuya balks at the implicit proposal, tossing every possible reply in his head.
But Dazai didn’t /ask/, not for real.
Chuuya tries to tell himself that unless Dazai /asks/ upfront— then he’s not forced to answer.
Chuuya balks at the implicit proposal, tossing every possible reply in his head.
But Dazai didn’t /ask/, not for real.
Chuuya tries to tell himself that unless Dazai /asks/ upfront— then he’s not forced to answer.
“I don’t know,” he murmurs. “But good luck, I guess.” He smirks — and Dazai’s lips curl up too, even if only a little. “Hope you find someone who can actually stand you.”
And Chuuya /thinks/ he caught a glimpse of Dazai’s shoulders sag, but he tells himself it’s nothing.
And Chuuya /thinks/ he caught a glimpse of Dazai’s shoulders sag, but he tells himself it’s nothing.
“Hm, thanks Chibi.”
“You’re welcome.”
He has to /push/ it past his mouth, and immediately Chuuya wishes he didn’t because it sounds incredibly lame.
It sounds like he doesn’t care, when he actually /does/.
“Should we head back?” Dazai asks — voice leveled, almost /distant/.
“You’re welcome.”
He has to /push/ it past his mouth, and immediately Chuuya wishes he didn’t because it sounds incredibly lame.
It sounds like he doesn’t care, when he actually /does/.
“Should we head back?” Dazai asks — voice leveled, almost /distant/.
And Chuuya guesses that he deserves it, but how can he tell Dazai that living together would turn him into a ticking bomb?
“/I/ have to,” Chuuya hums. “You are only allowed to stay if you promise to not antagonize every single customer who walks in.”
How can he tell him?
“/I/ have to,” Chuuya hums. “You are only allowed to stay if you promise to not antagonize every single customer who walks in.”
How can he tell him?
“Not even Baby Vampire? Please?”
“/Dazai/.”
In lieu of an answer Dazai pretends to zip his lips, but he’s grinning.
Chuuya grins back too.
How could this beautiful alpha, this sad masterpiece of a human, ever be satisfied with him?
His rut or Chuuya’s heat would hit, and—
“/Dazai/.”
In lieu of an answer Dazai pretends to zip his lips, but he’s grinning.
Chuuya grins back too.
How could this beautiful alpha, this sad masterpiece of a human, ever be satisfied with him?
His rut or Chuuya’s heat would hit, and—
Then it would be like trying to fuck a broken doll. He can’t bring Dazai more /unhappiness/.
And he worries about others, Ane-San always says that, but he has to be selfish and admit he can’t stand another abandonment.
Not another ‘at least we tried’.
It’s better this way.
—
And he worries about others, Ane-San always says that, but he has to be selfish and admit he can’t stand another abandonment.
Not another ‘at least we tried’.
It’s better this way.
—
Habit is a strange word. It’s a cage and chains, it’s a hold that won’t let Dazai breathe.
Yet now, every morning right before heading to the library, Dazai passes by the café just to glimpse at Chuuya.
It’s a /calming/ habit, though Dazai never believed in rituals at all.
Yet now, every morning right before heading to the library, Dazai passes by the café just to glimpse at Chuuya.
It’s a /calming/ habit, though Dazai never believed in rituals at all.
A time to make sure that there is still beauty in a world that always felt a little too grey, a little cold.
This is how one week rolls into two and three — quietly.
Dazai pretends to be looking for a roommate, although his mind already set on one. Chuuya pretends to seem
This is how one week rolls into two and three — quietly.
Dazai pretends to be looking for a roommate, although his mind already set on one. Chuuya pretends to seem
disinterested, although Dazai can /read/ reticence behind his Chibi’s eyes.
The ‘if’, the ‘maybe’.
The powerful ‘it might be worth a try’ hidden under the surface.
And yes, maybe Chuuya is not /his/ Chibi yet, but some days… Some days Dazai can’t but let himself hope.
The ‘if’, the ‘maybe’.
The powerful ‘it might be worth a try’ hidden under the surface.
And yes, maybe Chuuya is not /his/ Chibi yet, but some days… Some days Dazai can’t but let himself hope.
“Walking into this bar is like stepping into a fairy land.”
“Your head is a fairy land, shitty Dazai,” Chuuya replies, still restocking the paper cups. Not a heartbeat lost, not a moment of hesitation.
Dazai pouts.
The clock marking six in the afternoon means that he is the
“Your head is a fairy land, shitty Dazai,” Chuuya replies, still restocking the paper cups. Not a heartbeat lost, not a moment of hesitation.
Dazai pouts.
The clock marking six in the afternoon means that he is the
last customer for the day. He’ll ask Chuuya to drive him to the closest train station on his bike, after.
He’ll collect his courage to ask the redhead about the house again, after.
But for now the brunet is leaning against the counter while Chuuya and Akutagawa close the café.
He’ll collect his courage to ask the redhead about the house again, after.
But for now the brunet is leaning against the counter while Chuuya and Akutagawa close the café.
(Could he help? Sure.
Is he too lazy to raise a finger? /Yup/.)
“At least hear me out, Chuu-u-ya~,” he says. His timbre turns bratty as he stretches the vowels.
It always makes Odasaku smile, this tune.
It never makes Chuuya /smile/, though. It annoys him, or so he says, and
Is he too lazy to raise a finger? /Yup/.)
“At least hear me out, Chuu-u-ya~,” he says. His timbre turns bratty as he stretches the vowels.
It always makes Odasaku smile, this tune.
It never makes Chuuya /smile/, though. It annoys him, or so he says, and
Dazai can never quite gauge how true that is.
It’s odd, though. Lately, the redhead smiles less.
(Dazai pretended not to notice, but he /did/.)
/Anyway/.
Chuuya might not have the same reaction as Odasaku, but he /does/ let him go on.
“As soon as you shut up after.”
It’s odd, though. Lately, the redhead smiles less.
(Dazai pretended not to notice, but he /did/.)
/Anyway/.
Chuuya might not have the same reaction as Odasaku, but he /does/ let him go on.
“As soon as you shut up after.”
Dazai grins.
“I was saying, it’s like a fairy land. A vampire—“ he gestures at Akutagawa, who keeps cleaning the tray and syrup bottles. Then he points at Chuuya, holding the pause. “And a gremlin.”
He gracefully dodges the cup that Chuuya threw in his direction, smile
“I was saying, it’s like a fairy land. A vampire—“ he gestures at Akutagawa, who keeps cleaning the tray and syrup bottles. Then he points at Chuuya, holding the pause. “And a gremlin.”
He gracefully dodges the cup that Chuuya threw in his direction, smile
still crossing his face.
“Go away.”
He waves the comment away. “Nah.”
“At least /help/. Or follow Ryu’s example and shut up.”
Dazai’s smirk is /wolfish/ as he turns to the other boy, who is clearly trying to appear invisible.
“Heard that, Baby Vampire? You’re a good boy.”
“Go away.”
He waves the comment away. “Nah.”
“At least /help/. Or follow Ryu’s example and shut up.”
Dazai’s smirk is /wolfish/ as he turns to the other boy, who is clearly trying to appear invisible.
“Heard that, Baby Vampire? You’re a good boy.”
Akutagawa scoffs, shaking his head.
“Chuuya-san” The boy side glances at Dazai, deep grey eyes lingering on him for a second. “May I throw out the trash yet?”
Dazai sputters.
“The /disrespect/!?” He squeaks out.
But it’s ok because Chuuya’s laughter rings loud and clear
“Chuuya-san” The boy side glances at Dazai, deep grey eyes lingering on him for a second. “May I throw out the trash yet?”
Dazai sputters.
“The /disrespect/!?” He squeaks out.
But it’s ok because Chuuya’s laughter rings loud and clear
in the empty cafe and—
And it’s warm. Familiar. It’s nice to have friends more or less his age, for a change.
The sound sends tepid ripples down Dazai’s body, in waves of gold, spilling over every inch of his soul. And the best thing is, Chuuya has no idea.
“Tell him, Ryu.”
And it’s warm. Familiar. It’s nice to have friends more or less his age, for a change.
The sound sends tepid ripples down Dazai’s body, in waves of gold, spilling over every inch of his soul. And the best thing is, Chuuya has no idea.
“Tell him, Ryu.”
“Are you teaching your protege to mistreat me, Chibi?” Dazai says, though he’s /smiling/.
He can’t quite stop, even thought they are making fun of him and Chuuya looks annoyed and he’s dead tired after a day of classes.
And the thing is that, no matter how tired or sad Dazai
He can’t quite stop, even thought they are making fun of him and Chuuya looks annoyed and he’s dead tired after a day of classes.
And the thing is that, no matter how tired or sad Dazai
is, he always finds himself smiling around this place.
(Around Chuuya).
Chuuya clicks his tongue. “I don’t need to,” he says, shooting Dazai an eloquent glance when the brunet pretends to appear hurt. “Ryu’s smart enough to know you’re trash on his own.”
“Ah, Chuuya likes me.”
(Around Chuuya).
Chuuya clicks his tongue. “I don’t need to,” he says, shooting Dazai an eloquent glance when the brunet pretends to appear hurt. “Ryu’s smart enough to know you’re trash on his own.”
“Ah, Chuuya likes me.”
“In your dreams.”
“And /I/ am going to throw out the trash /for real/,” Ryuunosuke interjects, raising his eyes to the ceiling. “Before I get cavities.”
The boy doesn’t need to raise his voice on his way out because what he said — implying that the two needed /privacy/,
“And /I/ am going to throw out the trash /for real/,” Ryuunosuke interjects, raising his eyes to the ceiling. “Before I get cavities.”
The boy doesn’t need to raise his voice on his way out because what he said — implying that the two needed /privacy/,
that they might be /sweet/ to the point of making others uncomfortable — makes Chuuya wince and recoil, focusing back on his task of refilling the cup.
He’s working with renewed energy, staring stubbornly in front of him with the kind of dedication that makes Dazai feel like
He’s working with renewed energy, staring stubbornly in front of him with the kind of dedication that makes Dazai feel like
he’s /threatening/ Chuuya’s peace just by existing.
And normally it’s a nice feeling, it /is/.
Normally it’s fun, because he enjoys being a menace around the redhead, but now…
Now Dazai would lie if he said he’s not hurt by the change of attitude, though he understands it.
And normally it’s a nice feeling, it /is/.
Normally it’s fun, because he enjoys being a menace around the redhead, but now…
Now Dazai would lie if he said he’s not hurt by the change of attitude, though he understands it.
Many things are not yet clear about the redhead, but he /does/ know something: Chuuya needs space.
Dazai doesn’t know from what, or why, or when he became so /obvious/ in showing that maybe he likes the redhead a little more than he should, but the secret is /out/ and loud now,
Dazai doesn’t know from what, or why, or when he became so /obvious/ in showing that maybe he likes the redhead a little more than he should, but the secret is /out/ and loud now,
and Chuuya seems set on ignoring it.
(/Why/, though. Why.)
“Oi, Dazai?” Chuuya calls, still not looking at him. It’s enough to drag the brunet back to the present.
“Yep?”
“Just so you know— I don’t like you at all, by the way,” he says. “Not in the slightest.”
(/Why/, though. Why.)
“Oi, Dazai?” Chuuya calls, still not looking at him. It’s enough to drag the brunet back to the present.
“Yep?”
“Just so you know— I don’t like you at all, by the way,” he says. “Not in the slightest.”
Dazai /smirks/. His shoulders flop and relax, and something heavy slips off his chest.
“‘Course you don’t,” he allows. “Neither do I.”
“Then don’t say that shit in front of Ryu. He might misunderstand.”
“And god forbid that poor innocent Baby Vampire misunderstands.”
“‘Course you don’t,” he allows. “Neither do I.”
“Then don’t say that shit in front of Ryu. He might misunderstand.”
“And god forbid that poor innocent Baby Vampire misunderstands.”
It was never a question — merely a comment soaked in half-disappointed sarcasm, because who /cares/ what Akutagawa thinks? — but Chuuya still nods. Dazai /did/ expect that too.
“Yeah,” the redhead hums, eyes lingering over Dazai’s face a moment too long. “/Exactly/.”
“Yeah,” the redhead hums, eyes lingering over Dazai’s face a moment too long. “/Exactly/.”
They both let the matter fall after that, the noises of the cafe being prepared for the morning after filling the silence between them.
Dazai is /happy/ to share the space in comfortable quietude, looking at the other.
He takes it as an opportunity to memorize every single
Dazai is /happy/ to share the space in comfortable quietude, looking at the other.
He takes it as an opportunity to memorize every single
detail — the red ponytail swinging with every movement, catching the light. The few auburn strands caught in the collar of Chuuya’s white shirt. His cheeks, red, and his lips, absently parted as he exhales.
The snowy, slender column of his neck.
And Dazai has never really been
The snowy, slender column of his neck.
And Dazai has never really been
in touch with the alpha in him, he never really tried to be true to that part of himself, but now he finds himself staring at Chuuya’s neck from time to time.
He looks at the skin and wonders what would feel like to bite it, lick it, /own/ it.
How would it be to mark the
He looks at the skin and wonders what would feel like to bite it, lick it, /own/ it.
How would it be to mark the
redhead and bound their fates.
And Chuuya might be an alpha too for all Dazai knows, secretive as the man is about his second gender, but— but he wouldn’t/care/, he’d still mark him.
He gets lost in those thoughts, absently following the ritual of closing the coffeeshop.
And Chuuya might be an alpha too for all Dazai knows, secretive as the man is about his second gender, but— but he wouldn’t/care/, he’d still mark him.
He gets lost in those thoughts, absently following the ritual of closing the coffeeshop.
First comes closing the till. Then restocking the sugar, the bottles of coke in the fridge (no one touches anything else, anyway), the chocolate and candy bars on the counter’s displayer.
Every step is performed with quick efficiency, just like the day before — likely, just
Every step is performed with quick efficiency, just like the day before — likely, just
like it’ll be done the day after.
Like every day, Akutagawa prepared himself a soy latte to go for the evening.
Then, Chuuya disappears in the back, re-emerging without the yellow apron — in its place, there’s a biker jacket and a red helmet. In his other hand, he’s holding the
Like every day, Akutagawa prepared himself a soy latte to go for the evening.
Then, Chuuya disappears in the back, re-emerging without the yellow apron — in its place, there’s a biker jacket and a red helmet. In his other hand, he’s holding the
keys to the cafe.
It’s a dance Dazai knows by heart, now.
Step after step, after step.
Today, Akutagawa is turning down the electric generator in the café when Chuuya eventually acknowledges Dazai again.
(And it’s like /breathing/ again — because he enjoys the silence, but
It’s a dance Dazai knows by heart, now.
Step after step, after step.
Today, Akutagawa is turning down the electric generator in the café when Chuuya eventually acknowledges Dazai again.
(And it’s like /breathing/ again — because he enjoys the silence, but
he likes it better when Chuuya’s attention is on him).
Only after such a long silence the alpha can notice that the redhead’s voice is slightly hoarse, with every probability because of the day spent talking to customers, but he doesn’t mind.
Only after such a long silence the alpha can notice that the redhead’s voice is slightly hoarse, with every probability because of the day spent talking to customers, but he doesn’t mind.
On the contrary, it’s /endearing/.
“You still need a ride to the train station, right? We’ll be done soon here.”
“You still need a ride to the train station, right? We’ll be done soon here.”
With a barely suppressed smile, Dazai nods.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, “Thank you, Chibi.”
“Whatever, freeloader.”
Dazai chuckles. The most hilarious thing about Chuuya, he came to think, is how /embarrassed/ he is of his own kindness.
“Hey, my offer of paying is still valid.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, “Thank you, Chibi.”
“Whatever, freeloader.”
Dazai chuckles. The most hilarious thing about Chuuya, he came to think, is how /embarrassed/ he is of his own kindness.
“Hey, my offer of paying is still valid.”
/Payment with a kiss./
Chuuya’s eyes narrow.
“Yeah,” he drawls, dragging a pause. “No, thanks.”
There’s /depth/ in that reply, but Dazai decides to shrug it off.
It’s an exercise in futility to insist, and he still needs to ask Chuuya to be his roommate. He needs to play
Chuuya’s eyes narrow.
“Yeah,” he drawls, dragging a pause. “No, thanks.”
There’s /depth/ in that reply, but Dazai decides to shrug it off.
It’s an exercise in futility to insist, and he still needs to ask Chuuya to be his roommate. He needs to play
his cards wisely.
“Your loss.” He grins at Akutagawa. “I bet Baby Vampire would take on my offer.”
“I have a /boyfriend/,” Akutagawa replies, looking mildly excruciated by Dazai.
“I’m not jealous~”
“If you don’t shut up I’m leaving you here,” Chuuya cuts them both off.
“Your loss.” He grins at Akutagawa. “I bet Baby Vampire would take on my offer.”
“I have a /boyfriend/,” Akutagawa replies, looking mildly excruciated by Dazai.
“I’m not jealous~”
“If you don’t shut up I’m leaving you here,” Chuuya cuts them both off.
Now, one must know that the alpha is not particularly fond of Chuuya’s ‘one and only true love’.
The redhead is madly in /love/ with the red bike (ew; and it’s totally pink, by the way), but Dazai doesn’t share the sentiment.
The bike is loud, unstable and just overall /meh/,
The redhead is madly in /love/ with the red bike (ew; and it’s totally pink, by the way), but Dazai doesn’t share the sentiment.
The bike is loud, unstable and just overall /meh/,
which is why Dazai doesn’t let the redhead drive him to his house across town, but only to the nearby station.
Plus, Chuuya is an— /enthusiastic/ driver, to be kind.
(‘The Chibikko is a danger to himself and others’ would be closer to Dazai’s real opinion, but whatever.)
Plus, Chuuya is an— /enthusiastic/ driver, to be kind.
(‘The Chibikko is a danger to himself and others’ would be closer to Dazai’s real opinion, but whatever.)
/However/, he still likes the feeling of being pressed against Chuuya’s back.
He enjoys the way his bandaged arms wrap around the redhead’s slender waist, and how he can /feel/ the man’s leather jacket under his fingertips, so he’s happy to let Chuuya drop him at the station.
He enjoys the way his bandaged arms wrap around the redhead’s slender waist, and how he can /feel/ the man’s leather jacket under his fingertips, so he’s happy to let Chuuya drop him at the station.
Normally, it takes ten minutes to go from the cafe to the station.
Chuuya only needs five.
Dazai has about three heart attacks in the process, but he supposes he can’t really /complain/ since they made it to the station safely and in time for the train.
Traumatized, but safe.
Chuuya only needs five.
Dazai has about three heart attacks in the process, but he supposes he can’t really /complain/ since they made it to the station safely and in time for the train.
Traumatized, but safe.
When they park by the sidewalk, Dazai hops down from the bike damning the vehicle under his breath.
The concrete feels /unreal/ under his feet.
His hair is a disarrayed mess because of the wind, and his ears are ringing and— and Chuuya’s warmth is imprinted on his palms.
The concrete feels /unreal/ under his feet.
His hair is a disarrayed mess because of the wind, and his ears are ringing and— and Chuuya’s warmth is imprinted on his palms.
He takes a moment to /feel/ the earth under him — solid, /safe/ earth — as Chuuya takes off his helmet and places it on the bike’s seat.
Slowly, moving a few steps in Dazai’s direction, he runs a hand through his hair.
Copper, like the sunset cast over the city.
That shade
Slowly, moving a few steps in Dazai’s direction, he runs a hand through his hair.
Copper, like the sunset cast over the city.
That shade
that remained as marvelous to Dazai as the first day he met Chuuya.
Because Chuuya /is/ Yokohama. He’s its burning sunset and its deep blue ocean. He’s the city’s sweet-scented spring and harsh winter.
He’s everything Dazai loves in the place he calls home, and— /well/.
Because Chuuya /is/ Yokohama. He’s its burning sunset and its deep blue ocean. He’s the city’s sweet-scented spring and harsh winter.
He’s everything Dazai loves in the place he calls home, and— /well/.
Now he’s /also/ looking in his direction as if Dazai grew another head.
“What?” he calls, raising his eyebrows in a questioning look. Chuuya shakes his head, but his shoulders relax visibly.
“Nothing. For a moment, there, you looked like you were about to cry.”
“What?” he calls, raising his eyebrows in a questioning look. Chuuya shakes his head, but his shoulders relax visibly.
“Nothing. For a moment, there, you looked like you were about to cry.”
/Ah./
Maybe he /was/ on the verge of crying.
He often is, he just never lets tears pour freely. Should it surprise him that Chuuya can peek past his masks?
“It’s Chuuya’s stupid bike,” he volleys back cheerfully.
Chuuya waves in the direction of the station, grimacing.
Maybe he /was/ on the verge of crying.
He often is, he just never lets tears pour freely. Should it surprise him that Chuuya can peek past his masks?
“It’s Chuuya’s stupid bike,” he volleys back cheerfully.
Chuuya waves in the direction of the station, grimacing.
“Go, before I kill you for insulting my bike.”
“Chuuya can’t drive~”
“Hah? See how I run you over!”
It’s a rehearsed banter. Now Dazai will say ‘whatever, Chibi’. He will turn on his heels and wave goodbye and go, taking that damn train wishing he’d said more.
He /doesn’t/.
“Chuuya can’t drive~”
“Hah? See how I run you over!”
It’s a rehearsed banter. Now Dazai will say ‘whatever, Chibi’. He will turn on his heels and wave goodbye and go, taking that damn train wishing he’d said more.
He /doesn’t/.
He stalls, instead.
There’s not a thing he can say without compromising himself. Yet, so many unguarded words are crawling up his chest.
/Do you want to live with me?/ — it sounded so damn easy in his head.
“Thanks for the ride.”
Ok, it’s a start. Lame, but whatever.
There’s not a thing he can say without compromising himself. Yet, so many unguarded words are crawling up his chest.
/Do you want to live with me?/ — it sounded so damn easy in his head.
“Thanks for the ride.”
Ok, it’s a start. Lame, but whatever.
“It’s ok,” Chuuya says, lips twitching up in a smirk. Ah, that effortless kindness again — how can it come so /naturally/ to him? “Eat something for dinner, yeah?”
“I’ll try.”
/He won’t, but seeing Chuuya’s smile widening is worth the price he’ll pay to his dirty conscience/.
“I’ll try.”
/He won’t, but seeing Chuuya’s smile widening is worth the price he’ll pay to his dirty conscience/.
“Cool. Bye, then.”
“See you tomorrow, Chibi.”
“Yup.”
Dazai’s heart beats in his throat.
Chuuya’s waiting for him to turn, walk to the station’s entrance, disappear in the crowd— and he just /can’t/.
“Wait. I have French lit at three,” he says, casting a glance over his
“See you tomorrow, Chibi.”
“Yup.”
Dazai’s heart beats in his throat.
Chuuya’s waiting for him to turn, walk to the station’s entrance, disappear in the crowd— and he just /can’t/.
“Wait. I have French lit at three,” he says, casting a glance over his
shoulder, looking at the station. “I’ll stop by after that. But I can stay after.”
Chuuya rolls his eyes.
“I /know/, Dazai. You told me a thousand times.”
The alpha wets his lips, mustering an uncomfortable smile.
It’s like trying to put out a fire with bare hands,
Chuuya rolls his eyes.
“I /know/, Dazai. You told me a thousand times.”
The alpha wets his lips, mustering an uncomfortable smile.
It’s like trying to put out a fire with bare hands,
like trying to grasp a thread that keeps fraying. Words never escaped him so, before.
(And he remembers—
How ironic that the Hellenic god of /silence/ was also the embodiment of hope, huh.)
No one told him that time was such a hard thing to buy while searching for courage.
(And he remembers—
How ironic that the Hellenic god of /silence/ was also the embodiment of hope, huh.)
No one told him that time was such a hard thing to buy while searching for courage.
“So— tomorrow.”
“Yes,” Chuuya replies curtly.
“/Yes./“
Chuuya glares at him raising an eyebrow.
The question still reaches Dazai loud and clear: you need something?
Dazai hums, still looking at the other as if he could pierce the veil that separates them. As if he could
“Yes,” Chuuya replies curtly.
“/Yes./“
Chuuya glares at him raising an eyebrow.
The question still reaches Dazai loud and clear: you need something?
Dazai hums, still looking at the other as if he could pierce the veil that separates them. As if he could
brace for rejection, and step forward and take a chance and /kiss/ him.
“What are you /doing/?”
“Looking at you,” Dazai says. It sounded less stupid in his head, so he scrambles for something /better/. “Chuuya’s pretty.”
Yeah. /well/. Now he’s officially an idiot.
Chuuya
“What are you /doing/?”
“Looking at you,” Dazai says. It sounded less stupid in his head, so he scrambles for something /better/. “Chuuya’s pretty.”
Yeah. /well/. Now he’s officially an idiot.
Chuuya
smirks, though — a self-deprecating, ‘don’t joke’ smile that makes Dazai’s heart /clench/. He also looks away, twirling a russet strand around his index finger.
But there’s not a drop of red on his cheeks, meaning that Chuuya is /not/ flustered; he’s just weirded out.
But there’s not a drop of red on his cheeks, meaning that Chuuya is /not/ flustered; he’s just weirded out.
“Hah. That’s funny.”
“I’m not j—“
“/Dazai/,” he interrupts him. “You’re going to miss the train.”
“I don’t care.” He hesitates and clenches his fists, nails digging in the soft flesh. “I— there’s something I /really/ need to ask you.”
“I’m not j—“
“/Dazai/,” he interrupts him. “You’re going to miss the train.”
“I don’t care.” He hesitates and clenches his fists, nails digging in the soft flesh. “I— there’s something I /really/ need to ask you.”
He can /see/ Chuuya’s chest rising with an exhale, waiting.
“Shoot,” he says, hesitation plain in his voice.
“…Come live with me.”
“/What/?” Chuuya echoes, voice stifled by the surprise. Then, he /chortles/. “Yeah, not going to happen.”
Dazai pretends it didn’t sting.
“Shoot,” he says, hesitation plain in his voice.
“…Come live with me.”
“/What/?” Chuuya echoes, voice stifled by the surprise. Then, he /chortles/. “Yeah, not going to happen.”
Dazai pretends it didn’t sting.
“Why not?”
“Don’t you have any other possible roommate or shit?”
“I’m not finding anyone good enough,” he says. It’s not a /lie/ exactly, but not the entire truth either.
Chuuya frowns.
He glances back at his bike and helmet, fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket as if
“Don’t you have any other possible roommate or shit?”
“I’m not finding anyone good enough,” he says. It’s not a /lie/ exactly, but not the entire truth either.
Chuuya frowns.
He glances back at his bike and helmet, fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket as if
it could help him /ignore/ the undertones of what Dazai is really asking. His eyes narrows.
“You didn’t even /try/, did you?”
“Nah.”
“Well, I’m sor—“
“I didn’t because you are the only person I trust,” Dazai blunders out before Chuuya can say that he can’t, that he’s sorry.
“You didn’t even /try/, did you?”
“Nah.”
“Well, I’m sor—“
“I didn’t because you are the only person I trust,” Dazai blunders out before Chuuya can say that he can’t, that he’s sorry.
God.
If Chuuya says he’s sorry one more time Dazai is not sure what he will do — he will scream, probably.
This is getting frustrating.
If everybody else wants to pity him, they’re welcome to.
Let them do their worst, say their worst.
Let them say that Dazai is a sad
If Chuuya says he’s sorry one more time Dazai is not sure what he will do — he will scream, probably.
This is getting frustrating.
If everybody else wants to pity him, they’re welcome to.
Let them do their worst, say their worst.
Let them say that Dazai is a sad
bastard who already survived longer than everybody cared for, and that he looks tired, and that he’s /too much/ to handle.
Who ever gave a damn about the bystanders in his life, anyway.
But Chuuya—
Chuuya /must/ know the truth, or Dazai will never forgive himself.
Who ever gave a damn about the bystanders in his life, anyway.
But Chuuya—
Chuuya /must/ know the truth, or Dazai will never forgive himself.
“I—“ Chuuya gnaws at his bottom lip. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to reply now, Chuuya.”
Dazai meant for it to sound /understanding/, but it comes out as desperate. Pushy.
His throat tightens as he tries to breathe around the suffocating anxiety.
“You don’t have to reply now, Chuuya.”
Dazai meant for it to sound /understanding/, but it comes out as desperate. Pushy.
His throat tightens as he tries to breathe around the suffocating anxiety.
He doesn’t know how to convince people, how to romance them.
The fuck buddies he picks before a rut, those are easy.
He gets drunk, laughs and slurs a few empty lines that might sound like /art/, like /love/, but it’s all smoke and bullshit.
This is real. Frighteningly so.
The fuck buddies he picks before a rut, those are easy.
He gets drunk, laughs and slurs a few empty lines that might sound like /art/, like /love/, but it’s all smoke and bullshit.
This is real. Frighteningly so.
“It’s a good price,” he encourages, voice thin, when the silence becomes unbearable.
Chuuya flinches as if he didn’t expect Dazai to talk ever again.
The redhead tugs one strand of hair behind his ear, and he looks /far away/.
Tired, all of a sudden.
Chuuya flinches as if he didn’t expect Dazai to talk ever again.
The redhead tugs one strand of hair behind his ear, and he looks /far away/.
Tired, all of a sudden.
“You don’t have to lower the rent to convince me, Dazai.”
“It’s not that. My—“ Dazai wets his lips, forcing himself to look at Chuuya in the eye. “My adoptive father doesn’t care about money. I dislike living alone, but I’m not lowering the price /for/ you.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“It’s not that. My—“ Dazai wets his lips, forcing himself to look at Chuuya in the eye. “My adoptive father doesn’t care about money. I dislike living alone, but I’m not lowering the price /for/ you.”
“That’s bullshit.”
/Ok, it is. Partially./
“I swear it’s not.”
Chuuya clicks his tongue, looking up. His body is tense, the tendons bulging in his neck as if he’s about to turn and walk away from the conversation.
“Don’t /lie/,” he says.
Anger swells Chuuya’s throaty voice, ruined by the
“I swear it’s not.”
Chuuya clicks his tongue, looking up. His body is tense, the tendons bulging in his neck as if he’s about to turn and walk away from the conversation.
“Don’t /lie/,” he says.
Anger swells Chuuya’s throaty voice, ruined by the
workday, deepened by the unreadable fears that keep him paralyzed. If only Dazai could /understand/ those fears… and he wishes he could.
All he’s asking for is a chance to reach out.
So the alpha sighs softly and steps forward.
“It’s not a lie,” he murmurs, voice like silk.
All he’s asking for is a chance to reach out.
So the alpha sighs softly and steps forward.
“It’s not a lie,” he murmurs, voice like silk.
/He’s definitely going to miss the train./
“Then, if the price is so great, you can find anyone else.”
/Who cares. He’s going to make this work/.
“Chuuya, /please/. I don’t want anybody else.”
“/Why/?”
“Then, if the price is so great, you can find anyone else.”
/Who cares. He’s going to make this work/.
“Chuuya, /please/. I don’t want anybody else.”
“/Why/?”
“Like I said, I trust you. You’re a good person,” he says, not an ounce of doubt in his voice. “And I’m a creature of habit. I would hate the idea of a stranger in my house.”
“But I /can’t/.”
And it’s like crushing against a wall. Again and again, hitting the ground full force.
“But I /can’t/.”
And it’s like crushing against a wall. Again and again, hitting the ground full force.
Dazai never never considered himself a warrior, a survivor. He always judged with mild distaste and great distrust those who define themselves as such.
Now, he realizes he has no choice but to be like them.
Maybe he just never wanted something enough to fight for it.
Now, he realizes he has no choice but to be like them.
Maybe he just never wanted something enough to fight for it.
“At least tell me /why/,” Dazai pleads. “I won’t try to convince you. And I really /understand/ it if it’s because you dislike me—“
Chuuya’s eyes grow wide, tiny beads of blue in the white of his scleras.
“I /don’t/.”
Chuuya’s eyes grow wide, tiny beads of blue in the white of his scleras.
“I /don’t/.”
He doesn’t need to scream for the words to thunder in Dazai’s head, lodging themselves in his heart.
With that, Dazai’s head snaps upwards.
“You don’t want to tell me, or you don’t—?”
“I don’t dislike you, you absolute /idiot/.”
With that, Dazai’s head snaps upwards.
“You don’t want to tell me, or you don’t—?”
“I don’t dislike you, you absolute /idiot/.”
After that confession, it’s /easy/ to step forward.
For a second Dazai thinks he’ll find enough bravery to lean forward and kiss Chuuya, but—
/But he remains a coward at heart./
He just places his hand on the redhead’s cheek, thumb grazing the cheekbone and fingertips tangled
For a second Dazai thinks he’ll find enough bravery to lean forward and kiss Chuuya, but—
/But he remains a coward at heart./
He just places his hand on the redhead’s cheek, thumb grazing the cheekbone and fingertips tangled
in red hair. With a simple touch of fingers, the tension that was building between them thaws.
Chuuya is graceful but normally his body emanates an odd, fierce strength that adds depth to perfection of chiseled cheekbones, elegant fingers, sunset hair and pink-stained cheeks.
Chuuya is graceful but normally his body emanates an odd, fierce strength that adds depth to perfection of chiseled cheekbones, elegant fingers, sunset hair and pink-stained cheeks.
Dazai used to define that beauty as almost /tragic/.
Now, though, Chuuya appears vulnerable as he turns his face to lean into the touch.
His skin is cold, but the lips brushing the heel of Dazai’s hand are /soft/.
“I don’t dislike Chuuya either,” Dazai whispers. “That’s why I
Now, though, Chuuya appears vulnerable as he turns his face to lean into the touch.
His skin is cold, but the lips brushing the heel of Dazai’s hand are /soft/.
“I don’t dislike Chuuya either,” Dazai whispers. “That’s why I
want us to live together.”
“It’s going to be a mess,” Chuuya rumbles.
“I don’t think so,” he says.
A smile kindles his voice, gleams in his eyes.
As his thumb caresses the smooth surface of the redhead’s skin, tracing soothing patterns without noticing, Dazai steps closer.
“It’s going to be a mess,” Chuuya rumbles.
“I don’t think so,” he says.
A smile kindles his voice, gleams in his eyes.
As his thumb caresses the smooth surface of the redhead’s skin, tracing soothing patterns without noticing, Dazai steps closer.
He raises the other hand, waiting for a request to move away that never comes.
He can hear the choked-up gasp trapped in Chuuya’s chest, but the redhead is not /tense/.
On the contrary, he looks like he’ll melt like butter under his touch.
Before he knows it, the alpha is
He can hear the choked-up gasp trapped in Chuuya’s chest, but the redhead is not /tense/.
On the contrary, he looks like he’ll melt like butter under his touch.
Before he knows it, the alpha is
framing Chuuya’s face ever so tenderly, handling it like something /precious/. He gently guides it up to make the redhead look at him.
“Seriously, Dazai… You don’t /know/ what you’re asking.”
“Seriously, Dazai… You don’t /know/ what you’re asking.”
“That may be so,” he allows, wishing Chuuya would just /tell/ him.
“But say you will at least /think/ about it?” he adds, bending forward.
Moving closer.
Closer, and /closer/, enough that his skin gets warmer with the other boy’s body heat. He tries to breathe in even a whiff
“But say you will at least /think/ about it?” he adds, bending forward.
Moving closer.
Closer, and /closer/, enough that his skin gets warmer with the other boy’s body heat. He tries to breathe in even a whiff
of Chuuya’s scent, but he /can’t/.
“I don’t know,” the redhead growls. Though, as he says it, part of what he wants to say trails off. He looks so /expectant/, caught up in the moment.
Chuuya swings forward, even if only a little.
And Dazai’s exulting with his full body
“I don’t know,” the redhead growls. Though, as he says it, part of what he wants to say trails off. He looks so /expectant/, caught up in the moment.
Chuuya swings forward, even if only a little.
And Dazai’s exulting with his full body
because Chuuya is /so/ close and he feels the proximity in his /stomach/, his heart drumming in his chest, his eyes glued to the other’s lips—
/Then he hears a low, rumbling noise./
Dazai halts.
A wide grin stretches over his lips.
“Chuuya… Are you /purring/?”
/Then he hears a low, rumbling noise./
Dazai halts.
A wide grin stretches over his lips.
“Chuuya… Are you /purring/?”
The redhead freezes under Dazai’s hand.
If he was leaning forward before, almost /dragged/ towards Dazai by an invisible magnetic field, now he takes a curt, quick step back.
He slips away from Dazai’s touch, and suddenly the world turns cold.
“Hah? No. You’re hallucinating.”
If he was leaning forward before, almost /dragged/ towards Dazai by an invisible magnetic field, now he takes a curt, quick step back.
He slips away from Dazai’s touch, and suddenly the world turns cold.
“Hah? No. You’re hallucinating.”
But the way it comes out — with that low vibrato, fully from the chest — just serves as confirmation.
“It really sounds like that, though~”
“Fuck off,” Chuuya /purrs/, his frown clashing with the low buzz in his voice.
Dazai chuckles.
The moment kind of throttled back, but
“It really sounds like that, though~”
“Fuck off,” Chuuya /purrs/, his frown clashing with the low buzz in his voice.
Dazai chuckles.
The moment kind of throttled back, but
he’s sure he /can/ salvage it. They were about to kiss, right? That’s not something that just goes away.
He’s just teasing Chuuya a little.
“So you’re an omega, hm?”
“No,” the boy blurts out, eyes wide — horrified. His reply comes fast, too fast, as words stumble one over the
He’s just teasing Chuuya a little.
“So you’re an omega, hm?”
“No,” the boy blurts out, eyes wide — horrified. His reply comes fast, too fast, as words stumble one over the
others. “Yes. Kinda. It’s complicated.”
“Wh—“
“I have to go.”
In that moment, Dazai moves on sheer instinct.
He steps forward, trying to grasp Chuuya’s wrist, reaching for him.
He hesitated, though.
A split second of stupid hesitation, a thousand of doubts swarming
“Wh—“
“I have to go.”
In that moment, Dazai moves on sheer instinct.
He steps forward, trying to grasp Chuuya’s wrist, reaching for him.
He hesitated, though.
A split second of stupid hesitation, a thousand of doubts swarming
like monsters in his head, and— and it’s enough for Chuuya to slap his hand away.
“Just leave me /alone/,” the redhead sneers, voice cold, leaving Dazai too stunned to react timely.
“I’m sorry,” he tries to say. Too quietly, too late.
Chuuya glares at him and says nothing.
“Just leave me /alone/,” the redhead sneers, voice cold, leaving Dazai too stunned to react timely.
“I’m sorry,” he tries to say. Too quietly, too late.
Chuuya glares at him and says nothing.
Dazai can just watch as the omega stomps to his bike as if every single one of his steps could open a crater in the sidewalk.
His blue eyes disappear behind the helmet and the thin, tense line of his lips gets covered by the red plastic.
The thunder of the bike’s engine being
His blue eyes disappear behind the helmet and the thin, tense line of his lips gets covered by the red plastic.
The thunder of the bike’s engine being
fired echoes over every other sound in the street.
In a blink, Chuuya is not /there/ anymore. There’s just Dazai, waiting outside the station for a stupid train, pondering over what Chuuya said.
“What the hell,” he murmurs to himself.
It’s /complicated/.
How, though?
In a blink, Chuuya is not /there/ anymore. There’s just Dazai, waiting outside the station for a stupid train, pondering over what Chuuya said.
“What the hell,” he murmurs to himself.
It’s /complicated/.
How, though?
How can a second gender be complicated?
And the the thing is— he doesn’t even /care/.
Maybe Chuuya doesn’t like being an omega. Certainly, there’s something in it that hurts him.
Either way, it’s not Dazai’s business.
He just wishes he had shut up and kissed Chuuya when he
And the the thing is— he doesn’t even /care/.
Maybe Chuuya doesn’t like being an omega. Certainly, there’s something in it that hurts him.
Either way, it’s not Dazai’s business.
He just wishes he had shut up and kissed Chuuya when he
had the chance.
In hindsight, teasing Chuuya on his purring felt like testing /fate/.
And maybe it’s selfish, maybe it’s a stupid and lackluster reaction, but he genuinely doesn’t care about what Chuuya /is/.
(He will say that to him. Tomorrow, when he’ll see him after class)
In hindsight, teasing Chuuya on his purring felt like testing /fate/.
And maybe it’s selfish, maybe it’s a stupid and lackluster reaction, but he genuinely doesn’t care about what Chuuya /is/.
(He will say that to him. Tomorrow, when he’ll see him after class)
And even though now he sees Chuuya’s point, and it’s /true/ that an alpha and an omega in the same house might be an ill-balanced match at best, he’s still ready to try.
He wants to try.
Little does he know, he’s not the only one.
—
“Hello, R—“
“Ryu, thank /god/.”
He wants to try.
Little does he know, he’s not the only one.
—
“Hello, R—“
“Ryu, thank /god/.”
Akutagawa hesitates on the other end of the line, stalling, surprise woven into his silence.
“Did I forget the espresso machine on?” he eventually asks, ever so slowly.
Chuuya can hear the cogs turning in the younger boy’s mind, but he’s too /preoccupied/ for that.
He quickly
“Did I forget the espresso machine on?” he eventually asks, ever so slowly.
Chuuya can hear the cogs turning in the younger boy’s mind, but he’s too /preoccupied/ for that.
He quickly
found a place to stop along the curb when he realized that he wasn’t even looking at the road.
Ignoring three red traffic lights was mildly concerning.
He needed to /concentrate/.
But his mind kept going back to Dazai, his smile, the tenderness of his voice and the warmth of
Ignoring three red traffic lights was mildly concerning.
He needed to /concentrate/.
But his mind kept going back to Dazai, his smile, the tenderness of his voice and the warmth of
his touch, and—
And /god/, he needed to talk to someone.
So he called the smartest person he knows, hands shaking while he typed the number, and here he /is/.
“No,” he says, “the café’s not on fire.”
“Then wh—“
“/Dazai wants us to live together/.”
He vomits it all out
And /god/, he needed to talk to someone.
So he called the smartest person he knows, hands shaking while he typed the number, and here he /is/.
“No,” he says, “the café’s not on fire.”
“Then wh—“
“/Dazai wants us to live together/.”
He vomits it all out
without /breathing/, barely stopping to consider how it /sounds/ when uttered out loud.
He doesn’t want to get used to those words, doesn’t /need/ to hear them.
Not when he still doesn’t have an answer.
“That was— /quick/,” Akutagawa allows, measuring his reaction.
He doesn’t want to get used to those words, doesn’t /need/ to hear them.
Not when he still doesn’t have an answer.
“That was— /quick/,” Akutagawa allows, measuring his reaction.
Quick is a… way to put it, certainly. Akutagawa can’t say random, Chuuya suspects, because /everybody/ sensed the tension between he and Dazai.
/Chuuya/ noticed that, and he’s not the brightest when it comes to relationship.
Whatever kind of pull existed between them grew by
/Chuuya/ noticed that, and he’s not the brightest when it comes to relationship.
Whatever kind of pull existed between them grew by
the day, turning from a beautiful flower into a scary, overwhelming, /tangled/ forest.
Something out of Chuuya’s control.
“Are you home already?” Akutagawa prompts.
It’s out of /worry/, the omega realizes, and he smiles to himself. Sometimes, Akutagawa makes him want to cry.
Something out of Chuuya’s control.
“Are you home already?” Akutagawa prompts.
It’s out of /worry/, the omega realizes, and he smiles to himself. Sometimes, Akutagawa makes him want to cry.
(Tears of happiness, most of the time.
Of frustration when Ryu forgets his iron supplements, too.
Atsushi, a legit saint, always calls the cafe to doublecheck.
Those times, Chuuya would like to cry of — well, lots of reasons.
Tenderness. Cuteness. A tiny tinge of jealousy.)
Of frustration when Ryu forgets his iron supplements, too.
Atsushi, a legit saint, always calls the cafe to doublecheck.
Those times, Chuuya would like to cry of — well, lots of reasons.
Tenderness. Cuteness. A tiny tinge of jealousy.)
“Nah, just stopped somewhere to take a breather.”
He sighs. He /needs/ to digest what happened before he goes driving right into a wall. And Akutagawa—
The boy calms him, for some reason.
“So, what happened?”
He sighs. He /needs/ to digest what happened before he goes driving right into a wall. And Akutagawa—
The boy calms him, for some reason.
“So, what happened?”
“Fuck if I know. He ambushed me. I /honestly/ didn’t think he meant /this/ when he talked about living with someone…”
“Did he give you a reason?”
Chuuya grimaces. “He… trusts me? Apparently?”
“So he has enough brain to see you’re the most reliable person ever. Plot twist.”
“Did he give you a reason?”
Chuuya grimaces. “He… trusts me? Apparently?”
“So he has enough brain to see you’re the most reliable person ever. Plot twist.”
“Ryu,” Chuuya /wails/, rubbing his eyes. “Not helping.”
He removed his helmet when a migraine started throbbing at the back of his head — although he /dreads/ the possibility of the cars driving by noticing how much a mess his hair is — but now he’s considering wearing it back
He removed his helmet when a migraine started throbbing at the back of his head — although he /dreads/ the possibility of the cars driving by noticing how much a mess his hair is — but now he’s considering wearing it back
and headbutting a wall for stress relief.
Maybe he can fight the concrete, see if that helps.
He feels /exhausted/ after talking to Dazai, and he’s pretty sure it’s bleeding into his voice as well.
And all he needs is someone who will /help/ him make a decent
Maybe he can fight the concrete, see if that helps.
He feels /exhausted/ after talking to Dazai, and he’s pretty sure it’s bleeding into his voice as well.
And all he needs is someone who will /help/ him make a decent
decision — one that is not based on fear or, even worse, on how tempting Dazai’s lips looked.
/That/ is most certainly no good reason to move to a new flat.
Nice lighting and a good neighborhood? Yeah, great pros.
Thirst for his possible roommate, an alpha? Bad reason. BAD.
/That/ is most certainly no good reason to move to a new flat.
Nice lighting and a good neighborhood? Yeah, great pros.
Thirst for his possible roommate, an alpha? Bad reason. BAD.
“Sorry.”
“I don’t know what to do,” he murmurs, because— well, Akutagawa already /knows/ Chuuya.
He knows he likes Dazai.
Hell, he probably knew Chuuya liked Dazai before /Chuuya/ knew he liked Dazai — as convoluted as it sounds.
Because the truth is, Ryu is much better at
“I don’t know what to do,” he murmurs, because— well, Akutagawa already /knows/ Chuuya.
He knows he likes Dazai.
Hell, he probably knew Chuuya liked Dazai before /Chuuya/ knew he liked Dazai — as convoluted as it sounds.
Because the truth is, Ryu is much better at
being an omega than Chuuya will /ever/ be.
“What did you reply? You’ll think about it?” Akutagawa nudges, voice leveled —that classic, detached timbre that Chuuya learned over time not to take too personally.
The only person that can make Akutagawa sound alive is Atsushi.
“What did you reply? You’ll think about it?” Akutagawa nudges, voice leveled —that classic, detached timbre that Chuuya learned over time not to take too personally.
The only person that can make Akutagawa sound alive is Atsushi.
However, Atsushi is a downright angel and the sweetest omega Chuuya ever met, with his enveloping scent of fresh field flowers and caramel with a splash of salt, so he doesn’t count.
Plus he makes Akutagawa /purr/, since they trigger the omega in each other, and a purring
Plus he makes Akutagawa /purr/, since they trigger the omega in each other, and a purring
Akutagawa is definitely creepy.
Cute, but creepy.
But Chuuya is /also/ thinking all this just to avoid admitting that—
“I… well, I kinda left.”
And the redhead is not proud of it, so he decides to leave out the almost-kiss part.
He can /sense/ Akutagawa’s disappointment in
Cute, but creepy.
But Chuuya is /also/ thinking all this just to avoid admitting that—
“I… well, I kinda left.”
And the redhead is not proud of it, so he decides to leave out the almost-kiss part.
He can /sense/ Akutagawa’s disappointment in
his silence anyway, even without that mortifying detail.
“You /left/?”
“Yeah, I panicked.”
“Panicked,” Akutagawa echoes. “Because of a /house/.”
Chuuya presses his lips together, letting the jab sink in. Christ, it’s been a while since he’s been on the receiving end of the
“You /left/?”
“Yeah, I panicked.”
“Panicked,” Akutagawa echoes. “Because of a /house/.”
Chuuya presses his lips together, letting the jab sink in. Christ, it’s been a while since he’s been on the receiving end of the
infamous Akutagawa judgementTM.
And, now, a part of him /wishes/ he called Atsushi.
“We are talking about sharing a house, Chuuya,” Akutagawa insists coldly. “You’ll also have to live with a mummy who probably never cleans any dishes, I’ll give you that, but why would you pa—“
And, now, a part of him /wishes/ he called Atsushi.
“We are talking about sharing a house, Chuuya,” Akutagawa insists coldly. “You’ll also have to live with a mummy who probably never cleans any dishes, I’ll give you that, but why would you pa—“
“It’s Dazai!” he cries back, sounding a tad /too/ desperate. “/He/ makes me panic. I thought he, I— I don’t /know/, Ryu, ok? I wasn’t exactly thinking.”
“Still, that’s a bit too dramatic for you.” Akutagawa hums, almost /disheartened/ by the reaction. “Must be your Leo rising.”
“Still, that’s a bit too dramatic for you.” Akutagawa hums, almost /disheartened/ by the reaction. “Must be your Leo rising.”
“Yeah, and I can do without the commentary.”
“Then you should’ve called Atsushi.”
Which is— ok, fair. Deciding to ignore the comment, Chuuya wets his lips.
He wonders /what/ does Akutagawa really think about the whole situation.
The younger boy is not fond of Dazai, but he
“Then you should’ve called Atsushi.”
Which is— ok, fair. Deciding to ignore the comment, Chuuya wets his lips.
He wonders /what/ does Akutagawa really think about the whole situation.
The younger boy is not fond of Dazai, but he
/did/ say a few times that he’d be good for Chuuya. Or, to quote: ‘he’s not the captain of the Dachu ship, but it’s no Titanic either.’
And Akutagawa may be an omega who is dating another omega, and took a calculated risk with /that/, but he has good eye for relationships.
And Akutagawa may be an omega who is dating another omega, and took a calculated risk with /that/, but he has good eye for relationships.
His boyfriend is an absolute ray of sunshine, and Chuuya—
Chuuya wishes he had anything like what Atsushi and Ryu have.
An ounce of their happiness, of their stability.
“By the way, Dazai /knows/,” Chuuya adds, voice low, when it’s clear that Akutagawa needs more context.
Chuuya wishes he had anything like what Atsushi and Ryu have.
An ounce of their happiness, of their stability.
“By the way, Dazai /knows/,” Chuuya adds, voice low, when it’s clear that Akutagawa needs more context.
“…I see,” Akutagawa murmurs. “How much?”
“Just that I’m an omega.”
“So not about /that/?”
An icy shiver runs down Chuuya’s spine. “No,” he says.
/Thank god/.
Akutagawa sighs. “That’s good,” he says.
It’s /good/. The reaction sinks deep in the redhead, glazing over him in
“Just that I’m an omega.”
“So not about /that/?”
An icy shiver runs down Chuuya’s spine. “No,” he says.
/Thank god/.
Akutagawa sighs. “That’s good,” he says.
It’s /good/. The reaction sinks deep in the redhead, glazing over him in
a reassuring sense of warmth.
His /secret/ is safe.
And what a lame secret is that, so embarrassing that he can’t even /think/ about it — not even in his head.
“He doesn’t need to know more, anyway,” Chuuya rumbles. “And I already don’t know what I should /fucking/ do.”
His /secret/ is safe.
And what a lame secret is that, so embarrassing that he can’t even /think/ about it — not even in his head.
“He doesn’t need to know more, anyway,” Chuuya rumbles. “And I already don’t know what I should /fucking/ do.”
“Chuuya…” Akutagawa sighs, and it’s /easy/ for Chuuya to hear a hint of pity in his friend’s voice. “You know you /can/ always come stay with me and Atsushi if living with Dazai becomes too much, right?”
Chuuya wrinkles his nose, snorting a laughter.
Chuuya wrinkles his nose, snorting a laughter.
“So you both can rub your happy heats all over my face while your monster eats my Gucci shirts? Nah. Thanks.”
“Diablo is very well behaved. You have crossed him when you tried to put him in the oven.”
“It was a joke,” Chuuya growls. “It’s not my fault that /thing/ is evil.”
“Diablo is very well behaved. You have crossed him when you tried to put him in the oven.”
“It was a joke,” Chuuya growls. “It’s not my fault that /thing/ is evil.”
“It’s not my fault /an animal/ is smarter than you,” Akutagawa volleys back, without losing a beat.
Chuuya clicks his tongue, but doesn’t reply. He’ll let Akutagawa win this one just because it’s /hilarious/ to fight with him.
His colorless timbre, always so poised, makes
Chuuya clicks his tongue, but doesn’t reply. He’ll let Akutagawa win this one just because it’s /hilarious/ to fight with him.
His colorless timbre, always so poised, makes
everything /funnier/ than it should be.
Anyway.
He’s not /exactly/ in the mood to fight with one of his best friends over a /bunny/ that loves Ryu, clearly hates him and loves to eat on his designer clothes.
“/So/. What do you think I should say?” He presses on.
Anyway.
He’s not /exactly/ in the mood to fight with one of his best friends over a /bunny/ that loves Ryu, clearly hates him and loves to eat on his designer clothes.
“/So/. What do you think I should say?” He presses on.
Ryu is the only one with a decent relationship, and he’s been /brave/ enough to follow his heart.
Silence hangs on the other end of the call.
It unravels with every, deafening beat of Chuuya’s heart — scanning the seconds, making every moment scream.
Silence hangs on the other end of the call.
It unravels with every, deafening beat of Chuuya’s heart — scanning the seconds, making every moment scream.
“…Yes,” the boy says, eventually. “Just say yes. You were looking for a new place anyway and he’s offering, it’s not like you guys should date or anything.”
“Ane-San will kill me if she’ll discover that I’m leaving her to live with another /alpha/.”
“Ane-San will kill me if she’ll discover that I’m leaving her to live with another /alpha/.”
“Oh, yes, because living with your sister without an ounce of privacy is much better.” He pauses. “And Dazai might be an idiot, but his house seems nice.”
“How do /you/ know?”
“Instagram?” Akutagawa drawls out the word like it’s /obvious/.
And Chuuya would like to point out
“How do /you/ know?”
“Instagram?” Akutagawa drawls out the word like it’s /obvious/.
And Chuuya would like to point out
that he’s not exactly looking at the /interior design/ when he stalks Dazai’s — admittedly often updated with too many selfie’s — Instagram account, but he’s not sure /that/ would help his cause.
(Or that Akutagawa would ever let him live with this confession)
“True that.”
(Or that Akutagawa would ever let him live with this confession)
“True that.”
“And again, you’re just paying half his rent and /maybe/ fighting him for the lower shelves in the cupboards.”
“I can do with the high ones.”
/Climbing on chairs/, he mentally adds. Akutagawa clicks his tongue.
“/Can/ you?”
“Shut up,” he murmurs.
Still, Ryu has a point.
“I can do with the high ones.”
/Climbing on chairs/, he mentally adds. Akutagawa clicks his tongue.
“/Can/ you?”
“Shut up,” he murmurs.
Still, Ryu has a point.
Maybe he’s running a bit too much, and putting too much /commitment/ in this. After all, Dazai asked him to live with him, nothing else.
“Atsushi is nodding too, fyi,” Akutagawa adds.
Chuuya /smiles/ to himself. “I still can’t believe you use fyi unironically.”
“Atsushi is nodding too, fyi,” Akutagawa adds.
Chuuya /smiles/ to himself. “I still can’t believe you use fyi unironically.”
He can vaguely hear the muffled ‘I /know/, right’ coming from Atsushi in the background.
Their conversations always come in three — and even if they’re not in the same place, Atsushi or Ryu always talk about the other.
Their entire body talk about the other, searches for the
Their conversations always come in three — and even if they’re not in the same place, Atsushi or Ryu always talk about the other.
Their entire body talk about the other, searches for the
other, even when they are apart.
They lean into each other’s space like two perfect puzzle pieces driven to each other — like a planet and his moon.
(And Chuuya is sure he heard Ryu affectionately call Atsushi ‘his stars and moon’ before, running a hand through milky-white,
They lean into each other’s space like two perfect puzzle pieces driven to each other — like a planet and his moon.
(And Chuuya is sure he heard Ryu affectionately call Atsushi ‘his stars and moon’ before, running a hand through milky-white,
moonlight hair).
“Chuuya.”
“/Hm./“ he drawls, to signal he’s still there. He can almost /see/ his friend curl his lips down in a scowl.
“Stop overthinking and go tell Dazai you’re interested before he finds someone else,” Akutagawa says, voice stern.
It sounds so /simple/.
“Chuuya.”
“/Hm./“ he drawls, to signal he’s still there. He can almost /see/ his friend curl his lips down in a scowl.
“Stop overthinking and go tell Dazai you’re interested before he finds someone else,” Akutagawa says, voice stern.
It sounds so /simple/.
The omega exhales slowly, eyeing the skyline — the houses, the skyscrapers, the cars running past him.
His nostrils flare as he exhales.
He’d like to see the ocean before he heads home and faces Kouyou, he decides.
He’ll drive around aimlessly, free, to cool his head.
His nostrils flare as he exhales.
He’d like to see the ocean before he heads home and faces Kouyou, he decides.
He’ll drive around aimlessly, free, to cool his head.
He needs to breathe and think, and find the words to break it to Ane-San that the might have found a new place to stay.
(She won’t be happy at first, but the question is—
Will /he/ be?)
“I will,” he murmurs, “Thanks, Ryu.”
(She won’t be happy at first, but the question is—
Will /he/ be?)
“I will,” he murmurs, “Thanks, Ryu.”
“Just text Atsushi after you two talk.” A pause. “He’s worried.”
“Sure, mum.”
// So what now? //
Jonesing for a type of relationship that proved to be bad for him over and over — what alpha needs an omega who freezes at the sight of a knot, already tasting pain on his tongue?
“Sure, mum.”
// So what now? //
Jonesing for a type of relationship that proved to be bad for him over and over — what alpha needs an omega who freezes at the sight of a knot, already tasting pain on his tongue?
Should he accept that he’s molded to be alone?
But then he remembers Dazai, his touch, the way he made him purr, and he hates himself a little more.
/Why/ can’t he be normal?
Well.
When he closes the call, he’s only partially surprised to discover a text from Dazai.
—
But then he remembers Dazai, his touch, the way he made him purr, and he hates himself a little more.
/Why/ can’t he be normal?
Well.
When he closes the call, he’s only partially surprised to discover a text from Dazai.
—
TW // self-harm thoughts
They call it /falling/ in love because, once you start, you can’t stop.
Waiting for the train — apparently, the line encountered disruptions due to a ‘unfortunate accident’ —, Dazai is left with the silence of an half-empty station, the setting sun
They call it /falling/ in love because, once you start, you can’t stop.
Waiting for the train — apparently, the line encountered disruptions due to a ‘unfortunate accident’ —, Dazai is left with the silence of an half-empty station, the setting sun
and some sort of Joyce-like epiphany.
He thought /falling/ in love was a figure of speech.
It /isn’t./
He glances at his phone’s screen, checking the time. He’s been waiting for twenty minutes.
He could get a taxi home, but loitering around never bothered him.
He thought /falling/ in love was a figure of speech.
It /isn’t./
He glances at his phone’s screen, checking the time. He’s been waiting for twenty minutes.
He could get a taxi home, but loitering around never bothered him.
The thing is, he always liked to stay around to wait for the next train, envying those people who become ‘unfortunate accidents’.
When you die like this, you are sure that someone will /notice/ — even if just those whose day you halted so abruptly.
When you die like this, you are sure that someone will /notice/ — even if just those whose day you halted so abruptly.
They’ll curse your name, they will, and you’ll turn into a modern hero who breached the hypocrisy that ‘all deaths must be mourned’.
Oh, no.
Your death /will/ be mourned as long as it doesn’t inconvenience anyone.
Oh, no.
Your death /will/ be mourned as long as it doesn’t inconvenience anyone.
And honestly— doesn’t that make you /long/ to die loudly and inconveniently?
Because it takes courage to go like this.
It takes dedication.
But, today, Dazai has no /space/ to spare a thought for the dead, preoccupied as he is for his beating, bleeding heart.
Because it takes courage to go like this.
It takes dedication.
But, today, Dazai has no /space/ to spare a thought for the dead, preoccupied as he is for his beating, bleeding heart.
The memory of Chuuya’s skin still burns under his fingertips.
His lips, trembling so slightly. His eyes, open wide.
His /chest/ rising as a low purr escapes his body.
/An omega./
It’s unexpected, giving Chuuya’s boisterous personality and rock-solid character, always the
His lips, trembling so slightly. His eyes, open wide.
His /chest/ rising as a low purr escapes his body.
/An omega./
It’s unexpected, giving Chuuya’s boisterous personality and rock-solid character, always the
protector, always the hero.
At the same time, part of Dazai is not surprised at all.
As his hands slide across the screen of his phone, he just knows he doesn’t love the omega any /less/ than he did before.
He’s still falling.
To: Chuuya
>I hope you know it changes nothing.
At the same time, part of Dazai is not surprised at all.
As his hands slide across the screen of his phone, he just knows he doesn’t love the omega any /less/ than he did before.
He’s still falling.
To: Chuuya
>I hope you know it changes nothing.
He’s still waiting for the train when his phone vibrates with a new message.
The platform is almost empty and a chilly wind replaced the day’s warmth, but the entire world retracts into the background as soon as Chuuya’s name appears on his screen.
From: Chuuya
>It doesn’t huh
The platform is almost empty and a chilly wind replaced the day’s warmth, but the entire world retracts into the background as soon as Chuuya’s name appears on his screen.
From: Chuuya
>It doesn’t huh
To: Chuuya
>You being an omega? It doesn’t. I have self-control, y’know. And you’ll have your spaces.
>We can make this work.
>I promise 🐥
From: Chuuya
> You’re not serious
To:Chuuya
>I’m always serious when I use 🐥
> I’ll have you know, 🐥 takes promises very seriously.
>You being an omega? It doesn’t. I have self-control, y’know. And you’ll have your spaces.
>We can make this work.
>I promise 🐥
From: Chuuya
> You’re not serious
To:Chuuya
>I’m always serious when I use 🐥
> I’ll have you know, 🐥 takes promises very seriously.
From: Chuuya
>🤣
Dazai can /feel/ the effort in that single emoji.
Chuuya probably chuckled to himself, but either he didn’t want to let him know or it was one lone smile in many torbid, dark thoughts.
Thoughts /Dazai/ caused by being a little too straightforward; tactless.
>🤣
Dazai can /feel/ the effort in that single emoji.
Chuuya probably chuckled to himself, but either he didn’t want to let him know or it was one lone smile in many torbid, dark thoughts.
Thoughts /Dazai/ caused by being a little too straightforward; tactless.
He /knows/ he forced that emoji out of the omega with his clownery, and it’s not much but— but it’s something.
And it’s worth it, because the mental image of Chuuya smiling causes the alpha’s heart to skip a beat.
Then, it starts throbbing in his rib cage like a maddened drum.
And it’s worth it, because the mental image of Chuuya smiling causes the alpha’s heart to skip a beat.
Then, it starts throbbing in his rib cage like a maddened drum.
To: Chuuya
>I’m serious, Chibi.
>You’re still the only person I could live with.
From: Chuuya
>You really don’t give up
On /him/?
God, never.
To: Chuuya
>Nup.
From: Chuuya
>…Guess I’ll drive you home tomorrow to see the apartment. You better clean tonight 🙄
>I’m serious, Chibi.
>You’re still the only person I could live with.
From: Chuuya
>You really don’t give up
On /him/?
God, never.
To: Chuuya
>Nup.
From: Chuuya
>…Guess I’ll drive you home tomorrow to see the apartment. You better clean tonight 🙄
To: Chuuya
>Train. I’m not getting on that bike ever again.
From: Chuuya
>Whatever, loser
As he texts Chuuya the address before either of them can back down, relishing in how the redhead is still comfortable enough to joke around, two things escape Dazai’s realization:
>Train. I’m not getting on that bike ever again.
From: Chuuya
>Whatever, loser
As he texts Chuuya the address before either of them can back down, relishing in how the redhead is still comfortable enough to joke around, two things escape Dazai’s realization:
One, he’s smiling.
That unguarded, /honest/ smile that blooms from within. The one you only realize is there when your cheeks start to hurt.
(And it’s a sweet, sweet pain.)
The second thing he notices, perhaps, is even more surprising.
That unguarded, /honest/ smile that blooms from within. The one you only realize is there when your cheeks start to hurt.
(And it’s a sweet, sweet pain.)
The second thing he notices, perhaps, is even more surprising.
For the first day in a long time, Dazai spent the time at the station without toying with the possibility of /what/ would happen if he tried to end his life.
He wants to live. Bravely, beautifully.
He’s not ready to become an unfortunate accident.
He wants to keep falling.
-
He wants to live. Bravely, beautifully.
He’s not ready to become an unfortunate accident.
He wants to keep falling.
-
Dazai calls Chuuya when the tenth glass of whiskey finally kicks in.
He would not define himself lucid per say, but he’s resolute. Resolute, drunk, sad, depressed, dizzy, high… /impatient/.
So fucking impatient.
Chuuya is supposed to move in next week, maybe the one after.
He would not define himself lucid per say, but he’s resolute. Resolute, drunk, sad, depressed, dizzy, high… /impatient/.
So fucking impatient.
Chuuya is supposed to move in next week, maybe the one after.
He doesn’t know the exact day yet, Chuuya says, but soon.
Ideally he would like to move in on a weekend, when the cafe is closed and Dazai doesn’t have class.
He — again — doesn’t know.
All the redhead assures is that he’s packing his stuff and letting his sister get used to
Ideally he would like to move in on a weekend, when the cafe is closed and Dazai doesn’t have class.
He — again — doesn’t know.
All the redhead assures is that he’s packing his stuff and letting his sister get used to
this new predicament.
A week, Chuuya swears.
It’s not that long, Dazai tells himself.
He just hopes Chibi’ll sort things out with his sister /soon/.
When Chuuya saw the apartment the week before, Dazai’s heart throbbed madly in his chest.
It fluttered inside its cage like
A week, Chuuya swears.
It’s not that long, Dazai tells himself.
He just hopes Chibi’ll sort things out with his sister /soon/.
When Chuuya saw the apartment the week before, Dazai’s heart throbbed madly in his chest.
It fluttered inside its cage like
a trapped bird.
Then the omega inhaled softly, glanced at Dazai and nodded, and— it felt like a /win/.
As if the world stopped on its axe and started turning the other way.
Now — a weekday night — Dazai is drowning his emptiness in alcohol, starfishing on the floor.
Then the omega inhaled softly, glanced at Dazai and nodded, and— it felt like a /win/.
As if the world stopped on its axe and started turning the other way.
Now — a weekday night — Dazai is drowning his emptiness in alcohol, starfishing on the floor.
Dazai blinks when the key turns in the lock. His eyelashes flutter, glued together.
His sore muscles twitch, his brain telling him that he should get up, but it all feels like a /lot/ of effort.
The idea of moving makes him want to retch.
And Dazai is /aware/ that he’s not
His sore muscles twitch, his brain telling him that he should get up, but it all feels like a /lot/ of effort.
The idea of moving makes him want to retch.
And Dazai is /aware/ that he’s not
in the best of shapes, that he might have at least changed into a clean shirt. He was sure that a shower would have hurt and bruise his parchment-like skin.
He’ll shed like a snake, the dirt /inside of/ him unscathed.
And in all this—
he just /needed/ to see Chuuya.
He’ll shed like a snake, the dirt /inside of/ him unscathed.
And in all this—
he just /needed/ to see Chuuya.
“Oi, Dazai.”
He raises his eyes, craning his neck to see the figure stepping in the apartment, but doesn’t answer.
(He might move)
(…No, it’s too much effort.)
“Are you ok?” Chuuya asks, letting himself in the apartment as if he already /owns/ the place.
Again, he doesn’t
He raises his eyes, craning his neck to see the figure stepping in the apartment, but doesn’t answer.
(He might move)
(…No, it’s too much effort.)
“Are you ok?” Chuuya asks, letting himself in the apartment as if he already /owns/ the place.
Again, he doesn’t
reply.
What would he say, anyway?
He just listens as Chuuya slides out of his shoes, then tosses the spare key — the one Dazai gave him in the hope he’d hurry up moving in — above the small white bookcase in the genkan.
The omega’s gym bag thunders in the deafening silence
What would he say, anyway?
He just listens as Chuuya slides out of his shoes, then tosses the spare key — the one Dazai gave him in the hope he’d hurry up moving in — above the small white bookcase in the genkan.
The omega’s gym bag thunders in the deafening silence
when Chuuya drops it on the floor, and Dazai cringes.
“Why are you on the floor?”
“Reasons,” Dazai drawls, voice hoarse.
He rolled off the couch at some point. He never got up.
The parquet is cool against his burning skin, although he can /feel/ the weight of Chuuya’s glare.
“Why are you on the floor?”
“Reasons,” Dazai drawls, voice hoarse.
He rolled off the couch at some point. He never got up.
The parquet is cool against his burning skin, although he can /feel/ the weight of Chuuya’s glare.
He’s drinking in his ratty black t-shirt, and bloodshot eyes and bare skin.
Will he notice the scars? Dazai wonders, fuzzy, as he rolls his head to avoid Chuuya’s gaze.
“Damn it, Dazai,” Chuuya growls.
“Before—“ He pauses. God, talking is /funny/. So many muscles moving. The
Will he notice the scars? Dazai wonders, fuzzy, as he rolls his head to avoid Chuuya’s gaze.
“Damn it, Dazai,” Chuuya growls.
“Before—“ He pauses. God, talking is /funny/. So many muscles moving. The
roof of his mouth tingles. Words are a pesky matter, too. They’re slippery. “Before you start yapping—” He exhales, mustering over the words escaping him. “I’m ok.”
He sloths his words out barely moving his lips, ignoring how /heavy/ his tongue feels.
Chuuya wrinkles his nose
He sloths his words out barely moving his lips, ignoring how /heavy/ his tongue feels.
Chuuya wrinkles his nose
“It’s not fucking ok,” he snaps, baring teeth. “When was the last time you had water?”
“…/Yes/.”
“Yes is not an answer.”
Dazai shakes his head. “Yet is the only one you’re gonna get.”
See? He’s getting better at this talking thing. He doesn’t sound choked up anymore, and his
“…/Yes/.”
“Yes is not an answer.”
Dazai shakes his head. “Yet is the only one you’re gonna get.”
See? He’s getting better at this talking thing. He doesn’t sound choked up anymore, and his
jaw doesn’t move funnily. He /even/ managed to drag an eye roll out of Chuuya.
“I can’t believe you live like this.”
Dazai licks his lips, guilt roiling in him. Chuuya must be referring to the week-old trash and empty bottles of sake, beer and whiskey scattered all over the
“I can’t believe you live like this.”
Dazai licks his lips, guilt roiling in him. Chuuya must be referring to the week-old trash and empty bottles of sake, beer and whiskey scattered all over the
living room.
/Dazai can’t believe it either./
This is not his life, normally.
He likes to tidy up, it takes off his mind from darker thought. Mori sends someone to clean the apartment once every few weeks, more often during Dazai rut — when it shows, /if/ it shows at all.
/Dazai can’t believe it either./
This is not his life, normally.
He likes to tidy up, it takes off his mind from darker thought. Mori sends someone to clean the apartment once every few weeks, more often during Dazai rut — when it shows, /if/ it shows at all.
But /of course/ Chuuya has to see him like… this.
“I’m… sorry?”
And yet, it also feels like finally breaking free of pretenses.
Chuuya /sighs/.
“You should apologize to your liver,” he just murmurs. “And it’s coming /from me./
The parquet ricochets under Dazai’s head with
“I’m… sorry?”
And yet, it also feels like finally breaking free of pretenses.
Chuuya /sighs/.
“You should apologize to your liver,” he just murmurs. “And it’s coming /from me./
The parquet ricochets under Dazai’s head with
Chuuya’s steps crossing the room, stopping close to him.
“Get up,” he says.
Dazai gurgles a chuckle.
“Not a chance in hell,” he replies — bitterly, too bitterly.
“Well, you look like a beached fish.”
“Ah— a majestic shark, I hope.”
“A /mackerel/.”
With a click of his
“Get up,” he says.
Dazai gurgles a chuckle.
“Not a chance in hell,” he replies — bitterly, too bitterly.
“Well, you look like a beached fish.”
“Ah— a majestic shark, I hope.”
“A /mackerel/.”
With a click of his
tongue, the omega squats next to him. Dazai’s knees would have popped, but Chuuya’s body is perfectly elastic.
“You can’t stay here forever.”
“Depends on what ‘forever’ means.”
“Come on. Can you get up for me?”
“I would do lots of things for you,” Dazai allows, dreamily.
“You can’t stay here forever.”
“Depends on what ‘forever’ means.”
“Come on. Can you get up for me?”
“I would do lots of things for you,” Dazai allows, dreamily.
He has no control over his mouth, and his tongue feels swollen, /yet/ he still manages to make Chuuya chuckle.
He blushes too; a nice veil of red.
It seems like a decent superpower, to make Chuuya blush.
“That was cheesy, for a mackerel. Come /on/, let’s get you up.”
He blushes too; a nice veil of red.
It seems like a decent superpower, to make Chuuya blush.
“That was cheesy, for a mackerel. Come /on/, let’s get you up.”
As he says that, the redhead swings forward and closer to Dazai, hooking his arms around the man’s waist to help him up.
The alpha lets himself be manhandled like a stuffed doll, groaning when Chuuya forces him on his feet.
His entire body screams in pain, and he leans fully
The alpha lets himself be manhandled like a stuffed doll, groaning when Chuuya forces him on his feet.
His entire body screams in pain, and he leans fully
against Chuuya. The omega groans.
“You’re too tall,” he states. Dazai’s lips twitch upwards.
It’s an empty smile, but it’s /a start/.
“It’s Chibi who is too short.”
“I’m gonna let you fall.”
“…I would rather you didn’t,” Dazai murmurs after a moment of consideration.
“You’re too tall,” he states. Dazai’s lips twitch upwards.
It’s an empty smile, but it’s /a start/.
“It’s Chibi who is too short.”
“I’m gonna let you fall.”
“…I would rather you didn’t,” Dazai murmurs after a moment of consideration.
“Then don’t /test/ me, Mackerel. Do you want to take a bath?” Chuuya asks kindly, voice rolling over Dazai’s senses like melted butter. “Or go to bed?”
“Bed,” Dazai murmurs.
“Ok, ok,” Chuuya agrees. It’s more to himself than anything else, and Dazai doesn’t fight him. He
“Bed,” Dazai murmurs.
“Ok, ok,” Chuuya agrees. It’s more to himself than anything else, and Dazai doesn’t fight him. He
never likes to fight Chuuya, friendly banter aside, but in this case—
In this case, dragging one step after the other is difficult enough.
His house appears unfriendly.
So, so huge and empty.
Chuuya’s cold skin still offers Dazai some comfort. His strong grip keeps him up.
In this case, dragging one step after the other is difficult enough.
His house appears unfriendly.
So, so huge and empty.
Chuuya’s cold skin still offers Dazai some comfort. His strong grip keeps him up.
//Luckily one of us didn’t skip arm day,// he thinks.
A laughter bubbles up his throat — and it /dies/ there as they walk down the corridor, past the bathroom.
The light is still on inside, casting a revealing gleam on the thin veil of water peeking from under the closed door
A laughter bubbles up his throat — and it /dies/ there as they walk down the corridor, past the bathroom.
The light is still on inside, casting a revealing gleam on the thin veil of water peeking from under the closed door
Chuuya eyes the wet floor, the water glittering on the parquet and dying out in a puddle.
His lips tightens, but he doesn’t comment.
“Do you have running water in there?” he asks, voice leveled.
Dazai refuses to look at the bathroom, shame crawling up his limbs.
His lips tightens, but he doesn’t comment.
“Do you have running water in there?” he asks, voice leveled.
Dazai refuses to look at the bathroom, shame crawling up his limbs.
God, Chuuya’s lack of judgement towards his foolishness is going to make him /cry/.
“No,” he murmurs. “I just filled the tub earlier.”
/You know why./
“Dazai…”
“My legs hurt, Chibi.”
He says it just to convince Chuuya to move, eyes hidden under his fringe.
/It can wait/
“No,” he murmurs. “I just filled the tub earlier.”
/You know why./
“Dazai…”
“My legs hurt, Chibi.”
He says it just to convince Chuuya to move, eyes hidden under his fringe.
/It can wait/
In silence, Dazai allows Chuuya to walk him to his bedroom.
He forgot to open the windows in the morning — he /didn’t care enough to/ — so the first thing that slaps him is the whiff of stale air.
He glances at Chuuya, but can’t distinguish his expression in the shadows.
He forgot to open the windows in the morning — he /didn’t care enough to/ — so the first thing that slaps him is the whiff of stale air.
He glances at Chuuya, but can’t distinguish his expression in the shadows.
(He’s not sure it’s a /bad/ thing).
Still with the image of the tub water /haunting/ him, following him, the alpha lets Chuuya lead him across the room.
He barely registers the furnitures — dark silhouettes in the even darker room — and the shadows and the tokens of a life that
Still with the image of the tub water /haunting/ him, following him, the alpha lets Chuuya lead him across the room.
He barely registers the furnitures — dark silhouettes in the even darker room — and the shadows and the tokens of a life that
feels foreign.
“Almost there,” Chuuya murmurs, encouragement woven in his words as he moves a step towards the bed.
Dazai exhales softly.
“Almost.”
“This is not how I thought I would see your room for the first time, y’know,” Chuuya hums.
It’s an attempt to light up the
“Almost there,” Chuuya murmurs, encouragement woven in his words as he moves a step towards the bed.
Dazai exhales softly.
“Almost.”
“This is not how I thought I would see your room for the first time, y’know,” Chuuya hums.
It’s an attempt to light up the
mood, but it nags right at Dazai’s stomach.
“Did chibi expect to be taken out for dinner first?”
“After all the free coffee? Yeah.”
Dazai pauses, he licks his dry lips.
/Hell/, damn his foggy brain for ruining all the things he /might/ say if he were sober and more awake.
“Did chibi expect to be taken out for dinner first?”
“After all the free coffee? Yeah.”
Dazai pauses, he licks his dry lips.
/Hell/, damn his foggy brain for ruining all the things he /might/ say if he were sober and more awake.
But he’s not, and this must be /karma/ punishing him.
“Well, this is it. Though I suppose it’s not as cozy as Chuuya’s nest,” he teases.
He never meant for Chuuya to pause and go rigid, though.
His hands /sink/ in Dazai’s flesh, clawing it for a moment.
“…I guess,” he says.
“Well, this is it. Though I suppose it’s not as cozy as Chuuya’s nest,” he teases.
He never meant for Chuuya to pause and go rigid, though.
His hands /sink/ in Dazai’s flesh, clawing it for a moment.
“…I guess,” he says.
(Why is he saying that as if his guess is as good as Dazai’s?
Chuuya is an /omega/. He certainly knows more about nests.
…Right?)
Anyway, Chuuya doesn’t ask if he can turn on the light, and Dazai is /grateful/ for that.
He’d rather Chuuya not see the messy ball of sheets,
Chuuya is an /omega/. He certainly knows more about nests.
…Right?)
Anyway, Chuuya doesn’t ask if he can turn on the light, and Dazai is /grateful/ for that.
He’d rather Chuuya not see the messy ball of sheets,
clothes and pillows that is his bed. He’d rather safeguard the last drop of dignity the night grants him.
He has no control over his body, and little more over his brain, and he’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or just his /shamelessly weak/ grip on life but what he /knows/ is—
He has no control over his body, and little more over his brain, and he’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or just his /shamelessly weak/ grip on life but what he /knows/ is—
He /regrets/ letting Chuuya see him like this.
There was no other choice, but he regrets it.
He ponders over that while flopping on the mattress. He falls like a deadweight, limbs weak and mollified.
Then he rolls on the side, facing the wall. The white, ragged, surface stares
There was no other choice, but he regrets it.
He ponders over that while flopping on the mattress. He falls like a deadweight, limbs weak and mollified.
Then he rolls on the side, facing the wall. The white, ragged, surface stares
back at him — dead cold, /compressing him/.
The world spins fast, but Dazai is /trapped/.
The lavender scent of laundry detergent hits his senses, unnaturally strong, and his nostrils flare.
For a wild second, cold and scared and disoriented, he fears he might throw up.
The world spins fast, but Dazai is /trapped/.
The lavender scent of laundry detergent hits his senses, unnaturally strong, and his nostrils flare.
For a wild second, cold and scared and disoriented, he fears he might throw up.
But then, though he doesn’t /have/ to, Chuuya climbs on the bed too.
He kicks the covers and the clothes out of the way with a soft, annoyed grunt, plastering his chest against Dazai’s back.
And— and something clicks back in place, and the world is not /heavy/ anymore.
He kicks the covers and the clothes out of the way with a soft, annoyed grunt, plastering his chest against Dazai’s back.
And— and something clicks back in place, and the world is not /heavy/ anymore.
Again, he circles the alpha’s middle with secure arms. Not a single word — who needs /those/ anyway? — but the gesture still carries all the meaning in the universe.
Then, Chuuya rests his cheek against Dazai’s shoulder.
Warmth sparks in Dazai’s body again.
He’s /safe/.
Then, Chuuya rests his cheek against Dazai’s shoulder.
Warmth sparks in Dazai’s body again.
He’s /safe/.
He’s out of the water. He’s not /drowning/ anymore.
“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable,” Chuuya murmurs.
The joke about Chuuya’s feet not reaching his calves remains trapped in Dazai’s mouth, resting just on the tip of his tongue.
He swallows instead, mulling over an answer.
“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable,” Chuuya murmurs.
The joke about Chuuya’s feet not reaching his calves remains trapped in Dazai’s mouth, resting just on the tip of his tongue.
He swallows instead, mulling over an answer.
“It’s fine,” he says, eventually. He repeated the same mantra all night, and the day before, but for the first time he /means/ it. “It’s helping.”
“Cool.”
“Thank you for coming when I called.”
He can /feel/ Chuuya’s smile stretching against his shoulder.
“Of course, Osamu.”
“Cool.”
“Thank you for coming when I called.”
He can /feel/ Chuuya’s smile stretching against his shoulder.
“Of course, Osamu.”
His heart hiccups. It’s odd, hearing his own name on Chuuya’s lips — uttered out so /naturally/.
It’s odd, and new, and beautiful.
“Seriously, I mean it,” he insists, adjusting in Chuuya’s grip and sinking his cheek deeper in the pillow. “No one would do what you did tonight.”
It’s odd, and new, and beautiful.
“Seriously, I mean it,” he insists, adjusting in Chuuya’s grip and sinking his cheek deeper in the pillow. “No one would do what you did tonight.”
Well, except Odasaku. He would come, if Dazai ever called him. But he doesn’t want Odasaku to see him like this.
Chuuya—
Maybe it’s selfish, but he longs for Chuuya to accept him, all of him.
No secrets or half-truths.
Just Dazai — battered and crumbling and /so/ in love.
Chuuya—
Maybe it’s selfish, but he longs for Chuuya to accept him, all of him.
No secrets or half-truths.
Just Dazai — battered and crumbling and /so/ in love.
“What?” The omega nudges, playfully. Softly. “Babysit your Mackerel ass?”
“/Save/ me,” he says.
“I d—“
“You /did/, Chuuya. For the second time, now.”
He can hear Chuuya’s breath halt, then the omega nuzzles his nose against Dazai’s scent glands.
The air turns /sweet/.
“/Save/ me,” he says.
“I d—“
“You /did/, Chuuya. For the second time, now.”
He can hear Chuuya’s breath halt, then the omega nuzzles his nose against Dazai’s scent glands.
The air turns /sweet/.
“Hm. Guess I’ll always be here when you need,” he promises.
It’s effortless, a murmur that rolls like silk in the silence, yet it /thunders/.
And for the first time, pressed one against the other, Dazai realizes that Chuuya’s words carry the flowery scent of rose water and
It’s effortless, a murmur that rolls like silk in the silence, yet it /thunders/.
And for the first time, pressed one against the other, Dazai realizes that Chuuya’s words carry the flowery scent of rose water and
fondant dark chocolate, of whipped cream and raspberries.
A tinge of iron — /blood/ — sprinkles salt in the otherwise enveloping scent. It’s not /too/ sweet but it’s /lush/.
Dazai breathes it in. He lets Chuuya’s scent shroud him, blanket him.
A tinge of iron — /blood/ — sprinkles salt in the otherwise enveloping scent. It’s not /too/ sweet but it’s /lush/.
Dazai breathes it in. He lets Chuuya’s scent shroud him, blanket him.
Chuuya’s scent blockers are wearing off, overruled by the rubbing of his nose directly on the scent glands on Dazai’s neck.
The scent is sinking right /inside/ him.
White and crimson. Thicker than water, less capricious.
Blood dripping on snow— drop, after drop, after drop.
The scent is sinking right /inside/ him.
White and crimson. Thicker than water, less capricious.
Blood dripping on snow— drop, after drop, after drop.
And if Chuuya really is the prince in his fairytale, Dazai… he /is/ Snow White, saved once more.
“I know Chuuya will save me like a prince,” Dazai says, under his breath. “I told you already; I trust you.”
“That might not be a great idea,” Chuuya snorts. It’s humorous, though.
“I know Chuuya will save me like a prince,” Dazai says, under his breath. “I told you already; I trust you.”
“That might not be a great idea,” Chuuya snorts. It’s humorous, though.
“Let /me/ judge that, Chibi.”
“I get drunk way too easily, y’know. And I procrastinate. And you said I can’t drive.”
Dazai gnaws at his bottom lip. /Wow/, it’s hard to think with Chuuya’s scent in his brain — in his /heart/.
“Well, no, you’re a danger to the public.”
“I get drunk way too easily, y’know. And I procrastinate. And you said I can’t drive.”
Dazai gnaws at his bottom lip. /Wow/, it’s hard to think with Chuuya’s scent in his brain — in his /heart/.
“Well, no, you’re a danger to the public.”
“So you don’t trust me.”
“I don’t trust your /bike/,” Dazai corrects, frowning.
He tries to throw a quick glance behind his shoulder, but it only helps Chuuya to get /closer/, the tip of his nose and his /lips/, now, grazing against Dazai’s skin. A dry, featherlight touch.
“I don’t trust your /bike/,” Dazai corrects, frowning.
He tries to throw a quick glance behind his shoulder, but it only helps Chuuya to get /closer/, the tip of his nose and his /lips/, now, grazing against Dazai’s skin. A dry, featherlight touch.
The omega’s hands fist Dazai’s dark t-shirt before he goes on:
“I’m not as good as you think I am. I’m pretty fucked up.”
“Yeah, maybe. But I don’t care.”
“I’m obnoxious and loud.”
“I don’t care.”
“The purring is ridiculous.”
“I disagree, but don’t care.”
“I’m not as good as you think I am. I’m pretty fucked up.”
“Yeah, maybe. But I don’t care.”
“I’m obnoxious and loud.”
“I don’t care.”
“The purring is ridiculous.”
“I disagree, but don’t care.”
“I’m /hurt/, too.”
“…I know,” Dazai hesitates. “I can feel it. But I don’t mind.” He pauses. “Though, I /do/ mind the cold. Can you, maybe—? I’m freezing.”
He /wishes/ it was just a cheeky flirting technique, honestly, but he’s serious. Obediently, Chuuya shifts closer.
“…I know,” Dazai hesitates. “I can feel it. But I don’t mind.” He pauses. “Though, I /do/ mind the cold. Can you, maybe—? I’m freezing.”
He /wishes/ it was just a cheeky flirting technique, honestly, but he’s serious. Obediently, Chuuya shifts closer.
“No shit, you’re shivering,” Chuuya murmurs, lodging his nose under Dazai’s earlobe. His lips press on his neck. “Stop thinking.”
It’s /so/ much easier said than done.
“Sorry.”
“No need. Can I do something? Get you some water? Do you want the blankets?”
Dazai hesitates.
It’s /so/ much easier said than done.
“Sorry.”
“No need. Can I do something? Get you some water? Do you want the blankets?”
Dazai hesitates.
“This…” he wets his lips, dry and gnawed until they bled. “This is enough.”
As if on clue, Chuuya hugs him closer. He brushes his lips over Dazai’s scent glands, and it’s like something in Dazai /flipped/ again. His muscles relax. His body lets go on some of the tension.
As if on clue, Chuuya hugs him closer. He brushes his lips over Dazai’s scent glands, and it’s like something in Dazai /flipped/ again. His muscles relax. His body lets go on some of the tension.
Breathing is still painful, but not as much anymore.
“Sleep, ‘Samu.”
“I’m trying.”
“/Good/,” Chuuya whispers.
It’s /heavy/ and— vibrating? It takes a moment to Dazai to realize that the omega is comfortable enough to purr.
He’s pretty sure his body would have reacted to
“Sleep, ‘Samu.”
“I’m trying.”
“/Good/,” Chuuya whispers.
It’s /heavy/ and— vibrating? It takes a moment to Dazai to realize that the omega is comfortable enough to purr.
He’s pretty sure his body would have reacted to
that, either with crooning back or looking for more /contact/, if he wasn’t so /exhausted/.
He knows better than teasing his purring, though.
“Chuuya…?”
“Hm.”
“I don’t care about your gender,” he murmurs. Every word is an effort to sound /coherent/. “I like Chuuya anyway.”
He knows better than teasing his purring, though.
“Chuuya…?”
“Hm.”
“I don’t care about your gender,” he murmurs. Every word is an effort to sound /coherent/. “I like Chuuya anyway.”
After a moment of tensed silence, Chuuya relaxes against him.
“Thank you,” he murmurs. It’s heavy, soaked in /relief/ and past wounds never really healed. “Thank /you/,” he says again, and his voice breaks.
“For real. I like Chuuya more than anyone.”
Chuuya hesitates.
“Thank you,” he murmurs. It’s heavy, soaked in /relief/ and past wounds never really healed. “Thank /you/,” he says again, and his voice breaks.
“For real. I like Chuuya more than anyone.”
Chuuya hesitates.
His purring stops. “You’re drunk, obviously.”
“I’m honest.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I /do/.”
“But…”
“Chuuya,” Dazai interrupts, voice strong enough to successfully stop the omega mid-sentence.
Slowly, though with steady movements, Dazai breaks away from the embrace.
“I’m honest.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I /do/.”
“But…”
“Chuuya,” Dazai interrupts, voice strong enough to successfully stop the omega mid-sentence.
Slowly, though with steady movements, Dazai breaks away from the embrace.
He slips closer to the wall, and Chuuya’s hands open for him like petals.
And anyone might think that Dazai needs some breathing space, but he turns.
He rolls on the other side, facing Chuuya.
The sight that welcomes him, for a moment, makes his heart drop to his ankles.
And anyone might think that Dazai needs some breathing space, but he turns.
He rolls on the other side, facing Chuuya.
The sight that welcomes him, for a moment, makes his heart drop to his ankles.
Chuuya’s hair spread on Dazai’s pillow; his eyes almost black, still glimmering.
His lips, parted. His scent, /sweet/.
He leans closer, staring at the omega, getting lost in eyes that seem oceans at night.
He’s collecting his courage with every inch of space that disappears
His lips, parted. His scent, /sweet/.
He leans closer, staring at the omega, getting lost in eyes that seem oceans at night.
He’s collecting his courage with every inch of space that disappears
between them, because—
“Chuuya,” he repeats, hesitation making his throaty voice /tremble/. Every sound scrapes against his throat. “You may not trust my words, and that’s /fair/.”
“That’s not—“
“/But/ can I ask for one last favor?”
Sheepishly, Chuuya nods.
“/Yes/.”
“Chuuya,” he repeats, hesitation making his throaty voice /tremble/. Every sound scrapes against his throat. “You may not trust my words, and that’s /fair/.”
“That’s not—“
“/But/ can I ask for one last favor?”
Sheepishly, Chuuya nods.
“/Yes/.”
And maybe Chuuya is fighting whatever force has been tugging them together, but that ‘yes’ sounds like a /please/, so needy and husky, and—
It’s /all/ the encouragement Dazai needs.
He pulls closer, his lips one breath away from Chuuya’s.
An almost kiss.
An almost win.
It’s /all/ the encouragement Dazai needs.
He pulls closer, his lips one breath away from Chuuya’s.
An almost kiss.
An almost win.
It feels like a miracle for in a night that begun without an ounce on hope, without a spark of light.
But Chuuya doesn’t back away.
His eyelashes flicker when he glances down at the alpha’s lips, and Dazai’s just /can’t/ keep himself together anymore.
“Can I kiss you?”
But Chuuya doesn’t back away.
His eyelashes flicker when he glances down at the alpha’s lips, and Dazai’s just /can’t/ keep himself together anymore.
“Can I kiss you?”
And Chuuya doesn’t need to /reply/. Not with words, at least.
He swings forward, cupping Dazai’s neck, and suddenly there is no distance anymore.
It’s not a /tentative/ kiss, though it /is/ soft.
Chuuya’s lips mould against Dazai’s, they moan his first name against his mouth.
He swings forward, cupping Dazai’s neck, and suddenly there is no distance anymore.
It’s not a /tentative/ kiss, though it /is/ soft.
Chuuya’s lips mould against Dazai’s, they moan his first name against his mouth.
Their bodies press together, so /impossibly close/, enough that Dazai hopes that Chuuya can hear his beating heart.
And—
//You saved me, Chuuya.//
It’s truer than ever, only now… well, /now/ Dazai dares to think it might be /mutual/.
Maybe not just yet, but in the future.
And—
//You saved me, Chuuya.//
It’s truer than ever, only now… well, /now/ Dazai dares to think it might be /mutual/.
Maybe not just yet, but in the future.
It’s an /intoxicating/ contact.
It tastes like whisky and /chocolate/, dragged by Chuuya’s scent.
Dazai’s fingers sink in soft, sunset strands, and Chuuya’s hands moved up to frame his face, and everything else fades because /this/—
/This/ right here is the kiss of a lifetime.
It tastes like whisky and /chocolate/, dragged by Chuuya’s scent.
Dazai’s fingers sink in soft, sunset strands, and Chuuya’s hands moved up to frame his face, and everything else fades because /this/—
/This/ right here is the kiss of a lifetime.
Chuuya locks his leg in between Dazai’s, slipping forward with a low, needy noise. Want makes the omega’s voice drop and Dazai notices with a tinge of satisfaction that its edges are less rough, less /sharp/.
His hands, so quick and always with the ghost scent of coffee
His hands, so quick and always with the ghost scent of coffee
powder covering them like a veil, turn gentle as he drags featherlight, burning caresses along Dazai’s neck, mapping his shoulder, his collarbone, his /chest/.
Chuuya pushes into the kiss as if he could dissolve in it, and Dazai /opens/ for the omega, jaw going slack in
Chuuya pushes into the kiss as if he could dissolve in it, and Dazai /opens/ for the omega, jaw going slack in
the attempt to deepen a contact that is already swallowing them whole.
His hand combs through Chuuya’s hair in the way he’s been longing to ever since the morning he met the redhead the first time, with his ponytail and yellow apron and brazen kindness.
His hand combs through Chuuya’s hair in the way he’s been longing to ever since the morning he met the redhead the first time, with his ponytail and yellow apron and brazen kindness.
He absently plays with a russet strand, rolling it around his middle finger as he kisses Chuuya’s parted lips — one peck, followed by a nibble and a peck again. Showering the omegas with a thousand little kisses, toying with his hair.
Marveling at the perfection of this moment.
Marveling at the perfection of this moment.
“I love your hair,” Dazai murmurs. A good compromise when’s ‘I love you’ might seem a little premature.
“It rivals the sunset over the bay. No, no, it’s better.” Chuuya snorts, but Dazai goes on. “You should keep it loose more often,” he says, inhaling softly against Chuuya’s
“It rivals the sunset over the bay. No, no, it’s better.” Chuuya snorts, but Dazai goes on. “You should keep it loose more often,” he says, inhaling softly against Chuuya’s
mouth, assimilating his enveloping scent.
Chuuya’s airy chuckle reverberates in the few millimeters that separate them.
“I always keep it down when I’m at home,” he says. His eyes light up, catching a ripple of light from a car passing in the street outside. “You’ll see.”
Chuuya’s airy chuckle reverberates in the few millimeters that separate them.
“I always keep it down when I’m at home,” he says. His eyes light up, catching a ripple of light from a car passing in the street outside. “You’ll see.”
Dazai swallows.
Ah, right.
They’re meant to live— together. Like this.
/Better/ than this, for hopefully this is nothing but an almost unreal beginning.
You see, the bright side of having no expectations, of feeding on nightmares, is that when something goes finally
Ah, right.
They’re meant to live— together. Like this.
/Better/ than this, for hopefully this is nothing but an almost unreal beginning.
You see, the bright side of having no expectations, of feeding on nightmares, is that when something goes finally
right it’s like climbing an intoxicating high.
Short lived, easily shattered, but beautiful.
But what /if/.
“So we good?” Dazai asks.
It’s stupid, really, but he fears that /this/ might change everything. He doesn’t want to, but his brain feeds him the possibility anyway.
Short lived, easily shattered, but beautiful.
But what /if/.
“So we good?” Dazai asks.
It’s stupid, really, but he fears that /this/ might change everything. He doesn’t want to, but his brain feeds him the possibility anyway.
But Chuuya shakes his head, and leans forward and captures Dazai’s lips in a slow, open-mouthed kiss.
Somehow, it feels like a ‘I’ve got you’ whispered against his hear. Slowly, tenderly, Chuuya guides him, makes him yield with gentle strength.
The rhythm is intoxicating,
Somehow, it feels like a ‘I’ve got you’ whispered against his hear. Slowly, tenderly, Chuuya guides him, makes him yield with gentle strength.
The rhythm is intoxicating,
maddeningly slow and yet /deep/.
Before he knows it, Dazai finds himself grinding against Chuuya, moving with the waves of the kiss.
Rise, hold your breath, and down again. Rise, down.
/Rise./
Before he knows it, Dazai finds himself grinding against Chuuya, moving with the waves of the kiss.
Rise, hold your breath, and down again. Rise, down.
/Rise./
Chuuya’s tongue looking for his, their lips molded together.
/Down./
And Dazai can /feel/ the tension and hunger build inside their bodies, the greedy patters of the kiss and dry grinding turning from endearing to /torture/.
Raise, and down again.
/Sweet, sweet torture/.
/Down./
And Dazai can /feel/ the tension and hunger build inside their bodies, the greedy patters of the kiss and dry grinding turning from endearing to /torture/.
Raise, and down again.
/Sweet, sweet torture/.
But Chuuya breaks them apart, his voice is breathy. “Ask me something so stupid again and I’ll punch your stupid kissable face.”
Dazai grins.
“Do this again, and I won’t be able to stop,” he hums.
And somehow, he has a hunch Chuuya would want to take it /slow/.
Dazai grins.
“Do this again, and I won’t be able to stop,” he hums.
And somehow, he has a hunch Chuuya would want to take it /slow/.
In Chuuya’s sheepish smile, he finds his confirmation.
“Yeah— I’d rather we not enter /that/ territory yet.” His smirk stretches. “You reek of whiskey.”
“Uh~ spicy.”
Chuuya frowns, sticking his tongue out. “Yeah, definitely /not/.”
He doesn’t know if it’s the unguarded
“Yeah— I’d rather we not enter /that/ territory yet.” His smirk stretches. “You reek of whiskey.”
“Uh~ spicy.”
Chuuya frowns, sticking his tongue out. “Yeah, definitely /not/.”
He doesn’t know if it’s the unguarded
gesture or the playful tone, or the fact that Chuuya kissed him even though he most certainly reeks, but the alpha can’t but allow himself a curt laughter.
“Fair enough. I like Chuuya very, very much, so I’ll be good for now,” Dazai whines, sounding /young/.
Boyishly.
“Fair enough. I like Chuuya very, very much, so I’ll be good for now,” Dazai whines, sounding /young/.
Boyishly.
He said it a hundred times now, every single one meaning it fully, but now it has a different taste.
It has /Chuuya’s/ taste nestled on Dazai’s lips, trapped on the tip of his tongue, prickling under his skin.
Chuuya looks back at him, eyes narrowed. The corners of his lips
It has /Chuuya’s/ taste nestled on Dazai’s lips, trapped on the tip of his tongue, prickling under his skin.
Chuuya looks back at him, eyes narrowed. The corners of his lips
turn downward.
“Really, Dazai, I—“
“I like you, Chuuya,” Dazai retorts — pulling his full weight on the words. “More than I should, probably.”
The quietness is pierced only by their ragged breaths, and the rustle of clothes as they look for each other — their hands touching,
“Really, Dazai, I—“
“I like you, Chuuya,” Dazai retorts — pulling his full weight on the words. “More than I should, probably.”
The quietness is pierced only by their ragged breaths, and the rustle of clothes as they look for each other — their hands touching,
their foreheads brushing together, their legs intertwined.
“Don’t—“ the omega starts. Then, his voice dies out.
The entire room is plunged into darkness and silence. Dazai shifts closer, leaving a gentle kiss on Chuuya’s closed mouth.
Even Chuuya’s /scowl/ tastes sweet.
“Don’t—“ the omega starts. Then, his voice dies out.
The entire room is plunged into darkness and silence. Dazai shifts closer, leaving a gentle kiss on Chuuya’s closed mouth.
Even Chuuya’s /scowl/ tastes sweet.
“I just have to say it, Chibi. I don’t need you to reply anything right now.” Dazai smiles against Chuuya, feeling every heavy heartbeat of the omega like its /own/.
Every movement and soft flinch of Chuuya’s pliant body ricochets in him. Then, the alpha lifts his head and
Every movement and soft flinch of Chuuya’s pliant body ricochets in him. Then, the alpha lifts his head and
kisses the tip of the redhead’s nose.
He takes a second to let the pillowcase grazing his skin and Chuuya’s warm breath ghosting over his cheek ground him— /guide/ him.
“Just— let me say it, ok?”
Hesitantly, Chuuya’s head moves up; it’s enough of a nod to encourage Dazai.
He takes a second to let the pillowcase grazing his skin and Chuuya’s warm breath ghosting over his cheek ground him— /guide/ him.
“Just— let me say it, ok?”
Hesitantly, Chuuya’s head moves up; it’s enough of a nod to encourage Dazai.
“Because I get that there’s something going on with you, and I won’t ask what it is. But I want Chibi to know that I am here for you too and— I can /wait/. If you want me to.”
It’s a /promise/; a solemn vow.
Chuuya swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing down with a deaf ‘gulp’.
It’s a /promise/; a solemn vow.
Chuuya swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing down with a deaf ‘gulp’.
He seems to /compute/ the implications of the alpha’s words before letting out a noise from the back of his throat.
Then, he nods.
“I won’t ask either,” the redhead agrees, shifting the topic back to Dazai’s current situation.
A voice tells Dazai that it is a fair bargain.
Then, he nods.
“I won’t ask either,” the redhead agrees, shifting the topic back to Dazai’s current situation.
A voice tells Dazai that it is a fair bargain.
And the alpha is not even /mad/ that they changed the subject, because it feels like a step forward.
Because, before he refers to the man as a lover, a boyfriend, an omega, a /mate/—
He wants Chuuya to be his /best friend/.
They’re rocking the respective secrets, soothing
Because, before he refers to the man as a lover, a boyfriend, an omega, a /mate/—
He wants Chuuya to be his /best friend/.
They’re rocking the respective secrets, soothing
each other’s pain, and a sense of purpose blooms in Dazai.
/ No questions asked, just unspoken acceptance./
This is /new/ to him.
Through one-night-stands and the occasional short-lived relationships, he never had anything like this — though he longed for it all his life.
/ No questions asked, just unspoken acceptance./
This is /new/ to him.
Through one-night-stands and the occasional short-lived relationships, he never had anything like this — though he longed for it all his life.
But he has Chuuya, and Chuuya has him.
They’re partners, now.
They have each other’s back. Everything else — romance, longing, /need/ — can wait until tomorrow.
The thought steals a smile from the alpha.
He squeezes Chuuya’s hand, the one
They’re partners, now.
They have each other’s back. Everything else — romance, longing, /need/ — can wait until tomorrow.
The thought steals a smile from the alpha.
He squeezes Chuuya’s hand, the one
hooked around the black fabric of his t-shirt. His fingers slide in between Chuuya’s.
“Partners in crime?” he asks.
Chuuya puffs softly.
“Partners in crime,” he whispers, a response coming straight from the chest.
Then, the silence sets around them like dust.
“Partners in crime?” he asks.
Chuuya puffs softly.
“Partners in crime,” he whispers, a response coming straight from the chest.
Then, the silence sets around them like dust.
In silence, Chuuya circles Dazai’s body and glides into the alpha’s embrace, pressing his face against the man’s chest.
His purr resumes, sending vibrations right into Dazai’s body.
It plucks chords that Dazai didn’t even know were presents — the ones that make him /human/.
His purr resumes, sending vibrations right into Dazai’s body.
It plucks chords that Dazai didn’t even know were presents — the ones that make him /human/.
He read somewhere that an omega’s purring works like a cat’s — it heals, invisible but powerful — and… well, it certainly feels like that.
It’s with Chuuya’s presence lulling him that Dazai’s mind starts drifting away.
It’s unfair how hard it is to end this life.
It’s with Chuuya’s presence lulling him that Dazai’s mind starts drifting away.
It’s unfair how hard it is to end this life.
Dazai fantasized a hundred times about drowning himself, but he came to the conclusion that he doesn’t have enough willpower.
And in Dazai’s mind, almost in /response/ to the drowning, something resurfaces: the knowledge that he owns nothing /but/ the person hugging him.
And in Dazai’s mind, almost in /response/ to the drowning, something resurfaces: the knowledge that he owns nothing /but/ the person hugging him.
That’s the first night Chuuya spends in Dazai’s house.
His /new/ house.
Their home.
It’s a long night.
It’s filled with a silence so heavy and oppressing that even the usual sounds of the house creaking and adjusting seem swallowed by the darkness.
His /new/ house.
Their home.
It’s a long night.
It’s filled with a silence so heavy and oppressing that even the usual sounds of the house creaking and adjusting seem swallowed by the darkness.
But Chuuya—
Chuuya has one hand thrown over his hip, and it /weights/ over Dazai and grounds him and rocks him as the whiskey slips out of his system.
He’s hardwired to feel unwelcome in the world, yet tied to it by his own lack of purpose and fear of pain.
Chuuya has one hand thrown over his hip, and it /weights/ over Dazai and grounds him and rocks him as the whiskey slips out of his system.
He’s hardwired to feel unwelcome in the world, yet tied to it by his own lack of purpose and fear of pain.
However, surprisingly enough, he finds a safe space in Chuuya’s kisses.
A corner that is only his.
He can hide there till the storm raging inside him passes.
He can hide there forever.
Over time, they both realize that Chuuya moved in that same night and never left.
—
A corner that is only his.
He can hide there till the storm raging inside him passes.
He can hide there forever.
Over time, they both realize that Chuuya moved in that same night and never left.
—
When Chuuya first presented as an omega, the doctors found a lack of slick production.
Nothing major, they said.
It’ll get better, don’t worry, his parents added.
Chuuya, though, remained skeptical of the diagnosis. Something in it didn’t feel /right/.
The doctors gave him
Nothing major, they said.
It’ll get better, don’t worry, his parents added.
Chuuya, though, remained skeptical of the diagnosis. Something in it didn’t feel /right/.
The doctors gave him
pills that messed up his sleep schedule, and rarely showed an ounce of sympathy when he said that his heats felt /odd/. That it was /painful/.
You’ll grow, they said. Some bodies just need time.
Soon, though, Chuuya realized he was right.
It wasn’t just a matter of /time/.
You’ll grow, they said. Some bodies just need time.
Soon, though, Chuuya realized he was right.
It wasn’t just a matter of /time/.
The first time Chuuya tried to use sex toys, it hurt.
The first time he spent his heat with a partner — his first /boyfriend/, with the world-changing meaning of the word for a 17-year-old boy — it hurt /like a bitch/.
His heat partner, a classmate with more experience
The first time he spent his heat with a partner — his first /boyfriend/, with the world-changing meaning of the word for a 17-year-old boy — it hurt /like a bitch/.
His heat partner, a classmate with more experience
than him, asked with absent voice and no real interest if Chuuya ‘liked /it/‘.
Sex sounded like such a lame, old-people word at the time.
In hindsight, Chuuya remembers they ever only said ‘it’, shying away from any direct reference to what they were doing as if they could
Sex sounded like such a lame, old-people word at the time.
In hindsight, Chuuya remembers they ever only said ‘it’, shying away from any direct reference to what they were doing as if they could
regret it one day.
It was a /scary/ word and no, Chuuya did not. Fucking. Like. It.
He nodded and didn’t complain, though, because that was what he was /supposed/ to do.
It was the normal reaction to have, right? It would get better.
In the meantime, it just /hurt/.
It was a /scary/ word and no, Chuuya did not. Fucking. Like. It.
He nodded and didn’t complain, though, because that was what he was /supposed/ to do.
It was the normal reaction to have, right? It would get better.
In the meantime, it just /hurt/.
And Chuuya did not know much at the time, and he wasn’t too /good/ at listening to himself either (he isn’t, still) but one thing he knew:
/It’s not supposed to hurt this much./
It wasn’t, and it still isn’t, supposed to feel like torture. And other omegas told him many
/It’s not supposed to hurt this much./
It wasn’t, and it still isn’t, supposed to feel like torture. And other omegas told him many
marvelous things about knots, but the only conclusion Chuuya reached is that they are not /worth/ his suffering.
Because he never got better. It never passed.
The more he tried to shove the pain out of his mind, the more it /burned/.
The more he told himself to shut up and
Because he never got better. It never passed.
The more he tried to shove the pain out of his mind, the more it /burned/.
The more he told himself to shut up and
suck it up, to not /worry/ anyone, the fastest he grew to connect intimacy with pain.
Eventually the two were pulled taut, indistinguishable.
Fear of physical contact flourished in him over time and, even though Chuuya tried, he never knew where it stemmed from.
Eventually the two were pulled taut, indistinguishable.
Fear of physical contact flourished in him over time and, even though Chuuya tried, he never knew where it stemmed from.
It’s psychological, they say now.
Every time his body stays /alert/, incapable to relax, incapable to /communicate/ what’s wrong.
One thought, always the same, fills his mind: I’m gonna be in /pain/.
And the thing is— Chuuya /likes/ the idea of having sex. In theory.
Every time his body stays /alert/, incapable to relax, incapable to /communicate/ what’s wrong.
One thought, always the same, fills his mind: I’m gonna be in /pain/.
And the thing is— Chuuya /likes/ the idea of having sex. In theory.
He’s aroused by the idea, he longs for it despite everything.
It’s not his entire personality, not even his /priority/, but the idea is /not/ revolting to him.
And during heats— during heats, it’s like missing a limb.
He wants, and wants, and /wants/ never feeling /full/.
It’s not his entire personality, not even his /priority/, but the idea is /not/ revolting to him.
And during heats— during heats, it’s like missing a limb.
He wants, and wants, and /wants/ never feeling /full/.
His psychotherapist says he’ll find the key to /that/ part that still escapes him.
But it’s— hard to cope, in the meantime.
It’s hard to trust, and let himself be loved.
(Especially when Chuuya has a /talent/ for falling in love with horrible alphas. Or— well, he used to.
But it’s— hard to cope, in the meantime.
It’s hard to trust, and let himself be loved.
(Especially when Chuuya has a /talent/ for falling in love with horrible alphas. Or— well, he used to.
Dazai is different. He has to be.)
Very few people know; Atsushi, Akutagawa, his parents.
And if there is one person who helped him through it all, driving him home after bad dates and threatening boys who made him cry, it has always been—
“Thank you for meeting me, Ane-San.”
Very few people know; Atsushi, Akutagawa, his parents.
And if there is one person who helped him through it all, driving him home after bad dates and threatening boys who made him cry, it has always been—
“Thank you for meeting me, Ane-San.”
“Of course,” Kouyou says, from above the pastel blue ceramic mug. She only ordered matcha, and it’s so /typically her/ that Chuuya couldn’t but smile to himself. “I miss having you at home, lad.”
“I miss you too.”
“You sure you don’t want to move back in?”
“I miss you too.”
“You sure you don’t want to move back in?”
Chuuya bites back a sheepish, vaguely /guilty/ smile.
Yeah, he’s positive.
He likes living with Dazai. Actually, like might be an understatement.
Of course, Chuuya /does/ miss his sister.
Seeing her twice a week is not the same as every day.
That’s also why he asked Kouyou
Yeah, he’s positive.
He likes living with Dazai. Actually, like might be an understatement.
Of course, Chuuya /does/ miss his sister.
Seeing her twice a week is not the same as every day.
That’s also why he asked Kouyou
to have breakfast together (also because he wanted the pastel, ridiculously Instagram-worthy café they’re sitting at now) before his shift at the coffeeshop.
/That/ doesn’t mean Chuuya is ready to abandon his new routine with Dazai, made of after-work snuggles and morning kisses
/That/ doesn’t mean Chuuya is ready to abandon his new routine with Dazai, made of after-work snuggles and morning kisses
“Come on,” he says, gingerly. “I bet you’re happy to have the house all to yourself.”
“The only upside is that I don’t have to share /my/ closet space anymore.”
“W— I asked for /one/ shelf /one/ time!”
She squints, a smile dancing on her lips. “And your hats, dear?”
“The only upside is that I don’t have to share /my/ closet space anymore.”
“W— I asked for /one/ shelf /one/ time!”
She squints, a smile dancing on her lips. “And your hats, dear?”
/Ah/, she’s right.
“Fine, two shelves,” he amends.
In lieu of a reply Kouyou looks at him, brow furrowing ever so slightly.
“Anyway, I’m /dying/ to know. How are you finding your new home?”
Chuuya’s grip tightens around the pastel mug, the cappuccino warming his palms.
“Fine, two shelves,” he amends.
In lieu of a reply Kouyou looks at him, brow furrowing ever so slightly.
“Anyway, I’m /dying/ to know. How are you finding your new home?”
Chuuya’s grip tightens around the pastel mug, the cappuccino warming his palms.
He supposed this question would arrive sooner or later, yet he’s not even remotely /ready/ to answer it.
He likes the house; the space is nice, and big enough to coexist comfortably with Dazai.
It has a wide tub, and a rainfall shower spacious enough for at least three people.
He likes the house; the space is nice, and big enough to coexist comfortably with Dazai.
It has a wide tub, and a rainfall shower spacious enough for at least three people.
The open kitchen is modern, all white stone and fumé glasses, nestled in an open space area that connects with the western-style living room.
His room— well, let’s just say that Dazai wasn’t trying to fool him when he said the room was big and basked in sunlight.
His room— well, let’s just say that Dazai wasn’t trying to fool him when he said the room was big and basked in sunlight.
And, before he moved in, Dazai had rails mounted to the roof to allow Chuuya to hang a curtain for his nest, if he so pleases.
(Chuuya absolutely /wasn’t/ moved almost to tears by the gesture.
Of course.)
/And/ Dazai offered to share his own walk-in closet if needs be.
(Chuuya absolutely /wasn’t/ moved almost to tears by the gesture.
Of course.)
/And/ Dazai offered to share his own walk-in closet if needs be.
A /walk-in closet/.
Chuuya only ever saw them in movies, but apparently Dazai’s uncle is rich as fuck.
‘Mori-san likes to waste space, but I never use it,’ Dazai said with a shrug, further convincing Chuuya that he is /crazy/.
And Dazai—
/Well, he is rather different too./
Chuuya only ever saw them in movies, but apparently Dazai’s uncle is rich as fuck.
‘Mori-san likes to waste space, but I never use it,’ Dazai said with a shrug, further convincing Chuuya that he is /crazy/.
And Dazai—
/Well, he is rather different too./
Every day feels /domestic/.
Before he can start to properly describe how he’s liking the new house (and more specifically his new /housemate/), Chuuya’s mind flies back to earlier that morning.
To Dazai.
***
The alpha crawls out of his bedroom when Chuuya is already up and
Before he can start to properly describe how he’s liking the new house (and more specifically his new /housemate/), Chuuya’s mind flies back to earlier that morning.
To Dazai.
***
The alpha crawls out of his bedroom when Chuuya is already up and
rinsing his mug in the kitchen sink, ready to go out.
Dazai has one hand sunk in messy bed hair, the other tugging at the edge of the grey t-shirt hanging off his shoulder.
The worn-out fabric, overstretched by too many washes, reveals a portion of alabaster collarbone.
Dazai has one hand sunk in messy bed hair, the other tugging at the edge of the grey t-shirt hanging off his shoulder.
The worn-out fabric, overstretched by too many washes, reveals a portion of alabaster collarbone.
He looks half-asleep in a way that steals a /hiccup/ out of Chuuya’s heart.
Unruly curls kiss his neck, frizzing like waves under his earlobe and softening the sharp angles of the alpha’s face.
“‘Morning,” Dazai mumbles, running a hand through his already tousled fringe.
Unruly curls kiss his neck, frizzing like waves under his earlobe and softening the sharp angles of the alpha’s face.
“‘Morning,” Dazai mumbles, running a hand through his already tousled fringe.
/Adorable/.
Chuuya tilts his head towards a steaming cup of coffee on the table. “Morning. Breakfast’s ready.”
The alpha ignores it.
Instead he pads to Chuuya, draping himself over the omega’s shoulders. Chuuya throws his head back, against Dazai’s solid, /burning/ chest.
Chuuya tilts his head towards a steaming cup of coffee on the table. “Morning. Breakfast’s ready.”
The alpha ignores it.
Instead he pads to Chuuya, draping himself over the omega’s shoulders. Chuuya throws his head back, against Dazai’s solid, /burning/ chest.
“I’mmmm shleewepy, Chwibiiii~”
“In your own words, Mackerel,” Chuuya teases, letting the alpha nuzzle against his cheek. “Did you sleep well?”
“/Surprisingly/. Thank you for making breakfast.”
Chuuya /hmm/s. “You’re welcome.”
The gushing water fills his ears. He has to meet
“In your own words, Mackerel,” Chuuya teases, letting the alpha nuzzle against his cheek. “Did you sleep well?”
“/Surprisingly/. Thank you for making breakfast.”
Chuuya /hmm/s. “You’re welcome.”
The gushing water fills his ears. He has to meet
Kouyou in thirty, but he might
have waited around a little longer just to say good morning to Dazai.
“Going out so early?”
“Unlike you, I have things to do,” Chuuya says.
He can feel Dazai’s lips grazing his earlobe, his voice covering Chuuya like a blanket.
“Hm, /pity/.”
have waited around a little longer just to say good morning to Dazai.
“Going out so early?”
“Unlike you, I have things to do,” Chuuya says.
He can feel Dazai’s lips grazing his earlobe, his voice covering Chuuya like a blanket.
“Hm, /pity/.”
Chuuya only moves after closing the tap, dutifully placing the clean mug on the dish rack. He swirls in place, raising on his tippy-toes to brush his cheek against Dazai’s neck.
The alpha lets out a deep noise from the back of his throat, gently tugging Chuuya’s face closer
The alpha lets out a deep noise from the back of his throat, gently tugging Chuuya’s face closer
into his skin, against his scent glands.
Dazai’s scent is uncomplicated, unlike his personality.
It’s salty ocean air and peppermint and new paper.
It opens Chuuya’s lungs, it makes him /breathe/.
Dazai’s scent is uncomplicated, unlike his personality.
It’s salty ocean air and peppermint and new paper.
It opens Chuuya’s lungs, it makes him /breathe/.
And the omega /does/ inhale it all in. He rests his lips against Dazai’s skin in a dry, butterfly-light kiss.
His warm breath ghosts over the alpha’s neck.
He can feel Dazai /shudder/ in anticipation.
Chuuya is not sure why scenting each other in the morning, rocking in the
His warm breath ghosts over the alpha’s neck.
He can feel Dazai /shudder/ in anticipation.
Chuuya is not sure why scenting each other in the morning, rocking in the
other’s presence, became a daily /ritual/ — but he’s not complaining either.
What he /knows/ is that the proximity, the slow touches, the scents mixing are a calming magic over both of them.
The thing is—
Once he allowed himself to /touch/ Dazai, Chuuya never managed to stop.
What he /knows/ is that the proximity, the slow touches, the scents mixing are a calming magic over both of them.
The thing is—
Once he allowed himself to /touch/ Dazai, Chuuya never managed to stop.
Chuuya’s not sure how far they can go before crushing right into his little problem, but it’s getting harder to /care/ with every day they live together.
He’s still musing over it when Dazai gently kisses his forehead and pushes away, reaching for the kitchen table.
He’s still musing over it when Dazai gently kisses his forehead and pushes away, reaching for the kitchen table.
He sits on the empty chair in front of the coffee Chuuya prepared for him.
Milk, two sugars, and an /acceptable/ amount of caffeine.
“Chuuya’s an angel,” the alpha hums under his breath.
Chuuya snorts.
“Yeah, Chuuya’s a goddamn angel,” he says. “How’s your schedule today?”
Milk, two sugars, and an /acceptable/ amount of caffeine.
“Chuuya’s an angel,” the alpha hums under his breath.
Chuuya snorts.
“Yeah, Chuuya’s a goddamn angel,” he says. “How’s your schedule today?”
Dazai wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Hideous,” he growls. “Back-to-back classes. And I’ll swing by the library, so I might not be able to see you and Baby Vamp at the cafe. The lovely library lady threatened me that if I don’t return my overdue books, she’ll give me a smack.”
“The books for the Realism assignment? You /still/ have to return them?”
“I /forgot/,” Dazai whines, like the big baby he is.
Chuuya clicks his tongue. “For three weeks? Do you have /no/ respect?”
“Nah,” Dazai sing-songs, looking way too pleased with his answer.
“I /forgot/,” Dazai whines, like the big baby he is.
Chuuya clicks his tongue. “For three weeks? Do you have /no/ respect?”
“Nah,” Dazai sing-songs, looking way too pleased with his answer.
“You fucking deserve that smack, Mackerel,” Chuuya says.
Dazai’s long fingers wrap around the mug. He ponders over the comment, then he seems to /brush it off/.
Instead, the brunet tilts his head to the side.
“When do you start your shift?”
Chuuya shrugs the question away.
Dazai’s long fingers wrap around the mug. He ponders over the comment, then he seems to /brush it off/.
Instead, the brunet tilts his head to the side.
“When do you start your shift?”
Chuuya shrugs the question away.
“Noon. But I’m meeting my sister for breakfast like… now.”
Dazai’s head perks up, an interested light sparkling in the depth of his golden-brown eyes, but he doesn’t comment and Chuuya doesn’t articulate.
He likes Dazai, but he’s not ready to introduce a new alpha to Kouyou.
Dazai’s head perks up, an interested light sparkling in the depth of his golden-brown eyes, but he doesn’t comment and Chuuya doesn’t articulate.
He likes Dazai, but he’s not ready to introduce a new alpha to Kouyou.
“Where are you going?”
“Tsukiyoka, I think? The pictures on socials are good.”
“I see.”
The alpha drawls it out as if looking for Instagram reviews of coffeeshops is /absurd/, but Chuuya ignores him.
Dazai is just being /petty/ to have some extra attention.
“Tsukiyoka, I think? The pictures on socials are good.”
“I see.”
The alpha drawls it out as if looking for Instagram reviews of coffeeshops is /absurd/, but Chuuya ignores him.
Dazai is just being /petty/ to have some extra attention.
Which works… usually.
Today, though, Chuuya glances at the time on his phone and realizes he’s /wildly/ late.
/Shit./
“Anyway, I’ll see you after I close?” He says, padding across the living room and to the genkan. “I was thinking we should go grocery shopping later.”
Today, though, Chuuya glances at the time on his phone and realizes he’s /wildly/ late.
/Shit./
“Anyway, I’ll see you after I close?” He says, padding across the living room and to the genkan. “I was thinking we should go grocery shopping later.”
Dazai’s still petting the mug as an impish grin spreads over his lips. “Someone needs help to reach the wine shelf~”
/Well, that’s not exactly wrong./
“No, I need to buy /real/ food other than your canned shit and the sake that comes from fucks know where,” Chuuya grumbles,
/Well, that’s not exactly wrong./
“No, I need to buy /real/ food other than your canned shit and the sake that comes from fucks know where,” Chuuya grumbles,
grabbing his key and cards and shoving them in his black jeans’ pockets.
He catches Dazai staring at his ass, but only shoots the alpha a grin — his blood singing with something akin to /gratification/.
Dazai hmms, still distracted.
“And why does Chuuya need me, then?”
He catches Dazai staring at his ass, but only shoots the alpha a grin — his blood singing with something akin to /gratification/.
Dazai hmms, still distracted.
“And why does Chuuya need me, then?”
“Because it’ll be food you’ll actually eat for a change, ‘Samu, so you’re coming too.”
“That’s why Chibi bought so many Tupperware containers? And here I thought it was just compulsive buying.”
“Very funny. Those are for the leftovers /we/ will eat.”
Dazai’s eyebrows jumps up
“That’s why Chibi bought so many Tupperware containers? And here I thought it was just compulsive buying.”
“Very funny. Those are for the leftovers /we/ will eat.”
Dazai’s eyebrows jumps up
“I’m sorry, /we/?” He echoes, sarcasm dripping from the question. “Do we have guests? You and who…?”
“/You/, genius.”
“Yep, not gonna happen.”
Chuuya scowls.
Seriously, now? He doesn’t have time for this.
“Osamu. You /have/ to eat real food.”
“But I don’t like real food~”
“/You/, genius.”
“Yep, not gonna happen.”
Chuuya scowls.
Seriously, now? He doesn’t have time for this.
“Osamu. You /have/ to eat real food.”
“But I don’t like real food~”
The dragged-out protest might not make much sense to most people, but it /does/ to those who know Dazai.
Eating is a chore, for the alpha. He never listens to his body, or downright refuses to do so.
His taste leans towards canned crab and sweets.
His appetite, inexistent.
Eating is a chore, for the alpha. He never listens to his body, or downright refuses to do so.
His taste leans towards canned crab and sweets.
His appetite, inexistent.
Chuuya’s crusade to prove to the brunet that he /does/ like healthy food — he just never cared enough to cook something decent — recently encountered some difficulties, but he’s determined to prove his point.
Because Dazai is stubborn—
too bad Chuuya is downright /mulish/.
Because Dazai is stubborn—
too bad Chuuya is downright /mulish/.
“Come on, be a big alpha.” The omega says as he reaches for his leather jacket in the coat rack. “I gotta run now, but I’ll see you later?”
In lieu of a proper answer Dazai cocks his head to the side a little, throwing him a glance full of expectation.
Chuuya rolls his eyes.
In lieu of a proper answer Dazai cocks his head to the side a little, throwing him a glance full of expectation.
Chuuya rolls his eyes.
Because here’s the thing about Dazai: he gets /needy and lazy/ in the morning, once he actually gets a full night of sleep.
The alpha likes to act high and mighty, but he will turn into a big, spoiled baby until the daily dose of caffeine kicks in.
But Chuuya doesn’t mind.
The alpha likes to act high and mighty, but he will turn into a big, spoiled baby until the daily dose of caffeine kicks in.
But Chuuya doesn’t mind.
He actually /likes/ this side of Dazai, which resonates with the most protective part of his inner omega.
So Chuuya dutifully walks back to the kitchen table, to where Dazai is /waiting/ for him, and lets the alpha reach for his cheek.
The caress is /delicate/, featherlight.
So Chuuya dutifully walks back to the kitchen table, to where Dazai is /waiting/ for him, and lets the alpha reach for his cheek.
The caress is /delicate/, featherlight.
The moment their skin touches, ripples of electricity crawl up Chuuya’s limbs.
He has to bite back a beam, a stupidly in love one.
“I’m bullied. Chuuya wants me to eat shitty food and then leaves me alone.” Dazai pouts, boyishly and only half-joking. “That’s /mean/, y’know?”
He has to bite back a beam, a stupidly in love one.
“I’m bullied. Chuuya wants me to eat shitty food and then leaves me alone.” Dazai pouts, boyishly and only half-joking. “That’s /mean/, y’know?”
“I’ll kiss you only if you promise to eat whatever I cook.”
“/Hm/. I can /try/,” Dazai drawls, mischief shining in his eyes as he tilts his chin up to redeem his well-earned kiss.
“Good boy,” Chuuya whispers.
He has barely the time to murmur the praise before their lips meet
“/Hm/. I can /try/,” Dazai drawls, mischief shining in his eyes as he tilts his chin up to redeem his well-earned kiss.
“Good boy,” Chuuya whispers.
He has barely the time to murmur the praise before their lips meet
halfway, but it still /resonates/ between them.
It’s husky and sensual and /endearing/, lost into the space between them and swallowed into the kiss.
Want flickers down the omega’s body, gripping his stomach, as Dazai’s soft lips part ever so slightly under his mouth.
It’s husky and sensual and /endearing/, lost into the space between them and swallowed into the kiss.
Want flickers down the omega’s body, gripping his stomach, as Dazai’s soft lips part ever so slightly under his mouth.
With one hand Dazai is still holding the mug, but the other rests lightly on Chuuya’s hip as the alpha drives him in for a longer, much more /satisfying/ goodbye kiss.
Absently, Chuuya hums against Dazai’s lips.
He can taste coffee and sugar and /need/ on the alpha’s mouth.
Absently, Chuuya hums against Dazai’s lips.
He can taste coffee and sugar and /need/ on the alpha’s mouth.
Though he tries to ignore the latter, Chuuya /does/ thaw into the contact.
His fingers run through dark hair, combing through the soft locks.
“I /really/ need to go,” Chuuya says, though his entire body protests.
“I’ll see you later, Chibi,” the alpha murmurs, voice breathy.
His fingers run through dark hair, combing through the soft locks.
“I /really/ need to go,” Chuuya says, though his entire body protests.
“I’ll see you later, Chibi,” the alpha murmurs, voice breathy.
Chuuya can barely dig for a decent reply — something that’s not a starstruck /sigh/.
He can’t just /moan/ that he’ll see Dazai later, it would be incredibly embarrassing.
Unfortunately, his brain seems set on making him sound like a schoolgirl. And he’s sure he shouldn’t kiss
He can’t just /moan/ that he’ll see Dazai later, it would be incredibly embarrassing.
Unfortunately, his brain seems set on making him sound like a schoolgirl. And he’s sure he shouldn’t kiss
his roommate so frequently but, then again, he just can’t stop.
“Don’t be a menace,” he murmurs, hand still in Dazai’s hair. He tugs at it lightly, playfully.
The alpha smiles, smoothing the wrinkles on the front of Chuuya’s jacket.
“And where’s the fun in that?”
***
“Don’t be a menace,” he murmurs, hand still in Dazai’s hair. He tugs at it lightly, playfully.
The alpha smiles, smoothing the wrinkles on the front of Chuuya’s jacket.
“And where’s the fun in that?”
***
“Chuuya?”
Chuuya winces, dragged back to the cafe — to his sister’s glare studying him, part curious and part amused.
Kouyou’s mirth is honed as a blade, and it cuts right under his skin.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “You were saying?”
Wow, spacing out while fantasising about Dazai
Chuuya winces, dragged back to the cafe — to his sister’s glare studying him, part curious and part amused.
Kouyou’s mirth is honed as a blade, and it cuts right under his skin.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “You were saying?”
Wow, spacing out while fantasising about Dazai
That’s a new level of embarrassing.
The boy touches his cheek, checking the temperature to make sure he didn’t turn into a blushy mess.
“So, tell me about this new roommate of yours,” she prompts, with that calibrated nonchalance that Chuuya has /learned/ to read through.
The boy touches his cheek, checking the temperature to make sure he didn’t turn into a blushy mess.
“So, tell me about this new roommate of yours,” she prompts, with that calibrated nonchalance that Chuuya has /learned/ to read through.
When she talks like this, slow and poised and with direct questions that only seem innocent, his sister is /fishing for intel/.
He’s still convinced that Kouyou could work for the yakuza. She could build a flourishing career out of her talent for /forcing/ informations out of
He’s still convinced that Kouyou could work for the yakuza. She could build a flourishing career out of her talent for /forcing/ informations out of
people with her polite, delicate ways.
Though Chuuya can’t really be too mad about it when it’s for his /own good/.
“Well, Dazai’s a cool person. He’s smart. Like, real smart,” is the first thing that comes to Chuuya’s mind. “He’s a lit student. Good family, normal life.”
Though Chuuya can’t really be too mad about it when it’s for his /own good/.
“Well, Dazai’s a cool person. He’s smart. Like, real smart,” is the first thing that comes to Chuuya’s mind. “He’s a lit student. Good family, normal life.”
The last one is a white lie, but does he want his mother snooping her nose in their business? Nah.
“Is he cute?”
Chuuya almost chokes on his cappuccino. “Ane-San!”
“You’re blushing, dear,” Kouyou just says, voice monotone.
And the worst thing is, /she’s right/.
“Is he cute?”
Chuuya almost chokes on his cappuccino. “Ane-San!”
“You’re blushing, dear,” Kouyou just says, voice monotone.
And the worst thing is, /she’s right/.
“Shut up,” he mumbles, trying to find the words to let Kouyou /visualize/ Dazai.
The alpha is handsome, though he is /hard/ to describe.
He’s tall, and willowy, and often hunched over whatever book he’s skimming through, but Chuuya wouldn’t describe him as /big/.
The alpha is handsome, though he is /hard/ to describe.
He’s tall, and willowy, and often hunched over whatever book he’s skimming through, but Chuuya wouldn’t describe him as /big/.
Way too often, his tall frame disappears in the background.
Sometimes, he seems to disappear in his own thoughts.
Yes, he’s much taller than Chuuya — lean, long fingers and limbs — but he’s not /well-rooted/ on the ground.
He’s not someone that Chuuya would define as solid.
Sometimes, he seems to disappear in his own thoughts.
Yes, he’s much taller than Chuuya — lean, long fingers and limbs — but he’s not /well-rooted/ on the ground.
He’s not someone that Chuuya would define as solid.
“He’s fine,” he compromises, eventually.
Kouyou glares at him, then lifts the cup to her lips. Her eyelashes flicker as she drinks her tea.
“Since when you settle for /fine/?”
“/I/ don’t have to be /fine/ with anything. Dazai’s just a friend.”
Kouyou squints. “Is he, huh.”
Kouyou glares at him, then lifts the cup to her lips. Her eyelashes flicker as she drinks her tea.
“Since when you settle for /fine/?”
“/I/ don’t have to be /fine/ with anything. Dazai’s just a friend.”
Kouyou squints. “Is he, huh.”
“We’re friends,” he repeats, the word choking him.
“Then /why/ do you have an alpha’s — your roommate, I’m assuming — scent all over you?”
Ah, shit.
He runs his fingers through his hair.
He’s not lying, in theory. They’re not /just/ friends, but they’re nothing more either.
“Then /why/ do you have an alpha’s — your roommate, I’m assuming — scent all over you?”
Ah, shit.
He runs his fingers through his hair.
He’s not lying, in theory. They’re not /just/ friends, but they’re nothing more either.
“Chuuya,” Kouyou begins, tenderly. Her hand reaches forward, long fingers covering Chuuya’s knuckles.
“You’re my /only/ baby brother. You said no more alphas, and frankly— it was a /smart/ decision.
I don’t know what changed with this boy, and I’d like to understand.
“You’re my /only/ baby brother. You said no more alphas, and frankly— it was a /smart/ decision.
I don’t know what changed with this boy, and I’d like to understand.
But you are /living/ with this person too, and I just want to know that you are being /safe/.”
“I /am/—“
A shadow passes through Kouyou’s face, hardening her delicate features. “He didn’t pressure you into something you didn’t want to do, did he?”
“No!”
“I /am/—“
A shadow passes through Kouyou’s face, hardening her delicate features. “He didn’t pressure you into something you didn’t want to do, did he?”
“No!”
Kouyou flinches under the reaction — it’s one second, her composure regained in the blink of an eye.
“Are you /sure/?”
“Yes!.”
“…Do I have to call mum? Uncle Paul?”
““/Ane-San/,” he begs, vaguely strangled. The rest rolls out of his mouth /unguarded/. “I /like/ him.”
“Are you /sure/?”
“Yes!.”
“…Do I have to call mum? Uncle Paul?”
““/Ane-San/,” he begs, vaguely strangled. The rest rolls out of his mouth /unguarded/. “I /like/ him.”
And— this was uncalled for. He just said they were /friends/.
Akutagawa is wrong.
He’s not a Taurus or a Leo Rising, he’s a whole /circus/ of clowns.
Kouyou stares at him, eyes roaming over his face, lips pressed in a thin line.
The omega has to remind himself that she’s just
Akutagawa is wrong.
He’s not a Taurus or a Leo Rising, he’s a whole /circus/ of clowns.
Kouyou stares at him, eyes roaming over his face, lips pressed in a thin line.
The omega has to remind himself that she’s just
looking out for him, but emboldening himself to admit that he’s be falling fast and hard in love is /difficult/.
Dazai is not coaxing him into anything, but… but Chuuya /did/ fall for him despite his better judgement. He did try to stop himself, and crumbled the moment Dazai
Dazai is not coaxing him into anything, but… but Chuuya /did/ fall for him despite his better judgement. He did try to stop himself, and crumbled the moment Dazai
looked at him with tears at the corners of his eyes and asked to kiss him.
What does it say about him?
What will it say about him when Dazai inevitably leaves?
“Ok, /ok/, I lied,” he says, voice gruff. “I’m an idiot for him. Gone. It might be—“ Ugh. “Love. This time. I guess”
What does it say about him?
What will it say about him when Dazai inevitably leaves?
“Ok, /ok/, I lied,” he says, voice gruff. “I’m an idiot for him. Gone. It might be—“ Ugh. “Love. This time. I guess”
Kouyou’s shoulders straighten up. Her expression hardens, and Chuuya feels like a /prey/.
His cheeks burn.
She stares at him from across the table.
“Seriously?”, she seems to say.
And, honestly, flushed and squirming in place, Chuuya is asking himself the same damn thing.
His cheeks burn.
She stares at him from across the table.
“Seriously?”, she seems to say.
And, honestly, flushed and squirming in place, Chuuya is asking himself the same damn thing.
“Chuuya,” Kouyou finally drawls, eyes narrowed into slits. “I thought you would be talking me through your new house, not your new /boyfriend/.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Chuuya hums. /Yet/, a treacherous voice provides. He pushes it in a corner. “It’s— complicated. You know it.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Chuuya hums. /Yet/, a treacherous voice provides. He pushes it in a corner. “It’s— complicated. You know it.”
“Have you talked to him about your heats yet?”
“No.”
/And I have no intention to, not anytime soon./
Silence hangs between them.
His sister tilts her head, eyebrows jumping up. Chuuya barely manages to hold her gaze out of panic and sheer stubbornness.
Then Kouyou lets
“No.”
/And I have no intention to, not anytime soon./
Silence hangs between them.
His sister tilts her head, eyebrows jumping up. Chuuya barely manages to hold her gaze out of panic and sheer stubbornness.
Then Kouyou lets
out a /sigh/, dropping her head in a way Chuuya decides is a little too dramatic.
She shows him her open palm, opening and closing her manicured fingers as if Chuuya is supposed to hand her something.
His dignity, he supposes.
“…Do you /at least/ have a picture?”
/Oh/.
She shows him her open palm, opening and closing her manicured fingers as if Chuuya is supposed to hand her something.
His dignity, he supposes.
“…Do you /at least/ have a picture?”
/Oh/.
“Do I /have/ to?” He protests, weakly, though he still fishes for his phone and scrolls through the pictures.
“Come on, don’t be so defensive,” she tuts back.
Gosh, she’s having too much fun with it.
“I’m not,” he mumbles.
Her grin is /sharp/. “Then just show me.”
“Come on, don’t be so defensive,” she tuts back.
Gosh, she’s having too much fun with it.
“I’m not,” he mumbles.
Her grin is /sharp/. “Then just show me.”
The first picture Chuuya finds is of Dazai sound asleep on the couch.
He looks like an angel from a Raphael painting.
His lips are parted and his hair a dark halo spread across the pillow. His hands are hidden up tot the knee by the crop jumper with a chick emoji Chuuya bought
He looks like an angel from a Raphael painting.
His lips are parted and his hair a dark halo spread across the pillow. His hands are hidden up tot the knee by the crop jumper with a chick emoji Chuuya bought
him right after he decided to move in.
It’s— /intimate/.
Too intimate.
So Chuuya swipes to the next image, shuffling through the pictures and picking one of he and Dazai that Akutagawa took at the cafe.
This one is /definitely/ a safer choice.
It’s— /intimate/.
Too intimate.
So Chuuya swipes to the next image, shuffling through the pictures and picking one of he and Dazai that Akutagawa took at the cafe.
This one is /definitely/ a safer choice.
They were bantering, and Ryu (the traitor!) said he just /had/ to capture it in 4K for their future wedding.
/Or/ for the funeral if they ended up killing each other.
Chuuya hands Kouyou the phone, and her dark eyes glimmer with interest and expectation.
“Be kind,” he growls.
/Or/ for the funeral if they ended up killing each other.
Chuuya hands Kouyou the phone, and her dark eyes glimmer with interest and expectation.
“Be kind,” he growls.
“Unlikely,” the girl beams, accepting the device with barely contained enthusiasm. “/Ah/,” she says, though. She sounds surprised.
Which… is /not/ the reaction Chuuya expected.
Kouyou stares at the screen, lips twitching up. Her shoulders tremble.
Wait—
Is she laughing?
Which… is /not/ the reaction Chuuya expected.
Kouyou stares at the screen, lips twitching up. Her shoulders tremble.
Wait—
Is she laughing?
“What?” he snaps.
His sister lets out a delicate — but unmissable — chuckle.
“He’s tall.”
Chuuya’s eyebrows jumps up. “Trust me, he loves to remind me.”
“And cute.” She hesitates. “But—“
Here goes nothing.
Chuuya /knew/ there was going to be a ‘but,’ sooner than later.
His sister lets out a delicate — but unmissable — chuckle.
“He’s tall.”
Chuuya’s eyebrows jumps up. “Trust me, he loves to remind me.”
“And cute.” She hesitates. “But—“
Here goes nothing.
Chuuya /knew/ there was going to be a ‘but,’ sooner than later.
“But?” he prompts, voice dropping.
“/But/ side by side, you look like the baby alien and tall guy from Star Wars.”
“Ane-San!” He cries, launching himself over the table to steal back his phone.
Unfazed, Kouyou stretches her arm, lifting the object /way/ out of Chuuya’s reach.
“/But/ side by side, you look like the baby alien and tall guy from Star Wars.”
“Ane-San!” He cries, launching himself over the table to steal back his phone.
Unfazed, Kouyou stretches her arm, lifting the object /way/ out of Chuuya’s reach.
“I’m joking,” she says, though she doesn’t sound sorry in the slightest. “Calm down.”
Dropping back on the chair, Chuuya pouts.
His sister is telling him that he looks like an alien. Dazai is tall and cute and whatever, while he’s a tiny, cooing /monster/.
How is that fair?
Dropping back on the chair, Chuuya pouts.
His sister is telling him that he looks like an alien. Dazai is tall and cute and whatever, while he’s a tiny, cooing /monster/.
How is that fair?
It must be a violation of sibling code.
Clearly, this is Yosano’s fault for dragging Kouyou in a Disney marathon. However, Chuuya loves his future sister-in-law too much to hold her accountable for Kouyou’s /bullying/.
Although—
Clearly, this is Yosano’s fault for dragging Kouyou in a Disney marathon. However, Chuuya loves his future sister-in-law too much to hold her accountable for Kouyou’s /bullying/.
Although—
Chuuya tries not to think too much of it, but Kouyou /never/ praised one of his crushes before.
Quietly, Kouyou hands him back the phone. The thin line of her lips betrays nothing.
“Very well,” she says, voice leveled. “Just let me know if you ever need a shovel to bury him.”
Quietly, Kouyou hands him back the phone. The thin line of her lips betrays nothing.
“Very well,” she says, voice leveled. “Just let me know if you ever need a shovel to bury him.”
Chuuya smiles indulgently, reaching for his mug. “Terrorizing three of my exes wasn’t enough?”
“Four,” Kouyou reminds him. “That Mishima guy?”
Chiusa grimaces, letting out a ‘ugh’.
He /forgot/ about Mishima. Trauma, most likely.
They used to date in high school, and it was
“Four,” Kouyou reminds him. “That Mishima guy?”
Chiusa grimaces, letting out a ‘ugh’.
He /forgot/ about Mishima. Trauma, most likely.
They used to date in high school, and it was
the last of a long series of bad decisions.
One night, Mishima sent him a text saying, ‘thinking about knotting your pretty ass, babe.’
Which was a /nice/ thing to do, right?
Unexpected, since they were on a date and Mishima just excused himself to go to the toilet, but hot.
One night, Mishima sent him a text saying, ‘thinking about knotting your pretty ass, babe.’
Which was a /nice/ thing to do, right?
Unexpected, since they were on a date and Mishima just excused himself to go to the toilet, but hot.
Then Chuuya’s phone pinged /again/.
‘Dinner w/ family is 💀 5 minutes and I’ll be at your house 🔥’
Too bad they were on a /first anniversary date/, not a fucking dinner with family.
And those texts were /definitely/ not meant for Chuuya.
‘Dinner w/ family is 💀 5 minutes and I’ll be at your house 🔥’
Too bad they were on a /first anniversary date/, not a fucking dinner with family.
And those texts were /definitely/ not meant for Chuuya.
In hindsight, Mishima wasn’t the smartest person around, no. He wasn’t even a /good/ person.
Chuuya would have been /wasted/ with him.
And, eventually, he realized deserved so much more.
He knew it, he /knew/ he owed to himself to get rid of the vermin like Mishima, but—
Chuuya would have been /wasted/ with him.
And, eventually, he realized deserved so much more.
He knew it, he /knew/ he owed to himself to get rid of the vermin like Mishima, but—
But holding the proof of /yet another/ boyfriend cheating on him, pretending to be /cool/ with his situation and using rut as an excuse to sleep around— it burned.
It hurt.
He remembers Kouyou — captain of the archery club, at the time — cocking an arrow in Mishima’s direction
It hurt.
He remembers Kouyou — captain of the archery club, at the time — cocking an arrow in Mishima’s direction
and /demanding/ an apology for Chuuya’s sake.
That part was definitely worth the ache.
“That one was tragic,” Chuuya says, though, smiling against the rim of his mug. The cappuccino’s foam tickles his upper lip, sweet an airy.
It’s /good/ that he can laugh about it, now.
That part was definitely worth the ache.
“That one was tragic,” Chuuya says, though, smiling against the rim of his mug. The cappuccino’s foam tickles his upper lip, sweet an airy.
It’s /good/ that he can laugh about it, now.
He didn’t let those people destroy him.
He’s still human, he’s still falling in love; hoping.
He’s cautious, but he’s /healing/.
Kouyou nods. “Yeah, that’s what I tried to tell you too, dear. Your radar is horrible.”
Chuuya smirks. “Guess I learned from uncle Arthur.”
He’s still human, he’s still falling in love; hoping.
He’s cautious, but he’s /healing/.
Kouyou nods. “Yeah, that’s what I tried to tell you too, dear. Your radar is horrible.”
Chuuya smirks. “Guess I learned from uncle Arthur.”
“/Very/ true,” she hums, bobbing her head in agreement. “So… you’re happy?”
The concern in her voice paints a fleeting smile on Chuuya’s lips.
“I am,” he says.
And, for once, he wants to be right.
“Just remember you can always come home. /And/ call me if this guy fucks up.”
The concern in her voice paints a fleeting smile on Chuuya’s lips.
“I am,” he says.
And, for once, he wants to be right.
“Just remember you can always come home. /And/ call me if this guy fucks up.”
Chuuya rolls his eyes. “Yep, thanks.”
“I’ll ask Akiko to help, too”
For some reason, though, Chuuya’s mind flies back to Dazai’s sleeping face, to his touch and kisses.
To his brattiness when he doesn’t get enough attention and his ridiculous coffee orders.
His heart /sings/
“I’ll ask Akiko to help, too”
For some reason, though, Chuuya’s mind flies back to Dazai’s sleeping face, to his touch and kisses.
To his brattiness when he doesn’t get enough attention and his ridiculous coffee orders.
His heart /sings/
“Yeah…” he smiles. “Maybe don’t.”
// I hope there won’t be need for that. Because Dazai *feels* like the right one.
Please, *please*, let him be the one.//
—
After a few weeks of living together Dazai has come to the conclusion that he is, indeed, in love with Chuuya.
// I hope there won’t be need for that. Because Dazai *feels* like the right one.
Please, *please*, let him be the one.//
—
After a few weeks of living together Dazai has come to the conclusion that he is, indeed, in love with Chuuya.
The omega isn’t only pretty, and smart, and /nice/— he is a /good person/, the kind of human being Odasaku looks up to.
He’s perfect all-round.
‘Aren’t you idolizing this guy?’, Ango asked one night, at Lupin.
Dazai waved the comment away.
‘You don’t know him,’ he said.
He’s perfect all-round.
‘Aren’t you idolizing this guy?’, Ango asked one night, at Lupin.
Dazai waved the comment away.
‘You don’t know him,’ he said.
Odasaku didn’t add anything to the conversation, back then, but Dazai /knows/.
He knows Odasaku will just love the Chibikko, once they finally meet.
Because, if Odasaku is everything Dazai aspires to be, Chuuya personifies everything he desperately needs to /own/.
He knows Odasaku will just love the Chibikko, once they finally meet.
Because, if Odasaku is everything Dazai aspires to be, Chuuya personifies everything he desperately needs to /own/.
And maybe in another life Dazai would have hated the omega — that visceral hatred that comes from the incendiary mix of jealousy and sexual tension, like being cut from the same material and yet /so/ far apart — but…
In /this/ universe, the only one Dazai is allowed to know?
In /this/ universe, the only one Dazai is allowed to know?
God, he is /pulled/ towards Chuuya every waking moment.
The thing is, he’s in love for the first time and it’s /marvelous/ and scary and out of control.
“Ah! Do you mind if we sit for a while?” Chuuya asks, pointing at one of the benches that punctuate the promenade. They are
The thing is, he’s in love for the first time and it’s /marvelous/ and scary and out of control.
“Ah! Do you mind if we sit for a while?” Chuuya asks, pointing at one of the benches that punctuate the promenade. They are
luckier than most, Dazai supposes, because the road from their house to the closest mini-market is breathtaking.
The pedestrian boulevard skirts the ocean, offering a first-class view of the sun sinking into the sea.
He never noticed, because he never went grocery shopping. He
The pedestrian boulevard skirts the ocean, offering a first-class view of the sun sinking into the sea.
He never noticed, because he never went grocery shopping. He
never bought food if not on his way home from Lupin, and never sober.
Now he’s discovering beauty in things that had always been right under his nose.
He pads after Chuuya, sitting on the bench and carefully accommodating the plastic bag between his feet. The redhead flashes
Now he’s discovering beauty in things that had always been right under his nose.
He pads after Chuuya, sitting on the bench and carefully accommodating the plastic bag between his feet. The redhead flashes
him a smirk.
Thousand golden ripples from the ocean reflect in his eyes, and Dazai’s heart stutters.”
“It wasn’t so bad, huh?”
Dazai twists his nose.
“It was awful,” he whines, making the other frown.
“Why?”
“Chuuya made me pay!”
“Hah?! ‘Cause I paid last time, asshole!”
Thousand golden ripples from the ocean reflect in his eyes, and Dazai’s heart stutters.”
“It wasn’t so bad, huh?”
Dazai twists his nose.
“It was awful,” he whines, making the other frown.
“Why?”
“Chuuya made me pay!”
“Hah?! ‘Cause I paid last time, asshole!”
Not that Dazai /knew/ it, since he just helped himself to a fridge that magically spawned food.
“Oh? Did you?” The alpha grins, eyes shining with mischief. “But, you see, I don’t remember! So I’m my mind, it never happened.”
“W— I’m gonna fucking drown you.”
“That’s violent~”
“Oh? Did you?” The alpha grins, eyes shining with mischief. “But, you see, I don’t remember! So I’m my mind, it never happened.”
“W— I’m gonna fucking drown you.”
“That’s violent~”
“Your /death/ is gonna to be violent if you don’t stop being an idiot,” Chuuya growls.
Now, Dazai met /several/ feisty omegas in his life, but no one has been as petty and adorable as Chuuya.
How can he ask Dazai to stop poking fun at him, when he’s so /easy/ to rile up?
Now, Dazai met /several/ feisty omegas in his life, but no one has been as petty and adorable as Chuuya.
How can he ask Dazai to stop poking fun at him, when he’s so /easy/ to rile up?
“Don’t be dramatic, now~ remember what Akutagawa says about your Leo Rising~”
On cue, Chuuya rolls his eyes to the sky.
“Can you /not/ remind me?! The only Leo I want is DiCaprio.”
Dazai pouts, brown irises turning dark. “Ugh, seriously? Chibi’s taste is so ugly and tacky~”
On cue, Chuuya rolls his eyes to the sky.
“Can you /not/ remind me?! The only Leo I want is DiCaprio.”
Dazai pouts, brown irises turning dark. “Ugh, seriously? Chibi’s taste is so ugly and tacky~”
Chuuya stares at him, almost searching for an answer.
“Well, I’m friends with you. Of course there’s something wrong with my taste in people,” he says, deadpan.
The word sinks in Dazai like a stone.
It’s a heavy word, /friend/.
He cannot remember when it was enough.
“Well, I’m friends with you. Of course there’s something wrong with my taste in people,” he says, deadpan.
The word sinks in Dazai like a stone.
It’s a heavy word, /friend/.
He cannot remember when it was enough.
“Are you seriously going to be a dick about my celebrity crush?”Chuuya nudges him, playfully, poking a sharp elbow in between Dazai’s ribs.
The brunet flinches.
“He’s overrated.”
“You’re /jealous/.”
The alpha feels a pang in his chest.
Yes, he /is/ jealous of Chuuya.
The brunet flinches.
“He’s overrated.”
“You’re /jealous/.”
The alpha feels a pang in his chest.
Yes, he /is/ jealous of Chuuya.
He’s always been territorial, but this— with Chuuya, everything seems different. Amplified to the point it’s hard to keep his expression straight and his voice colorless.
“What if I /am/?” He volleys back.
He managed to keep his timbre leveled but his scent hardened, cold mint
“What if I /am/?” He volleys back.
He managed to keep his timbre leveled but his scent hardened, cold mint
taking over Chuuya’s scent still lingering on him.
From the way the omega’s eyes snap open and his lips part, he didn’t expect /that/ reply.
“That’s stupid,” he says.
“Maybe,” Dazai allows, carefully. “But I find myself being stupid around you.” He frowns. “In a /good/ way.”
From the way the omega’s eyes snap open and his lips part, he didn’t expect /that/ reply.
“That’s stupid,” he says.
“Maybe,” Dazai allows, carefully. “But I find myself being stupid around you.” He frowns. “In a /good/ way.”
“How can you b—“
“Because I like you, Chuuya, stop pretending you don’t /know/,” he hears himself interrupting.
It’s a little /harsher/ than he intended, but he’s also leaning forward and—
And Chuuya is /retreating/
The alpha knows he should stop when he sees Chuuya’s body
“Because I like you, Chuuya, stop pretending you don’t /know/,” he hears himself interrupting.
It’s a little /harsher/ than he intended, but he’s also leaning forward and—
And Chuuya is /retreating/
The alpha knows he should stop when he sees Chuuya’s body
turning stiff, and his eyes go from puzzled to /worried/, but the truth is spilling from his lips and he kept it down for too long.
“I know,” Chuuya hums.
Dazai would like to /scream/. Chuuya retreated into his shield and it’s like the fucking train station all over again.
“I know,” Chuuya hums.
Dazai would like to /scream/. Chuuya retreated into his shield and it’s like the fucking train station all over again.
Just, this time, Dazai tells himself he won’t let him go.
He has no idea how people say ‘hey, we should date!’ but he’s totally going to try his best.
Improv is key, right?
“And what do you…?” he asks, letting his voice trail off.
Chuuya looks /pained/ as he stares at him.
He has no idea how people say ‘hey, we should date!’ but he’s totally going to try his best.
Improv is key, right?
“And what do you…?” he asks, letting his voice trail off.
Chuuya looks /pained/ as he stares at him.
“I like you, obviously,” the omega murmurs, a little choked up. It does /not/ sound like a good thing.
“Then what’s stopping us?”
“Dazai—“
“What’s scaring you?” he pushes forward, voice strained by impatience.
“You don’t /understand/.”
Slowly, Dazai grabs Chuuya’s hand.
“Then what’s stopping us?”
“Dazai—“
“What’s scaring you?” he pushes forward, voice strained by impatience.
“You don’t /understand/.”
Slowly, Dazai grabs Chuuya’s hand.
His eyes are alert as he scans Chuuya’s face.
He’s been told that sometimes, under the right light, his irises turn honey-gold.
To be honest, Dazai only ever looked in the mirror and saw an inhuman red in the depth of his own eyes. But Odasaku said that, and he believes Odasaku
He’s been told that sometimes, under the right light, his irises turn honey-gold.
To be honest, Dazai only ever looked in the mirror and saw an inhuman red in the depth of his own eyes. But Odasaku said that, and he believes Odasaku
He squeezes the omega’s hand reassuringly.
“Then help me,” he whispers. He can feel Chuuya’s fingers twitch under his grip, but doesn’t let go. “Help me understand what you /need/, Chuuya. Talk to me.”
// Give me the instruments to give you *anything* you want. //
“Then help me,” he whispers. He can feel Chuuya’s fingers twitch under his grip, but doesn’t let go. “Help me understand what you /need/, Chuuya. Talk to me.”
// Give me the instruments to give you *anything* you want. //
Chuuya looks down; at his hands, at his shaky, tense knees.
At his fingers trapped in Dazai’s warm hold.
“I do like you,” he repeats. “A lot.”
The bench might as well have been pulled away from under Dazai, because he feels like he’s /falling/.
“Ok,” he murmurs.
At his fingers trapped in Dazai’s warm hold.
“I do like you,” he repeats. “A lot.”
The bench might as well have been pulled away from under Dazai, because he feels like he’s /falling/.
“Ok,” he murmurs.
“But I’ve been thinking, and— I don’t think this will work. You’re you, and I’m— /well/. I’m me.”
/Me/.
It sounds like there’s so much more to that word; a world of self-loathing.
“Why shouldn’t it work?”
“Because you’re too fucking nice, Dazai,” Chuuya snaps.
/Me/.
It sounds like there’s so much more to that word; a world of self-loathing.
“Why shouldn’t it work?”
“Because you’re too fucking nice, Dazai,” Chuuya snaps.
Dazai gawks, taken aback by how Chuuya’s voice turned into a barely contained roar.
“How is that a bad thing?”
“Because you’re hot and smart and I was talking to Ane-san as if you are my boyfriend, Dazai, but you’re /not/.
Shit, I don’t want you to be my fucking boyfriend.”
“How is that a bad thing?”
“Because you’re hot and smart and I was talking to Ane-san as if you are my boyfriend, Dazai, but you’re /not/.
Shit, I don’t want you to be my fucking boyfriend.”
That /stung/.
It keeps stinging, and Dazai’s ears ring as if they words just slapped him.
He lets go of Chuuya’s hand, and the redhead seems /crushed/ at the lack of contact but, /honestly/, he needs to stop with the mixed signals.
Because it’s ok if Chuuya doesn’t want him.
It keeps stinging, and Dazai’s ears ring as if they words just slapped him.
He lets go of Chuuya’s hand, and the redhead seems /crushed/ at the lack of contact but, /honestly/, he needs to stop with the mixed signals.
Because it’s ok if Chuuya doesn’t want him.
It’s fine, seriously.
But then /why/ did he kiss him? Why was he so intimate, so /affectionate/?
And part of Dazai feels absolutely /blindsided/, until he realizes that Chuuya’s eyes are glossy.
The awareness that Chuuya is on the verge of /crying/ dawns over the alpha,
But then /why/ did he kiss him? Why was he so intimate, so /affectionate/?
And part of Dazai feels absolutely /blindsided/, until he realizes that Chuuya’s eyes are glossy.
The awareness that Chuuya is on the verge of /crying/ dawns over the alpha,
stopping his mind.
An invisible hand hit the brakes of his heart, and the whiplash still hurts like a bitch.
He never meant to push Chuuya /this/ far.
“Chibi—“
“I don’t want you to grow tired of me.”
It’s a strangled whisper, yet it has the strength of a thunderclap.
An invisible hand hit the brakes of his heart, and the whiplash still hurts like a bitch.
He never meant to push Chuuya /this/ far.
“Chibi—“
“I don’t want you to grow tired of me.”
It’s a strangled whisper, yet it has the strength of a thunderclap.
“I won’t.”
“You /will/.” The redhead laughs softly, blinking tears. “I promise you will, because everybody else fucking did. And I fucking need a /martyr/ and—” He breathes in, and out, and Dazai wants to pull him into the tightest hug in the universe but his limbs are frozen in
“You /will/.” The redhead laughs softly, blinking tears. “I promise you will, because everybody else fucking did. And I fucking need a /martyr/ and—” He breathes in, and out, and Dazai wants to pull him into the tightest hug in the universe but his limbs are frozen in
place. “And I won’t ask you that.”
His eyebrows jump up in disbelief. It’s like fighting in the dark.
“I promised I wouldn’t leave you.”
“Hah, good fucking riddance. Let me tell you something, then; I had six boyfriends. You know how many lasted past my first heat?”
His eyebrows jump up in disbelief. It’s like fighting in the dark.
“I promised I wouldn’t leave you.”
“Hah, good fucking riddance. Let me tell you something, then; I had six boyfriends. You know how many lasted past my first heat?”
Slowly, Dazai shakes his head.
He dreads the answer, but there’s nothing as /heartbreaking/ as the broken resignation in Chuuya’s eyes.
“I don’t know.”
Chuuya’s lips twist into a smile — it’s ferocious, hurt.
“Zero,” he hissed. “They cheated on me, every single one of them.”
He dreads the answer, but there’s nothing as /heartbreaking/ as the broken resignation in Chuuya’s eyes.
“I don’t know.”
Chuuya’s lips twist into a smile — it’s ferocious, hurt.
“Zero,” he hissed. “They cheated on me, every single one of them.”
Dazai gapes.
“They /what/?”
There is not a single world in which he can imagine someone like /Chuuya/ being cheated on.
Still, the redhead shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“Yeah.” He lets out a bark of a laughter —pained, ashamed. “Most of my friends said I kinda asked for it.”
“They /what/?”
There is not a single world in which he can imagine someone like /Chuuya/ being cheated on.
Still, the redhead shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“Yeah.” He lets out a bark of a laughter —pained, ashamed. “Most of my friends said I kinda asked for it.”
Dazai’s jaw almost falls to the floor as his blood turns to ice. He’s familiar with this particular shade of self-hatred, but Chuuya—
Chuuya has /nothing/ to hate himself for.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he says, voice /low/.
“You say that now.”
“I’d say that /anytime/.”
Chuuya has /nothing/ to hate himself for.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he says, voice /low/.
“You say that now.”
“I’d say that /anytime/.”
“You don’t know that,” the omega fights back, voice hard.
And the worst thing is, he’s looking at Dazai like the alpha is /crazy/.
Like he can’t understand.
And perhaps Dazai won’t understand, but how can he even /try/ if Chuuya won’t tell him? Even the breeze from the ocean
And the worst thing is, he’s looking at Dazai like the alpha is /crazy/.
Like he can’t understand.
And perhaps Dazai won’t understand, but how can he even /try/ if Chuuya won’t tell him? Even the breeze from the ocean
seems colder, now. Sharper.
The salt in the air slaps Dazai’s skin.
“Chuuya, you’re finding excuses for some assholes—“
“I’m saying that I’m an omega who can’t take a /knot/, Dazai,” Chuuya says, voice /rising/. When it drops into a murmur, it’s eerie. “Here. Now you know.”
The salt in the air slaps Dazai’s skin.
“Chuuya, you’re finding excuses for some assholes—“
“I’m saying that I’m an omega who can’t take a /knot/, Dazai,” Chuuya says, voice /rising/. When it drops into a murmur, it’s eerie. “Here. Now you know.”
Dazai blinks.
“I don’t understand,” he admits.
It doesn’t sound like a good reason to hurt someone.
Yet, he would /lie/ if he said that he didn’t hear his dreams of spending future heats and ruts with Chuuya crack loudly at the revelation.
“Obviously.”
“So you can’t…?”
“I don’t understand,” he admits.
It doesn’t sound like a good reason to hurt someone.
Yet, he would /lie/ if he said that he didn’t hear his dreams of spending future heats and ruts with Chuuya crack loudly at the revelation.
“Obviously.”
“So you can’t…?”
Chuuya shudders.
“/Don’t/ ask, please.” The omega sniffles. “I don’t /know/ why, but sex is painful. And a nonexistent sex life is not exactly what you bargain for when you date an omega, yes?”
Yes. No.
/It depends/.
Dazai inhales, mulling over an answer.
He already decided.
“/Don’t/ ask, please.” The omega sniffles. “I don’t /know/ why, but sex is painful. And a nonexistent sex life is not exactly what you bargain for when you date an omega, yes?”
Yes. No.
/It depends/.
Dazai inhales, mulling over an answer.
He already decided.
“Chuuya,” he starts, then stops. He gnaws at his bottom lip, sinking his teeth in the soft flesh, trying to /figure out/ the better way to tackle the matter. “I—“
/Thank you for trusting me, but I genuinely don’t care./
It doesn’t matter and never will — at least to Dazai.
/Thank you for trusting me, but I genuinely don’t care./
It doesn’t matter and never will — at least to Dazai.
But it’s painfully clear that it /does/ matter to Chuuya, and that’s what makes this reply so damn difficult.
He just wishes the omega wouldn’t look as if he already decided for both of them.
Because he knows he has to tread lightly, but has no idea /how/. He never cared about
He just wishes the omega wouldn’t look as if he already decided for both of them.
Because he knows he has to tread lightly, but has no idea /how/. He never cared about
hurting someone’s feelings before.
The alpha breathes in the salty air before continuing, voice shaky:
“Ok. I don’t want to invalidate your feelings, but I—“
“No, I /understand/,” the redhead interrupts. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up in the first place.”
The alpha breathes in the salty air before continuing, voice shaky:
“Ok. I don’t want to invalidate your feelings, but I—“
“No, I /understand/,” the redhead interrupts. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up in the first place.”
And the way he says it is so /broken/, so /disenchanted/ and—
Shit.
Now there’s a lump of cotton in Dazai’s throat, and trying to talk around it /hurts/.
“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” he tries.
It comes out a little /desperate/.
Shit.
Now there’s a lump of cotton in Dazai’s throat, and trying to talk around it /hurts/.
“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” he tries.
It comes out a little /desperate/.
From the sad, watery smile Chuuya flashes him he knows he’s going about it the wrong way.
It sounds like he’s /dumping/ Chuuya when it’s the last thing on his mind.
“It’s ok. You deserve a true partner. Someone who will help you through your rut and give you pups, and—“
It sounds like he’s /dumping/ Chuuya when it’s the last thing on his mind.
“It’s ok. You deserve a true partner. Someone who will help you through your rut and give you pups, and—“
“I don’t give a damn about pups,” Dazai growls.
Adoption is a possibility, anyway. Not that Dazai ever wanted children anyway.
“/Still/,” Chuuya insists. “I like you and respect myself enough to spare both of us a relationship destined to fail.”
Adoption is a possibility, anyway. Not that Dazai ever wanted children anyway.
“/Still/,” Chuuya insists. “I like you and respect myself enough to spare both of us a relationship destined to fail.”
While he says that, the redhead’s lips stretch in a wider smile — one sharp and almost impersonal.
It’s a /shield/, not a smile.
A weapon.
And Chuuya’s eyes, ever so /open/ and kind and bright, look mildly terrifying now.
Inhuman, much like Dazai is used to see /himself/.
It’s a /shield/, not a smile.
A weapon.
And Chuuya’s eyes, ever so /open/ and kind and bright, look mildly terrifying now.
Inhuman, much like Dazai is used to see /himself/.
And the alpha really can understand /why/, but the knowledge that Chuuya doesn’t trust him to love him /regardless/ still jabs at him.
But Chuuya clearly had plenty of time to let himself be convinced that he’ll not be enough for anybody.
Certainly not for an alpha.
But Chuuya clearly had plenty of time to let himself be convinced that he’ll not be enough for anybody.
Certainly not for an alpha.
And he had /years/ to prepare this little monologue, because he’s not even /listening/ to Dazai.
He doesn’t care about what the alpha has to say, too scared of the answer, his walls too high and thick and built on pain.
And the thing is— pain accompanies Dazai’s life, it
He doesn’t care about what the alpha has to say, too scared of the answer, his walls too high and thick and built on pain.
And the thing is— pain accompanies Dazai’s life, it
often dictated its journey, but Chuuya?
Chuuya deserves so much better.
“I genuinely don’t care about /sex/,” he says, slowly. “Or the dynamics of it.”
Chuuya looks sturrbonly back at him.
“You say that now.”
“There are /ways/—“
In the moment Chuuya rolls his eyes, as if
Chuuya deserves so much better.
“I genuinely don’t care about /sex/,” he says, slowly. “Or the dynamics of it.”
Chuuya looks sturrbonly back at him.
“You say that now.”
“There are /ways/—“
In the moment Chuuya rolls his eyes, as if
he expected it, Dazai has the confirmation that the redhead tried this conversation in his head a hundred times.
“Yeah. Everybody said that, and then they all got /tired/ of trying to look for /ways/ and went to find a normal omega instead.”
“Chuuya, you /are/ normal.”
“Yeah. Everybody said that, and then they all got /tired/ of trying to look for /ways/ and went to find a normal omega instead.”
“Chuuya, you /are/ normal.”
The omega lets out a small, defensive chuckle.
That, and the following /reply/ almost make Dazai scream in frustration, tension sinking deep in his muscles.
“Yeah. Ask any of my exes how normal I am.”
“Are you seriously defending those assholes now?!” Dazai almost /bellows/.
That, and the following /reply/ almost make Dazai scream in frustration, tension sinking deep in his muscles.
“Yeah. Ask any of my exes how normal I am.”
“Are you seriously defending those assholes now?!” Dazai almost /bellows/.
“I’m not,” Chuuya hisses, as if the comment bit him. “But there are things and omega /should/ be able to do, Dazai.”
“Says who?” he rumbles, low as a thunderstorm. “And who the /hell/ cares anyway?”
And his voice is cold, dry — the opposite of the scorching feelings
“Says who?” he rumbles, low as a thunderstorm. “And who the /hell/ cares anyway?”
And his voice is cold, dry — the opposite of the scorching feelings
bubbling inside him, /burning/ him.
For some reason, it seems to ignite even more anger in Chuuya’s words.
His walls are cracked, his fake composure lost.
“So you could fucking sit here and promise me you’d stay with some kind of fucking factory waste, hah?”
For some reason, it seems to ignite even more anger in Chuuya’s words.
His walls are cracked, his fake composure lost.
“So you could fucking sit here and promise me you’d stay with some kind of fucking factory waste, hah?”
The moment Chuuya’s tone spikes, roared from his lungs, something in Dazai /snaps/.
“I /would/,” he screams back.
His own voice sounds unfamiliar to Dazai’s ears; he never raises it.
“I /love/ you. Of course I’d promise.”
Chuuya’s eyes grow wide, his mouth closes shut.
“I /would/,” he screams back.
His own voice sounds unfamiliar to Dazai’s ears; he never raises it.
“I /love/ you. Of course I’d promise.”
Chuuya’s eyes grow wide, his mouth closes shut.
A few people from other benches and from the promenade throw glances in their direction, but Dazai pretends not to notice.
He stares at the omega, who blinks like he’s just been slapped.
Slowly, Dazai swallows around the lump in his throat and reaches again for Chuuya’s hand.
He stares at the omega, who blinks like he’s just been slapped.
Slowly, Dazai swallows around the lump in his throat and reaches again for Chuuya’s hand.
The redhead doesn’t move, eyes wide and lips shaped in a ‘o’ of utter surprise.
(He looks like a stray, like a dog who experienced warmth and acceptance for the first time.
And, honestly—
no one should look /this/ surprised about being loved.)
“I love you,” Dazai says again.
(He looks like a stray, like a dog who experienced warmth and acceptance for the first time.
And, honestly—
no one should look /this/ surprised about being loved.)
“I love you,” Dazai says again.
It’s gentler, this time.
It takes all his courage and Chuuya grows very, very still under his fingers, but he goes on. He has to.
“And I really don’t /care/ about that, so stop putting words in my mouth.”
“But—“
He shakes his head, halting the redhead mid-sentence.
It takes all his courage and Chuuya grows very, very still under his fingers, but he goes on. He has to.
“And I really don’t /care/ about that, so stop putting words in my mouth.”
“But—“
He shakes his head, halting the redhead mid-sentence.
“Look— when I kissed you, I had no expectation at all,” he says. “But I’m not going to listen while you insult yourself. So don’t make me /command/ you to calm down, yeah?”
Chuuya flinches.
He blinks — once, twice, looking /lost/.
“…Yeah.” he murmurs. “Ok.”
“Breathe, Chibi.”
Chuuya flinches.
He blinks — once, twice, looking /lost/.
“…Yeah.” he murmurs. “Ok.”
“Breathe, Chibi.”
Chuuya frowns. His eyes are still glossy and his cheeks flushed, but at least his shoulders seem a little less tense now.
“Don’t command me.”
Dazai grins. “I won’t. I’m just suggesting.”
“Well, don’t /suggest/,” the omega growls.
“See? That’s the gremlin attitude I like~”
“Don’t command me.”
Dazai grins. “I won’t. I’m just suggesting.”
“Well, don’t /suggest/,” the omega growls.
“See? That’s the gremlin attitude I like~”
He’s sure he caught a /smile/, however weak, flash across Chuuya’s face.
“Shut up,” the omega hums. Still, he /does/ take a few deep breaths before speaking again. The auburn locks of his fringe cover his eyes. “I— sorry. This is /not/ how I thought this conversation would go.”
“Shut up,” the omega hums. Still, he /does/ take a few deep breaths before speaking again. The auburn locks of his fringe cover his eyes. “I— sorry. This is /not/ how I thought this conversation would go.”
/ There wasn’t going to be a *conversation* at all, in Chuuya’s plans. /
“/Clearly/,” Dazai hums, squeezing his hand.
Tentatively, Chuuya squeezes back. He leans in, softly bumping his head against Dazai’s chest.
“Thank you,” he hums.
“You have nothing to thank me for.”
“/Clearly/,” Dazai hums, squeezing his hand.
Tentatively, Chuuya squeezes back. He leans in, softly bumping his head against Dazai’s chest.
“Thank you,” he hums.
“You have nothing to thank me for.”
“I /do/,” Chuuya replies, his voice muffled by the breeze and by his face pressed against Dazai’s body. “Thank you for accepting me. And letting me talk.”
/You didn’t give me much of a chance,/ Dazai thinks to himself.
Instead, though, he circles his arms around Chuuya’s
/You didn’t give me much of a chance,/ Dazai thinks to himself.
Instead, though, he circles his arms around Chuuya’s
shoulders — /enveloping/ the omega in his warmth, in his scent. It channels the unspoken yet loud promise that he’s not going anywhere, no matter what.
He bends over the omega, brushing his cheek against the soft crown of Chuuya’s head.
“Of course. You can talk all you need.”
He bends over the omega, brushing his cheek against the soft crown of Chuuya’s head.
“Of course. You can talk all you need.”
“It’s just so not fucking /fair…” Chuuya’s voice trembles, dying out in a pitiful wheeze. “Ah, great, I’m crying now. Shit.” He sniffles. “That’s so lame.”
In response, Dazai just hugs him /tight/
“You’re going to ruin your mascara,” he says.
“Hah. Nice try, it’s waterproof.”
In response, Dazai just hugs him /tight/
“You’re going to ruin your mascara,” he says.
“Hah. Nice try, it’s waterproof.”
“Well, anyway, don’t clean your snot on my shirt,” he adds, voice light.
It’s his best attempt at clearing the air, and his heart flutters as he hears the feeble sound of Chuuya’s giggle.
“It’s a shitty shirt anyway.”
“Says the king of tacky clothes.”
“Shut up, Mackerel.”
It’s his best attempt at clearing the air, and his heart flutters as he hears the feeble sound of Chuuya’s giggle.
“It’s a shitty shirt anyway.”
“Says the king of tacky clothes.”
“Shut up, Mackerel.”
The remark lacks bite, but it’s enough Chuuya-esque to reassure Dazai about the redhead’s mental state.
As he keeps Chuuya close, diving his nose in the tousled, soft mass of the boy’s long hair, he tries to be for Chuuya that solid, reassuring presence Odasaku has always been
As he keeps Chuuya close, diving his nose in the tousled, soft mass of the boy’s long hair, he tries to be for Chuuya that solid, reassuring presence Odasaku has always been
For him.
He has a hunch Chuuya needs a friend, now — not only a boyfriend, but a /guardian/.
Someone he can lean on, rely on.
“I’m sorry.” God, the omega’s voice sounds so /small/. “This is embarrassing.”
“It’s ok, Chibi” Dazai whispers back, nose sunk in Chuuya’s hair.
He has a hunch Chuuya needs a friend, now — not only a boyfriend, but a /guardian/.
Someone he can lean on, rely on.
“I’m sorry.” God, the omega’s voice sounds so /small/. “This is embarrassing.”
“It’s ok, Chibi” Dazai whispers back, nose sunk in Chuuya’s hair.
It smells /sweet/, of vanilla shampoo and Chuuya’s scent. “It’s ok— you’re fine. I’m here.” He feels Chuuya’s shoulders /tremble/ before they drop, strengthless. “I’ll always be here for you.”
“So—“
“Hm?”
“Is this a good moment to say that I think I’m in love with you, too?”
“So—“
“Hm?”
“Is this a good moment to say that I think I’m in love with you, too?”
Dazai /beams/, and he’s /glad/ he’s sitting down because he fears for a second that his legs might give up.
He’ll take ‘*I think* I love you.’
He’ll take insecurity.
He’ll take every crumble of love Chuuya will give him, until he’s calmer and ready to have a conversation.
He’ll take ‘*I think* I love you.’
He’ll take insecurity.
He’ll take every crumble of love Chuuya will give him, until he’s calmer and ready to have a conversation.
“But—“ Chuuya continues, before Dazai can even /think/ of kissing the living breath out the redhead. “/But/ you have to promise me one thing.”
…Well, that sounds dreadful.
Dazai nods, slightly worried about what Chuuya is going to ask.
It surely doesn’t /sound/ like a good
…Well, that sounds dreadful.
Dazai nods, slightly worried about what Chuuya is going to ask.
It surely doesn’t /sound/ like a good
premise, and his knee-jerk reaction is to stop the redhead before he can speak and ruin the moment.
But that wouldn’t be /fair/ of Chuuya’s feelings, right?
So he forces himself to speak.
“Of course.”
“If it becomes too much, leave.”
/Don’t lie to me, ever; just let me go./
But that wouldn’t be /fair/ of Chuuya’s feelings, right?
So he forces himself to speak.
“Of course.”
“If it becomes too much, leave.”
/Don’t lie to me, ever; just let me go./
And Dazai would rather not say anything at all, because he never wants to leave - he never will - but he still bobs his head in silent agreement.
However, he also pulls away, freeing Chuuya from the embrace only to rest both his hands on the omega’s shoulders.
He searches for
However, he also pulls away, freeing Chuuya from the embrace only to rest both his hands on the omega’s shoulders.
He searches for
Chuuya’s eyes, for the glittery paths of tears on the boy’s cheeks.
The blue expanse of the ocean opens up in front of them /and/ in Chuuya’s eyes.
“I promise,” he says, just because Chuuya needs to hear it — because he wants the omega to feel safe.
It’s just a reassurance.
The blue expanse of the ocean opens up in front of them /and/ in Chuuya’s eyes.
“I promise,” he says, just because Chuuya needs to hear it — because he wants the omega to feel safe.
It’s just a reassurance.
But, as he leans in and cups Chuuya’s face and closes their distance, pressing their lips together in a kiss that is /ever/ so soft, he’s also saying no.
// No, I will never walk away.
What kind of idiot would I be? //
(But, in hindsight—
What kind of idiot /is/ he?)
—
// No, I will never walk away.
What kind of idiot would I be? //
(But, in hindsight—
What kind of idiot /is/ he?)
—
Much to chuuya’s surprise, Dazai eats real food without a single complaint that night.
When they get home — walking the rest of the promenade hand in hand, Dazai /whining/ when Chuuya has to let him go to fish for the apartment’s keys — Chuuya makes a beeline for the kitchen.
When they get home — walking the rest of the promenade hand in hand, Dazai /whining/ when Chuuya has to let him go to fish for the apartment’s keys — Chuuya makes a beeline for the kitchen.
He starts cooking while Dazai puts the groceries in the fridge and stores them in the pantry, the soft ambient music of an acoustic Spotify playlist filling the already easy silence.
It’s a /domestic/ scene, almost romantic in it’s movie-like simplicity, and Chuuya is not sure
It’s a /domestic/ scene, almost romantic in it’s movie-like simplicity, and Chuuya is not sure
he /deserves/ it— he’s not sure it’ll last.
He’ll make the most of it meanwhile.
He’ll remember Dazai humming softly to a song, arms stretched to store a pack of cookies on the shelves Chuuya can never reach.
He’ll remember the playful light in the alpha’s eyes when he glances
He’ll make the most of it meanwhile.
He’ll remember Dazai humming softly to a song, arms stretched to store a pack of cookies on the shelves Chuuya can never reach.
He’ll remember the playful light in the alpha’s eyes when he glances
at him and goes, “so Chibi will always need me and never leave.”
Chuuya throws a dish sponge at him, missing on purpose.
And then he /feels/ Dazai’s stare on him.
He looks at the omega /mesmerized/, big brown eyes almost refusing to blink as he follows the redhead’s movements.
Chuuya throws a dish sponge at him, missing on purpose.
And then he /feels/ Dazai’s stare on him.
He looks at the omega /mesmerized/, big brown eyes almost refusing to blink as he follows the redhead’s movements.
When Chuuya throws a glance behind his shoulder and asks if Dazai never watched his mother cook, the alpha’s face closes into a frown.
The alpha doesn’t reply immediately, just shakes his head pondering over the answer.
“No,” he says. His voice echoes dry, /hollow/.
The alpha doesn’t reply immediately, just shakes his head pondering over the answer.
“No,” he says. His voice echoes dry, /hollow/.
Then, he smiles, the ice-cold smile that looks like he’s /burying a body/. “I like watching Chuuya, though” he adds — to which Chuuya /absolutely/ doesn’t blush.
Mindful of his promise of making Dazai real food, the omega cooks vegetables and rice and an omelette he saw in a
Mindful of his promise of making Dazai real food, the omega cooks vegetables and rice and an omelette he saw in a
French cookbook he stole from uncles Paul and Arthur.
Dazai grabs greedy mouthfuls of everything, looking mildly /sheepish/ that someone would go through the pain of cooking for him.
(What he doesn’t know — what he seems incapable to /believe/ — is that it’s no pain at /all/.
Dazai grabs greedy mouthfuls of everything, looking mildly /sheepish/ that someone would go through the pain of cooking for him.
(What he doesn’t know — what he seems incapable to /believe/ — is that it’s no pain at /all/.
Not to Chuuya.
Not if it’s for /Dazai/, not if it’s to make him happy.
Because Dazai will have to /live up/ to his promises — and maybe it’s too early to gets his hopes up yet — but his reassurances already meant to Chuuya more than the alpha can begin to fathom.)
Not if it’s for /Dazai/, not if it’s to make him happy.
Because Dazai will have to /live up/ to his promises — and maybe it’s too early to gets his hopes up yet — but his reassurances already meant to Chuuya more than the alpha can begin to fathom.)
Chuuya supposes Dazai is not being a little bitch about the food because the boy doesn’t want to put further weight on Chuuya’s shoulders after their conversation, but— he won’t /lie/, it’s a good feeling.
When they curl up under the blankets with a movie, Dazai’s arms around
When they curl up under the blankets with a movie, Dazai’s arms around
Chuuya’s waist and his head pressed against Dazai’s chest, the omega finds himself in wondering why happiness stings in such an unfamiliar way.
Why does it feel as if he’s not used to the feeling enough appreciate it — to appreciate this as something made to last.
Why does it feel as if he’s not used to the feeling enough appreciate it — to appreciate this as something made to last.
To appreciate Dazai as someone who will make an effort to stay.
He tries not to mull over it too much though, letting Dazai’s warm hand lazily comb through his hair to the point he almost falls asleep half-movie, relishing in the sense of /peace/.
He tries not to mull over it too much though, letting Dazai’s warm hand lazily comb through his hair to the point he almost falls asleep half-movie, relishing in the sense of /peace/.
Maybe it’s not much, but the conversation with Kouyou and the aftermath of his confession to Dazai left him feel /lighter/.
And later that night, when the omega is in the bathroom and standing in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth in an worn-out crop tee and shorts he
And later that night, when the omega is in the bathroom and standing in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth in an worn-out crop tee and shorts he
recycled as PJs, he hears Dazai in the corridor and /stops/.
He hears the boy padding to his room, the clack of the door, the soft creak of the hinges.
A /crazy/ idea blooms in his mind and— he might as well try, /right/?
“Dazai?” he calls, eyeing the bathroom’s door.
He hears the boy padding to his room, the clack of the door, the soft creak of the hinges.
A /crazy/ idea blooms in his mind and— he might as well try, /right/?
“Dazai?” he calls, eyeing the bathroom’s door.
He hasn’t called the alpha by first name ever since that afternoon, secretly and stupidly afraid to spoil the name.
He hears the alpha stop and slowly marching back to the bathroom, poking his head in.
“Yes, Chibi?”
Chuuya takes a mental deep breath in, emboldening himself
He hears the alpha stop and slowly marching back to the bathroom, poking his head in.
“Yes, Chibi?”
Chuuya takes a mental deep breath in, emboldening himself
for what he’s about to propose.
It may seem stupid, but it /is/ kind of a big deal for him. And—
/God./
Ok.
They did this /already/ and it was /ok/, yet now it feels like a leap of faith.
Chuuya raises a hand to signal Dazai to wait as he rinses his mouth.
It may seem stupid, but it /is/ kind of a big deal for him. And—
/God./
Ok.
They did this /already/ and it was /ok/, yet now it feels like a leap of faith.
Chuuya raises a hand to signal Dazai to wait as he rinses his mouth.
Dazai leans against the doorframe at the outskirts of his peripheral view, relaxed and patiently waiting, crossing willowy arms over his chest.
“This is adding unnecessary suspense,” the alpha hums, voice dripping amusement.
Chuuya flips him off without even /looking/.
“This is adding unnecessary suspense,” the alpha hums, voice dripping amusement.
Chuuya flips him off without even /looking/.
He closes the tap— and maybe he’s being slow on purpose after the comment, because karma is a petty bitch but Chuuya is /worse/.
Then he drops the toothbrush back into the glass tumbler, and inhales sharply
“Ch—“
“We are together /together/, right?” he asks, turning to Dazai.
Then he drops the toothbrush back into the glass tumbler, and inhales sharply
“Ch—“
“We are together /together/, right?” he asks, turning to Dazai.
The alpha’s eyes widen, caught off guard by the question. He straightens up.
“If you want to,” he tries.
“So— do you want to maybe stay in my room?”
The alpha’s tall body tenses, the laziness in his crossed arms immediately substituted by a barely contained tightness.
“If you want to,” he tries.
“So— do you want to maybe stay in my room?”
The alpha’s tall body tenses, the laziness in his crossed arms immediately substituted by a barely contained tightness.
His eyebrows drop, leaving almost no space above the bridge of his nose.
He doesn’t say yes. He doesn’t say /anything/.
He just looks worried.
Chuuya breathes in.
“I mean— in my nest. Y’know, that thing we kinda do—“
“I know what a nest is, Chibi,” Dazai hums, dark eyes
He doesn’t say yes. He doesn’t say /anything/.
He just looks worried.
Chuuya breathes in.
“I mean— in my nest. Y’know, that thing we kinda do—“
“I know what a nest is, Chibi,” Dazai hums, dark eyes
scanning the redhead’s face.
Chuuya wets his lips, feeling a blush creep all the way to his cheeks and ears.
“Yeah, ok, that nest thingy.” He reaches for the sink and fidgets with the tap just to do something with his hands, barley glancing at Dazai.
Chuuya wets his lips, feeling a blush creep all the way to his cheeks and ears.
“Yeah, ok, that nest thingy.” He reaches for the sink and fidgets with the tap just to do something with his hands, barley glancing at Dazai.
“Mine is /not/ a nest yet, mind you, I don’t do that scenting with the clothes crap because, last time I tried to steal my uncles’ clothes, they turned out to be designer and that ended up in tragedy, and also I don’t know /how/ to omega. But I figured we could, I don’t know—“
“Chuuya, /slow down/,” Dazai rumbles, low but thunderous.
It doesn’t sound like a command per se, but it /does/ stop Chuuya’s from running his mouth.
It’s like a relaxing embrace, an alpha-induced warmth shrouding him.
(Are soft commands a thing? Chuuya ponders to himself.
It doesn’t sound like a command per se, but it /does/ stop Chuuya’s from running his mouth.
It’s like a relaxing embrace, an alpha-induced warmth shrouding him.
(Are soft commands a thing? Chuuya ponders to himself.
Maybe they are.
Maybe Dazai is just a soft alpha.)
“You don’t have to force yourself,” the alpha adds, measuring every word. “Especially after what you told me. It’s ok to take it slow.”
And then it /hits/ Chuuya: he was too preoccupied being flustered to speak clearly.
Wow.
Maybe Dazai is just a soft alpha.)
“You don’t have to force yourself,” the alpha adds, measuring every word. “Especially after what you told me. It’s ok to take it slow.”
And then it /hits/ Chuuya: he was too preoccupied being flustered to speak clearly.
Wow.
He raises both his palms to stop Dazai before the alpha can talk.
“Oh! No, not for /that/,” he clarifies. “Just to— y’know, sleep? Like we did last time. Cuddle. I don’t know, maybe kiss or some shit.”
The grin that paints itself on Dazai’s lips is /wolfish/.
“Oh! No, not for /that/,” he clarifies. “Just to— y’know, sleep? Like we did last time. Cuddle. I don’t know, maybe kiss or some shit.”
The grin that paints itself on Dazai’s lips is /wolfish/.
“…Kiss or some shit, huh?” he echoes, like it’s the funniest thing he ever heard.
Chuuya almost punches him out of sheer /embarrassment/.
“/Shut up/.”
“Chibi’s so romantic.”
“I’m not used to this thing!”
“To communication? Or to ‘kiss or some shit?’” Dazai nags
Chuuya almost punches him out of sheer /embarrassment/.
“/Shut up/.”
“Chibi’s so romantic.”
“I’m not used to this thing!”
“To communication? Or to ‘kiss or some shit?’” Dazai nags
him, that infuriating smile still on his face. “Because you’re pretty good at it, to be honest.” His grin stretches, eyes /bright/. “The kissing. Communication is like, six out of ten.”
“I fucking hate you,” Chuuya growls, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.
“I fucking hate you,” Chuuya growls, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.
“No you don’t,” he sing-songs with a wink. The worst thing is, he’s /right/. “I’ll change real quick and join you, then?”
Chuuya nods. “Y—“
“Love you, be right there,” Dazai interrupts him, way too /enthusiastic/, disappearing into the corridor and jogging to his room.
Chuuya nods. “Y—“
“Love you, be right there,” Dazai interrupts him, way too /enthusiastic/, disappearing into the corridor and jogging to his room.
(Dazai’s lazy ass *never* runs.)
It leaves Chuuya frozen, heart pounding and eyes glued to the spot where Dazai was standing seconds before.
/‘Love you.’/
It sounds so /true/ already.
As he smiles to himself, Chuuya thinks that he never, ever wants to get used to it.
It leaves Chuuya frozen, heart pounding and eyes glued to the spot where Dazai was standing seconds before.
/‘Love you.’/
It sounds so /true/ already.
As he smiles to himself, Chuuya thinks that he never, ever wants to get used to it.
And, to Dazai, being introduced to the softness of Chuuya’s nest — more like an oversized regular bed, to be honest, but the omega /warned/ him — is an honor.
“It’s nothing cute,” Chuuya growls as Dazai slips under the covers. “I haven’t even gotten the curtains yet. And I
“It’s nothing cute,” Chuuya growls as Dazai slips under the covers. “I haven’t even gotten the curtains yet. And I
should probably get more pillows.”
“If you want to”
“Anything you don’t like?”
“It’s perfect,” he says, blocking Chuuya’s incoming rant with a kiss.
/That/ shuts Chuuya up definitely, and the alpha relishes in the flash of a dreamy smile that crosses the redhead’s face after.
“If you want to”
“Anything you don’t like?”
“It’s perfect,” he says, blocking Chuuya’s incoming rant with a kiss.
/That/ shuts Chuuya up definitely, and the alpha relishes in the flash of a dreamy smile that crosses the redhead’s face after.
The omega falls asleep first.
Ever so gently, Dazai cradles the redhead’s body in his arms. His lips linger on Chuuya’s copper locks, he brushes his palms over the scent glands at the base of the omega’s neck.
It’s odd, giving in to sleep surrounded by the scent of /home/.
Ever so gently, Dazai cradles the redhead’s body in his arms. His lips linger on Chuuya’s copper locks, he brushes his palms over the scent glands at the base of the omega’s neck.
It’s odd, giving in to sleep surrounded by the scent of /home/.
It’s /new/.
Softly, he runs his fingertips on the smooth skin as Chuuya snuggles closer in his sleep, lips murmuring Dazai’s name in his dreams.
To the alpha, this feels like the safest place in the world.
And Dazai— he never slept well.
Gosh, he seldom sleeps at all.
Softly, he runs his fingertips on the smooth skin as Chuuya snuggles closer in his sleep, lips murmuring Dazai’s name in his dreams.
To the alpha, this feels like the safest place in the world.
And Dazai— he never slept well.
Gosh, he seldom sleeps at all.
But falling asleep to Chuuya’s heartbeat, limbs tangled together and lips so close they can /breathe/ each other, fills him with joy.
The omega’s reassuring presence, the enveloping warmth of his scent, rock Dazai into Morpheus’ arms.
It’s the best thing he ever experienced,
The omega’s reassuring presence, the enveloping warmth of his scent, rock Dazai into Morpheus’ arms.
It’s the best thing he ever experienced,
even though — he told no one, ever, and certainly not /Chuuya/ — he still has a hunch his mind will never work quite like everybody else’s.
But that fear — the one of not being /made/ to live and withstand the hardships of life — retreats to the back of the alpha’s mind as he
But that fear — the one of not being /made/ to live and withstand the hardships of life — retreats to the back of the alpha’s mind as he
falls asleep.
That night Dazai doesn’t dream, and he’s glad for it.
He feels like Chuuya /grounds/ him — the omega completes him, saves him without even noticing, and makes him a better person.
Chuuya makes him feel wanted, /safe/.
He glad for that, too.
—
That night Dazai doesn’t dream, and he’s glad for it.
He feels like Chuuya /grounds/ him — the omega completes him, saves him without even noticing, and makes him a better person.
Chuuya makes him feel wanted, /safe/.
He glad for that, too.
—
“Chuuya! We’re dating, why do you have to be mean?” Dazai whines, turning the paper cup to show the quick doodle of a fish scribbled on it.
Chuuya shrugs, flashing him a charming smile. “I have boyfriends rights?”
“But—“
“Because you deserve it,” Akutagawa comments, drily.
Chuuya shrugs, flashing him a charming smile. “I have boyfriends rights?”
“But—“
“Because you deserve it,” Akutagawa comments, drily.
He doesn’t stop washing the blender as he says it, unfazed even though the alpha lets out a high-pitched screech.
From next to Dazai, Ranpo lets out a soft snort.
Dazai /pouts/.
He wanted to introduce the only person he likes in the entire course to his (mean) boyfriend,
From next to Dazai, Ranpo lets out a soft snort.
Dazai /pouts/.
He wanted to introduce the only person he likes in the entire course to his (mean) boyfriend,
but Edogawa Ranpo seems to /enjoy/ the show more than he cares to help out a friend.
(Well— a friendly rival. Anyway.)
The alpha has cupped his hands around a large hot chocolate, emerald eyes glittering with amusement. He seems to be having the time of his life in the playful
(Well— a friendly rival. Anyway.)
The alpha has cupped his hands around a large hot chocolate, emerald eyes glittering with amusement. He seems to be having the time of his life in the playful
chaos Dazai brought to the otherwise quiet coffeeshop.
Clicking his tongue, Dazai glares at Akutagawa. “I thought we were friends now, you’re my favorite Vampire~”
“The fact that you’re /with/ my friend doesn’t make you /my/ friend.”
“I’m friends with Atsushi!”
Clicking his tongue, Dazai glares at Akutagawa. “I thought we were friends now, you’re my favorite Vampire~”
“The fact that you’re /with/ my friend doesn’t make you /my/ friend.”
“I’m friends with Atsushi!”
“That’s what’s Atsushi wants you to believe,” Akutagawa volleys back without losing a beat.
Dazai’s jaw /drops/.
Chuuya claps slowly from his place at the till.
With a whine, Dazai makes a note that he needs to find better friends — more loyal ones, for a start.
Dazai’s jaw /drops/.
Chuuya claps slowly from his place at the till.
With a whine, Dazai makes a note that he needs to find better friends — more loyal ones, for a start.
“I thought you’d introduce me to your /friends/,” Ranpo preens with a certain, pleased satisfaction that causes the hairs on the back of Dazai’s neck to bristle. “Look at that. The high and mighty Dazai, bullied by omegas.”
“We /do/ love him,” Chuuya interjects, still grinning,
“We /do/ love him,” Chuuya interjects, still grinning,
with an indulgent timbre that /thaws/ something in Dazai’s chest. It’s pure, unguarded affection — and Chuuya is /polite/, but he’s not often openly playful. “I promise we do.”
Akutagawa clicks his tongue. “Sorry, not me. He didn’t pass the vibe check.”
Chuuya grins to Ranpo,
Akutagawa clicks his tongue. “Sorry, not me. He didn’t pass the vibe check.”
Chuuya grins to Ranpo,
pointing at the younger omega still handling the blender. “Don’t mind him. Ryu is in denial.”
“He’s mad that Chuuya and I will adopt him,” Dazai adds.
Ranpo snorts. Now, Akutagawa is barely two years younger than them, but—
But the thing is, Dazai never /had/ younger friends.
“He’s mad that Chuuya and I will adopt him,” Dazai adds.
Ranpo snorts. Now, Akutagawa is barely two years younger than them, but—
But the thing is, Dazai never /had/ younger friends.
He only ever had Odasaku and Ango, who are older than him, working full time and with a life to take care of.
And it’s odd, isn’t it?
He brought Ranpo, not even an actual close /friend/, to meet Chuuya at the cafe before he introduced his /boyfriend/ to Odasaku and Ango.
And it’s odd, isn’t it?
He brought Ranpo, not even an actual close /friend/, to meet Chuuya at the cafe before he introduced his /boyfriend/ to Odasaku and Ango.
Every time something stops him.
(He /wants/ to flaunt Chuuya.)
(…Does he want to share Odasaku, though?)
“Does he want to be adopted?” Ranpo asks, sneering at Akutagawa.
“No,” the boy says, deadpan. However, it’s covered by Dazai and Chuuya chirping together: “Yes!”
(He /wants/ to flaunt Chuuya.)
(…Does he want to share Odasaku, though?)
“Does he want to be adopted?” Ranpo asks, sneering at Akutagawa.
“No,” the boy says, deadpan. However, it’s covered by Dazai and Chuuya chirping together: “Yes!”
“Hey! Pay for my stuff then, at least!”
Dazai tilts his head to the side, blinking innocently in the boy’s direction. His grip around his vanilla latte relaxes as his lips part in genuine curiosity.
Dazai tilts his head to the side, blinking innocently in the boy’s direction. His grip around his vanilla latte relaxes as his lips part in genuine curiosity.
“Like what?” He asks. “Gothic tarot decks? Victorian-dying-child shirts? Flowers for Atsushi-kun?”
“Diablo’s food!” Akutagawa volleys back.
/Ah, yes. The bunny/.
“Right. Well. He can eat Chuuya’s tacky clothes,” Dazai replies, ignoring the pointed look from his boyfriend.
“Diablo’s food!” Akutagawa volleys back.
/Ah, yes. The bunny/.
“Right. Well. He can eat Chuuya’s tacky clothes,” Dazai replies, ignoring the pointed look from his boyfriend.
“Or your shitty bandages,” Chuuya rumbles. “/Anyway/, Gin and Atsushi get the allowance because they’re the reliable ones.”
The redhead is smirking saying that, blue eyes burning with amusement as Akutagawa lets out a dramatic sigh and looks at the ceiling.
The redhead is smirking saying that, blue eyes burning with amusement as Akutagawa lets out a dramatic sigh and looks at the ceiling.
And it’s just a joke for Ranpo’s sake, it’s just for /fun/, yet—
Yet Dazai finds himself thinking that Chuuya’s soothing, loving tone /might/ pass for the one of a good father.
Maybe not today, certainly not tomorrow, but… someday.
In the future.
In /their/ future.
Yet Dazai finds himself thinking that Chuuya’s soothing, loving tone /might/ pass for the one of a good father.
Maybe not today, certainly not tomorrow, but… someday.
In the future.
In /their/ future.
Akutagawa scowls, gaze jumping from Ranpo to the couple.
“So I don’t get money?”
“Nah. Your dads are poor,” Dazai sing-songs, chuckling when Chuuya growls under his breath ‘shit, for real’ like he doesn’t spend his nights shopping online.
“You two suck at being my parents.”
“So I don’t get money?”
“Nah. Your dads are poor,” Dazai sing-songs, chuckling when Chuuya growls under his breath ‘shit, for real’ like he doesn’t spend his nights shopping online.
“You two suck at being my parents.”
The hmm sound given by Ranpo is curt, almost pensive.
“Yep. Sounds like that,” he says, then, popping the p. His comment causes Akutagawa to gesture towards him and raise his eyebrow in a mute ‘see?!’.
Immediately, throwing back his head, Chuuya explodes in a heartily laugh.
“Yep. Sounds like that,” he says, then, popping the p. His comment causes Akutagawa to gesture towards him and raise his eyebrow in a mute ‘see?!’.
Immediately, throwing back his head, Chuuya explodes in a heartily laugh.
And for a moment, there, Dazai forgets how to breathe because— /wow/.
They’ve know each other for a while, yet the sound of Chuuya laughing still echoes in his mind like the first day.
He must be staring like an idiot, though, because Ranpo’s sharp elbow not-so-discretely
They’ve know each other for a while, yet the sound of Chuuya laughing still echoes in his mind like the first day.
He must be staring like an idiot, though, because Ranpo’s sharp elbow not-so-discretely
dips in between his ribs.
The other alpha is shorter than him, at the perfect height to poke him where it /hurts/.
Dazai flinches, being dragged back to the present.
"But even if we share custody of our children, Chuuya still gave me a cup with a fish, though~” he protests.
The other alpha is shorter than him, at the perfect height to poke him where it /hurts/.
Dazai flinches, being dragged back to the present.
"But even if we share custody of our children, Chuuya still gave me a cup with a fish, though~” he protests.
“Because you /are/ a mackerel,” Chuuya explains. The ghost of the chuckle lingers in his voice, warming it, even as he points at Dazai’s latte.
Somehow, it sounds like ‘you’re /my/ mackerel’.
That, Dazai can accept.
And the amazing detail about Chuuya, the thing that first
Somehow, it sounds like ‘you’re /my/ mackerel’.
That, Dazai can accept.
And the amazing detail about Chuuya, the thing that first
made Dazai doubt the redhead’s second gender, is that the omega wears his smugness like a king’s cape.
On him, a cocky grin turns into a beautiful tailored suit.
Dazai is about to reply when the door opens with a tinkle, revealing a group of three customers — a couple of
On him, a cocky grin turns into a beautiful tailored suit.
Dazai is about to reply when the door opens with a tinkle, revealing a group of three customers — a couple of
schoolgirls and a man walking behind them.
No scent accompanies the newcomers, only the wind-chime giggle of the two girls and the faint jingle of their phone straps.
Chuuya winces, eyes immediately scanning the people that entered the cafe as he straightens up.
No scent accompanies the newcomers, only the wind-chime giggle of the two girls and the faint jingle of their phone straps.
Chuuya winces, eyes immediately scanning the people that entered the cafe as he straightens up.
Slowly, he rubs his hands over his yellow apron.
“Right,” he hums. “We’ve got to work here.”
“/Finally/,” Akutagawa whispers, moving to the espresso machine.
Slow afternoons with nothing to do always bored the hell out of the young omega.
“Right,” he hums. “We’ve got to work here.”
“/Finally/,” Akutagawa whispers, moving to the espresso machine.
Slow afternoons with nothing to do always bored the hell out of the young omega.
Dazai doesn’t quite /agree/, as he’d rather loiter around Chuuya all afternoon, but there isn’t much he can do now.
“We’ll go sit,” he offers, glancing at the tables.
“Yup.” Dutifully, Chuuya leans forward for a kiss, and Dazai meets him halfway with a soft sound from the
“We’ll go sit,” he offers, glancing at the tables.
“Yup.” Dutifully, Chuuya leans forward for a kiss, and Dazai meets him halfway with a soft sound from the
back of his throat. “I’ll take a break after these orders.”
“/Please/,” Dazai croons against his boyfriend’s mouth, uncaring of how needy he sounds.
He only lets Chuuya go so soon because he knows the redhead will have his head for embarrassing him in front of the customers.
“/Please/,” Dazai croons against his boyfriend’s mouth, uncaring of how needy he sounds.
He only lets Chuuya go so soon because he knows the redhead will have his head for embarrassing him in front of the customers.
(And he can feel Ranpo’s judgment — unreadable, not exactly friendly.
Suddenly, Dazai has a feeling he’ll be accused of giving the other alpha cavities.)
The one they share is a peck, barely a kiss at all, and still— /still/, it makes Dazai croon.
Gosh, he is /so/ smitten.
Suddenly, Dazai has a feeling he’ll be accused of giving the other alpha cavities.)
The one they share is a peck, barely a kiss at all, and still— /still/, it makes Dazai croon.
Gosh, he is /so/ smitten.
Ranpo only talks once they are seated.
He looks at Dazai from across the iron round table as if he can pierce his soul, and says: “I see.”
Dazai frowns. “What?”
“You just made something clear.”
As he sips his latte, feigning disinterest, Dazai is not sure if it’s the alpha’s
He looks at Dazai from across the iron round table as if he can pierce his soul, and says: “I see.”
Dazai frowns. “What?”
“You just made something clear.”
As he sips his latte, feigning disinterest, Dazai is not sure if it’s the alpha’s
evasive voice or his face, like an heavy locked door, that unsettles him the most.
Despite their many similarities, Dazai never quite managed to figure out the reason why Ranpo unsettles people so deeply.
Why does his intelligence /upset/ professors and peers alike.
Despite their many similarities, Dazai never quite managed to figure out the reason why Ranpo unsettles people so deeply.
Why does his intelligence /upset/ professors and peers alike.
He never could pinpoint if Ranpo talks in riddles because his brain works faster and harder than most, or if it’s just to rile up his interlocutors — helpless puppets locked in a conversation only the alpha can fully comprehend.
With every conversation, Ranpo turns
With every conversation, Ranpo turns
people into a mute audience. He acts like a performer, a magician; like a modern-day Sherlock Holmes unraveling a case that he already painted in his mind.
But Dazai is no puppet.
He’s just as clever, just as sharp.
He equals Ranpo through and through — that is, after all,
But Dazai is no puppet.
He’s just as clever, just as sharp.
He equals Ranpo through and through — that is, after all,
the core of their friendly rivalry.
And he /understands/ what’s going on now.
Ranpo’s attitude is meant to drive a wedge between them: the winner and the loser.
There’s no tie, in this little bet-slash-war-slash-bringing-out-the-best-in-each-other going on between them.
And he /understands/ what’s going on now.
Ranpo’s attitude is meant to drive a wedge between them: the winner and the loser.
There’s no tie, in this little bet-slash-war-slash-bringing-out-the-best-in-each-other going on between them.
“And what would that be?” Dazai asks.
Ranpo’s emerald gaze burrows itself under the other alpha’s skin.
It nestles in Dazai’s stomach like a parasite, where it nags at him.
“You just let me win this year’s bet,” Ranpo clarifies.
Or: I’m going to have the highest marks.
Ranpo’s emerald gaze burrows itself under the other alpha’s skin.
It nestles in Dazai’s stomach like a parasite, where it nags at him.
“You just let me win this year’s bet,” Ranpo clarifies.
Or: I’m going to have the highest marks.
I’ll be the best of our year.
Dazai smirks.
“Ah,” he says, quietly. “And how’s that?”
/I’ll die before I place second in anything./
They’re both alphas, both academically wrestling for the top spots in their field, struggling to prove they’re better. But thing is, Dazai’s
Dazai smirks.
“Ah,” he says, quietly. “And how’s that?”
/I’ll die before I place second in anything./
They’re both alphas, both academically wrestling for the top spots in their field, struggling to prove they’re better. But thing is, Dazai’s
self-esteem is a house of cards. He might act smug, but he’s really /not/.
Even Ranpo’s scent — of burn sugar and mint and grass, ever so faint yet ever so /present/ — is stronger than his own.
And Dazai guesses it’s the negativity that finally gets to him, etching itself in
Even Ranpo’s scent — of burn sugar and mint and grass, ever so faint yet ever so /present/ — is stronger than his own.
And Dazai guesses it’s the negativity that finally gets to him, etching itself in
the back of his mind.
“You’ll be too distracted, positively or not, to care about exams,” Ranpo offers, quietly. “Depending on how it goes.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions.”
“I’m analyzing fact,” the alpha shrugs — no malice, only a brutally /honest/ opinion. “So I win.”
“You’ll be too distracted, positively or not, to care about exams,” Ranpo offers, quietly. “Depending on how it goes.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions.”
“I’m analyzing fact,” the alpha shrugs — no malice, only a brutally /honest/ opinion. “So I win.”
But Dazai /hears/ even what Ranpo is not saying:
He’s a ticking bomb.
He’s not balanced enough to sustain a relationship, even less a /healthy/ one like the thing he has with Chuuya. He thrives in toxicity, he attracts darkness.
How long before something triggers an explosion?
He’s a ticking bomb.
He’s not balanced enough to sustain a relationship, even less a /healthy/ one like the thing he has with Chuuya. He thrives in toxicity, he attracts darkness.
How long before something triggers an explosion?
And, then, who knows what Dazai might do.
He might hibernate, pop pills like candies, drop out of university, disappear and move to another country.
(He might do worse.)
“We’ll see, Ranpo-san,” he replies, leveled, but his voice lacks fight.
People always say that working
He might hibernate, pop pills like candies, drop out of university, disappear and move to another country.
(He might do worse.)
“We’ll see, Ranpo-san,” he replies, leveled, but his voice lacks fight.
People always say that working
with him and Ranpo in the same class feels like swimming with two sharks circling each other.
Now, despite the powerful aroma of coffee, Dazai can almost /smell/ blood in the water.
“If you think so,” Ranpo says, with a nonchalant shrug. “/I’m/ always right. You know that.”
Now, despite the powerful aroma of coffee, Dazai can almost /smell/ blood in the water.
“If you think so,” Ranpo says, with a nonchalant shrug. “/I’m/ always right. You know that.”
“I’m pretty good at predictions myself.”
Ah, but he’s /wishing/ to be right, isn’t he? And that always messes up even the most precise calculations.
“I’m still better,” the alpha chirps, then, /happily/.
In that moment, Dazai shuts down and doesn’t protest, drowning the
Ah, but he’s /wishing/ to be right, isn’t he? And that always messes up even the most precise calculations.
“I’m still better,” the alpha chirps, then, /happily/.
In that moment, Dazai shuts down and doesn’t protest, drowning the
hundred things he might say in a long sip of his vanilla latte.
After all— he owns Chuuya and Chuuya owns him.
It’s a /soothing/ thought to cling to as the alpha glances behind his shoulder. Chuuya and Akutagawa are waving at the girls, as they exit the cafe with their cold
After all— he owns Chuuya and Chuuya owns him.
It’s a /soothing/ thought to cling to as the alpha glances behind his shoulder. Chuuya and Akutagawa are waving at the girls, as they exit the cafe with their cold
brews and pristine school uniform.
They belong to each other, Chuuya and him.
And yet, thanks to Ranpo’s ever-present realism, for the first time the alpha realises that might be a recipe for disaster.
Because they moved /fast/, and it seemed all a natural process… but
They belong to each other, Chuuya and him.
And yet, thanks to Ranpo’s ever-present realism, for the first time the alpha realises that might be a recipe for disaster.
Because they moved /fast/, and it seemed all a natural process… but
what /if/ it was a miscalculation?
“Anyway— you two look happy,” Ranpo adds.
“Yeah. I /guess/,” Dazai echoes.
“I’m serious. Fancy apron is a good guy. It’s good to see you like this.”
“I /know/.”
But that’s a lie. He doesn’t know.
He’s not /sure/, right now. The reminder
“Anyway— you two look happy,” Ranpo adds.
“Yeah. I /guess/,” Dazai echoes.
“I’m serious. Fancy apron is a good guy. It’s good to see you like this.”
“I /know/.”
But that’s a lie. He doesn’t know.
He’s not /sure/, right now. The reminder
that he’s a half-functioning soul doesn’t seem to let go.
An epiphany, someone might call it. ‘Reality starting to creep in’, in Dazai's modest opinion, is a far more accurate way to look at it.
Because nobody ever warned Dazai that love can taste like responsibility. It’s a
An epiphany, someone might call it. ‘Reality starting to creep in’, in Dazai's modest opinion, is a far more accurate way to look at it.
Because nobody ever warned Dazai that love can taste like responsibility. It’s a
daunting baring of humanity more than a gratuitous game.
Dazai sighs. He’s about to change the subject when an unexpected reek causes his nostrils to flare.
Nervousness, fear.
Then, he /hears/ it.
“My friends told me the barista here was hotter than a girl, but /damn/—”
Dazai sighs. He’s about to change the subject when an unexpected reek causes his nostrils to flare.
Nervousness, fear.
Then, he /hears/ it.
“My friends told me the barista here was hotter than a girl, but /damn/—”
Dazai’s neck almost /snaps/ as he turns, gaze fixing on the remaining customer at the counter.
Frantically, hearing Ranpo squirm in his seat too, he takes in the situation.
Akutagawa at the fridge, stocking new cartoons of milk. Chuuya at the till.
In front of the redhead
Frantically, hearing Ranpo squirm in his seat too, he takes in the situation.
Akutagawa at the fridge, stocking new cartoons of milk. Chuuya at the till.
In front of the redhead
towers a bulky, taurine-built beta — thirty-five at most, greasy black hair, blotted skin — oozing smugness and a greedy, violent type of /want/.
Dazai almost jumps on his feet, but Chuuya shakes his head ever so subtly.
/Let’s not make a scene/, his blue eyes say.
Dazai almost jumps on his feet, but Chuuya shakes his head ever so subtly.
/Let’s not make a scene/, his blue eyes say.
And Dazai /hates/ it, but he listens. He listens to the ‘thank you. What can I get you?’ and to the rasping sound from the beta.
The reply makes the alpha’s blood boil.
“What do /you/ like?”
Chuuya hesitates. “It depends,” he says, clearly hoping that the man will give up.
The reply makes the alpha’s blood boil.
“What do /you/ like?”
Chuuya hesitates. “It depends,” he says, clearly hoping that the man will give up.
That is, of course, wishful thinking.
“Ha— y’know I’m not normally into boys.”
Chuuya glares.
‘Boys is not a fucking coffee order, you asinine piece of shit,’ is what Dazai can read on his boyfriend’s face — clearly, it flies past the beta.
“You need to order” he repeats,
“Ha— y’know I’m not normally into boys.”
Chuuya glares.
‘Boys is not a fucking coffee order, you asinine piece of shit,’ is what Dazai can read on his boyfriend’s face — clearly, it flies past the beta.
“You need to order” he repeats,
voice like iron under the polite surface. “Otherwise, please leave.”
The beta grins.
He’s one of those guys who hear ‘fuck off’ and understand ‘fuck /me/.’
Dazai’s leg bounces nervously.
“But I might make an exception for you. You’re really prettier than a girl.”
The beta grins.
He’s one of those guys who hear ‘fuck off’ and understand ‘fuck /me/.’
Dazai’s leg bounces nervously.
“But I might make an exception for you. You’re really prettier than a girl.”
Chuuya scowls, eyes turning thunderous as he scans the man as if to assess how much of a threat he can be.
“Well, I’m not a girl. Pl—“
Before he can be asked to leave for a third time, the man glances at the board. He then points in its general direction.
“Well, I’m not a girl. Pl—“
Before he can be asked to leave for a third time, the man glances at the board. He then points in its general direction.
“Get me a coffee,” he says, vaguely. It sounds /demanding/, and Dazai wonders if the beta has enough brain cells to /read/ the board. “Anything you want is fine, love.”
Dazai closes his hands into fists, nails sinking in the flesh.
Dazai closes his hands into fists, nails sinking in the flesh.
He sees Chuuya, his rigid smile, the quiet signs of his nervousness.
And the thing with customer service is— you can’t really /clap back/.
But in Dazai’s mind, the beta is already bleeding. In his mind, he’s kicking the man’s body until he coughs blood and wheezes out a
And the thing with customer service is— you can’t really /clap back/.
But in Dazai’s mind, the beta is already bleeding. In his mind, he’s kicking the man’s body until he coughs blood and wheezes out a
last, sorry, shaky breath.
And yet, even though the man is stone-cold dead in his mental scenario, Dazai can /still/ hear the hollow sound of his foot colliding with the lifeless body.
A kick, and another, and another.
Until the flesh rips open and the bones crack.
And yet, even though the man is stone-cold dead in his mental scenario, Dazai can /still/ hear the hollow sound of his foot colliding with the lifeless body.
A kick, and another, and another.
Until the flesh rips open and the bones crack.
“Are you going to do anything?” Ranpo hums, drowning his obvious judgement in a generous sip of hot chocolate.
It reaches him from far away.
“I’m going to kill him,” Dazai whispers back.
He sees Chuuya nod to Akutagawa, who skittishly moves toward the espresso machine.
It reaches him from far away.
“I’m going to kill him,” Dazai whispers back.
He sees Chuuya nod to Akutagawa, who skittishly moves toward the espresso machine.
They look like soldiers, never showing their back to the man — tense and reactive, like chords of a bow ready to shoot an arrow.
“Hey. I can bring you to a fancy restaurant later— a Michelin star, yeah? What do you say, /sweetheart/?”
Chuuya scowls. “Not gonna happen.”
“Hey. I can bring you to a fancy restaurant later— a Michelin star, yeah? What do you say, /sweetheart/?”
Chuuya scowls. “Not gonna happen.”
“Are you single?”
With his lips pulled in a thin line, Chuuya doesn’t reply.
From where he stands, Dazai does his best to /help/. To keep eye contact, to make the omegas remember that he and Ranpo /will/ intervene if needed.
Again, quietly, Chuuya shakes his head.
With his lips pulled in a thin line, Chuuya doesn’t reply.
From where he stands, Dazai does his best to /help/. To keep eye contact, to make the omegas remember that he and Ranpo /will/ intervene if needed.
Again, quietly, Chuuya shakes his head.
The man plops his arms on the counter. Chuuya /retracts/, and Dazai’s hands twitch.
“Do you like working here?”
No reply.
“What’s your name?”
No reply.
“You like the attention, hm?”
/No reply./
“I thought omegas smelled like
sluts— but you /look/ like a bitch as well.”
“Do you like working here?”
No reply.
“What’s your name?”
No reply.
“You like the attention, hm?”
/No reply./
“I thought omegas smelled like
sluts— but you /look/ like a bitch as well.”
Dazai’s blood turns into molasses as he gnaws at his bottom lip.
His body is begging him to move, to kill.
He can’t.
Chuuya asked him not to.
Meanwhile, objectification reeks weirdly. It’s rusty and sweet, like something left to rot.
Mori brought him to the sea, once, many
His body is begging him to move, to kill.
He can’t.
Chuuya asked him not to.
Meanwhile, objectification reeks weirdly. It’s rusty and sweet, like something left to rot.
Mori brought him to the sea, once, many
years before — it’s an odd memory buried deep in Dazai’s mind, stirred back to the surface by the corpse-like stench that has take over the cafe.
He remembers a bunch of fishes washed ashore by the high tide. Their dead bodies had been fried by the sun, eviscerated by seagulls.
He remembers a bunch of fishes washed ashore by the high tide. Their dead bodies had been fried by the sun, eviscerated by seagulls.
The smell oozing from the beta reminds him of that.
Like a carcass forgotten under the sun.
And Dazai /knows/ Chuuya told him to stay out of it, but—
He can’t.
“Sorry~ I suggest you leave the boys alone,” Dazai interjects from the table, /refusing/ to acknowledge the man’s
Like a carcass forgotten under the sun.
And Dazai /knows/ Chuuya told him to stay out of it, but—
He can’t.
“Sorry~ I suggest you leave the boys alone,” Dazai interjects from the table, /refusing/ to acknowledge the man’s
fixation on /his/ boyfriend specifically.
His sweet scent — tiered to polite protectiveness and mild discomfort even though he’s /fuming/ inside — rolls upon the scene.
Ranpo frowns, but Dazai doesn’t pay him any mind.
He’s smiling at the man, who glances over his shoulder.
His sweet scent — tiered to polite protectiveness and mild discomfort even though he’s /fuming/ inside — rolls upon the scene.
Ranpo frowns, but Dazai doesn’t pay him any mind.
He’s smiling at the man, who glances over his shoulder.
“Mind your own business, weirdo,” he sneers.
/Ah, he *really* wants to die, then./
Dazai’s smile is mirthless as it stretches further on his face, reaching from ear to ear.
“Nah. Leave, before they kick you out~”
“Why don’t you and your stupid friend go instead, huh?”
/Ah, he *really* wants to die, then./
Dazai’s smile is mirthless as it stretches further on his face, reaching from ear to ear.
“Nah. Leave, before they kick you out~”
“Why don’t you and your stupid friend go instead, huh?”
Akutagawa murmurs a ‘fuck you’ under his breath, tending to the espresso machine and to the beta’s order while keeping an eye on the food counter to make sure the man doesn’t grab anything he shouldn’t.
As he does, he bares tiny fangs Dazai never noticed.
Chuuya glares.
As he does, he bares tiny fangs Dazai never noticed.
Chuuya glares.
His eyes turned darker, narrow slits of storm-tossed, deep blue.
“Ok, that’s enough. Leave,” he says, not an ounce of warmth in his tight-lipped expression. “That’s the last warning before we call the police.”
The man’s gaze jumps back to the redhead,
“Ok, that’s enough. Leave,” he says, not an ounce of warmth in his tight-lipped expression. “That’s the last warning before we call the police.”
The man’s gaze jumps back to the redhead,
an unpleasant chuckle slipping past his lips.
“I paid for a drink, /love/.”
“No, technically you didn’t. Leave.”
“No,” he hmms. “I want my coffee now, and I want it with a /smile/. But go on and call the police, sweetheart, you /try/ that. See if it helps.”
“I paid for a drink, /love/.”
“No, technically you didn’t. Leave.”
“No,” he hmms. “I want my coffee now, and I want it with a /smile/. But go on and call the police, sweetheart, you /try/ that. See if it helps.”
Chuuya’s shoulders /tremble/.
He’d rather not involve anybody else, not his boss and especially not the police, because even the tiniest hint of pre-heat would give the man a /reason/ to harass them.
It’d be filed up under ‘provocation’.
And well… let’s just say that deciding
He’d rather not involve anybody else, not his boss and especially not the police, because even the tiniest hint of pre-heat would give the man a /reason/ to harass them.
It’d be filed up under ‘provocation’.
And well… let’s just say that deciding
if an omega uses enough scent blockers or not is a rather /subjective/ statement.
Dazai /knows/ that.
Every day, the local newspapers’ headlines scream similar stories.
He will be /damned/ before he lets Chuuya become one of those headlines, but he doesn’t see another /way/.
Dazai /knows/ that.
Every day, the local newspapers’ headlines scream similar stories.
He will be /damned/ before he lets Chuuya become one of those headlines, but he doesn’t see another /way/.
“Before they call the police, I could kick you out,” Dazai rumbles.
The man’s head whips in his direction aggressively, baring yellow-ish teeth.
“/You/ stay out of it.”
“Y—”
“Sir,” Chuuya interrupts him, and to Dazai’s horror he realizes the redhead is protecting /him/ now.
The man’s head whips in his direction aggressively, baring yellow-ish teeth.
“/You/ stay out of it.”
“Y—”
“Sir,” Chuuya interrupts him, and to Dazai’s horror he realizes the redhead is protecting /him/ now.
God knows how often he dealt with the same situation, but Dazai doesn’t want him to fight alone.
Not when he has an alpha, now.
Sternly, Chuuya sits a paper cup in front of the man — a steaming americano, without a name and without a lid. “Here’s your order. Get the fuck out.”
Not when he has an alpha, now.
Sternly, Chuuya sits a paper cup in front of the man — a steaming americano, without a name and without a lid. “Here’s your order. Get the fuck out.”
“Ah, it wasn’t so hard love, was it?”
Akutagawa stands next to Chuuya — a head taller than him, a single wrinkle cutting through his forehead.
“/Leave/,” he repeats.
It allows Chuuya to relax a little, going for the phone in a /very/ eloquent way.
“Hm? We’re just chatting.”
Akutagawa stands next to Chuuya — a head taller than him, a single wrinkle cutting through his forehead.
“/Leave/,” he repeats.
It allows Chuuya to relax a little, going for the phone in a /very/ eloquent way.
“Hm? We’re just chatting.”
Dazai sees /murder/ flash across Akutagawa’s eyes. His jaw clenches.
In school, the first thing they teach alphas is to control their temper.
Because, once, alphas sat at the top of the social ladder.
Today, commanding strangers will easily be seen as an offense
In school, the first thing they teach alphas is to control their temper.
Because, once, alphas sat at the top of the social ladder.
Today, commanding strangers will easily be seen as an offense
considering it manipulates minds.
What is worse, it might cost the omega — ever the victims — involved their jobs.
And /that/ is not something Dazai is willing to risk lightly.
This man, though, who instead of leaving is stretching his arm to dramatically grab a
What is worse, it might cost the omega — ever the victims — involved their jobs.
And /that/ is not something Dazai is willing to risk lightly.
This man, though, who instead of leaving is stretching his arm to dramatically grab a
sachet of sugar—
“Geez. I bet you two are good sluts if you get that stick outta your asses.”
—This man leaves him no choice.
The command, although not smart, rolls out of Dazai’s lips with extreme satisfaction.
“And I bet you really want to throw that coffee at your face.”
“Geez. I bet you two are good sluts if you get that stick outta your asses.”
—This man leaves him no choice.
The command, although not smart, rolls out of Dazai’s lips with extreme satisfaction.
“And I bet you really want to throw that coffee at your face.”
Now, Dazai doesn’t know much about spilling a steamy cup of coffee on your face, but—
/Well/.
Considering by the man’s screams as the brown liquid fizzes against his /flesh/, turning red and raw at the contact, it must /hurt/ like a bitch.
Chuuya’s eyes grow wide, his
/Well/.
Considering by the man’s screams as the brown liquid fizzes against his /flesh/, turning red and raw at the contact, it must /hurt/ like a bitch.
Chuuya’s eyes grow wide, his
mouth hanging open.
“Da—!”
But Dazai is not stupid. He’s dark, fucked up…
Careless, he’s not.
“Ah, and you’re so dumb. You accidentally spilt it on yourself,” he carries on, raising his voice to top the beta’s screeches. He grins. “If anybody asks, I want you to say that.”
“Da—!”
But Dazai is not stupid. He’s dark, fucked up…
Careless, he’s not.
“Ah, and you’re so dumb. You accidentally spilt it on yourself,” he carries on, raising his voice to top the beta’s screeches. He grins. “If anybody asks, I want you to say that.”
The order doesn’t have to be scanned clearly to be executed.
The beta whimpers, his voice pitifully weak, crumpling on itself like wet paper.
And maybe he /shouldn’t/, but he feels a little proud.
“It hurts, doesn’t it? Now, I think it’s best you go somewhere else.”
The beta whimpers, his voice pitifully weak, crumpling on itself like wet paper.
And maybe he /shouldn’t/, but he feels a little proud.
“It hurts, doesn’t it? Now, I think it’s best you go somewhere else.”
Despite Dazai’s serene smile and velvet-soft voice, the commands /ring/, bouncing against the walls of the cafe. “Before you force me or anybody here to hurt you /for real/.”
Of course, the man complies. He can’t do otherwise.
Of course, the man complies. He can’t do otherwise.
As the door closes behind the beta, it only leaves behind a flabbergasted, deaf silence. For the first time, Dazai tunes in with Ranpo’s presence.
He never /disappeared/ per se, but he retreated to observe.
His expression is unreadable, his green eyes sharp. He’ll deal with
He never /disappeared/ per se, but he retreated to observe.
His expression is unreadable, his green eyes sharp. He’ll deal with
him later. /You did what you had to do/, he seems to say, /but was it *smart*?/
And the truth is, it probably wasn’t. Fuck, it’s little shy of a cover-up. It’s a crime and he /risked/ both Akutagawa and Chuuya’s jobs.
And he’ll do that again, to protect what belongs to /him/.
And the truth is, it probably wasn’t. Fuck, it’s little shy of a cover-up. It’s a crime and he /risked/ both Akutagawa and Chuuya’s jobs.
And he’ll do that again, to protect what belongs to /him/.
“Well.” Slowly, Chuuya breathes /in/, and out. “That fucking sucked.”
“For real,” Akutagawa hums.
“Are you ok?” Dazai asks, hurriedly, stepping up and crossing the empty cafe to reach the counter.
“I’m...” the omega seems to think over it for a moment, voice
“For real,” Akutagawa hums.
“Are you ok?” Dazai asks, hurriedly, stepping up and crossing the empty cafe to reach the counter.
“I’m...” the omega seems to think over it for a moment, voice
trembling. “I guess we’re kinda used to it?”
Not to the last part though, clearly. Hell, Chuuya is not looking at him at /all/.
And his is not an answer, either, but Akutagawa nods too. “I think I’m going to call Atsushi.”
Not to the last part though, clearly. Hell, Chuuya is not looking at him at /all/.
And his is not an answer, either, but Akutagawa nods too. “I think I’m going to call Atsushi.”
“Ask if he can stop by and walk you home later, or we can give you a ride,” Chuuya calls after him, barely getting a nod as a reply before Akutagawa disappears in the back.
Atsushi and Akutagawa’s apartment stands in a nice area close to the Yokohama Bay Bridge, not /anywhere/
Atsushi and Akutagawa’s apartment stands in a nice area close to the Yokohama Bay Bridge, not /anywhere/
close to Dazai’s apartment, but the alpha is happy to do the extra commute to make sure everybody is safe.
(His friends.
His boyfriend.
/His/.)
Pointedly ignoring /him/, Chuuya looks across the cafe to tilt his head in Ranpo’s direction, gesturing to attract the boy’s
(His friends.
His boyfriend.
/His/.)
Pointedly ignoring /him/, Chuuya looks across the cafe to tilt his head in Ranpo’s direction, gesturing to attract the boy’s
attention.
“Yo, Ranpo-San. I’m sorry for the show,” he says, rising a hand towards the alpha.
Dazai’s heart /clutches/.
“No need,” Ranpo says, shaking his head. “You ok, Fancy Apron?”
Chuuya cracks a smile at the nickname — it’s weak, but it’s there.
“We’ll survive.”
“Yo, Ranpo-San. I’m sorry for the show,” he says, rising a hand towards the alpha.
Dazai’s heart /clutches/.
“No need,” Ranpo says, shaking his head. “You ok, Fancy Apron?”
Chuuya cracks a smile at the nickname — it’s weak, but it’s there.
“We’ll survive.”
“Bet that stuff like that happens fairly often, yeah?”
Chuuya nods. “Yeah. Next drinks are on us.”
“If you insist~” Ranpo chirps.
Even though Ranpo is still sipping his hot chocolate — now probably lukewarm — and doesn’t seem too disturbed, Chuuya is obviously /mortified/.
Chuuya nods. “Yeah. Next drinks are on us.”
“If you insist~” Ranpo chirps.
Even though Ranpo is still sipping his hot chocolate — now probably lukewarm — and doesn’t seem too disturbed, Chuuya is obviously /mortified/.
As if he had any jurisdiction on an asshole’s decision to /harass/ them.
As if it’s his fault for being an omega.
Dazai hesitates, forcing himself to lean closer to his boyfriend even though the aura around Chuuya is not exactly friendly.
He has a hunch that pushing into
As if it’s his fault for being an omega.
Dazai hesitates, forcing himself to lean closer to his boyfriend even though the aura around Chuuya is not exactly friendly.
He has a hunch that pushing into
Chuuya’s space might not the right thing to do — and he /might/ have gone a bit overboard with the beta — but he /has/ to. He has to check on his boyfriend.
Instinctively, Chuuya jerks away. It stings, and Dazai’s heart hiccups.
“Babe?”
The redhead doesn’t even look at him.
Instinctively, Chuuya jerks away. It stings, and Dazai’s heart hiccups.
“Babe?”
The redhead doesn’t even look at him.
He /refuses/ to.
“/We/ will talk at home.”
“Chuuya,” he hesitates. “Are you angry?”
Ah, what a stupid question — he can /see/ Chuuya is mad. The better question would be…
/Why/.
// I thought I had to protect you. //
“Seriously, Osamu,” Chuuya says, stepping away.
“/We/ will talk at home.”
“Chuuya,” he hesitates. “Are you angry?”
Ah, what a stupid question — he can /see/ Chuuya is mad. The better question would be…
/Why/.
// I thought I had to protect you. //
“Seriously, Osamu,” Chuuya says, stepping away.
His voice is colorless, but what hurts is the lack of eye contact. “I appreciate it, but give me some space. Please.”
Dazai wasn’t expecting a thank you. Of course. He never does, because no one ever thanked him for anything.
But, to be fair, he didn’t expect /this/ either.
—
Dazai wasn’t expecting a thank you. Of course. He never does, because no one ever thanked him for anything.
But, to be fair, he didn’t expect /this/ either.
—
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